that were carried out spiritually. I’d become an assassin as a means to an end. My sister and I were fifteen and thirteen when she was kidnapped by masked men as we walked down our street together. Fear made me bolt, while hers made her freeze. I was left behind with sadness and confusion that turned to determination and viciousness as I grew older without her.
I set the glasses down and glanced at my bikini top. The hum of the beautiful foreign language filtered through the air from a distance. I didn’t translate it. Instead, I stuck to English in my thoughts. But it did remind me that here, in this country, a lot of women went to the beach topless.
After pulling on the end of the string that had been in a bow behind my neck, I tugged my red top off, shaking my shoulders a little and smiling at the freeness of my breasts. This beach belonged to the Syndicate, the company that had a need for assassins and secrecy. They ran a very exclusive hotel here as well, so they could carry out their business in private. It was a good front, because it was real. By catering to the rich, famous, and infamous, they were able to demand privacy for their guests. And they could do so, so much more under the cover of protecting the reputations of their patrons. They could move bodies, bury henchmen, and store victims. And they could make wicked margaritas. I had used their vast information of the underworld to my advantage. I played them and found the men who had taken my sister in this very city.
They’d barely remembered her when I had them tied to chairs in a warehouse. Until the tallest recalled that they’d killed her—he was pretty sure, anyway. I wasn’t proud of what I did to them next. It was efficient. It was punishing. And it ended in their deaths, of course.
But what was there now? Nothing. I had nothing left to fight for. My beautiful sister, whom I’d fought for everyday since I’d last laid eyes on her, was truly gone.
I tilted the lounge chair back a bit and reclined with it. I closed my eyes and let the sun turn my lids red. It was toasting me like a snake on a rock. I pulled my sunglasses from the top of my head and shielded my eyes. No matter what type of life you’d lived, or how badass you thought you were, knowing that a gun was trained on you was a bone rattler. I slowed my heartbeat when I noticed it was elevated.
I would die calmly.
I would die beautiful.
I would die in peace.
I was about to die young.
TWO
Him
I FELT LIKE the tourist I was. I was even wearing Crocs, for crap’s sake. But this was where I needed to be. Despite the gorgeous setting, this tropical beach in Europe, I was staring at my phone, waiting for an update.
Lexa’s test results were due in. My whole extended family was waiting for the group text that would tell us if there was any good news.
Pediatric cancer was a force to be reckoned with. My niece, Lexa, was only seven. What had started as a cold turned into a diagnosis that stopped us all in our tracks.
When a child’s life is in danger, we all want to be Superman. Nothing like having her enemy be her own body. I pictured her red hair and green eyes, so much like her mother.
My brother’s wife was clearly the dominant gene provider. The only thing about Lexa that was Paul’s was her tendency for risk-taking. She’d be the first one in any haunted house, down any waterslide, and couldn’t wait to be tall enough to ride the loopy roller coasters.
And I adored her. From the second I laid eyes on my niece, I was a puddle.
When Paul and Manda sat me down to explain their predicament, I knew they were in trouble. The kind of trouble they prayed to never be in.
Paul had lost his job three months before Lexa’s diagnosis. Lost his health care benefits. Manda had part-time work making crafts that she sold on Etsy. She made decent money, but not enough to cover the supplemental insurance while Paul looked for a job. It was also not necessarily steady money.
I pitched in, of course. Paying for the supplemental insurance was my solution. As a teacher, it was a stretch. I sold my Nissan and got a