That Was Then (The Re-Do Series Book 1) Read Free Page B

it. Assassins don’t get the white picket fence and the two and a half-kids.
    In fact, even when we engage with women, it is always done carefully to ensure that no bonds are left behind. Children are anchors. Love interests are liabilities.
    I should be more concerned with Damien’s revelation than the one gleaned from my search.
    I should, but instead I gather my key card and head toward the elevator.
    I berate myself even as I stalk down the hall. My desire is torn in two. The woman from the elevator is still caught up in my mind. I know her name as well as her age, birthday, cell phone number and address.
    Kendal Villanueva, daughter of Miranda and Sipriano Villanueva.
    Parents, divorced.
    No siblings .
    Age twenty eight.
    Unmarried.
    Pastry chef at La Ruba International
    I’m not sure what I should do with the information, but I’m heading to the kitchen anyway.
    The elevator opens in a mechanical whir. I step inside, holding my stance carefully. Despite my strange and unprecedented fascination with Kendall Villanueva, I’m very aware that each day I remain stationary is a day lost.
    Shadow is one of the best assassins this side of the Americas. His reputation precedes him. Few have had the privilege of seeing his face and living to talk about it.
    Unlike most assassins who create bonds with others, whether in or out of a brotherhood, Shadow moves on the fringes. No one knows his real name or his history. He works by no code of honor and often slaughters families of the targets for his own twisted pleasure.
    Killing is not supposed to be a form of entertainment for us. It is a livelihood. A way of life that exists in the morally grey area of society. Death and life is in the power of the sword which we learn to wield with patience and honor.
    In times of war, assassins – with one swipe of their blade or a pull of the trigger – can end battles before they begin. We can exterminate corrupt politicians and business moguls that thrive on the backs of the innocent.
    It is far from a glamorous job. We murder. We lie. We betray.
    Assassins are susceptible to the intentions of the clients. And yet, none can discount the need for our silent and indiscernible presence. It is an honor and a privilege. A cause worth dying for. A life that is unmoved by death.
    Which is why Shadow and his deeds are so incomprehensible. Our ties lie solely between our client and our target. Unless we have no other options, civilians should not be involved. Women and children, especially those that have nothing to do with the cause, should always remain unharmed.
    Shadow goes against the very basis of our principles. He is both a thorn in the side of the Brotherhoods all around the world and a shame to the name that he bears.
    I have no idea why he has marked me or why he would give warning of his imminent approach. Though my name is still linked to the Brotherhood, I have been inactive for many years.
    I chose instead to travel the world freely with the funds garnered from my past jobs. I have no ties with anyone. Few know my real name. Even the assassins that took me in gave me a new name and only referred to me as such.
    How did Shadow find me? And why did he send a warning? It is unlike the code of an assassin to announce their arrival.
    The elevator doors open and I step off. The scent of something sweet and savory fills the air, reminding me of my days in France. Pulled by the fragrance, I walk confidently into the kitchen, thoughts of Shadow fading to the background.
    This is an incredibly foolish ambition.
    I have no plan apart from my need to see Kendall Villanueva again. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to see her smile or hear her laughter. I feel that she has bewitched me and I have no power against her spell.
    “Excuse me,” I tap the shoulder of a short man who is heartily whisking something in a bowl.
    “Yah!” He whirls around and wields the whisk like a weapon.
    His stance is too wide and his eyes are frantically flitting