By twelve forty-five a.m. we were alone backstage trying to decide what would work better, weakening the cable or screwing up the pulley. One rock-paper-scissors game later, we were working on Paris's plan to weaken the cable. How was I supposed to know the bastard would pick paper? He usually picks scissors and I usually pick rock.

Oh. Maybe he knew that. I hate it when I find out I'm not as smart as I thought I was.

While Paris worked on fraying the cable, I replaced the steel carabiners with cheap aluminum ones and significantly loosened the screws that held the cable in place. We wanted it to look like an accident, like human error and equipment malfunction. I could live with that. If none of the above worked, there was always one of Missi's transparent bullets.

Once we were satisfied, we slipped past the snoozing guard at the door and made itback to the hotel. Paris dropped off immediately, but I wanted to do some work on my wig. It was so crappy that no matter what I did, it continued to resume its ugly bowl shape. Damn synthetic hair.

Louis popped into my head once I stretched out. I was surprised to notice that I smiled automatically. Damn, he was cute. How did I end up with a kid like that? I felt bad that I didn't remember his mom. I would've liked to have known more about the mother of my son.

A shock of pain hit my stomach, and I realized I felt bad that I'd treated her like all the other women. Whoever she was, she did a good job raising Louis. And I was depressed that I couldn't thank her for that.

Chapter Seventeen.

Vesper Lynd: "It doesn't bother you; killing all those people?" "It doesn't bother you; killing all those people?"

James Bond: "Well, I wouldn't be very good at my job if it did." "Well, I wouldn't be very good at my job if it did."

-Casino Royale

The next morning, at nine a.m. sharp, Paris and I (incognito again in the seventies-porn-flunky look) stood in the doorway of the auditorium closest to the backstage area. Why weren't we in our seats? Well, one reason was to avoid the rednecks who sat next to us yesterday (I smiled, thinking of them pestering Lowe about lobster semen all night), and the other was that if something went wrong with the hit, we could finish off the target quickly.

"I've been thinking about what you said," I whispered to Paris.

"Hmmm?" He was busy studying his watch.

Lowe's lethal zipline moment was about to make motivational-speaker history.

"What you said about women. How I don't seem to respect them."

Paris arched his right eyebrow. "We're working now. Can't this wait?"

I nodded, then went on anyway. "I was just thinking about Louis's mom. How I don't even remember her. And I think you're right about me."

"That's great, Dak. This is a real breakthrough for you, but the wrong time." Okay, he sounded pissed.

I turned my eyes to the stage. Damn. Damn. They were running late. After scanning the audience I thought about talking to Paris again, but something in his posture dissuaded me. They were running late. After scanning the audience I thought about talking to Paris again, but something in his posture dissuaded me.

Music started up, you know, the kind of dun-dun-dee-dun thingy that announces the arrival of the king, dictator, sheikh, whatever.

"Do you want to zip through success?" Anthony Lowe's voice came from backstage.

The crowd went wild. I rolled my eyes, thinking, Just die already Just die already.

"Then follow me!" Lowe screamed, and the audience screamed.

Paris and I watched as Lowe started to appear at the side of the stage, about forty feet off the floor. As if on cue the cable gave way, dumping the speaker unceremoniously in a heap on the right side of the stage. That wasa serious drop. But people have been known to survive high falls, so I held my breath.

The crowd was unnervingly silent. For once in his life, I realized, Mr. Lowe had the complete attention of everyone in the room. How nice How nice.

We waited just a few more minutes for the stagehands to do the typical, "Oh, my God, he's dead," and the expected gasp from the audience, before Paris and I headed for the exits.

"I just wanted you to know that you were right," I started up as we walked out to the parking lot.

Paris stopped and looked at me. "What are you talking about?"

I explained to him that I was up pretty late thinking about Louis's mom, how I felt like an asshole for how I had most likely treated her. We continued on to the car and got in.

Paris listened quietly.

"That's great, Dak." He finally spoke as we got into the car. "I never thought you'd come around."

"And I wanted you to be the first to know.

And as soon as we get back I'm going to invite the family to a barbecue at Gin's house to meet Leonie."

"Why at Gin's house?" Paris asked.

"Well, duh! Gin has a backyard and a grill.

I don't." It made sense to me.

Gin was more than enthusiastic to host the family. Diego nodded and winked. Mom screamed into the phone when I invited her and Dad, and Liv was so excited that she spoke in a shrill, high-pitched voice that I believe only chipmunks could understand.

Apparently I'd never done this before. I didn't realize I'd never brought a woman home to meet the family. I called Leonie and she sounded amused, but agreed.

"That's awesome, Dad!" Louis howled when I told him.

"Really?" I asked him.

He nodded. "Yeah! All my cousins-Romi, Alta, and Woody-will be there! My whole family! I never got to do stuff like this when Mom was alive. She avoided her family."

I thought about what he said for a moment before responding. "Louis? I'm really sorry I didn't know your mom that well. I wish I had."

My son arched his right eyebrow. "Really?

She told me the same thing once. That she wished she'd gotten to know you better."

That kind of stunned me. "Oh. I didn't know that." I cleared my throat. "Are you mad at me?"

His eyes grew wide. "No. Why would I be?"

I shrugged and picked at a piece of the carpet with the toe of my shoe. Louis made me feel as if I I were the six-year-old. were the six-year-old.

"I don't know. I just wanted you to know that . . . well . . . I lov e you, and I'm glad you're here."

Louis flew into my arms, crushing me with his embrace. "I love you too, Dad," came the muffled reply.

I set him down, trying discreetly to brush away a tear as I did so. "So, you like the Bombay family?" I tried to change the subject. My heart was beating so violently I thought I was having a heart attack.

"Oh, yeah! My cousins are cool, and I love Grandma and Grandpa! Paris and Missi are a lot of fun to talk to, and Gin and Livar e like having two moms! Although I do think it's weird no one in this family seems to have a day job. But after this trip to Santa Muerta, I figure we're all independently wealthy."

Maybe this would've been the right time to tell him what the Bombay family business was. Romi and Alta had started their training last year. And Woody was four years away from his first kill. They all knew.

But something held me back. Louis was a genius. He wouldn't just take the information and live with it. Chances were my kid would analyze it-bring up the ethical questions most of us spent our whole lives avoiding. It was a pretty safe bet to think that Louis would not join us without a fight. I'd have to do something I'd never done before-prepare. Make sure I had good reasons for what we do. Maybe I should talk to Liv and Gin about it.

So, I changed the subject and we spent the afternoon planning the party. Louis chose hot dogs, hamburgers, and a decorated cake depicting the wonders of the Gobi Desert. I'm not kidding.

On a Saturday afternoon my family stood in a semicircle in Gin's backyard, ready to meet Leonie. I made my introductions, and Leonie laughed. The Bombay family rushed to mob her, and I realized everything was going to be okay.

"Wow, Dak." Gin sat down next to me at the picnic table. "She's amazing. I'm kind of in shock." She took a drink from her bottle of beer and winked at me.

I watched as Liv, Mom, and Leonie talked animatedly a few yards away. "I guess I've never brought anyone home to meet the family before."

"And this one has a brain. Very cool," Gin said.

I punched my sister in the arm. "Are you saying I didn't date intelligent women before?"

"With the exception of Louis's mom, yes."

Gin motioned toward my son, who was seriously engaged in a watergun fight with his cousins, Diego, Paris, and Liv's husband, Todd. It felt so . . . so suburban.

"Missi ran the DNA test on Louis. He is my son; I think I can claim some of that intelligence." "No, little brother. It definitely didn't come from you. I think he gets it from me."

I gave her my best evil eye as Liv joined us.

"I have a son. How cool is he?"

"He's amazing!" Liv gushed. "And Leonie's great too. Hell has definitely frozen over today." "Oh, come on!" I protested. "You had to know that this might happen someday!"

My sister and cousin shook their heads simultaneously. Gin said, "You are growing up."

Livadded insult to injury by nodding in agreement.

I focused on Leonie as she chatted happily with Mom and Dad. She was nothing like any woman I'd dated before. I knew she was special, and we hadn't even slept together yet. Hell, we haven't really even made out!

The old Dak would be panicking right now.

But I wasn't the old Dak, was I?

What was it about her that invaded mythoughts day and night? She was smart, funny, and didn't put up with my bullshit. I should hate hate that in a woman. But Leonie Doubtfire was different. She was like a best friend. that in a woman. But Leonie Doubtfire was different. She was like a best friend.

Huh? It startled me to think of a woman as a buddy. That was impossible. And if she were a friend, I wouldn't be attracted to her. It startled me to think of a woman as a buddy. That was impossible. And if she were a friend, I wouldn't be attracted to her.

And yet I was.

"Hey, Gin," I started, "can Louis spend the night?"

"Of course. Why?"

I shuffled my feet under the table, then ran my fingers through my hair. "I think tonight's the night with Leonie." I couldn't believe I'd just said that. In fact, it looked like Gin and Liv couldn't believe it either, by the way their jaws hung open.

"What are you saying?" Gin asked.

I could feel a blush coming on. This was completely alien to me. "It means what it means."

Liv looked from me to Gin, then back to me. "You mean you two haven't . . ."

"You and Leonie haven't slept together yet?"

Gin finished.

I nodded. They fainted. Okay, so I'm just making that part up. But judging by their reactions, that's what should've happened. Iguess I could understand that. They'd known me as a player since I was sixteen. Hell, I still couldn't believe it.

Liv, normally a wine drinker, opened a bottle of beer and chugged it. Wow. Wow. I'd never seen her do that before. Gin couldn't stop staring at me. Apparently they were in shock. I'd never seen her do that before. Gin couldn't stop staring at me. Apparently they were in shock.

Problem was, so was I.

When the cookout ended I led Leonie through the receiving line of well-wishers and out to my car. She didn't ask where we were going, and I was so excited I don't think I could've answered her. I was pretty sure I was going to get laid. No, scratch that. I was going to make love to Leonie. I was going to make love perhaps for the first time ever. And I was scared shitless.

Chapter Eighteen.

"An assassin without confidence is a horrible thing to behold. It's like a relief pitcher who fumbles the ball."

-Julian Noble, The Matador The Matador