Stand By Your Hitman (18 page)

After helping Sami and Isaac into the car that would take them to the airport, Lex and I strolled back to the now-empty El Conquistador guesthouse.

“I’m sorry, but there’s something rude I must ask you.” Lex said this while nuzzling my ear on the veranda after some explosive sex.

“Hmmmm?”

“How can you afford this place? The accountants didn’t mention a guesthouse on CAB’s bill, so unless you’re deeply involved in identity theft, you are paying for it.”

I stared into his lovely eyes for a moment. There was no way I could lie to him anymore. I’d jumped the shark on that one too many times. It was time to tell him the truth, and maybe face the fact that he’d run screaming out the door. Taking his hand, I led him into the house to the dining room where I opened a bottle of ridiculously expensive wine.

“Do you really want to know the truth?” I asked as I handed him a glass.

He nodded. “I really want to know.”

We sat down and I didn’t speak at first. I mean, how do you tell the man you love that you are an assassin and come from a long line of assassins?

“I’m an assassin and I come from a long line of assassins.” Ooooookay. Not exactly poetic, but there it was.

Lex nodded indicating he wanted me to continue. So I did. I started with the whole history of how a young Greek woman in 2000
BCE
with a name I found totally unpronounceable decided that she wanted to be an assassin. After that, I wound my way through history, leaving out the names of our victims of course, and ended up with my story. How Rudy died, how I retreated to Santa Muerta and blew things up for fun. I didn’t tell him about the bobblehead doll collection. I’m not a total git.

As I sat back in my chair and swallowed the last of the five bottles we’d gone through, I could see he was working through everything I’d told him.

I failed to mention that if the Bombays knew I’d told him before he legally became a Bombay, he’d end up one of my assignments, but there’s only so much you should tell your date the first time.

The sun was rising, indicating we’d been up all night with this. How long would he need before he said anything?

And what would that be, “Sorry, Missi. It’s against everything I believe in to even know you. We’ll always have Costa Rica”?

“Missi?” Lex said for what I realized was the third or fourth time.

“Uh, yes?”

“You didn’t explain the money part.”

“I didn’t? Oh. Um, we all have huge trust funds. I’m inde pendently wealthy.” That was easy. Hopefully all of his other questions would be like that.

“So Monty and Jackson are killers too?”

Okay, that’s a bit tougher than I’d hoped. Maybe I could come up with something really profound to explain this.

“Yes. I’ve been training them since they were five.”

Lex sighed. “You only kill bad guys, right?”

That sounded like a good sign. “Absolutely! Which was why I was so angry that the Council had sicced me on an Interpol agent.”

He looked out the window, then back at me. “I love you. I knew it that first night out there on the patio.”

I reached for his hand. “I love you too. I know this is pretty hard to accept and I understand that.”

Lex shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that I don’t know if I can handle it if my girlfriend has more money than I do.”

“Does…does that mean it’s okay?” Did it? I really didn’t expect him to accept it so easily.

“I don’t know if it will ever be okay, but this is a package deal. If I want you, I have to realize who you are.”

“Um, okay. Does that mean you still want me?”

“I do. But we need to work on our relationship for a while until I get used to it. Is that all right?”

I nodded. Then I dragged him into the bedroom for some scorching-hot howler monkey sex.

“Where are we going?” Lex asked as we stood on the tarmac in San Jose. He looked really good in his white linen shirt and new sunglasses.

“I thought we needed a little time away, just the two of us.” I spotted the Bombay jet and picked up my bag. Lex followed.

“We need to spend some time getting to know each other,” I added.

Lex’s eyebrows went up as we climbed aboard and the pilot greeted us. I was really impressed that he didn’t say anything about money.

We taxied down the runway and I leaned against him. Lex smelled like coconut and cocoa butter. That’s a good smell.

“You sure you can take more time off of work?” I asked him as the plane lifted into the air.

“Oh, I think I can swing it.” He leaned to kiss my hair and I sighed. This was only the beginning. We had two weeks ahead of us to explore the attraction that held us together. For now, we would take it slowly, getting to know one another.

But I had a good idea that everything was going to turn out just fine in the end.

It only took a few months and a lot of sex for Lex (hey, that rhymes) to decide I was more important than what the Bombays do. It took a lot of talking to draw it out, but somehow he chose me. I can’t imagine how hard it must be for outsiders to marry into the Bombays. Men have to take the family name as their own and become part of a secret that has made many men lose their minds. The women seem to have no problem with it, though. I wonder why that is?

After a quick trip to the mainland to get married and a two-week honeymoon in Mongolia, my new husband moved into the condo on Santa Muerta.

By this time, the boys were visiting colleges in the States nearly every weekend and I’d accepted that. Lex took to my workshop with bizarre zeal and together we’ve blown up a lot of stuff.

Of course, that meant he eventually found my B-list bobbleheads, and after some counseling I think our marriage will survive it.

Actually, Lex’s talents as a stuntmaster have improved my game. He’s been able to look at my inventions
in a whole new way. This is largely because before, he had to stop people from getting hurt whereas now, death is the desired result.

Mom threw a huge reception on the island when we returned from our honeymoon and the whole Bombay clan attended. Mostly this was because my relatives wanted to see what kind of man the goofy inventor would choose. Yes, I know what they all think of me. It’s never really mattered and they don’t care, especially when I can whip up cell phones that shoot lasers and can still hold five thousand songs.

It was wonderful to see everyone. Gin, Diego and Romi flew in with Dak, Leonie, Louis and Sofia. Liv and Todd and their kids were there. Coney gave me a beautiful felted bag he picked up during his travels. The wool had had been dyed into the shades of a Caribbean sunset and I loved it.

In the end, it all worked out. Moe was tried and convicted and sentenced to a lifetime in prison. Duh. Sami started her own business, teaming up with a female plumber and carpenter. The company slogan is “If you want it done right the first time, hire a woman.” She’s doing very well. I sent her the swear jar. She mailed back a note saying, “Fuck you.” I had it framed.

As for Alan, he ended up a porn star in Thailand. I heard he’s pretty popular with the sex tourism trade there. I know, you’re thinking, “how predictable.” I guess the network launched a huge lawsuit so he fled the country to avoid paying. Maybe I’ll get a contract on him someday. His stage name is Dick Dangleballs
and he does this really weird thing with mayonnaise and rope you have to see to believe. What? It’s on YouTube.

Julie became a cruise activities director for a shipping line in Finland. She did okay for a while, until the entire boat—passengers and crew—mutinied, marooning her on an uncharted island near Kiribati, known to be populated with cannibals. No one has seen her since.

As for the others? Let’s see, Dr. Andy had a talk-radio show in Mobile, Alabama. He had a pretty good run too. If only he hadn’t dared that suicide caller to actually take those pills. Now he works at the Department of Transportation asking people how their driver’s license photos make them feel. One woman stabbed him in the shoulder with a pencil. He’s doing better now.

In happier news, Silas achieved his ultimate fantasy when he was killed accidentally by a canon misfire during a recreation of the Battle of Gettysburg. (I’ll bet he was ecstatic—he actually died at Gettysburg.)

To everyone’s surprise, Kit made it as a model. She’s the poster girl for the Society to Prevent Anal Leakage. I’ve seen her commercials and constipated-looking countenance everywhere.

Lilianna has actually started creating art. No longer does she just think about it. Lex and I went to a show she had in a small town in northern Montana. It was pretty interesting to see busts of famous Montanans carved out of patchouli-scented mashed bananas.

I heard that Brick/Norman was doing a one-man
show in LA about his experience on
Survival
. Of course, no one even knows what that is since the show never aired, but oh well.

Bob the politician finally ran out of political positions to run for in his hometown of Leavenworth, Kansas. After a disastrous, yet inspired campaign for county coroner (on a platform that included the ability to slay zombies should the dead ever rise in the morgue), he decided to launch a bid for president of the United States. He’s counting on being a write-in. I guess Kit endorsed him, so he may have the incontinence vote sewn up.

Turns out Cricket and Jimmy the cameraman were screwing around during the show and she was keeping his hotel-room key hidden in her pockets while with us. In the aftermath, they got Bert and Ernie to help them set up a filmmaking camp for blind kids in Banff. I’m pretty sure the irony is lost on them.

So everything worked out okay. Lex even has some great ideas for using stunts with my inventions on assignments. (I just loooooove the human catapult he came up with.) Who knew I would really enjoy having a man in my life? Well, okay, my mother did. And after I’ve had my fill of tormenting her by spiking her tea with my severe, intestinal gas–producing and sleep-inducing powder (laxatives are sooooo juvenile and she’s a hit at Council meetings), I might just agree with her.

I’d like to thank Leah Hultenschmidt and Kristin Nelson for making my life as an author possible. Thanks to Emily and Ava Cummings, Brit and Ali Reschke for helping with my writing time by keeping the kids occupied. To Dad, Uncle Mike, Uncle Steve, Uncle Tim & Aunt Anne for your support. To Bernie and Michelle for loaning me Conor this time for this book. And, as always, thanks to my family; Tom, Margaret and Jack.

A huge thanks to Todd and Lisa Welvaert for twenty years of laughter. Here’s hoping for at least twenty more.


CRITICS ARE WILD FOR THE NOVELS OF
LESLIE LANGTRY!

GUNS WILL KEEP US TOGETHER

“Langtry’s ability to make this lethal and outrageous clan both funny and somewhat endearing is a testament to her style. Who knew the assassination business could produce so many laughs?”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“If you need a really good laugh, then get
Guns Will Keep Us
Together
. The characters and plot emphasize a funny, even wacky view of life, and a guaranteed happily ever after.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“This novel is uproariously funny and will have you chuckling until the last page is turned….
Guns Will Keep Us
Together
proves to be a definite keeper novel as it one of the funniest romances I have read in a long, long time.”

—Romance Reader at Heart

“Another wicked blend of action, romance, mystery, and dark humor,
Guns Will Keep Us Together
gives readers bullets, buff guys, and bad boys…I hope the Bombay family continues on with their deadly misadventures.”

—News and Sentinel

Other
Making It
titles by Leslie Langtry:

GUNS WILL KEEP US TOGETHER
’SCUSE ME WHILE I KILL THIS GUY