Ayan's face screwed up in disgust at the mention of the test. "I hate algebra," she muttered, stepping away as her parents looked at one another. "Come on, Rufus, come on!" She leapt into the house, the dog following her with an excited bark.

Danica looked at the roses and smiled, curling her hand around the stems as she shook her head. "I know, love," she assured him, the look in her eyes just enough to tell him how concerned she'd been when he had been an hour or more late. "She insisted on staying up for you." She leaned in and hugged her husband gently, fingers carefully testing his shoulders for any sign of injury.

"It's important, baby girl." Javier smiled and ruffled Ayan's hair before she bounded into the house, with Rufus in hot pursuit. His eyes fell to his wife. He saw the concern in her eyes and he reached to hold her gently. "No worries, my love. I'm safe and whole, and home as I should be." He lowered his head to bury his face into the shallow that formed between her neck and shoulder. Inhaling deeply, he smiled at the faint smell of her perfume. Every morning was torture to leave her side, every night like the end of a year long separation, so glad he was to see her safe and well. "Let's go in. What will I have to reheat for dinner?"

Danica held onto Javier tightly for a moment longer, letting out the sigh that had been building. With Ayan clattering around upstairs, she led her husband into the house and shut the door behind him. "You don't have to reheat, we made stew," she told him with a relaxed smile. She wouldn't be completely happy until she had checked every inch of him, and neither would he until he had done the same for her. Their work was too risky for them to take one another for granted. "Did you complete the project today, or will you be taking another long day tomorrow?" she asked, glancing up the stairs to where Ayan was watching her parents in the hall.

"Mmmm, stew." His stomach growled hungrily as they moved through the house and the scent wafted on the air. Quickly, he unbuttoned his cuffs, then his arms went to unbutton his shirt and it was peeled off. He knew the routine, and embraced it. It was the one sense of normalcy to their lives: the little routines they were accustomed to. "It's done, love." He sighed softly, another job done on another day. "I think it's time to get rid of the pieces and buy new ones. Too easy to join the dots," he whispered as he pressed a kiss to his wife's cheek.

"I think you're right," Danica agreed in a soft voice, pressing her lips to his cheek warmly before turning to drop the only slightly bloodied shirt into the washer. She served out a bowl of stew for him, bread collected as she ushered him towards the table. "Not now, Javier," she told him quietly, stroking a hand through his hair as she kissed his temple. "When she's asleep." Then she raised her voice. "Alright, miss, you've seen him. Now come and say goodnight!"

He took the bowl from her hands and sat down at the table. "Thank you." He smiled as he gazed up into her pretty face. It was a good day, a good night. All was well in their humble abode. He dipped the bread into the thick stew and nodded as he bit into it. "You're right, as always."

There was a thump as Ayan took the cue and came thundering down the stairs to hug her father once again, squeezing her arms around him tightly. "Night, Daddy," she whispered with a smile, pleased to have got away without the nightly interrogation for once.

Fourteen Years Previously ...

The couple were cosily quiet at their table, getting ready to pay the check and leave for the hotel room that had conveniently gone on the married man's credit card, careless of his wife finding out about his infidelity. Little did Stanley Birkenfold know that his wife already knew about his infidelities, and had, in fact, hired an assassin to deal with him. An assassin who excused herself as he paid the bill and slipped into the toilets, checking on her concealed weapon as she dialed the wife's number.

"Mrs Birkenfold" Yes, I'm on track. Expect the tragic news in the early hours of the morning." She checked her reflection, adjusted the set of her short black wig, used eyedrops to moisten the blue contacts in her eyes, and returned to the table in time to take Mr Birkenfold's arm as he escorted her from the restaurant.

At the bar sat the tall Latino. He sipped his whiskey on the rocks, seemingly bored as he read the daily newspaper. The call had come a few days ago and this Stanley guy was easy enough to find. The man spent money as if he were made of it. Idiot. With the resources of the Mirelli family behind him, there was nothing and nobody that this Latino couldn't find.

He eyed the couple at the table, enjoying the quiet dinner. A soft sigh passed through his lips when he saw the wig on the girl. She was pretty enough. Young, too. He couldn't understand the attraction to the middle aged man with the beer belly. Oh well, he shrugged off the thought. He felt sorry for her, waking up to a dead man in her bed. A shake of his head and he turned as they passed him on the way to their room. He'd paid well for the room number and a key. It was just a matter of time.

Laughing at yet another dull attempt at a joke, Danica allowed Birkenfold to lead her up the stairs and into the room, laying her bag down on the bed beside her as she sat down. One of her best tricks was to seduce before striking, and this idiot had made things far too easy for her. He disappeared into the bathroom, no doubt to try and wake up his one-eyed trousersnake from its alcohol induced coma, and she opened her bag, withdrawing the little handgun and attaching the silencer before sliding it beneath the pillow against which she was sitting. Now all she had to do was wait.

When about ten minutes had passed, the Latino got up and smiled at the bartender. A decent sized tip was placed onto the bar and he moved back to the kitchen area. As promised, the cart with the clean, crisply started white linen stood next to the service elevator. A bottle of champagne sat cooling in a silver ice bucket. He nabbed the plate of chocolate covered strawberries and hoped like hell the girl was either allergic or detested strawberries. If not, oh well. She'd just be a casualty of war; written off as a double murder suicide. Quickly he injected the cyanide into each berry, then dropped the syringe to the ground, crushing it under his boot. Then it was kicked into the dustpan as he wheeled the cart to the elevator. Moments later, a knock came to the door. "Room serbice!" he called out, the accent was terrible. He quickly moved down the hall and waited.

"Would you get that, honey?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes, and moved to open the door, raising her brow as she looked at the man there. Tall, Latino, older than her certainly but definitely not old ...."We didn't order any room service," she told him politely, moving to shut the door. "I'm sorry you've had a wasted trip."

Another knock at the door. "Room serbice!" the Latino man called out, this time no tray, no cart, and no uniform. He was going to simply knock the girl out, and finish the job. The man was an idiot and couldn't be too hard. He hated guns though. They were so messy. He grabbed the cross that hung around his neck, kissing it reverently before tucking it into his shirt. He didn't want to get blood on it. It would be sacreligious.

She shot in the moment of the knock, Birkenfold's body dropping to the ground with a quiet thump. Quickly the gun was put away - "Coming!" - and her prints wiped from the room. She opened the door, gave the familiar man her best smile, and stepped into the corridor with him. "He's all yours," she promised with a wink, and moved away down the hallway. Turning the corner, she ripped the dress off her body and stuffed it into her bag, revealing shorts and a cropped shirt, and pulled the wig from her head, letting her brown plait hang down her back. The wig was stowed in her bag as she took the stairs down.

He knew the sound of a silencer when he heard it. About to kick the door in, he was startled when it suddenly flew open. As she smiled and passed, with that little retort, he glanced in the room. Only took a few seconds to see the blood already pooling around the man's head to know that the job had already been done. He cursed softly in Spanish and closed the door. Leather gloves, thin and taut on his hands, wonderful things. He quickly turned and hurried after the girl...He caught sight of her going into the stairwell, and he followed. "Hey, wait." The accent was gone.

The stairwell was deserted, perfect for tying up loose ends. Like another assassin who could ID her. She heard his footsteps, his voice calling, and spun, her gun cocked and aimed at him. But she didn't pull the trigger. "You should have gone the other way." Her own accent, her own voice, smooth and quiet, and full of regret.

He put those gloved hands up, showing that he'd put the snub nose away and was currently unarmed. She was right, and if it had been anybody else, he would have walked away. But he was a man who followed his gut instincts and they had told him to follow her. "You dropped this." He held a hair pin between his fingers, a long strand of brown hair pinched and trapped between it's wavy teeth. "Didn't think you'd want to be picked up because of DNA."

Her eyes flicked to the pin held in his fingers and back to his face, though the gun never wavered. "Why?" she asked quietly. "Why not leave it and let me take the fall for my mistake?" As she spoke, she put up the gun, tucking it back in her bag. Doubtless they both knew a dozen ways to kill without needing weapons anyway.

"Professional courtesy." He spoke quietly, so his voice would not echo in the deserted stairwell. His eyes had a softness that had not been there before. A step slowly taken down and towards her. "Least I could do, since you made my job easy today." A slight curve of a smile to his full lips. He held the pin out to her. "Need to be more careful, Mizz." He winked, using that horrible accent, just for fun.

She stared at him as he set that horrible accent to his voice again, and slowly rolled her eyes, snorting a little as a laugh escaped her lips, curving to a genuine smile. "Thanks, I'll remember that," she smiled, spreading her hands peaceably before reaching for the pin, and the hair that could have given her away.

When she reached for the pin, he jerked it away with a soft laugh, then finally gave it over. "How about a drink" I've just a call to make and we can go anonymously blend in with some crowd at some nameless bar. Talk about our childhoods and the regrets we have for our chosen professions. What do you say?"

She considered him for a moment, tucking the pin back into her hair. "Sure," she agreed lightly. "But I have a call of my own to make, after all. Meet you in the foyer, ten minutes tops." She winked at him, backing away, and headed down the stairs once again, taking a huge risk in turning her back to someone she could see now had far more experience than she did.

The knife whizzed past her ear and he chuckled softly. Sitting down on the stairs, he tsked. "Never turn your back, beautiful. Never." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it between his long fingers. "Consider that a professional courtesy, as well."

She glanced over her shoulder at him with a smirk. "You missed." And continued on her way, through the foyer and into the toilets once again. Ten minutes was more than enough time to change her clothing to jeans, shirt and soft sneakers, moving back through the foyer to hail herself a cab.

"On purpose." He chuckled as she left the stairwell. He brought the phone to life. Slipping out of the stairwell, himself, he walked through the foyer and out into the daylight. Sure, he'd like a date with the girl. Maybe they'd see each other again. With them both in the same line of work, it was entirely possible. As he spoke on the phone, he waved a taxi down and smoothly slid into it. A laugh into the phone, the car door shut and he was gone.

Her head tilted almost without conscious thought, lips parting in a silent sigh of pleasure at the warmth ghosting over her skin. But she wasn't foolish enough to lose herself to pleasure with a colleague, lifting her head to meet his eyes with a wry smile. "Then I guess that means you'll never get your hands on what I'm hiding, diablo," she grinned at him. "Since you're never going to get the drop on me." She pushed herself off the wall, up close and personal, with a soft, teasing purr.

As she pushed off of the wall, she brushed up against his chest. His hands were still firmly planted on her arms. "Hmm, a dare, Angel" If you think that I only sleep with my marks, think again. It's a sort of hobby of mine, that's all. A dangerous one, at that. It's amazing what a squirt bottle filled with vinegar and ammonia will wipe out of certain body parts."

"My, my, you have such a way with words, I may swoon," she mocked sarcastically, inching her hands up his chest. "Anyone would think you were trying to seduce me, old man ....vinegar and ammonia, indeed." She laughed softly. Age in their case meant nothing to her; they dealt with death on a daily basis, why not take life as you find it"

He sniffed at her joking reproach and his face screwed up as if he'd just smelled something sour. Letting her go, he took a step towards the edge of the curtain. "You might try it, sometime. The ammonia and vinegar. Might....help." He snickered then, and slid out from behind the curtain and into the main throng of people. He laughed, the rest of the group was already laughing, and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing water's tray. He couldn't wait to see or hear her response, a twinkle in his eyes.

He wouldn't have to wait long. She paused just long enough to cover her own exit with the passing of a waiter, and slipped beside a young man - a scarecrow - who had been entertaining his group with tales of how he might seduce the next woman who came along. With one sparkling glance towards the bearded troubador, the angel purred into the scarecrow's ear, leaning against him invitingly. So he wanted to see what she was capable of, did he"

His lips pursed as he watched her. It was simple enough to hide the gesture of faint jealousy with the sipping of the wine in his hand. The little act for his benefit was not receiving good reviews from the one critic that mattered. But still, he watched as the scarecrowed costumed man slung an arm around the angel that had sidled up to him. The boy had slowed considerably, with a brow waggle to his friends. Yes, the game was on and the scarecrow was going to play to win.

Little did the scarecrow know that if he dared to try and close with the angel, he may well find himself missing certain necessary parts of his anatomy. She played along for a while, laughing and purring, showing off her skill at becoming any man's perfect match for however long it mattered. And then, quite simply, vanished into the crowd; not even a sign of that bouncing halo to give her away.

Until small hands touched the troubador's jacket, pulling him around and into a warm kiss from the missing angel. "Oh, ye of little faith," she smirked up at him, backing into the crowd once again with a shake of her smiling head. If he wanted her, he was going to have to claim her sometime.

The scarecrow flailed about, flabbergasted that the woman he was so sure that he was going to take to his bed simply disappeared. During the entire scene, Javier had remained stoic, sipping his champagne from the flute, as if his arm were mechanical and only moved in that small arcing way. At her disappearance, his heart rate picked up as a small panic set in. What had happened to her" The panic swiftly floated away like the cigar smoke that wafted towards the ceiling of the room as her tiny hands appeared on his chest. A kiss given and received, and then she was gone again.

"I have faith in what I can see, Angel." He lifted his flute of champagne, nearly full still, in salute. He knew the best way to chase was to stand still. Your prey will come to you, eventually.

A few of the party goers that were near the entrance turned to watch the drama unfold. Javier noticed this and quickly gathered Danica into his arms and hurried her away from the onlookers.

"There, there." He smoothed her hair down her back and whispered softly, "I did not intend to insult you. If I had no interest in you, would I be here, with you right now" No." He hadn't waited for her to answer. "You are smaller than I, Danica. Therefore you will always be little in my eyes. Do not judge me harshly, little one. For I have no other interest, than I have in you. Not romantically, at least."

Her head tilted back to look up at him, eyes still touched with uncertainty. Strange, that without the disguises that were such a mark of their trade she lost her confidence. "Javier, I'm behaving like a child," she whispered back to him. "Go back to the party, I'm fine, really. I ..." She glanced away for a moment before continuing. "I got my hopes up, that's all. I won't let it happen again, I promise." She made her lips curl in a smile that should have seemed natural enough.

"For such a good assassin, you're a terrible liar." He smiled warmly and remained steadfast where he was. "I'm not going anywhere, Danica. Not without you. Not tonight." He canted his head a bit and smiled some more. "So I guess you're stuck with me."

Her brows raised, a little of her wry humour returning. "And you honestly think you could manage to stick by me even if I decided to escape you?" she snorted with laughter, shaking her head. "And I am not a terrible liar ....I just can't lie very well to you, that's all."

"I wouldn't pray to think that I could catch up to you or stay beside you, if you were to want to keep away. I'm too old for that." He laughed and sat down, gently patting his knee in offering. "And I admire honesty, above all other things, Danica."

"Honesty does a lot of damage, in the right circumstances," she pointed out, not needing the pat on his knee to slide down onto his lap. It was a natural place for her, and had been since an unfortunately disastrous escape attempt had resulted in the pair of them being locked in the world's smallest broom cupboard for three hours. "You must think me very stupid for getting rid of my props."

His arm curled around her, protectively. That three hours in a broom closet had pretty much cemented the deal on their relationship, even if they hadn't spoken the words. "I do not think you stupid. I think you're very brave. I wish I had your pluck, sometimes."

"You're more sensible than I am," she pointed out with a soft laugh. "After all, I've never heard of you making any mistakes that meant you needed to cover your tracks, and I'm always blundering like that." She rolled her eyes, laying her head on his shoulder with a soft sigh. "I wish you would teach me some of your tricks - maybe the families would take me more seriously, then."

"I'm not perfect, by any means." He shook his head with a wry laugh. "But I can teach you what I know. Most of it I learned by trial and error. Making mistakes and analyzing those mistakes so I wouldn't make them again." He sighed then and leaned his head against hers. "Perhaps I should retire. Been doing this for going on fifteen years. It's getting old."

Danica laughed, nestling in his arms as he sighed. "You'd be bored out of your skull in weeks," she predicted with a smile, watching as her fingers reached down to play with his. "Besides, if you retire, you'll stop crossing my path, and that just isn't acceptable." Her head lifted, letting her smile into his eyes.

"You're right, I would be." He grinned, nodding in agreement. His fingers laced with hers as they relaxed together on the settee in the lobby. "Well, we can arrange it that we see each other every day, you know."

Four months later ...

Javier stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the tuxedo awkwardly. He was used to wearing clothing that allowed for free movement and felt trapped within the silk suit and all of its trappings. First he played with the cuff links, then the white silk bow tie. To anybody that didn't know him, he gave the appearance of a worried and nervous groom. And to a point, that were true. He still had some reservations. With his line of work, he could be dead for months and his wife never know. True, he did not intend to leave a widow behind; being killed was not on the top of his to-do list. With a sigh, he stepped from the mirror and eyed the stranger who sat in the small room with him. A gambler from the casino they chose. Already the license was bought and paid for. Thank God for Las Vegas. He muttered another thank you to the man who smiled back with a nod. Both were dressed in Louis Vitton tuxedos, with white rose boutinierres. All he was waiting on was the preacher to tell him that Danica was ready.

Unfortunately, Danica was running just a little late. In fact, she was running, as fast she could, down the busy main street, whilst hopping into her shoes and trying to fix her hair. The job she'd been called onto that morning had become, shall we say, complicated, necessitating one very close call, and resulting in one very late bride with an interesting cut on her left shoulder. And to cap it all, Javier wasn't answering his phone. She just hoped he hadn't left the chapel already.

Javier sat down, leaning forward so that his forearms rested on his knees. His hands folded and he twiddled his thumbs. He hoped that Danica was alright; he didn't delve into her professional life so had no idea that she'd been out on a job. And even if he'd known, he wouldn't discredit her for it. They were at work twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Still, he was getting a bit nervous. Another ten minutes and he'd go after her.

Seven minutes, and one accomodating stranger later, Danica skidded to a halt outside the chapel, smoothing her hands down her dress. Thank God she'd taken it with her on the job, or she'd never have got here on time. Her smile to the usher got the ball rolling, and it was only a few moments later that she heard the music cuing her entry to the main room, nervously smoothing her hair back off her face as she stepped in. Her eyes went straight to Javier, trying to convey excitement and apology all in one go.

There was a soft rap at the door and Javier nearly leapt to his feet. He crossed the room in two swift strides and grinned at the usher who told him that his bride had arrived and that the ceremony was soon to start. Javier gestured excitedly to the stranger who laughed amicably as they left the room. Hands folded before him to keep them from gesturing wildly, he followed the usher through a door and to the altar. The music was cued and both Javier and the stranger turned to watch the doors open for Danica. His gaze to her was all in one an acceptance of that apology, forgiveness, and pure, unadulterated lust. The stranger beside him couldn't contain himself and let out a soft whistle.

Behind her, her own stranger echoed his stranger's whistle, making Danica laugh softly as she paced down the aisle, coming to a halt beside Javier with her hands clenched behind her back. The clean bandage on her arm pulled a little, and she dropped her hands to her sides, not knowing what to do with them. She looked up at Javier with a soft smile, mouthing a small 'hi' to him.

When the bedazzlement of his bride wore a bit, he noticed the bandage. A quizzical brow rose as he took her hand in his and turned them to face the minister. The ceremony had begun. Though his body faced the man of the cloth, his head was turned and he could not keep from staring down at Danica. Her hand was clutched between his fingers with a firm, but gentle grip that said, "Now and forever, I'll never let you fall."

She shook her head slightly at the raise of that quizzical brow, her smile promising to tell him all later as her fingers laced with his. Unlike him, she refused to face the man performing the ceremony. Instead, her body was turned to his, her head tilted back to meet his eyes as the solemn words just went right over her head. All that mattered in this moment was him, and the fact that he was soon to be hers.

It took the combined attentions of the registrar and the witnesses to pry the newly-wed pair apart, however reluctantly. Laughing softly for her open display, Dani kissed Javier's hand before taking the pen from the registrar, signing her new name for the first time. And it truly did not look unusual at all, to see Ortega after her name, rather than the name she would now forget. That was the past, this was the future. And it was a future she was no longer going into alone.

Javier took the pen from her and signed his own name. He stared at her writing and grinned as he handed the pen over to the witnesses. Their scrawl would never be legible, even if Javier wanted to know who they were. To him, this all made sense. They knew nobody but each other, relied on nobody but each other; forever and ever, amen.

To be honest, this was about as far as Danica had managed to plan. Get to the chapel, get married ....then what? She laughed at something daft said by her accosted witness, thanking both strangers and the priest for being there with them. And through all the chitchat, her fingers squeezed onto her new husband's, her body leaning against his in the intimate manner she'd been teasingly denying him for months.

Javier sipped the complimentary champagne that had been offered and nearly winced when the priest doubled as the photographer. He hated his picture being taken. He turned to look down at Danica. If she wanted pictures, he'd take pictures.

Luckily for him, she was just as against photographs as he was, but for a far more practical reason. They had no way of knowing what would happen to the film once those pictures were taken and copies sent to them; the last thing they needed was for their underworld to discover the marriage before they were ready for it. So with a smile, she waved her hand, shaking her head. "There's no need, really," she assured the priest. "Memory is far more forgiving than photographs."

Javier squeezed her hand and then released it. His hand found the small of her back and kept her pressed against her. Taking up the license, he held it between his fingers. "And now, time for the honeymoon." Quickly, he picked her up as if she weighed no more than a sack of flour. He headed to the door amidst the laughs and ribald comments being tossed at their backs.

He was very lucky she wasn't still as switched on as she had been before the ceremony had begun, or that little manuver to get her over his shoulder would have resulted in a crippling punch to his throat just moments after becoming his wife. Even so, she did tense when her feet left the floor, only just remembering to laugh and wave at the chattering trio as Javier carried her out of the chapel. She poked his back. "Easy, diablo, you'll get your hands on what?s under the dress soon enough."

"Am I the devil?" He shifted her around so that she lay cradled in his arms, against his chest. He smiled fondly as he walked through the casino. There was more applause, poker chips and quarters being thrown in their direction. Gamblers' rice or bird seed, he supposed. Money was being tucked into his pockets as he continued through. "I think we picked the right place for this, little one. Drunk people with too much money. Dinner's on them." He chuckled as they left the casino and disappeared into the long corridor that marked the hotel part of the casino.

Her arms curled comfortably about his neck as he cradled her to him, her lap quickly filling up with the chips and quarters he didn't manage to catch. Her lips touched his cheek lovingly. "I think we picked the perfect place," she agreed with a grin. "Although we may have to head out fairly quick. Our kind tend to hang around Vegas like vultures."

"Yes, they do. But one night isn't going to hurt. One night." He grinned and bumped the elevator button with his elbow, refusing to give up his bride to gravity and the floor. He carried her into the elevator and used his elbow, again, to light up the button for the top floor. "One night of peace, Dani. Then we go out on the run."

Her fingers touched his lips gently as she shook her head. "Not on the run," she corrected him softly. "We're the best, remember" They want us, they have to pay like everyone else. And besides," she shrugged, winking up at him, "we won't have to go on the run until you tell your bosses you got married." Her lips parted in a cheeky grin.

Danica's eyes dropped as she felt her skirt rising, a slow smile appearing on her lips as she looked back at him. "I thought you said you were hungry?" she asked sweetly, unable to quite stop her gaze from flicking down to his lips and back to his eyes.

"Mmm, I am." he grinned slowly. His eyes lazily gazed over her face as his hand continued to gather the silk. "Didn't say for food, though." His grin widened then, openly inviting her to take the initiative, if she wished.

She laughed huskily, leaning in to tease her lips against his. As soft kisses were peppered over his mouth, her fingers crept up, untangling his tie and flicking open the buttons on his shirt. If it was initiative he wanted, he was going to have to get used to a little give and take.

He grinned and returned most of the soft kisses. Giving and taking, they made their way to the bedroom to consummate a marriage that could well end with death taking them in separate directions all too soon. And when they were done, they lay together, sated and warmed, limp in sheets made hot by their coupling. "I love you, Dani."

She stretched cat-like on the bed as she watched him watching her. A slow grin appeared on her lips as her arms stretched above her head. "I kinda thought you might," she said cheekily. "Most men don't love their wives like that without being attached even a little bit."

He wiped himself off with the edge of the comforter before flopping down beside her. "And you'd know a bit about that, wouldn't you?" He chuckled and took her hand. It was a compliment; he knew she knew how to do her job. "Someday, Dani," he took her hand and gently squeezed it. "Someday, there'll be no condom."

"Oh, I know it," she smiled, rolling onto her side to lean over him. "Someday there'll be a white picket fence and no hiding our identities and chocolate milk for breakfast everyday." It was only a little sarcastic; they both knew someday was a very long way off, and could very easily never come.

Javier sighed. He was basking in the after glow of making love to his wife, reveling in the feeling of being a newly wed. He wanted to dream the dreams of other newly wed grooms. Her sarcasm brought him out of that and he looked at her with a wan smile. "Yes, I know. Someday."

Her hand curved down his cheek, eyes soft with apology. "I'm sorry," she whispered with a faint smile. "I guess I'm just too practical to be a romantic, huh?" She leaned down, lips touching the corner of his mouth. "I'll try, though ....least I can do after my gorgeous, manly, handsome, sexy husband just blew my mind. Twice."

He closed his eyes with the caress of his cheek. "You wouldn't be you if you weren't practical." His eyes opened and he smiled, pulling her towards him. "Me, I'm a hopeless romantic, through and through. So I'll dream for the both of us."

She smiled, flinging a leg over his as she settled beside him. "Sweet dreams, then, diablo," she grinned, kissing his cheek lovingly. "Tomorrow, reality bites."

His arms curled around her and held her to his chest. "Yes, I know. Back to the grind." He sighed, his chest heaving beneath her cheek. Suddenly, he froze. "Under the bed." He didn't hesitate, but bodily threw her to the far side of the bed. Whipping up like a jack rabbit, his gun was unholstered and aimed at the door just as it was kicked in.

She heard it the same moment he did, not entirely expecting to be thrown bodily off the bed. Rolling down with a thump, she crouched out of sight, practised hands seeking the handgun hidden in the bedside cabinet, cocking it as the door was kicked in. No one was getting the drop on Javier, not with her in the room.

Javier didn't hesitate, the gun was fired. The would be assailant staggered back as the silent but lethal projectile went through the shoulder. Javier didn't mean to kill the attacker, just disarm him or her and find out who had sent them. Another round fired and the assailant crumbled to their knees. Or what was left of one of them, before falling to the floor.

Blood and brain matter was wiped up off the floor, disposed off in the garbage can. May as well leave a few mysteries for the cops to beat their heads over, Dani thought ruefully. She slipped back into the bedroom, retrieving her clothes and slipping them on before pulling the bag over her shoulder. The knives she had taken from the dead woman were slipped into her garter securely, and she moved to join her husband as he headed for the door. "Europe, here we come," she smiled faintly, kissing his cheek.

He took her hand in his and was careful to step over the wet floor. The door was opened and he lifted her up and onto the other side. Then he turned, pulling a bottle of ammnoia that he carried and opened it up. He dumped the contents onto the clean floor. If there were any blood left, it'd be spoiled and unusable. Then he shut the door as best he could and led her towards the elevator. "Did something seem a bit odd about all of that?"

She nodded thoughtfully. "Seemed more spur of the moment than anything," she commented softly, covering her hand with a cloth and pressing the button for the elevator. "If they'd planned it more thoroughly, there would have been more of them. Opportunists?" she suggested, tilting her head as she looked across at him.

"Could be." He nodded as they waited for the elevator. "Maybe one or both of them had a connection to the Mirelli's?" He shrugged as the elevator door opened. Stepping inside, he pulled her in. "Europe, indeed. Spain" Portugal?"

"Must have - no one else would want us yet," she shrugged, stepping in with him. "Just gotta hope they didn't call us in as married, or we'll have more than incompetents to worry about. There'll be bounty hunters on us before we hit the airport." She sighed, leaning against his shoulder for a moment. "And I was thinking more ....Italy, Greece." She flashed him a grin.

He knew the implications and didn't want to talk about it. As the elevator took them down, he held her hand tightly. "Greece is nice this time of year. Good idea." He grinned down at her. The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He put on a pair of sunglasses as he stepped out into the lobby. His eyes glanced around and he sweat just a bit. But he kept the smile on his face, a cool aired facade for the public eye.

Her fingers laced with his as they walked across the lobby, a slow measured pace that wouldn't give anything away to a watcher. And no one looking at the newly weds in that moment could possibly guess that they had left two dead bodies upstairs, just waiting to be discovered. So began married life for two of the best assassins in the world.

Javier breathed out as Danica came close and brought his hand up to instill the illusion that it was he pulling on Gloria's hair. The rest happened so fast that even his trained eye could barely follow it. Once Gloria was slumped on the bed, he quickly got up and strode over to the chair where his clothes were neatly folded.

"Yeah, yeah, fun's over." He grinned cheekily. He quickly got into the suit and used his undershirt to wipe down the room where he'd been. "She reminded me of a blow up doll I had in college." A shrug and he continued the meticulous job of cleaning. "Good job, by the way." He turned to his wife and smiled softly. "But then, you are the best."

"Looked like you were enjoying your blow up doll a little too much," Danica said, still in that unfriendly tone. She had her excuses for being ridiculously jealous and snarky, but then, she hadn't actually told him what they were yet. "Get her looking natural, if you can. Your ammonia's in the bag." That last was downright nasty, but she didn't stop to see how he had taken it, moving to jump up and catch hold of the vent, and begin to pull herself up.

His brow creased darkly and his jaw popped open. This wasn't the first time they'd pulled a hit like this, so he couldn't understand her sudden resistance to it. "Dani, wait." He put his hand to her ankle as she pulled herself out of the room. "What's wrong, Dani. Talk to me, love." He was looking up at her, confusion and hurt written into every line of his face.

She stared down at him, her lips working tightly together. "I'm pregnant and you seem to be boning every mark we get at the moment," she said rather bluntly, shaking her ankle free to disappear into the vent. "Get moving - the room's only rented for another twenty minutes," she told him, feeling a pang of guilt for the look on his face as she screwed the vent firmly back into place. "I'll see you at the car."

His brows shot up and his jaw dropped further. First from shock, then indignation. "I've not been boning.." but then she was gone. He shook his head and went about the business of making it look like the woman had died of natural causes. Another sweep of the room to assure not a trace of him was left behind, and then he left.

Ten minutes later, he opened the passenger door of the station wagon and tossed his bag into the backseat. He got in and slammed the door. "Drive." he growled.

The car was ready to go as he slammed the door behind him, Danica turning the wheel as they pulled away. Her black clothing was hidden in the back of the car, leaving her dressed in the tank and shorts she'd been wearing that morning. Weapons, syringes, everything else she had been wearing or using had been dealt with. Javier's growl was a little intimidating, though. She'd not seen him truly angry before.

Javier kept his expression unreadable. Staring out of the front window of the car, he didn't even notice the red and blue lights that suddenly appeared at the hotel he'd been in just moments before. He couldn't figure out why Danica hadn't told him about the pregnancy when she first found out. Why did she agree to take the job, knowing that their child would be in danger" Nearly pitch colored eyes slowly moved to observe her as she drove. His lips pursed as he tried to think of something to say. But nothing came out. Scratching the spirit gum from under his nose, he tried again. And the best he could come up with was: "Why?"

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Danica turned off onto a deserted street, pulled in and switched off the engine. She sighed softly, staring at the steering wheel. "I wasn't sure," she said finally, her voice quiet and a little shaken. "And you've been so vocal about not wanting kids yet, I didn't want to tell you until I was. And then I was sure, and ....oh, I don't know, Javier, I was scared! I still am scared!"

He ran a hand through his inky black hair and sighed with exasperation. "Danica, we're a team. You tell me everything." Reaching for her, he pulled her into his lap and held her to his chest. "No reason to be scared, my love. Don't be frightened, I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere." He closed his eyes and gently kissed the top of her head. "No more jobs for you. You're officially retired, Danica."

She willingly let herself be pulled into his arms, navigating the gear stick with no little difficulty. "We have commitments, and I'm not going to let you do anything alone unless I absolutely have to," she objected. "I'm fine to work, honestly. I just ....I won't be able to after I start showing. It'll get difficult to move around after that."

"No, Danica." His voice was soft, but firm as Spanish steel. "It's bad enough that I let you risk your own neck, but that's your choice. You're carrying our child now and there will be no more risk taking. I won't back down on this point." He had put his hand under her chin and gently lifted so that they were looking eye to eye. "I hope I make myself clear."

"I'm not ill," she muttered at his back, gathering the bags of their clothing from the back of the car before she locked it up, jogging to slip in through the door in front of him. The bags were dropped by the stairs, and she drew a small gun from the back of her shorts. Holding it ready, she nodded to him, and crept up the stairs. It was a standard ritual now, to check the house over for any unwelcome guests.

He sighed and closed the door behind him. His own snubnose was pulled from it's holster at his side and while she took the upstairs, he took the downstairs. While he was creeping through the kitchen, into the laundry room, he couldn't help but think that this wasn't the life for a regular family to go through. No way for a child to grow up. Once he finished his loop through the downstairs, he stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "All clear!" he called and holstered his gun.

Up the stairs and through the deliberately open-planned bedroom and bathroom. The only room that had a door up here was the toilet, and that, too, was empty. "All clear!" she called down to her husband in reply, and flicked the safety catch back on, tucking the gun back in her pants. She thumped down the stairs, and jumped the last five to fling her arms around him.

He caught her, mid-leap and swung her about with a soft laugh. When he set her to her feet, he kissed her briefly and then pulled himself to his full height. The offer to turn state's evidence against some of their employers had been on the table from time to time. It was now and before finding out about her pregnancy, Javier hadn't given it a second thought. But that was then. He looked her in the eyes and nodded. "I'm going to do it." He knew that doing so would cause them to go into protective custody, new identities, new home, new life, new jobs. But he saw no other way for his child to grow up as a normal, healthy child, without it. "We're going to do it."

Dwarfed by her tall, handsome husband, it didn't take Danica even a moment to work out what he was saying. And it made sense. She, herself, had been arguing on the side of turning state's evidence each time they'd spoken about it, to be the Devil's Advocate. But now ....she meant it. She nodded, patting his chest gently. "We will, on the condition that they let us stay together," she agreed. "That's a deal breaker, Javier."

He sighed with relief and hugged her tightly. "Yes, of course. I'll call Petersen in the morning and let him know." He gazed into her face, "Danica, do you think me a coward for doing this?" He really needed to know what she thought.

She looked into his eyes, solemn and affectionate. "No, I don't," she told him firmly. "Lesser men than you have turned state's evidence and did not know what they had. You know what to give and what to keep back, and the balance of those is a challenge. You would do this to protect your child, and I am more than willing to walk into it with you. And we are more than capable of keeping ourselves safe, if we have to walk away."

"Thank you, love," he whispered and bent to kiss her softly. Righting himself, then and only then did he allow the goofy grin to explode onto his face. "I'm going to be a dad!" He picked her up and hugged her tightly to his chest. "We need to call my parents and your parents!" He nearly dropped her, then caught her before she landed. "I'm going to be a daddy." His grin was proud, excited, exuberant and beaming with joy. "Thank you, love." He kissed her then, thoroughly.

She smiled against his lips, stroking her hand into his hair, only to let out a yelp of a laugh as he hoisted her into the air. His exuberance was catching, bringing out her long suppressed giggles and smiles at the thought of seeing him holding his child. "Yes, you're going to be a papa," she grinned, feet dangling almost a full foot off the ground. "You're going to be a wonderful papa." Then his lips were on hers, and she was flying, held up by the joy she had been afraid he would not feel at her news.

He slowly put her to her feet and broke the kiss. He stepped back, holding her at arm's length. His dark eyes shone with pride and adoration for his wife. "I love you, so."

So one had become two, and now two would become three. And if all went well, they would just disappear off the radar, like countless others had done before them.