Page 67 of Deadly Obsession
“Okay, don’t ever tell Del about the phone cloning thing... or the tracking app. He hates that I have a digital footprint.”
Our food arrives, and we sit in silence while eating. It’s been way too long since Noah and I have had a chance to go out to brunch at Boqueria, our favorite spot in SoHo. The Barcelona-style tapas are to die for, and I always imagine I’m in Spain at some cute little cafe on the waterfront.
Except I don’t even have a passport because I’ve never been outside of the U.S. I’ve traveled across the country with Chase and his stupid band, but I never had enough money to go anywhere that required a customs check.
I wonder if Elias could take me somewhere in his private plane?
I frown at the thought. My poor parents are in hiding, Chase is still out there probably plotting my demise, and I’m thinking about escaping with the mafia boss who’s obsessed with me.
“I actually have something to tell you too,” Noah says the moment we’re done eating. She takes a sip of her vodka tonic before setting it down and crossing her arms to lean on the table. “I’m not just some mafia princess.”
My eyes light up, and Noah holds up her hand. I’ve heard people use the word to describe Noah before, and I’ve read it in plenty of mafia romance books, but knowing my best friend is anactualmafia princess just makes me giddy as hell.
“I’m notreallya princess. It’s just a term. Anyway, when I started investigating my mother’s murder, I came across some vile humans... I couldn’t let them live and harm more people, so I started killing them. I gained a reputation because I was good. Because no one expects the fat girl to be a contract killer. I was invisible for the most part. People lowered their guard around me. So, yeah, I’m a contract killer. They call me Colpa Sicario.”
Wait.
Noah is a... contract killer. A...murderer?
Holy shit.
Is this real?
Am I having a nightmare or something?
I pinch myself until it hurts.
Okay. Real life, I guess. I mean, why not? My bestie is in the mafia, and she kills people.
“How… how many people have you killed?” I drink the rest of my martini and point at the empty glass when I get the waiter’s attention. At this rate, I’m going to need a keg of this stuff.
“Not as many as Del—”
“Del?!?”
I know he’s Elias’s enforcer, a mafia hitman, but a contract killer too?
“Oh, yeah, he’s kinda my rival. He’s called the Marionette because of how he sets up the murder scene, including the bodies… like they’re puppets. He’s killed way more than me which is funny since people say I’m just as good as him.” She shrugs. “I lost count, but I’d say dozens.”
I must have made a face because she holds up her hands.
“They all deserved it, I swear.”
A maniacal laugh bubbles out of me.
Probably because my best friend just told me she’s a mother fucking contract killer—and apparently her mafia rival fiancé is too—yet I have no desire to run. I’m not even appalled.
I’m impressed because Noah has always been a badass bitch.
When my bestie laughs, I realize I said that last part out loud.
“It’s true. You are a badass bitch. Have been since the day we met.”
“So you’re not mad at me for not telling you? You’re not disgusted or scared of me?”
I shake my head. “I have no room to be mad, especially when I, too, was withholding important information from you. And maybe I’ve completely lost the plot, because no, I’m not scared. To be honest, I got that vibe from you.”
“What vibe?”
