"Okay! It's on the dining room table. I just sorted it to send back to the post office." A glimmer of hope shone in Fred's eyes. I nodded to Paris, who handed me the flashlight and left to retrieve the mail, while I kept my gun trained on Vic.

This was turning into a major disaster. How did things get so out of hand? Paris and I needed to do more research if this was true. The Council would be pissed if theythought we broke in and almost killed the wrong man.

Paris came back into the room. In the dim light I could make out that he had a stack of bills. These he tossed onto the bed, and Fred greedily snatched them up.

"See!" He held them up to us. "This is what I was talking about!"

Paris took back the flashlight and leaned forward to inspect the mail. Vic scrambled back to what he thought was the safety of the headboard. I watched him with amusement.

"Oh, no," Paris said softly, and I realized we must've had the wrong guy.

"So, who is it? What name is on there?" I asked, the gun still trained on Fred.

Paris snatched up the mail and stuffed it into his coat pocket. "Tell no one of this!" he snarled at the man on the bed. "Tell no one, or we will come back and finish it." Then he dragged me from the room, out of the house, and down to the car.

"Who a, slow down," I protested. "We don't want to attract attention."

Paris was driving at least forty miles over the speed limit. His face was pale, and he'd broken out in a sweat, which wasn't a good look for him, by the way.

"Hey," I said slowly, trying to be encouraging, "it happens to everybody. Neil didn't know the other guy moved. It's just a simple mistake."

Paris turned and looked at me as if he wanted to say something. In fact, he looked at me longer than I was comfortable with, considering he was driving. He said nothing until we got back to the hotel.

"What the hell was that all about?" I asked as we stripped out of our gear.

Paris looked as if he were going to be sick. Obviously this had affected him more than I thought. Of course he'd be upset. We'd just broken into the home of an innocent man, scared the bejesus out of him, and fled with little or no information on what to do next. Since I was the new, improved, humbled Dak, I tried a different approach.

"It's all right. That guy didn't see us. We'll find the real guy and blow a hole in him"-I held my hands out a foot apart-"this big."

He shook his head, despite my quote from Parenthood Parenthood. Okay. Maybe I should just let him deal with it in his own way. My phone started vibrating on my hip.

"Hey! It's Leonie," I declared. Maybe things were looking up. I flipped the phone open to talk to her.

"Hello?" I asked as casually as I could. Paris started shaking his head vigorously. What a dork. He could at least concede methis small victory. No, he had to muck it all up with his depression about the gig.

"Dak," Leonie began, "I'm so sorry for how I acted at Crummy's. I've been an idiot. I do want to keep seeing you, it's just . . ."

Paris was now doing some kind of charades thing. He was hopping up and down giving me the "kill" sign by dragging his finger across his throat. Geez Geez. You'd think our crisis at work could wait till I reconciled with my girlfriend.

"Is this a bad time?" Leonie asked, and I realized I was giving Paris too much of my attention.

I turned my back to him. "No, this is the perfect time. I've been thinking about you a lot and wanted to talk to you." I left out the word desperately desperately.

Paris walked over to his coat and pulled the bills from Vic's place out of his pocket.

He fairly bounced up to me and tried shoving them under my nose. Couldn't this wait?

I pushed his hand away. "Sorry for my distraction, Leonie. Paris and I are on a job right now, and for some reason he won't leave me"-I shoved him backward onto one of the beds-"alone."

She sighed. It was the most wonderful sound I'd ever heard. "Look, the fact is, there's been some stuff going on in my professionallife that I need to reconcile. But I shouldn't have pushed you away like that. You . . . you mean a lot to me, Dakota Bombay. And I want to be with you."

My heart obediently exploded on the spot. I felt as if I were superhuman . . . as if I could fly around the ceiling if I wanted to. "Leonie-that's wonderful! I feel the same way about you. When I get back let's talk. Please?"

She laughed, and I felt a surge of adrenaline. "Of course. Where are you?"

Paris grabbed my phone hand and pulled it back. I thought about killing him on the spot. As I put the cell to my ear again, he shoved the bills right under my nose.

"We're in Oregon-Portland, actually," I said as I finally looked at the envelopes. Time seemed to freeze as I saw the name on the bills of the guy we were supposed to kill.

The phone went dead, and I understood why. Typed neatly across the envelopes was, over and over again, the name Leonie Doubtfire.

Chapter Twenty-nine.

"Looks like I picked the wrong week to quit drinking."

-Steve McCroskey, Airplane Airplane

I slumped to the floor, still holding my cell phone. Paris took it from me and closed it.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I don't think so," I said slowly. My voice sounded as if it were really far away-as though I were a demented ventriloquist.

Thoughts played bumper cars in my head. I have to kill my girlfriend. I took an assassin to a family barbecue. I have to kill my girlfriend. I took an assassin to a family barbecue. This was the conflict of interest from hell. This was the conflict of interest from hell.

This went on for some time, with variations on the same theme. I didn't move from the floor. Eventually, in the background, I felt the shadow of my cousin moving around the room, but I wasn't really aware of anything. Every time I settled on a thought ithurt too much to pursue. Leonie was the enemy. And I was supposed to kill her.

We'd killed her colleagues. I was pretty sure she knew that now. I was also pretty sure it would be difficult for our relationship to bounce back from that.

I became aware that Paris was lifting me off the floor, which was good, because I'd lost all feeling in my ass a long time ago.

"Dak." He shook me gently. "Dak!" He shook a little harder. "Snap out of it, man!"

"Why? Why did it have to be her?"

Paris shook his head. "I don't know. It's a cruel joke. You finally grew up and fell in love, and now you have to kill her. It hardly seems fair."

There was no way out of this. If we failed to complete the mission, the Council would kill us. Those were the rules. Rules I'd grown up believing in. Rules I now wanted to blow up inside a Mickey Mouse costume.

"We don't have to figure this out right now," Paris said, trying to be helpful. "And our plane leaves early in the morning. Let's get some sleep."

He held an open hand out to me. There, on his palm, were two sleeping pills. I took them eagerly. There was no way I could sleep otherwise.

I dreamed I was playing tic-tac-toe with Leonie. No matter how many times we played neither of us could win. And we couldn't stop playing, because the Council would shoot us if we ended the game. We kept trying different things, but it was no use. Then, just as I came up with a strategy to win the game-one that couldn't possibly exist, I might add-Leonie pulled a gun on me, shooting me six times. As I fell to the floor I said, "Rosebud."

In the morning I was still tired, but not sure it if was residual from the sleeping pills or my bone-crushing depression about Leonie.

"We have to talk about this," Paris said after we went through airport security. "How do we know she isn't waiting outside the airport with a shotgun?"

I froze. I hadn't thought of that. Could she do it? Could she kill me? The answer, though terrifying, filled me with a weird relief: Of course she would. She'd have to do it to save herself. I'd want her to. I envisioned myself gallantly blowing my own head off to save her the agony of doing it herself. My last gift to her. Ooh. Ooh. If they ever made a movie of my life, the most important thing (besides the fact that Matt Damon would play me, of course) would be to include that line. If they ever made a movie of my life, the most important thing (besides the fact that Matt Damon would play me, of course) would be to include that line.

I shook my head. What was wrong withme? I didn't want to die. Louis needed me.

That little boy shouldn't have to go through losing both his parents so soon.

Another thought popped into my head, making me break out in a cold sweat: What if Leonie tried to kidnap Louis-to make a deal?

How well did I really know her, after all? Not well-since I missed the fact that she was an assassin for a competing agency.

"Where are you going?" Paris asked quietly.

I looked around and realized I was walking toward the ticket taker. Only they hadn't called for us to board yet. Sheepishly I sat back down.

"You don't think she'd try to take Louis, do you?" I murmured.

Paris shook his head. "Honestly? I have no idea."

In spite of my cousin's apprehension, I felt ashamed of myself. Leonie wouldn't hurt Louis. But she might kill me out of self-preservation.

Paris said, "I called Livto pick us up. She's going to have Gin check out the airport to make sure Leonie isn't around." He looked like he wanted to say something else, but changed his mind.

I usually loved flying. We always flew first-class. The hot towel, the comfortable leather seats, more room than the others back incoach. I always reveled a bit in some elitist bastardy. But this flight was agony, because every few minutes and few hundred miles brought me closer to the greatest dilemma I'd faced since they discontinued my signature hair gel a couple of years back.

Part of me hoped Leonie would go into hiding and I'd never see her again. That would solve everything but my broken heart. But if she didn't . . . if she confronted me, would I kill her? The thought of it alone caused an ache that felt like the heartburn I once got after making out with a fire eater (I'm serious).

How could I have missed it? Of course, that was why Leonie got calls to work at odd hours. And the last night we spent together, she'd probably gotten word that she was the only one of the National Resources assassins left. That was why she left so quickly. That was what she meant when she said she had a lot going on professionally. Was she planning on going into hiding and not telling me?

For a moment my heart stopped. Had she been thinking that? Was she just going to drop off the face of the earth, never telling me, leaving me to wonder what the hell happened?

I shook my head to clear it. This wasn't about me. This was about Leonie. She now knew who I was and that I had tried to kill her. Maybe she thought I got involved withher just to keep tabs on her so I could kill her.

Wow. I really didn't like where this was going. I really didn't like where this was going.

What the hell was I going to do? I wanted to convince her I wouldn't kill her-that I didn't know who she was when we met, that my feelings for her were genuine. How could I do that? Either she was lying in wait to kill me, or she was gone from my life forever. Either way both of us would be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives.

Damn.

Chapter Thirty.

"Do I ice her? Do I marry her?"

-Charley Partana, Prizzi's Honor Prizzi's Honor

Gin threw her arms around me as I entered baggage claim. Liv must've told her, I thought dully.

"I'm so sorry," she said over and over again.

I nodded, and in silence the four of us collected our bags and loaded them into Liv's minivan. Liv dropped me off at Gin's house, where I found Louis eating peanut-butter sandwiches.

My heart came alive for the first time in the last twelve hours as my son jumped into my arms.

"I really missed you, buddy," I whispered in his ear.

"I really missed you, Dad," Louis cried out as he squeezed me so hard I saw spots. Good stranglehold Good stranglehold, I thought proudly.

"I'm really sorry I had to leave. Do you forgive me?"

Louis looked into my eyes-which unnerved me a little bit. "No more travel without me.

No matter what. Okay?"

I nodded. I didn't want to be apart from him either. Finally I let him go, and he ran off to play with Romi. Gin offered me a cup of coffee, and I took it gratefully. Sitting there in silence I slowly drained the cup. Gin stood, resting her back against the sink, drinking her own. I realized I was glad to have her with me.

"What should I do?" I asked.

"I don't know, little brother. I wish I did."

Great. No help from her. But at least she was someone to talk to. No help from her. But at least she was someone to talk to.

"I don't think you and Louis should go home," Gin started carefully. "What if she decides to kill you?"

"If you'd asked me that question last night, I would've said, 'Let her.' But I've got Louis to think about." I drummed my fingers on the table. "I don't think she'll come after me. I think she'll vanish and I'll never see her again."

Gin nodded in response. "I really liked her.

I could definitely see her in this family."

"I know. I guess it just wasn't meant to be."