by Jace Killan
Kristin opened the door and screamed upon seeing Marco. Joaquin sat up. “It’s okay, babe. This is a friend.”
Marco stuffed his pistol behind him. “Yes. We had the same father.” He spoke with fairly good English. Through all the communications with Marco, they’d spoken very little.
Joaquin shrugged. “He’s CIA.”
Marco helped Kristin with her restraints. “And you? Are you CIA, Jaqui?” She knelt down beside him. “It is Jaqui, isn’t it?”
“It’s Jaqui. But no. I’m no one. Just an ex-con that got involved with all this.”
“He’s being modest, of course,” Marco said. “Jaqui has been an unknown soldier. He’s helped take down one of the biggest cartel bosses in history. And he also helped kill the head of the NIS.”
Her eyes grew wide. “Really? When was this?”
“Just now.” Marco laughed and pointed at Ericson. “That guy’s the most wanted terrorist since Bin Laden.”
“And he died in my apartment.” She laughed. They all did. Joaquin would later chalk up their reaction to shock.
Epilogue
Kristin rolled on top of Joaquin and kissed his forehead, then his cheek, then again, and then met his lips. He held it, relishing the freedom to do what he’d wanted to do for so long—enjoy his relationship with Kristin. He loved her. And now he didn’t have to pretend that he didn’t. Or worry about letting her down or letting her go.
She’d agreed to witness protection on one condition: that her new identity include a legitimate marriage to Joaquin. Her parents hadn’t a clue, though Spencer committed to filling them in as much as he could.
She’d chosen him, an ex-con. That title didn’t exist anymore, washed away like baptism with his new life. Now he was a hero. He’d stopped one of the greatest, most horrific terrorists of all time. And this man, Askari, had once been Joaquin’s friend and mentor.
He’d also crippled the Sinaloa Cartel. The US had seized over a billion dollars in assets with billions more in seizures to follow. The money led to restaurant chains, antique stores, pawnshops and other seemingly legitimate businesses all used to launder drug money for the cartel.
Joaquin brushed her bare back with his fingernails. She flinched and giggled but continued to kiss him.
The smell of breakfast filtered into the room. The sun seeped through the window shades illuminating the empty walls.
Witness protection had relocated them to Albuquerque in a newer home he shared with his mom. Joaquin didn’t expect that would be any trouble. She’d taken to Kristin, though she didn’t seem too happy about having redheaded grandchildren who, according to her, would probably be little hellions.
Joaquin looked forward to it.
“I love you, Kristin Serrano.” She laughed upon hearing their new last name.
“I love you too, Jaqui.”
