Page 6 of Business vs. Pleasure

“Amazing, five stars, I wish he could kill my husband again.”

“So professional and willing to work with me on every aspect of the setup. Highly recommended.”

“If you’re looking for the best, look no further.”

The best? The best? Fuck that.

Maybe…just maybe…Ricardo had the right idea. Maybe they should dust off their former lives and come back for one more hit. One hit to rule them all. Something fabulous and flattering and incredibly highly paid, before swanning back into retirement with the itch thoroughly scratched.

Hell. It might even be fun.

CHAPTER 3

Ricardo had felt guilty for a while about sneaking peeks at RateYourHit and secretly communicating with Heidi. He’d known August wouldn’t be happy about it, and he’d known it was a dickish thing to do.

But he’d done it anyway because the restlessness had been killing him.

And now there was a not-zero chance that August would kill him.

You’d deserve it, too. What were you thinking?

Standing up on the rooftop terrace again, staring out at the ink black void of the Med, he cursed himself up one side and down the other. He wasn’t actually afraid of August. He was just pissed at himself for upsetting him. For hurting him.

Retirement had been the catalyst of a huge fight right before their wedding. Ricardo had thought August was changing the terms of their relationship. Asking him to change something so fundamental—asking him to stop being what he’d been for so long—had felt like a bridge too far. But then Ricardo had come to his senses. He’d realized what August really wanted—a life together without constantly being afraid of losing each other.

He’d wanted that too. He still did. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than for August to be safe and happy.

The problem was that Ricardo couldn’t cope with safe and happy. He was restless and bored and didn’t know what to fucking do with himself. It had been bothering him for a while, and ever since he’d gone to that rich asshole’s party—ever since he’d watched from the sidelines while others engaged in the excitement of a heist—he hadn’t been able to get comfortable.

He didn’t want to hurt August. He didn’t want to go back on his word.

He just didn’t know how to be this person.

Now August was justifiably hurt and pissed off, and if there was one thing Ricardo knew how to be less than a retired assassin, it was a husband who could unfuck this situation.

Good thing his ex-wife was both smarter than him and a night owl.

“What did you do?” she asked when she answered his call.

Ricardo laughed into the stillness of the warm night. “What makes you think I did something?”

“Because you’re calling me out of the blue at—what is it, four in the morning over there?”

“Something like that.”

“Mmhmm. So… out with it. What did you do?”

He closed his eyes and sighed. “I fucked up.”

“Mmhmm.” She didn’t ask a third time, but the question hung in the air anyhow: What did you do, Ricardo?

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he took a deep breath and spelled it out to her. He didn’t bother holding back any details. God knew he’d lied to her enough in their past life, and anyway, he didn’t have to hide his and August’s profession—former profession—anymore.

When he’d finished confessing his sins, Eve whistled. “So how pissed is he? Do you have a bunker somewhere you can hide?”

He had to chuckle at that. Eve knew August well. “No bunker. But he’s… Fuck. He’s really upset. I’m probably lucky we had someone fry himself on our security measures tonight. Gave him something to occupy his mind for a few hours.”

The silence on the other end went on for so long, he thought he might’ve dropped the call. He was about to ask if she was still there when Eve laughed dryly. “I… You know, I really shouldn’t be surprised by anything anymore, but the fact that you can be so chill about—listen, when you say he fried himself, do you mean…”