The silence that stretches between us constricts my breathing. It’s unseemly how quickly that name sets off all my internal alarms. For it to come out of Mia’s mouth…
“How do you have a lead on Amos Rubio?” I say as evenly as I can.
Regardless of my effort for control, Mia clearly picks up on my anger. Her expression becomes more guarded and far more cold than before. “I met with a new client yesterday.”
I close my eyes and breathe in and out twice.
“A new client.”
“Yes.”
“Someone who wanted to hire you as a mercenary,” I clarify.
“Yes.”
I’m suddenly very grateful she declined the drink. This is not the time to have a glass in my hand. “You weren’t supposed to take on any work like that without consulting me.”
“I can’t remember that being a part of our marriage vows.”
“You’re being contrary on purpose.”
She matches my tone entirely. A challenge. I usually love a challenge. “I’ve done everything else you wanted. You don’t control me.”
“You are purposefully putting yourself in danger in spite of my direct instructions. You were supposed to tell me.”
“I’m telling you now.”
“Jesus Christ!” I yell a little louder than necessary.
It makes her flinch. It’s horrific to see. I want to snatch the words back from where they linger in the air between us.
I slowly, carefully take a seat as far from her as possible. “I’m sorry,” I say instead.
She swallows hard. “I’m capable of making my own decisions. I know how to keep myself safe.”
I bite my tongue to stop the protests that bubble up.
Logically, I know she can look after herself. I’ve seen her client list, read through her accomplishments. On paper, Mia is more than capable; she’s effective…ruthless even.
It’s just very different now that I know her, know all the places where she’s soft and warm and wanting. The instinct toprotectoverwhelms every other rational thought.
“The only reason I’m telling you is because it’s an opportunity the mafioso would kill for,” she looks away. “That, and I need some help.”
The admission takes me by surprise. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”
“Did you know that Amos Rubio has a daughter?” she says slowly. “Her name is Carmen. She just graduated from Princeton.”
I stare at her for a long time. Amos’ private life was one that neither the Guild nor the Prince’s Hand had been able to gather any kind of information on. He was presumed to be widowed, but any reference to a child or children simply did not exist.
Both Isabella and Teo had tried to find information in the depths of the Cartel’s encrypted files but became frustrated when they found that the kingpin was too old school for an electronic trail.
To prove her point, Mia indicates the sheets of paper in the middle of the coffee table. “I double-checked with the admissions office today. Amos Rubio paid her tuition in full.”
I don’t want to know how she managed to extract that presumablyextremelyconfidential information from the Princeton admissions office.
“How did your client know about this?” I ask, glancing warily at the evidence before me.
“My clientisCarmen Rubio.”
