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dazed--xx · 3 years ago

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Mr & Mrs Jeon (Final)

MR & MRS SMITH screenplay written by Simon Kinberg/ Novelization by Cathy East Dubowski

T/W: Assassinations, guns, suggested sexual content, crumbling marriage, contract killing, Rocket Launcher, Government agencies, slight DV(they accidentally hurt each other physically) anything else i did not mention

A/N: I DID NOT WRITE THIS THE AUTHORS ARE LISTED ABOVE. I was definitely watching Mr. & Mrs. Smith and just saw Jungkook as John so often i needed this. and I saw your comment here you go hun @mwitsmejk @awinkies

JUNGKOOK

Here at last-home sweet fucking home.

I crested the last hill like a skateboarder taking flight over a mondo ramp. But she was already there, just pulling into the driveway.

I couldn’t let her get inside the house first, so I took a shortcut, tearing up the lawn as I T-boned across the front yard, and showered her Benz with dirt clods. I missed her expression as she jumped from her car, but I knew that move would drive her nuts. Screw it—she wasn’t the one who mowed the lawn three times a week.

I cut the motor and scurried from the car, leaping over hedges to beat her to the front door. I grinned in victory as I reached for the knob. “Shit!” It was locked and bolted, and I didn’t have my keys. I whirled around to face her coming up the walk-but she was already slipping in the side door. Christ! This house would be like a fortress to an experienced agent like Jane. I had to get inside. I raced toward the backyard. I could probably bust down the door.

But as soon as I rounded the side of the house, the back door squeaked open.

There stood Jane, like a goddamn Amazon-hair whipping in the wind, eyes flashing in the moonlight, feet planted wide in a Rambo “don’t fuck with me” posture. A hunkin’ submachine gun was cradled in her arms.

I froze right where I stood.

Well, most of me did. Damn, she looked hot. I had no doubt she knew how to use the ammo. But would she? Could she look me in the eye and blow me away, after the tortured dance we’d had earlier? After the things I’d said over the phone? She was a woman, after all. Even if she hated my guts, could she actually pull the trigger?

Jane moved, and I knew, the answer was FUCKING HELL YES! I leaped away Hell, hath no fury like a woman . . . I lay on the ground spitting dirt, preparing to die-knowing that, no matter how fast I crawled, rolled, or dug, she would blow me away. And I hers on a plate. But then, nothing happened.

I was relieved to find my head hadn’t exploded. Surprised when she stepped back inside and slammed the door shut. I heard the lock click, heard her throw the bolt. Stay out of my house, it said. Sorry, Mrs. Jeon, I muttered as I scrambled to my feet. But my name's still on the deed.

It wasn’t the first time I’d had to break into my own house, but I was a little more sober this time. And I knew from experience, the basement provided the easiest access. I tore across the grass to the storm door, ripped it open, and was in. Then I bounded up the stairs, slipped through the door, and darted like a shadow toward my den.

Once inside my personal sanctuary, I popped open a panel hidden in the wall and pulled out a beautiful, ready-to-fire, shrink-wrapped silenced pistol. No need to distract the neighbors from their reality TV. Then I stepped into the hall. It was too damn quiet. And eerie-the familiar spaces of my home suddenly felt like alien terrain.

Did she know I was inside? Was she stalking me? Maybe she thought she’d scared me off with her angry display of firepower. Maybe she thought she was safe inside her bolted fortress and had gone to bed. Well, babe, I’ve never let a woman's defenses keep me out of someplace I wanted to go.

My back to the wall eyes darting in every direction ready to turn the corner.

Pausing for a moment I grab a photo off our wall, using it to peer around the corner. There she was the apple of my eye locked and loaded with a very large shotgun aimed right at the corner.

BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM . . .

I ducked as bullets ripped across the wall, shattering framed photos, busting a sconce. Okay, she was still up. And still pissed as hell. I groaned, pretending to drop my weapon. Silence.

“You still alive baby?” Jane teased. Bitch! I darted up and unloaded my clip through the hole Jane created in the wall.

She shot through the wall as I walked back in my previous direction reloading my silenced pistol, Okay Jane lets fucking do this then. I made my way around the hall into the back of the foyer. Launching myself out into the foyer I unloaded my clip as Jane shot at me with a Semi-automatic sliding from the bottom of the stairs into the dining room. I made my way into the hall that led to the dining room slowly turning around to check if she made her way behind me.

My elbow connecting with a piece of China sitting on a shelf my heart drops with the item. My hand quickly reaching up to grab it on its side. YES! The lid slides off slowly dropping itself to the floor. NO! FUCK! I hear Jane chuckle from the other side of the wall.

The sound of the shotgun loading has me darting from my position backtracking as Jane unloaded her shotgun into the wall narrowly missing me, I dive at the door way sliding into nearest shelter-the kitchen-with Jane still hot on my heels. Jane fired again this time with the semiautomatic, but I yanked open the refrigerator door. Her bullets bounced off the Sub-Zero like it was a Greek warrior’s shield but it won't last long....

Ouch. If she hadn’t wanted to kill me before, she sure would now. She loved her fridge. It took her three months to get that model. Diving behind the island at the center of the kitchen as Jane continued to fire her Semi-automatic. I drop my gun and pull the utensil drawer out; I scramble through it to find something anything that could be used as a weapon. A meat cleaver! I wait until Jane has to reload and toss the cleaver toward her, the blade just narrowly missing her and stabbing into the doorway.

I drop back behind the counter Fuck fuck think Jungkook. I stare into the hole where the drawer was BINGO! “Your aims as bad as your cooking sweetheart!” I bait. Reaching into the hole and grabbing the gas line to the stove, “and that’s saying something!” I hear Jane finish reloading as she begins shooting into the kitchen, the spark from the gun powder igniting.

An inferno sent in Jane's direction; she drops to the ground in the hallway losing her weapons in the process; preparing myself I launch myself into a wall of flames toward her.

Jane

MY AIMS AS BAD AS MY COOKING HUH YOU BASTARD. My back shoved against the all outside of the kitchen. I put a new clip in my semi aiming it into the kitchen toward the direction of the counter before turning the corner, with all my fury I storm into the kitchen. Jungkook’s hand reached over a cord in his hands as I continue to unload my weapon. Oh shit, I rush back as the smell of gas reaches my nose. Flames extend from the tube in Jungkook’s hand.

I can feel the heat on my back as I drop to the ground in the hallway. As I regain my ground, lifting myself Jungkook barrels through the doorway, his foot connecting with my stomach. I let out a small groan at the contact.

He punches me in the abdomen the force sending me into the wall. I duck causing his elbow to get itself stuck into the wall. Lifting myself elbowing him in the side of his head. In his hazy state I shove him into the hall connecting to the dining room, gripping him by his hair I slam him into the shelf I decorated with China. Glass shards everywhere.

I grab a vase off the shelf that managed to be missed by Jungkook's body; I smash it over him just as his arm lifts to shield the blow. He grabs the front of my dress shoving me into the wall, creating a huge hole; his grip never lets up as he slams me into the doorway of the dining room. Whipping me around he tosses me over the dining room table. “Cmon honey...” he teases as he makes his way around the table toward me. Okay Jane think think, my eyes scramble around the wreckage of a centerpiece, Yes! The tin watering can I use as a vase. Wrapping it in in the table cloth quickly. “Come to daddy” Jungkook smirks.

Asshole! I whip myself around, the tin connecting right with the side of Jungkook's face knocking him out of the fighter's stance he was in. Wrapping the bottom of the table cloth around Jungkook's neck I connect my foot with his chest; kicking him back into the China cabinet with a head butt. “Who’s your daddy now?” I taunt at his disoriented figure on the floor covered with shattered China around him rushing into the hallway for my discarded shot gun, as I get my hands around it Jungkook kicks it away.

Wham!

He tackles me to the ground into the living room. Before he could get on top of my I wrap my legs around his waist and punch him repeatedly. His arm reaching up blocking my hits he flips us over with ease. I wrap my legs around his waist hands shoving into his firm chest as he tries to push them away. I wrap my hand around his wrist pulling him toward me, connecting his head with the ground as my arm goes around his neck. He stands us up, still clinging to his throat; he whips us around shoving me into the grandfather clock I kept in the corner then the mirror over the mantle. He pulls away from me my body sitting on broken glass. I grab the housephone and a vase slamming them over the sides of his head. Tackling him into the sofa I place myself on top of him. Slamming my fist down on him, he reaches up gripping my hair he flips us over.

He stands above me kicking repeatedly into my abdomen; instinctively my foot flew into his crotch. Regaining our strength, we pull ourselves off the ground in a staring each other down. My chest heaving from exhaustion, my eyes darting toward the shot got a few feet away. We launch ourselves across the room, I reach for my pistol I kept hidden in the fireplace. Jungkook grabbing my discarded shotgun.

Our eyes never leaving each other's as our chests heave guns drawn at each other. The silence is too loud as Jungkook slowly lowers his gun. “I-I can't do it....” he whispers. My heart clenches don’t fall for it Jane.... “DONT!” I gesture my gun toward him “CMON! CMON!” I exclaim between gritted teeth.

Jungkook looks down his eyes glossy “if you want it” looking back up at me “It's yours” he gasps. Tears stream down my face as I stare into his eyes. Jesus Christ! What was he trying to do? I blinked hard, struggling. His hand shoves my gun down, my finger slid from the trigger. The gun fell from my hand. I couldn’t do it. And I knew I never would.

Terrified, I felt myself falling, falling ...

Till Jungkook caught me in his arms. In a hungry, crushing embrace. Like a woman starved, I devoured his kiss and let myself be devoured, too. And I remembered him. I remembered him … Tearing at each other’s clothes, we slid to the floor-a floor littered with the composted mementos of our old life.

Each an assassin; each in complete surrender.

JUNGKOOK

Damn! Who is this woman, and what has she done with my wife?

JANE

My husband’s torn clothes were lying all over the floor. The house was a wreck. I had totally lost control. Worked for me. Lying in a tangle of sweaty garments, among the dust and debris, I couldn’t remember when I’d last felt this wonderful. Yes, I could.

That first time.

“Hiya, stranger,” I murmured. He grinned. “Hiya back.”

“Not bad.” “Not too bad yourself.” He pointed his finger like a gun and ran it down between my breasts, then drew little circles over my heart. “I should’ve killed you a long time ago.” I raised one eyebrow. “Kill me again,” I purred.

With a growl, he pulled me into his arms, and we plunged into a delicious, lingering kiss, no hurry now, a kiss that said, we are not dead; and the hours of a lifetime lie before us in all their possibility.

Then-I couldn’t help myself-I started to giggle.

Jungkook pulled back and looked at me. “What?”

“I wonder what the neighbors would say if they could see our ‘perfect’ house now.” Jungkook and I looked at each other and then we both burst into stomach-rocking laughter. Jungkook got up and pulled me to my feet. With a wild whoop, he spun me around and around in the littered foyer, and I screamed like a kid on an amusement-park ride, the kind that turns you upside down and takes your breath away.

Then Jungkook put me down and took me by the hand, and together, leaving the mess we’d made till morning, we climbed the stairs to bed. Just an ordinary couple, Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.

We made love like newlyweds.

And I saw stars.

JUNGKOOK

Sometime just before dawn, stomach rumbling, I headed downstairs, into the ruins of our kitchen. The fridge was pretty empty, the box of cereal full of holes. Even, sadly, the pie was destroyed. But I was used to improvising.

Like in Bogota.

Whistling softly, I plucked what I needed from the shattered fruit basket, and soon created a fruit salad worthy of room service at the finest hotel. I glanced up and caught Jane smiling at me from the doorway.

Jeez, she looked beautiful-so soft and touchable. Gone was the Stepford wife, and the trained killer. In their place was Jane. Just a woman.

My wife.

How long had it been since I’d actually looked at her in the morning light? Really looked at her? We grinned at the absurdity of it all, to be here, together, in the middle of all this chaos. And then she was in my arms. For a moment, we simply held each other and I felt like a man who had just bolted up from a nightmare to discover that everything was all right. It was a new day. And we had the freedom to start all over again.

I mean, when you thought about it, the whole situation was really kind of funny. “So, how’s the software business?” I asked as I offered her some fruit. She grinned and chose some juicy chunks of peach. “Beats me. How’s construction?” I chuckled. “Lordy knows.”

She smiled almost shyly, and I felt an overwhelming desire to tell her how stunning she was. “That left hook of yours?” I said. “A thing of beauty.”

“Thanks,” she said. “You take it well.” She tiptoed through the twisted cutlery and broken glass, looking for a coffee cup. Then she turned with a question in her eyes. “Our vacation in Aspen, when you left early?” Ah, that. “Jean-Luc Gaspard,” I admitted. She shook her head. “Darn. I wanted him.”

“The forty-five-minute showers?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Morning briefings.” She slipped slightly on some spilled condiments but caught herself, and laughed out loud. God, she was amazing-so loose and graceful and . . . free. “You didn’t hear me the night the chopper dropped me off for our anniversary dinner?” I asked.

“No”

I was surprised. “No?”

“Percussion grenade,” she explained, pointing at her ears. “Temporary hearing loss . . .”

I nodded. Been there, done that.

Jane finally found what was probably the one unbroken coffee mug in the whole house and went to the sink to rinse it out. But halfway there she winced. Then she reached down and pulled out a shard of glass from her foot and laughed. Laughed in the middle of all this chaos. Just like that day in Bogota, giggling in her room as shots rang out and the policia swarmed the halls.

God, I couldn’t take my eyes off her. An overwhelming feeling in my chest compelled me to confess everything to her. “I’m a little color-blind,” I blurted out.

Her eyes widened. But then she smiled and confessed, “I have no feeling in these three fingers.”

“Three ribs,” I said. “Fractured eye socket. Perforated eardrum . . .”

“Femur. Fibula. Still can’t bend my pinkie . . .” I met her at the sink, this girl of my dreams, my hands dripping with the juice of the fruit. “This is why you’d never let me get a dog,” I said.

She nodded sadly. “Who’d walk him if I got shot?” I turned on the water to wash my hands. Our fingers touched as she reached over to rinse a trace of blood from her hand. We were silent a moment, just thinking about it all.

Then she looked up at me. “Ever have trouble sleeping at night?” she asked softly. “You know, after . . . ?” Should I tell her what I expected she wanted to hear? Or tell her the truth? I went for the truth.“Nope.” A crooked smile stole across her lips. “Me neither.”

And we both laughed.

“Last Christmas, did you leave three frag grenades in the Mercedes?” I asked. Jane rolled her eyes. “I was wondering where I put those . . .”

I took her hand and led her to the living room, hoping we might still find something we could sit on. Man, the room was a wreck. Maybe we could just empty the place, start all over again. Like the day we moved in. Her eyes fell on the image of her new curtains all tattered and torn apparently destroyed in the battle, while my eyes took in those long dark lashes of hers. The sight of them fanning out on her flushed cheeks made my heart race.

And I wondered what else was going on behind that drop-dead gorgeous face of hers. A phrase I’d later regret thinking. Within seconds a red dot appeared on her smooth forehead. Not a smudge. Not any kind of makeup. But a tiny dot of light.

For a moment, out of context, I struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. Then a green dot appeared on the wall. Lucky for us both, experience kicked in.

Laser target beams.

Shit!

Some kick-ass long-range gun was aimed right into the center of her brain. “DOWN!” I screamed as I lunged at her, rolling her back toward the kitchen.

Pffft-pffft-pffft-pffft!

A smoke bomb smashed through the window and erupted on the living-room floor. Bullets strafed the wall above us. If I had hesitated a single second longer, Jane’s brains would have been splattered across the wall.

I touched her lovely face, just to reassure myself it was still in one piece. Drive-by shootings were pretty rare in this neighborhood. Jane’s eyes told me she knew what I knew.

Mr. and Mrs. Jeon were under attack.

Jane

Red and green laser sight beams crisscrossed above us like holiday lights. But I didn’t think they were bringing us tidings of good cheer. Wham! The front door slammed open, and a dozen shadows pounded across the hardwood floors into the house, not even stopping to wipe their feet.

Jungkook and I raced for the French doors that led out back, but the bullets smashing through the glass panes changed our minds. More shadows-incoming from the backyard. We were surrounded. Even worse, our guns lay spent on the living-room floor. Jungkook pulled me away, whispering, “Follow me! Downstairs!”

I silenced him with a raised finger, then spoke to him in crisp emphatic Navy SEAL hand signals: NO. TRAPPED. BAD, I motioned. YES, he signed back. LISTEN. ME. DOWN GO!

NO. IDIOT. THINK, I replied. Jungkook pushed forward toward the basement stairs, dragging me with him. Then I remembered. WAIT! I signed. GUNS. KITCHEN. MINE.

NO! he signed back. DANGER. THERE!

SHUT. UP AND. LISTEN. ONCE.

I glared. He glared back.

NO. YOU. SHUT. UP FOLLOW.

FUCK OFF! I gestured. Not a signal you’re likely to find in the Navy SEAL handbook, but he got the message. At that point, we heard footsteps coming our way-no more time to argue. Jungkook shoved me ahead of him down the stairs.

The place was dark and a bit musty, but well organized, thanks to yours truly. Piles of boxes lined the walls, neatly packed, neatly stacked, and alphabetized. Okay, so maybe it was a bit much, but on this occasion, it just might save our asses. I quickly scanned them. A, B, C... CHRISTMAS ORNAMENTS, COLLEGE YEARBOOKS . . . FRATERNITY PARAPHERNALIA, GOURMET MAGAZINE . . .

I dragged a box from the top and tore off the lid: It was filled with old but neatly folded winter clothes. Not the latest style, perhaps, but a definite improvement over the near naked state we found ourselves in. We pulled on shirts, pants, boots-whatever we could find that would fit. It was the first chance we’d had to catch our breath, to figure out what was going on. “Jesus! Where’s the trust?” Jungkook said, yanking on some old pants. “They couldn’t’ve waited a day?”

“We’re off the reservation,” I said, struggling to button up a man’s flannel shirt. Why did men wear their buttons on the wrong side? “They gotta send people.” Jungkook scanned the boxes, then pulled down one marked model trains and ripped it open. Inside were two weapons one big, one small. He grabbed the big gun and measured its weight in his hands. I jammed my fists on my hips. “Why do I get the girl gun?”

“Shlnln!

“But-”

He shoved the big gun into my hands to shut me up, then pointed toward the ceiling. Footsteps overhead. Then, before we could move BAM! BAM! BAM! Gunfire blasted the basement door off its

hinges. A dark silhouette stood at the top of the stairs. “Good night, Ozzie and Harriet,” he called down. Then he dropped something and stepped away. Whatever it was bounced down the stairs. Two small objects rolled across the floor. Holy shit! His-and-her grenades!

With no time to strategize, Jungkook simply kicked them. They looked like toylike objects but clearly, they weren’t. They rolled across the floor and wedged beneath the water heater. Jungkook shot me a look that said, Oops. I shot him a look that said, I fucking told you so!

We were trapped in the basement with a couple of grenades about to explode under the water heater. Only one option: Jungkook grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the basement door.

Padlocked.

Now it was my turn to say Oops.“Now, who did that?' Jungkook said. I had, the night before, when I was trying to keep him out. Standing back, he leveled his gun and shot off the lock, yanked open the door, just as the grenades blew up the heater. And the entire basement with it. The force propelled us, like stuntmen shot out of a cannon, up and out the door, flames licking at our boot heels.

We ran, crawled-however the hell we could move away from the house, till we were forced to stop and rest. Coughing and gasping for breath, we stared back at our house. The explosion buckled and thundered through all the other rooms like a heat-seeking missile destroying all our secrets, all our lies. An earthquakelike rumble shook the house from its foundation, until the whole structure simply fell apart, crumbling to the ground in a smoldering pit.

Clinging to each other, we gaped at the destruction, the embodiment of our old lives. It was gone forever. And then we saw something impossible. “Goddamn son of a fucking bitch,” Jungkook whispered. But I could only stare.

The black silhouette-the figure from the top of the stairs appeared to walk right out of the swirling flames and was heading straight for us. He was unstoppable … Oh, my God! Move! my trained mind ordered. I turned to Jungkook. “We need a car!”

Our eyes locked.

“The Colemans,” he said. We ran toward the fence that made us good neighbors. I quick-climbed it in a single leap while Jungkook scaled it. Racing to the garage, we peeked inside-all clear. The Colemans’ Dodge minivan was ours for the taking.

Even luckier, they’d backed it in. So, all we had to do was jump in and drive straight out. What could be easier? We stormed the van. Jungkook opened the driver’s-side door, then noticed something on a counter in the corner of the garage: “Hey-he’s had my barbecue tongs for six months”

Pissed, but not in much of a position to do anything about it, Jungkook leaped inside and unlocked the passenger-side door for me. As I settled into the seat, he went to work hot-wiring the engine. Hell, I didn’t know he could do stuff like that. I sat there and wondered what else didn’t we know about each other. “Uh, Jungkook ...?”

He grunted, intent on his work. Should I tell him? We’d already dealt with all the major lies. Would one more little one-revealed or concealed-make a difference now? Just then I had an overwhelming desire to wipe the slate clean, I mean really clean.

Maybe it was the fires of hell we’d just walked through, or the fact that we could both die in the next few minutes that propelled me to confess. “I was never in the Peace Corps.”

“Oh.” He stopped and looked over at me, blinking in surprise. “That’s ... gosh, I loved that about you ...” I knew it; it was a mistake to dig up small lies. “Maybe this is a bad idea. Everybody lies, right?” Jungkook quickly agreed. “Case in point: I didn’t go to MIT. It was Notre Dame. Art history.”

He kept his head down, still working on the car, as if it was no big deal. I wrinkled my nose. “Art?”

“Art history” he emphasized. “It’s reputable ...” I turned and stared out the window. College majors, Peace Corps, favorite colors, TV shows ... there were so many little things to lie about in a marriage. Where would it end? Was anything between us real? I found myself looking at his hairline. I saw him glance at my chest.

But all these questions were going to be moot if we didn’t get the hell out of here fast. Jungkook cursed under his breath as the car turned and turned, but wouldn’t start.

Maybe it was a sign.

“Did you check the visor?” I asked. He shot me a look. “Nobody’s that obvious.”

“Jungkook ...”

“Jaaaane!” he mocked back. I rolled my eyes. We were running out of time-no time to waste on male ego. I casually reached up to the sun visor over the steering wheel and flipped it down.

The keys dropped into Jungkook’s lap.

I had just enough time for another smug “told you so” look before we heard something. We shared a look, checked our weapons. Then Jungkook pressed the remote for the garage door to open. As the door rose before us, we saw one of our assassins sprint toward the driveway. Standing in the glare of our headlights, he lined up a shot.

I leaned forward to get a closer look. Who were these monsters who kept coming at us like the living dead? I processed his features. Coat and tie, neatly combed hair, face like a baby. He looked like a Bible salesman. “Spooky ...” I murmured.

“Fuckers get younger every year,” Jungkook muttered. He turned the key and the engine roared to life. As we peeled out of the garage, Jungkook raised his gun and delivered two precise shots. The assassin went down. Jungkook stopped beside him and reached out to retrieve his weapon. “Floor it!” I shouted.

“Don’t annoy Daddy while he’s driving,” Jungkook said through gritted teeth, then he pulled a hell-on-wheels U-ie around the Colemans’ mailbox.

BANGBANGBANG!

Bullets peppered the back windows. But Jungkook swerved hard just in time! The sound of gunfire faded in the distance as we drove off into the sunrise.

We didn’t speak until we were out on the interstate. And suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet. Jungkook turned on the CD player, which filled the van with the eighties sound of Air Supply singing “Making Love Out of Nothing at All.” The Colemans love soft rock. Ick. Not one of my favorites. I reached to turn it off. Then noticed something really weird. Jungkook was singing along under his breath.

As I watched in amazement, he got louder and louder, until he was singing like some refugee from a Wayne a World movie. By now I had completely turned in my seat, my mouth hanging open in utter astonishment. Who knew Mr. Country Club Golf Trophy was into eighties mega bands, too?

It was just one more secret—a sick fetish he’d hidden from me all these years. I reached for the knob to turn it off, but his hand shot out and beat me to it. “Hey, I like it,” he said in a cold steely voice. “Deal with it.” Then he turned it up louder. I folded my arms and looked out the window. But after a while-I hate to admit it-I found myself nodding to the beat.

“Eighth-grade prom,” I muttered. “Last dance ...” I hummed a few bars as we drove on in silence-well, not exactly silence: two stone-cold half-dressed killers listening to golden moldy rock in a minivan with the back windows blown out.

But I could tell something was on his mind. Some confession or complaint was building up in his head-one that he’d never be able to contain. I could tell by the way he was clenching his jaw. Any minute now he was gonna blow. Suddenly Jungkook blurted out: “I never liked your lemon cake!”

“What?!”

“The lemon cake,” he said. “I never liked it...”

I sat back in my seat and folded my arms. God, he was really trying to hurt me now. But that was okay. I could blow him out of the water on this one. “No problem,” I said smugly. “I never made it.”

Now it was his turn to be stunned. “What?!”

“Entenmann’s,” I revealed. “Five ninety-nine. Microwave three minutes on defrost.” Jungkook looked overwhelmed. “Wow,” he breathed, shaking his head. “Web of lies ...” But before we could stun each other with any more revealed truths, Jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on the rearview mirror. “Shit, we’ve got company.”

The rest of the confessions would have to wait.

JUNGKOOK

A sleek black BMW materialized behind us. Jane and I glanced back as one car became three pursuing us like aircraft in formation, closing in for the kill. I admired Jane’s reflexes. A lot of women would have gone all goofy on me-crying and shrieking bloody murder.

Instead, Jane calmly grabbed her gun and prepared to commit bloody murder. As the best of eighties rock blasted from the CD player, Jane climbed into the backseat. Crawling on her belly, she popped down two rows of reclining seats. I glanced in the rearview. She left the last row’s seat back up to use as a shield, then pushed all the rest of the junk in the car toward the trunk space, creating a bunker out of picnic baskets, coolers, hockey gear, and golf clubs.

God, I had no idea people hauled their whole lives around in these things.

Then Jane hit a button and the back window began to open automatically, giving her a clear shot. Aiming over the seat back, she fired!

Unfortunately, I had to swerve around a slow-moving pickup, sending her shots high and wide. “Shit, Jungkook!” she shouted. “First time behind the wheel? HOLD STEADY!” Easier said than done. “How the hell do people drive these things?!” I shouted. The minivan had all the cornering finesse of a drunken bull.

“Try the Macy’s parking lot the day after Christmas,” Jane said. Then she was crawling up front. “Move over, Jungkook,” she demanded.

When I hesitated, she grabbed my arm. “I know how to drive these things.” I glared at her. I hated it when she bossed me around. “Yes, dear,” I said grudgingly. If she could drive the damn thing. I'd be free to send our pursuers to their final reward—or I should say final punishment.

As I struggled to hold the van steady, we tried to trade positions, which was tricky as hell going full speed.

Jane wound up on my lap, facing me, wedged between my body and the wheel. Not a bad position for a drive-in movie, but dangerous, in more ways than one, when the car was flying down the interstate at eighty miles an hour. I shifted uneasily. Her eyes bored into mine. And it felt like staring into the demanding eyes of Saint Peter himself.

We froze for a moment, eyes locked. So many unanswered questions rumbling like thunder between us. But hell, we didn’t have time for this-we had to move. I squirmed out from under her, and she scooted around to take over the driving. Just in time, too, because she barely had her hands on the wheel when Wham! One of the pursuit cars slammed into us, rocking us hard.

Jane adjusted the rearview mirror to her height while I crawled to the gunner’s bench at the back of the van. Back in action, we were two suburban warriors, ready to take on the world.

A blast of heavy machine-gun fire exploded from the cars behind us, chewing up the windows from a rear side of the minivan. The car that rammed us before was back, too, moving up on the passenger side like a shark going in for the kill.

“Incoming!” I yelled. “Your side! Veer left!” Jane checked my information in her side-view mirror, as if she were changing lanes on her way to the mall. Damn, another black BMW was speeding up on the driver’s side. Didn’t she see it? “Today, preferably!”

I caught the look on her face in the rearview mirror, and she looked mad as hell. Just because I hadn’t handed her any more juicy confessions? God, she just always had to have her way. “All right, all right!” I yelled. “I was married once. Before. ” I wasn’t surprised that my confession went over like a ton of bricks. She looked totally broadsided. “What?”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to downplay it. “Thought you should know.” I waited for a reaction, but she just seemed to be digesting the news. Okay. Good. Then suddenly she stood on the brakes, a full lockdown. She was so angry; I thought her hair was going to catch fire.

But before I could say anything else about it, the car behind us slammed into our rear, its hood jamming under the minivan, lifting our back wheels completely off the road. We were piggybacking down the highway at ninety miles an hour!

Damn! I was flung against the dash. My gun forced from my hand. Golf clubs assailed me from the back. Fighting to dodge them, I somehow wound up in a crumpled ball between the front seats. Jane glared down at me. I tried to smile, knowing full well that this was one lie I probably should have left buried forever.

“It was five minutes,” I protested. “It was no big deal.”

“No big DEAL?” she exclaimed.

“It was just a Vegas thing,” I said.

Jane’s response was to start punching the living daylights out of me. “Stop it. Stop it!” I gestured with a golf club. “I mean it.”

We didn’t have time for this! We had to kill these guys who were trying to kill us. Then Jane and I could kill each other. I rolled toward the rear, golf club in hand. Then crawled out the back hatch and onto the hood of the pursuing BMW.

An assassin popped up out of the car's sunroof. But I was armed and ready. Before he could take aim, I clubbed him across the head with a one wood. I had told Jane all those hours on the golf course would pay off.

As the assassin fell back across the roof, I noticed a grenade attached to his vest. Thinking fast, I reached over and pulled the pin, shoved the man into the car, then dove back into the minivan. “Floor it, Jane! Go! Go!” Jane must have heard the urgency in my voice, because for once she didn't hesitate. She stomped the gas, our front-wheel drive kicked in, and we pulled away from the piggybacked car just as Blam! It exploded in an earth-shattering fireball.

“Well done,” Jane called from the front.

“Thanks, hon,” I called back.

As our remaining windows shattered, I lay face down in the rear. Jane didn’t speak for a moment. But I could tell by the way she didn’t that she was gonna. “What’s her name?” Jane demanded at last. “And Social Security number?” Yeah, right. Like I was going to tell her. “No, no, you’re not gonna kill her. She was nice.” Jane shot me a look that would freak the devil. “Uh, I mean, not too nice . . .” Pissed, Jane took it out on the only thing at hand.

The assassins.

The two remaining cars formed a Jane sandwich by moving up on either side of our van. No-fear Jane veered hard into the car on the left. Ka-POOF! The side-impact air bag inflated, catapulting me clear across to the other side of the van.

Meanwhile, Jane slammed into the other car like a tank, shoving it across two lanes, through a break in the median straight into oncoming traffic. As the other sedan followed, I tried to get on my feet so I could take aim.

But Jane swerved sharply back across the highway, now slamming the second car into the concrete dividers. When the other air bag blew, I was tossed, once again, to the other side of the car like a ragdoll.

Sparks flew as Jane continued to put the pedal to the metal. With the second car still pinned to the median, she was scraping paint at a speed nearly twice the legal limit! “What?” I said as I opened the side door. “You were a Girl Scout? You never told a big one?”

Jane looked away.

Okay, no news is bad news. But lucky her, before I could grill her, we looked through the windshield and saw a big rig bearing down on us. Head-on!

“Shit!” Jane shouted. “Hang on!”

She yanked the wheel hard, and the eighteen-wheeler roared by-so close it shaved the top layer of paint off our van.

But while we were distracted, yet another BMW full of assassins moved up alongside us. “Incoming!” Jane shouted. “Three o’clock!”” Your three o’clock or my three o'clock?” I hollered. “See, this is what I’m trying to tell you . . . Communication is the key.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!” Jane exclaimed. She pointed at the operative jumping from his car as he opened the sliding door on her side of the van.

With one push I sent him careening through the passenger door all the way on the other side of the van.

“God, these doors are handy!” I said. The remaining assassins, undeterred by one of their own turned into roadkill, didn’t even slow down. Instead, they swerved toward us, smashing us back into no-man’s-land-and straight for some of those pesky yellow barrels.

At the last second Jane smashed into our foes, sending them through the barrels and out onto the wrong side of the highway. I quickly closed both side doors, and locked them this time. We’d had enough drop-in guests for one day.

Finally, we had a brief moment of calm. I know, I know, I shoulda just used it to catch my breath. But you know how it is when something’s bugging you.

“Truth, Jane. Your parents never liked me, did they?” Jane paused, then said, “My parents are dead.” What?! I felt like I'd taken a direct hit. “They died when I was five,” Jane confessed. “I barely remember them.” I blinked at her in disbelief. Totally wounded by this ultimate deception. “Happy now?” she snapped. “Jane’s an orphan.”

I was completely floored.

I just sat there with my damn mouth hanging open, staring at the stranger beside me. This last confession-it was too much. Lines had been crossed. I felt completely unmoored. She had no parents. No mother, no father . . .

“Then who is that guy I play golf with every Sunday?” I shouted. Jane had enough conscience to flinch. “An actor,” she said.

An actor?! Was she kidding? Christ! That was the most devious thing I’d ever heard of! I couldn’t believe it. And yet-now it all made sense. That's why he'd always seemed so familiar. I pounded the dashboard. “I said I saw your dad on Fantasy Island”

For a moment the inside of the van was quiet. Air Supply was heading for a major crescendo. And I was reeling from . . . well, everything. I was hurt, really hurt.

To be honest, I guess Jane was, too. Quietly, through my clenched teeth, I ground out,

“We’re gonna have to redo every conversation we’ve ever had.” Jane nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I know . . .” We looked at each other, daunted by the morning after reality of our life together. Our sham of a marriage. Collapsing like a house of cards. Could a marriage possibly hold this many lies-and survive? Then I saw that the black BMW brigade hadn’t really given up; they’d only been preparing for their final assault.

I went into autopilot and did what I had to do as the two sedans split up to flank us. “I got ’em, Jane. I got ’em.” I crouched low, my back against the front seats as I waited for the attack. Like a hero in an old Western, this was the last stand.

Then I hit the buttons. Both doors began to open. The cars moved closer and closer. My head swiveled back and forth as I checked out both sides, waiting for my perfect moment. The cars nosed into range.......Suddenly—wham! Jane jerked the steering wheel, sending the minivan into a hundred-and-eighty-degree spin.

Crap! Unprepared, I was thrown across the floor, my fingers grabbing for anything I could hold on to but finding only smooth surfaces instead as I slid out the door! I was barely hanging on to the side of the minivan. In fact, I was struggling to crawl back inside, fighting impossible g-force and trying unsuccessfully to figure out what in hell my wife was doing when suddenly

I realized the van had swung all the way around. We were now speeding a hundred miles an hour in REVERSE actually FACING the cars that were chasing us. An insane maneuver but I was too busy hanging on to actually voice my opinion on the matter. Not that Jane would have paid much attention to my opinion right now anyway. I watched, amazed, as she precision-fired, automatic shots at the first car’s bulletproof windows.

This time, the bullets penetrated them, shattering the glass. The driver was instantly killed. Then she repeated the attack on the second car-with the same results.

The sedans spun out of control, crashing into each other as they continued to speed down the highway.

I managed to pull myself back into the van and watch in amazement as the cars pinballed behind us. Then, without warn'ng-wham! Like a racecar driver on speed, Jane spun the minivan, and I was airborne once again.

This time I managed to stay inside.

Seconds later, we were back on track, going a hundred miles an hour in the FORWARD position.

Fucking unbelievable.

I crawled to the front and dropped into the passenger seat. And I was pissed. “I told you I had that!” She glanced sideways. “Whoops.” Sarcastic, of course. As we drove away from the flaming wreckage in our battered but unbeaten Road Warrior van. Air Supply brought the eighties to a dramatic close. We’d made it through this episode alive.

Now what?

I sank into my seat and glared out my window. I knew I was acting like a sulky child. But hell, that’s how I felt.

JANE

So. We’d made it through that episode alive. But I wasn’t sure whether it was because of—or in spite of-our teamwork.

And now what?

So many lies. His marriage, my parents ... how could we ever survive? Last night I thought we’d found each other again. But this morning, as reality poured in, I just didn’t know anymore. Sometimes things were so broken, they just couldn’t be repaired. Jungkook and I looked at each other, then turned toward the road ahead.

“Any thoughts on breakfast?” I asked. He shrugged. “Left my wallet at home.”

“We can go back,” I suggested. He looked at me, then sadly shook his head.

Yeah, I didn’t think so, either.

JUNGKOOK

When I showed up at the diner, Taehyung was so busy scarfing down his usual all-you-can-eat breakfast he didn’t even notice me. Finally, looking up to check out the waitress’s ass, he saw me. “Jungkook!” he cried. “Jesus, thank God!”

“Morning, Taehyung.”

He grabbed my arm. “Please tell me: Did you kill the bitch?” I signaled to Taehyung that we had company. Sitting on the stool beyond me, Jane gave Taehyung a nicer smile than he deserved. I think it was the first time I’d ever seen Taehyung blush.

“Let me rephrase that,” he muttered. But Jane cut to the chase. “Taehyung, we’ve got problems.”

Taehyung snorted. “No, no. Crack addicts have problems. You two are-how do I put this?” He waved a hand in the air, as if trying to find the words to describe a fine wine. “You're fucked'.”

Great. Not what I was hoping to hear. “Maybe,” I said.

“Maybe?” Taehyung exclaimed. “You have all of our agency gunning for you. And probably all of hers, too! ”

“But not you,” I pointed out. Taehyung shook his head and turned back to his heart attack special. “I’m dragging my feet this morning, if you know what I mean. For old time's sake.” He grunted. “And you owe me money, I think.”

The waitress stopped by; a big smile wrapped around her wad of gum. “You folks ordering?”

“Yeah, I’ll take some waffles, butter on the side, and half a grapefruit,” I said. “And an order of wheat toast for the missus.”

“Dry, please,” Jane added. Taehyung held out his cup. “And could I get some more-” But the waitress had moved on. Guess she was familiar with Taehyung’s tipping history.

Jane slipped her hand into mine-a soft, quiet gesture-and for the first time I noticed she was still wearing her ring. My chest seemed too tight all of a sudden. I turned back to Taehyung. “I don't suppose there’s any hope we apologize, they give us our jobs back.”

“If she works for who the street says she works for-” He looked at Jane for confirmation. She confirmed with a nod. “-then you’re Coke and she’s Pepsi. Macy’s and Gimbel's. The WE channel and whatever the hell channel hates the WE channel.” He shook his head, his face grim. “Once you’re off the reservation, you’re off the reservation. ”

“So, we run,” Jane said simply.

It was one of the options I’d considered. But easier said than done in our world. “What are our

chances, you think?”

“On your own?” Taehyung mopped up the last of his egg with his toast, then stuffed it into his mouth. “I’d give ten-to-one odds you survive. Together?” He shook his head. “A hundred-to-one.” That bad? I cursed under my breath. Taehyung was kind of a pig when it came to food, but I trusted his judgment when it came to most everything else.

“Hey,” he said, not unkindly, burping as he leaned back from the counter. “There’s a reason God made the no-fault divorce.”

Jane and I let the words sink in. Suddenly I wasn’t very hungry. We canceled our order, left a tip anyway, and headed outside.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets as we slowly drifted outside onto the street. We came to a stop in the parking lot. I waited for her to leave. I guess I wanted a last look or something. But she just stood there, waiting for me to leave first. What the hell were we supposed to do? The whole fucking world seemed against us. We were putting each other in danger just standing on the same block together.

We looked at each other. One final time. Then ... we found ourselves crossing the street. Together. Toward a Verizon van. Something was keeping us connected. Hell, if I knew what it was.

Hell, if I cared, either. But we figured we were in this together. At least for now. And now was all we had. “What we need is something we can trade for our lives,” I said. Jane was right there with me. “Something they want more than they want us dead. ”Damn, I could almost see the computer working inside of her pretty little head, surfing the World Wide Web of her mind.

And then she smiled. Like a cat. She’d found the answer. “What . . .?” She told me her idea. Damn! She had a plan, and the guts to pull it off. I didn’t want to like it. I didn’t want to admire her. But it was a good idea. Jeez, if we had ten minutes to spare . . .

But time was of the essence, like she’d said. Every second we waited was another second one of our teams could put a bullet through our heads.

So. Our plan?

We were going after Benjamin Danz.

You remember him-he was the bastard we were both after when we first almost killed each other, back in that blazing hot desert. Everybody wanted this guy our team, her team, the FBI. Why? We had no fucking idea. But we knew that if we could get our hands on him, then maybe we could bargain our way out of this hellhole of a situation.

Apparently, the FBI had him down at the federal courthouse. Jane said it would be easy. Like picking up pork chops at the market.

Damn, did I mention I love this babe?

Jane

I guess it was just one of those pivotal spur-of-the-moment decisions. One minute Taehyung was telling us we didn’t have a ghost of a chance. And the next minute, Jungkook and I are driving away together, betting our lives on a crazy plan. I glanced at him. Something kept holding us together.

Did he feel it, too?

Maybe there was still something good between us something worth saving. Or maybe we were like drunks who couldn’t keep their hands off the very thing that was poisoning them. I shivered and turned my mind back to our scheme. We had a big job to pull off.

And then-if we survived-maybe we’d have the chance to figure out the rest of the madness.

JUNGKOOK

So, there we were that night, setting up the mission in a beat-up van parked outside the courthouse. I was gearing up-prepping our guns, strapping on a mini cam head unit—while Jane tuned up her surveillance operation.

She really looked hot when she was working. No wonder she’d been so successful in this business. She had an unfair advantage! Hell, she had probably had guys crawling on their hands and knees . . . Okay. I was definitely not liking the images flooding my mind. “Can I ask you a question?” I blurted. She nodded absently, double-checking a reading. I cleared my throat. “How many?”

She glanced K-at me, head cocked, obviously puzzled. Then her eyes widened when she realized what I was asking. “It’s that important to you?” Well, not really, but . . . yeah! Hell, yeah, it was.

“Just give me a number,” I said casually. “I won’t ask anything else. So . . . how many?” Jane looked away. Hell, maybe I was being a jerk. I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable. But, damn.

I really needed to know.

“You want me to go first?” I asked. Jane sighed. “O-kay.” “I don’t exactly keep count,” I began, trying not to sound conceited, “but . . . well, I’d say between . . . fifty and sixty.”

She bit her lip, absorbing the news. Poor kid. I knew it was probably a shock. "Sorry if that sounds bad,” I hurried to say. “I’ve been around the block.”

I looked at her expectantly.

She hesitated, then shrugged. “Three hundred and twelve. ”

“What?!” I shrieked.

Jane winced. “I shouldn't have told you.” Then: “Some of them were two at a time,” she tried to ex¬ Plain. As if that made it all right!

“Are you counting innocent bystanders?” I exclaimed. She glared at me, insulted that I would even suggest that. I just sat there, digesting the news. I was trying not to act like a baby about it, but damn! That was a lot of hits!

Something beeped on one of the monitors, but I barely noticed. Jane had to give me a shove. “Baby’s in the crib,” she reported, all business now. “You ready?”

I nodded, strapped on the last of my equipment, and climbed out of the van. “Three hundred and twelve!” I muttered, and slammed the door behind me.

JANE

I loved this part.

Yes, it’s always fun to go in and perform-the athletics, the acting, the chase, the escape. But sitting here in the ops van was so cool-like being in Star Wars, or having the newest video game or gadget that no one else had.

I did get a thrill from being in control.

Outside, the van looked like a refugee from a cheap Hollywood used-car lot. Inside, it looked like mission control for a moon landing. I was surrounded by monitors that fed me information: a schematic of the building, alarm systems. Plus, I could see everything from Jungkook’s POV via the minicam he wore strapped to his forehead: all of the thrills, none of the spills.

As Jungkook penetrated the building, I typed in info, checked readings, monitored movement inside-I could see things Jungkook couldn’t see and tell him what to do, where to go, what to avoid. It didn’t hurt that I could type at the speed of light. Without typos. I typed furiously-alarm systems went down. More typing-security systems crashed. Monitor check: Jungkook was crawling through the airshafts; not much interesting to see yet.

But just wait.

With our communications system, Jungkook could speak quietly into a body mike, and I could hear everything he said through my earpiece.

“You check the perimeter?” he asked as he crawled.

“I checked the perimeter.”

“You on the police bands?”

“I’m on the police bands.”

“Are you-”

“Hey,” I said, a little irritated. “This is not my first time.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Smart-ass! Jungkook kept moving, his flashlight striking the walls. I checked his position on the schematic of the airshafts. “Okay: Jungkook, turn left.” He wasn’t turning left.

“Jungkook? Turn left” Suddenly the image from his minicam began to shake and tumble, as if he were falling-or as if someone had ripped the equipment from his head. What was happening? And then Jungkook’s face filled the screen—his flashlight pointed up from the base of his chin, creating a strange interplay of light and shadow that made him look like a demon.

“Don’t tell me what to doooo .. .’’he said in a deep scary voice. He must have been a real scream on Halloween. His antics reminded me: I was used to working with an all-female crew, but Jungkook was-very obviously-a guy. One of my favorite things about him, actually.

I could forget about being in control.

Fortunately, he slipped the cam back on and turned into an adult again.Soon he’d reached a pivotal location. “Okay, okay, you’re there, you’re there,” I instructed. “Hold here ...” More typing. “On my mark, proceed-” The monitor showed me that he was already moving forward.

What the hell was he doing?

“Jungkook? ... Jungkook! On my mark” An alarm rang in my headpiece. Shit! On the live feed¬ running! Bedlam! I typed more furiously “Dammit, Jungkook!” And then all the lights went out.

I heard shouting, stumbling. And suddenly BAROOM! Jungkook had successfully set off his explosives. I could hear a wall coming down. Heard people—guards? —stumbling about, coughing as gas filled the chamber.

Over my headphones I heard a man shout, “Can I get a gun?”

“Shut up!”

“Hey! Uncuff me”

“Zip it!”

A prisoner and guards, sounded like. Benjamin Danz? I listened closely for telltale signs. Thud. Thud ... Thud. Bodies hitting the ground. The gas doing its job. Jungkook’s gas mask would help him keep his head while all those around him were losing theirs. Things were going well. It wouldn’t be long now.

Jungkook was damn good at what he did; hadn’t I seen him in action, up close and personal? Still... This was the hard part of sitting in the van.

The waiting ...

Minutes later I saw a hunchbacked figure darting toward the van-Jungkook with a body across his shoulders.

Let’s hope he’d grabbed the right one in all the confusion. I opened the side door and met Benjamin Danz for the first time as Jungkook thrust him into the backseat. It was him all right, I recognized him from our photos; I never forget a face. His hands were still tied, and the sprint through the fresh night air had quickly counteracted the effects of the gas. He was starting to come to.

Jungkook climbed in, ripping equipment off his head and body.

Thank God; he was safe.

I tore out of there at lightning speed. But now that I knew he was alive-I was gonna kill him! “I told you to wait for my signal!” I yelled over my shoulder. “Did you wait for my signal?”

“Yeah, yeah, but I got worried I might turn sixty before you gave it!” he shouted back.

“Well, yes, you do move like a geriatric!”

“God-do you have to control everything!?” Jungkook exclaimed. “Ninety percent of this job is instinct!”

“You deviated from the plan!” I reminded him. “Your instinct set off every alarm in the building!” I hit the steering wheel in frustration. “Ooh! This is so typical!”

“What, what?”

“We sit down, we talk something out, we agree on a plan. Then you completely ignore it!”

“Because you never take what / want into account!” Jungkook shouted. “It’s always the Jane show!” The Jane shows! “That’s because I’ve seen the Jungkook show,” I yelled. “It’s all half-assed!” He started to protest, but I cut him off. “My mother’s birthday party when someone forgot to bring the gift?!” “Your fake mother’s birthday party?!”

In the rearview mirror, he looked like he was about to have a stroke. “I really don’t see how this marriage is ever going to work!” Jungkook muttered.

And at last Benjamin Danz spoke.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU PEOPLE?!?!”

JUNGKOOK

We drove into the night, silent and brooding, for what seemed like hours, out of the city and out into the sticks. But we still had work to do. So as soon as possible, we followed signs down a side road and checked into a dive motel. We threw Benjamin’s coat on over him and snuck him in like he was a buddy who’d had a few too many drinks, not that anybody around this place was likely to notice or care.

Once inside, I tied him to a chair in the center of the room. A lamp stripped of its shade added just the right ambience. I stood in front of him, stretching out my shoulders from the long ride, shirtsleeves rolled up to show a little muscle. I’d never really done much interrogation work. But I figured it couldn’t hurt. Jane, meanwhile, was pacing the room like a caged cat.

“Okay, are we rolling?” I said.

We’d decided to videotape the kid's confession, just in case. Okay, we were taping. I decided to try the direct approach. “Okay, Ben. Go. Give us what you’ve got.” Ben stared straight into the video camera: “Look, Ma. I’m on TV.” Okay, I did not like this dude’s attitude. But I tried to keep my cool.

“See, Benjamin, you're our get-out-of-jail-free card. Simple question. Tell us why both our bosses want us dead.” I waited, but Benjamin kept his mouth shut. He even raised his chin. And smirked.

God, I hate to be smirked at.

Now I was getting mad-the dude was embarrassing me in front of my date. I nudged him with my toe. “No? Okay. Now, I realize you witnessed my wife and me working through some domestic issues. That’s regrettable. But I don’t want you to see that as a sign of weakness. It would be a mistake on your part.” I glanced at my wife. “Right, Jane?”

Jane stared at me like I’d grown horns. “What do you think you’re doing, Jungkook?” I frowned. “You know, honey. Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to undermine me in front of our hostage. Sends a mixed message.” Jane scowled. “If this is anything like the way you load the dishwasher-”

“Please. Jane. I have a system here, and I’m implementing it. You’ve never seen me at work.” Furious, Jane turned her back on me with a dismissive wave. But I was not going to let her competitiveness ruin my work.

I turned back to our captive. He was all but laughing at me now. But I’d soon wipe that smile off his face. “All right, Benjy. Let me lay out your options. “Option A: You talk, I listen. Pain-free. Option B: You clam up, I remove your fingernails with my jumper cables. Option C?” I tried for a sinister smile. “I like to vary the details, but bottom line: You end up in a body bag.”

Ben’s smile said: Fuck you! But I saw that he was looking a little shaky. “Could I get a soda or some¬ thing? I’m a little thirsty-” I heard a noise behind me. And before either of us knew what was happening, Jane flew out of nowhere and slammed a phone into Benjamin’s mouth.

“A! A!” Danz shouted through bloody lips. “Option A!” Jane glanced at me, a smug smile on her face that said. See? That's all it took. But then I noticed Danz jerking strangely, his head bent at an odd angle toward his shoulder.

“What is that?” I asked. “A seizure?”

“My pocket,” Danz gasped. “Check my pocket.”

Jane and I exchanged a look, then she went over and dug around in his back pockets. I guess I was expecting a weapon of some sort, so I was surprised when Jane pulled out a photo. Doubly shocked when I saw that it was a picture of two people near and dear to my heart.

Me and Jane. Together. Shopping.

What the hell-!

“I'm not the target,” Benjamin blurted out. “You

are. Both of you.”

I felt like a linebacker had just slammed into my chest. All the air seemed to be sucked out of the Room. Jane looked speechless, too. Which was saying a lot. “They found out you were married,” Benjamin revealed. “So, they teamed up and sent you to the same spot ... to target each other."

Now it was all making sense. Top priority. Direct threat to the firm, Atlanta had said. Need your expertise. Yeah, right. They’d sent us both to the same hit-hoping only one of us would come home. I could tell Jane had worked the same puzzle and come up with the same answer that I had. “So,” Jane said, “you were just . . .”

“Bait.” Benjamin shrugged, kind of embarrassed to be doing such a weaselly job. “It’s entry level. Toehold in the company. Couple hits, they bump me upstairs to a desk. Jane stared at the picture. I glared at Benjy boy.

What a loser. I should have known as soon as I saw his face back in my office that he was a total joke.

“The Tank,” my ass!

And I couldn’t believe he was carrying incriminating, photographic evidence around on his person. Even a beginner knows better than that. “You kept this in your pocket?” I exclaimed.

“What’d you want me to do?” Danz said sarcastically. “Frame it?”

“Burn it,” I shot back. “Ditch it. Tradecraft 101.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Benjamin replied. “Guess I skipped class that day. Maybe you skipped the day about not marrying the enemy! What’s that?” He sneered. "Advanced tradecraft?”

I saw Jane cock her head, listening. The wheels were turning in her head. What . . .? “Ben,” Jane said sharply. “You were bait ... or you are bait . . . ?”

Our eyes locked. Now I heard . . .A sound we both were all too familiar with.

CHOPPERS-INCOMING!

Jane ran to the window while I pawed through the rest of Danz s clothes, looking for the bug. Nothing, dammit, nothing. Where was it?

Then my eyes fell on his belt buckle. I ripped the strap out of the loops, then popped open the buckle casing.

Bingo.

Inside was a tiny micro transmitter. And if I were a betting man-which I am-I’d bet that tiny bug was tattling to Atlanta and Father right at this very moment, informing them of our exact location.

With a muttered curse, I turned the transmitter off.

But I guess it was too late. The choppers were sti11 coming our way. Damn. “Two minutes,” I said to Jane. As she stood at the window, Jane's face went pale. “One. " I quickly joined her and looked up into the sky. Six black choppers in attack formation were heading straight for the motel.

Jane

Gut instinct and a dose of adrenaline got us out of there just in time. But Atlanta s and Father’s gofers would be swarming after us within minutes. So, Jungkook and I pounded through the deserted parking garage where we had left our van, trying to come up with a plan as we ran.

Jungkook yanked open the driver’s-side door. But I hesitated-trying desperately to think beyond the next ten minutes. “Jungkook,” I said, stopping him. “My out’s a double-blind ticket to a boat moored in La Paz” Jungkook blanched, then looked away a moment, his jaw clenched. “Mine’s a cargo drop in the Atlas Mountains,” he said at last.

Then he just looked at me. Like I was some kind of traitor. But what the hell did he expect? This whole relationship of ours was a total disaster-the marriage, the job. We had to face reality. We’d be insane even to consider staying together. “Apart, at least we know what the odds are,” I argued. “Together ...” I shrugged. But still he said nothing.

Damn him! He wasn’t making this any easier! “Let’s call this what it is finally ...” I crossed to the other side of the car and, for old time’s sake, handed him my spare ammo. Then I turned to leave.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” His words echoed in the empty garage. I whirled back around, about to spit fire, when he threw a hard right punch at my jaw! I couldn’t believe it!

The cad!

But even surprised, I blocked the punch brilliantly and shot back a reply. That’s all it took. Every crazy emotion we’d lived through over these past few days finally erupted into one angry melee. We fell upon each other-fighting, kicking, punching ... and blocking every blow.

We were so perfectly matched, so equally trained and experienced, we could have fought like that for hours with no one emerging as the victor.

At last, we found ourselves in each other’s arms again—sweaty body lock, our faces inches apart.

“Really?” Jungkook said. “We’re gonna do this again?” I glared at him but couldn’t find the words to express what I was feeling.

“Okay,” he growled, “it’s a crap marriage! I don’t know you you don’t know me. I’m a liar-you’re a liar. We’re all liars.” I didn’t want to hear this. I fought in his arms, but this time he held me close. Too close.

“Jane,” he said. “Let’s see this thing through.” His voice was a command, but his eyes begged in a way that nearly broke my heart. “Then,” he went on, “if you want to go ... I won’t stop you.” I glared at him, struggling to resist. I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t! If I left now, I could still get out of this alive. But if I stayed, and hoped … Well, this time, if it crashed and burned, I didn’t know if I could survive.

And I wasn’t talking about the job.

Run, Jane! my heart warned. Now! Get the hell out of town while you’ve still got the chance! Jane ...? Jane! But Jungkook’s eyes pleaded. “Fine” I snapped, trying to hold on to my anger-and my dignity-as my heart caved. “But I’m driving.”

“Fine,” Jungkook fired back.

Without another word, we climbed into the van. I prayed I hadn’t taken the wrong turn. Our plan was simply brilliant. Or brilliantly simple. Either way, it was all we had to go on. Our next stop: one of Jungkook’s favorite Chinese places. No, not a restaurant-a laundry service.

Who wouldn’t want to change into a clean shirt? I thought. This Bonnie-and-Clyde stuff was getting old. But there was more to it than that. With a smug smile, Jungkook pulled out a weathered ticket and handed it to Madam Wu, the woman who ran the place. She studied the ancient stub with a frown, then silently retreated to the back room.

A few minutes later several of her workers emerged with a large bag, which they dropped to the counter with a surprisingly heavy clunk. I covered my mouth to keep from laughing. Jungkook’s shirts rattled like metal. Too much starch perhaps? “Very heavy shirts,” Madame Wu grunted.

Jungkook smiled. “Very heavy.”

We grabbed the bags and ran. As we jumped into the van, Jungkook tossed the bags into the back, then turned around and winked at me. I couldn’t help myself. I blew him a kiss in return. Then I started up the van and drove me and my partner toward our own personal High Noon. Partner... As we sped toward our mission, I took a moment to think about this man-this stranger-I’d called my husband for six long years. So, what if his taste in music left little to be desired?

He was strong. Sharp under fire. An experienced professional with intelligence, expertise, and courage. Not to mention gifted in many leisure-time activities.

I hated to admit it, but we were two of a kind, Jungkook and I. How could we have gone for six long years without seeing it in each other? And the plan? It was insane, of course. But so was life.

Together, Jungkook and I just might make the whole thing work.

JUNGKOOK

Ah, kisses. Just one of the things Jane was good at blowing.

As I watched her throw the van into reverse, I wondered if there was a law against having this much fun with your wife. You heard me. Screw the danger, screw the fates-being on the run with Jane was more fun than I'd had in a long, long time.

This woman-this stranger I’d called my wife for five years—was a total surprise package. She was smart, braver than most men, and a talented professional with remarkable skill. Not to mention beautiful and sexy as all hell. We were two of a kind. Yet we’d both been too blind to notice.

Hell, maybe we’d thrown it all away. But maybe, just maybe . . . I struggled to stop my thoughts there. I had to stay focused on the job at hand. Our plan was pretty damn crazy, but if we could pull it off, I might have many happy days and nights to spend with this woman I called Mrs. Jeon.

In fact, I think we’d be due a vacation.

Maybe even a second honeymoon.

Jane

I’ve all done the “shop till you drop” thing.

You might call what Jungkook and I planned to do “shop till you drop ... dead.” I just had to make damn sure we weren’t the ones who died in the end.

We were just outside of our delivery point: Homemade, my favorite home-furnishings superstore. It seemed the perfect place to start our new life. Jungkook and I had pulled into the parking lot early, just another young couple shopping to furnish their apartment with great things at modest prices. But as far as we knew, we were the only couple going in wearing his-and-her bulletproof Kevlar undies.

Not the most comfortable shopping clothes, but if all went well, we’d be spending the next few weeks in as few clothes as possible. Drunk on love and possibilities, we had been giddy throughout the planning. We hoped too soon be free. Free to live our lives like we wanted. Together. But now reality was sobering us. As if by some sort of unspoken agreement, we geared up for our mission in silence, careful to avoid touching. We were highly trained, experienced, kick-ass assassins psyching up for our next assignment.

Like Olympic athletes, we needed to be in the zone. Hard for me, though. No ordinary assignment had ever meant so much. In the past, most of my skill and courage came from the fact that I never thought all that much about what I was risking when I put my life on the line. Of course, no one wants to die. But before, my motivation had been a vague survival instinct; now I truly had something to live for.

My life. With Jungkook.

Everything I’d ever learned would be put to the test here. The lessons from every bullet I’d ever dodged, from every wound I had ever sustained, and the muscles, reflexes, and cunning I’d honed throughout more than three hundred missions now came together in this one final fight.

We sat in the car, waiting, going over the plan in our minds. And then it was time to go; we’d procrastinated long enough. Suddenly Jungkook reached for me ... but it was only to adjust my body armor. “Your midstrap ballistic panel. He whispered softly.

The gesture said more to me than a lifetime of candlelit dinners.

As I turned to acknowledge it, I read the fear in his eyes. We were walking by choice into a helluva situation. We knew the odds were against us. You might even call it suicide.

Each of us had lost sight of the other before—in our beige suburban marriage. But after finding each other anew, was I again about to lose Jungkook and he me? Forever? But what choice did we have?

If we did nothing, they’d find us and kill us anyway. This way we at least had a chance to go out fighting. And—thanks to Jungkook's laundry —we had one hell of an arsenal to back up our fight.

We kissed, a soft lingering kiss, refusing to let it mean goodbye. Then I held Jungkook's face in my hands for a moment, drinking in his strength, infusing him with the power of my love.

We would hold strong for each other, we pledged with our eyes. Then I turned my body and mind to my work.

Jungkook reached into his pocket and pulled out the micro transmitter from Benjamin Danz’s belt. The one that our agencies had used to track us down. He clicked the tiny chip back into place and instantly a light flashed.

That told me that the transmitter was working again, no

doubt instantly tattling our whereabouts to Atlanta and Father.

They’d be here soon.

Ready, honey?” Jungkook asked.

“Born ready, sweetie,” I replied. We headed into the store with a couple of shopping bags, as if we had some returns. But they were really filled with weapons. Jungkook picked up one of those small baskets as if we were only stopping in for one or two items. I rolled my eyes. The guy obviously didn’t engage in retail therapy much.

No way was I heading into a home-furnishings store like Homemade-or a dangerous shoot-out, for that matter-with anything less than a full-size shopping cart. It was a great prop, something to duck behind in a pinch, and a large, bulky weapon on wheels. Plus, I really needed something to haul all these weapons around in-this stuff was heavy!

But more importantly, you never know when you just might find something precious on sale. After all, we’d lost a hell of a lot of stuff when our house blew up. So, I grabbed a cart and made him choose one, too, hiding our weapons in them under a large selection of half-priced sheets and towels.

Then we casually strolled up and down the aisles, pretending to browse, but what we were really shopping for were assassins. The more we looked, the more everybody appeared suspicious. That guy over in bunk beds. The couple paying for garden furniture. The old lady picking over the tea towels. Were they real people? Or killers in disguise?

As the music played, Jungkook and I headed in opposite directions to scope the place out. Pretending to bargain-hunt, we were actually slipping loaded ammo into various hiding places around the store so later, wherever the action went down in this game, we’d have freshly loaded weapons at our fingertips.

When we finally met up again, Jungkook handed me one of the walkie-talkies he’d picked up in the toy department. I showed him the meat-tenderizing tool I’d picked up in kitchenware. Jungkook got distracted by a display of little robotic vacuum cleaners called Roomba, but I managed to drag him away.

And now-we were ready.

Hand in hand, Jungkook and I looked for a strong vantage point from where we could await our enemies, and we soon found the perfect place. The store’s “Prairie Room” included a fake home set on a raised platform, complete with country porch and porch swing. Behind that, a bucolic backdrop of a golden wheat field proclaimed America the Beautiful.

We climbed the steps and sat down on the swing, and discovered that it had a wonderful view of most of the store. Jungkook slipped his arm behind me, and we rocked a little, enjoying the peaceful moment before all hell broke loose.

I could almost imagine that we were an ordinary couple, relaxing on the porch swing after supper while the kids played freeze tag in the yard, squealing when they spotted the first lightning bug of the summer evening ...

Okay, where did that little fantasy come from?

JUNGKOOK

Maybe waiting on the porch swing had been a bad idea. Especially with a woman like Jane. It had my thoughts drifting back to summers long ago, when I was a kid, and the worst thing that could happen was a mosquito bite. I wondered what it would be like to sit on a porch swing every night after supper, watching the sun go down with a girl named Jane . . .

Hell. I told myself I’d better keep my mind on the job or there’d be no more fantasies about anything. Just in time, too. Someone was watching us. Stay cool, I warned myself.

Then we both heard a click. The unmistakable sound of a hammer being cocked. And not the kind of hammer they have in Aisle 3.

We stopped swinging. The whole world seemed to freeze.

I glanced sideways at Jane.

We both knew-this was it.

Calmly we reached into our pockets and pulled on our sunglasses.

“See you in the next life, Jane," I told my wife. “Likewise, Jungkook.”

Then-just for extra fun-I hit a button on a handy remote-control device I had in my pocket.

And the lights went out.

Jane

here we were—the moment of truth. Poised on the edge of our one and only shot. Once we set this in, I motion, there was no going back. Winner take all. Jungkook and I shared one last look. And in that look, I tried to show him everything I felt: hope, sorrow, forgiveness, trust. And love. Most of all, love.

Jungkook’s smile said he heard me loud and clear, and returned the sentiment. His wink said, Let’s go for it! Hell, yeah, I was scared. But I’d never felt more alive. I could feel the undercover assassins infiltrating the building. I couldn’t see them, but I knew they were there, crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches. Jungkook’s hand on my elbow said, Move! And as the lights went out, we leaped out of the porch swing ... Just in time. Behind us, I heard a soft thunk! Thunk! Within seconds the store erupted into full-blown chaos. We dashed into the house, looking for a back way out. As we passed a playpen filled to the brim with teddy bears, “Homey,” the store’s life-size mascot, popped out, attired with a house shaped hat, mustache-and sawed-off shotgun.

Without blinking, we each fired a bullet into his oversize stuffed head. As he fell backward out of the playpen, he fired his shotgun into the ceiling with a startling boom! What had been an undercover skirmish had now escalated into a major public event. Customers screamed, tripping over one another to reach the exits.

Suddenly doors on both sides of the house exploded inward and SWAT teams of assassins poured in from both sides. Crcush! Skylights shattered as a half-dozen killers rappelled down from the roof.

Damn! The whole freakin’ army was here!

Jungkook and I quickly backtracked through the fake house and out the front door. When we reached the petunias, we plucked out the smoke grenades we’d hidden like Easter eggs, pulled the pins, and sent them rolling across the floor. The colored smoke made an excellent cover.

We kept ourselves low, and using the panic as a cover, we detoured to the section where bathroom fixtures were sold. I lifted a toilet seat lid and pulled out my hidden sniper rifle. As I screwed on the barrel, Jungkook said, “We gotta draw fire away from the suburbanites. Up or under?”

“I’ll fly,” I said.

I sprinted for the office section next door, hit the shelves at a dead run, then scaled the fifty feet into the store’s rafters with ease as if I were doing a little light rock climbing. Hanging at the top, I pulled out a pair of night-vision binoculars and looked around ...

I had a fantastic view of almost the whole layout. The cockroaches were multiplying. I guessed there must be dozens of ’em in the house.

To me, it looked like just about everybody on both sides had shown up-a real family reunion. I also had a good view of Jungkook making his way down a row of refrigerators in kitchen appliances.

And the two assassins waiting at the end of the row.

“Brakes, Jungkook!” I squawked into my walkie-talkie. “Nine o’clock turn!” Jungkook skidded and made a hard left, then disappeared on the other side.

I pulled out my rifle and fired a single clean shot. Two deadly assassins went down. Jungkook, who’d fired the second shot, stepped back into view and hit his walkie-talkie. “Thanks, hon. Today’s my birthday.”

“It is?” I exclaimed. Gosh, I thought it was three months from now. “Happy Birthday ...” Darn! I hated missing birthdays. I guess saving his life just now was a pretty good present. But if we made it out alive, I swore, I’d make him the best birthday cake ever.

JUNGKOOK

Hell, yeah, I was scared. That's part of the job description. But Hell, no, I wasn't ready to die. Especially on my birthday. I sneaked through the store, looking for assassins. Sprinklers showered the floor. It was wet, dark, and freaky in there, almost surreal.

I spotted a trio of assassins combing the furnishings section, scaring shoppers out of their minds. I let ’em know I was here.

Briiing! Briiing!

I rang the bell on the kids' razor” trike I was riding and started pedaling as fast as I could. I had a huge gun resting on the little handlebars, and as I streaked down the aisle, the orange flag on the safety pole alerted everyone to where I was, but that’s what I wanted.

So, we played a game of “now you see him, now you don t up and down the aisles. Each time I hit an intersection, I fired off a couple of rounds. Then I’d disappear again. Pedal, pursue, fire!

But then I came to a huge intersection where all the lanes converged. As my flag bobbed out in the open, they fired unmercifully. But I was way ahead of them. This time the flag wasn’t attached to my bike. It was on a shopping cart filled with propane tanks from the camping section. Their gunfire caused the tanks to explode. Bye bye, bad guys.

Jane Making my way through the rafters, I fired off shots whenever I spotted a gun. Problem was, the assassins were still pouring in from everywhere. Laser sights were scoping out my location. Their light beams crisscrossed over my head like a night at the Oscars. I was seriously outnumbered.

And I’d lost sight of Jungkook.

“Jungkook?” I called over the walkie-talkie. “Cleanup on Aisle Six, Jungkook?”

No answer.

Shit. “You want something done ...” I complained, not wanting to think of the reasons why he wasn’t answering. I dived over the side, skittering down the shelves like a spider, till I landed in the kid's section. I ditched my spent rifle and felt around on a shelf of stuffed animals.

Still there! A very lethal semiautomatic.

I could’ve waited for the bad guys to come get me. But I hated waiting. So, I took the fight to them. I spun around a corner and spotted a trio of assassins. We all opened fire, bullets pinging off everything. I took a hit to the shoulder, but it bounced off my body armor.

I spun back around the corner, braced against the wall, breathing hard. Now what? Just then I heard the roar of an engine. And then crojsh! A wall of stuffed ninja hamster toys exploded as Jungkook came crashing through, straddling one of those monster garden ATV things, complete with trailer. As he skidded to a stop beneath a water sprinkler, it appeared as if he managed to mow down a fair share of the enemy.

“Mean machine, Steve McQueen,” I said. Jungkook grinned and held out his hand. I grabbed it and swung up onto the trailer.

Jungkook sped away again down the aisles, crashing into merchandise, swerving like a snake so we'd be hard targets to hit. I reached to pull back the tarp and found a mini-Gatling gun. Jungkook jammed on the brakes and spun the whole vehicle around a hundred and eighty degrees. I didn’t ask where he’d learned that trick.

Then we drove straight into the gaping jaws of our pursuers.

We charged down the aisle, guns rattling. And fired, round after round. Blowing our assassins into shelves, sending them flying like rag dolls. It was almost too easy-like shooting fish in a barrel.

My God. It looked as if we might actually get out of this alive. And then this killer comes out of nowhere from behind an inflatable tent. With a grenade launcher across his broad shoulder. Aimed at us.

Not good.

I didn't even have time to open my mouth and say “Bye, Jungkook”-before he fired.

JUNGKOOK

Damn!

I gunned the throttle and yanked the steering wheel hard Inches out of direct fire. But then the rocket grenade exploded right behind us and catapulted us and our ATV-through a wall. Which found us back at the Prairie Room, right where we started.

The ATV skidded to a stop and flung us out onto the snowy display, destroying half a dozen Christmas Trees. A soft landing, considering. We lay there in a heap for a moment, thankful we weren’t dead, Jane on top of me. And for a moment, it was just us, alone, in the dark, eerie silence. “I think our plan's going well,” she murmured. "It is. It is,” I said.

But I knew it wasn't over. Not yet.

We leaped up and ran, diving into the metal garden shed, where we’d stashed the bulk of our firepower. We’d even fortified the walls with bags of fertilizer. Time for Custer’s last stand. Warmed up. We strapped shotguns onto our backs, stuffed more guns into our waistbands and pockets, secured ammo clips, and slid knives onto our shin's traps.

I twisted a tourniquet around my wounded arm with my teeth and told Jane it was no big deal. Suddenly bullets ripped through the hut, slashing holes into the bags of fertilizer. Next came booted footsteps as our opponents shuffled past us.

Jane crawled forward to peer out of one of the bullet holes. “How’s it look?” I asked.

She took a long, deep breath, then slowly turned back to me with a serene smile on her face. “It’s a

cinch,’’ she said.

We both knew it was her final lie. “Don’t forget,” I

reminded her. “The Berettas jam up sometimes.

“Got it.”

“And you always favor your left, sweetie,” I said.

“I’ll cover right.”

Yeah.

“Bet that boat in La Paz looks pretty good right about now,” I said, trying to joke. But she shrugged. “Rainy season, this time of year.” Then she squeezed my hand, all joking aside, and said, “I’m right where I want to be . . .” I touched her bruised cheek and smiled. “About time. .” She looked up at me, her face strong, defiant. She was a true warrior.

My kind of woman. Forever.

We’d said it all.

Now it was time to go.

Jane

it was Butch and Sundance time.

We burst out of the garden shed, armed to the teeth and ready to fight our way out. Or go down trying. We moved, back-to-back, spinning and firing like two dancers in a well-rehearsed ballet-or like a two-headed killing machine, depending on how you wanted to look at it.

Our assassins dropped like flies.

I tried not to think—only do. One foot in front of the other, one assassin after another, trained movements, steady nerves. When I ran out of ammo, Jungkook slammed in a new clip for me without missing a beat, as if he were an actual extension of me. We moved together, fluid and deadly. Then I took a hit off my Kevlar, and doubled over. As I caught my breath, Jungkook seized the moment to fire the gun strapped to my back. I recovered and went back to work. Then suddenly I felt Jungkook jerk, and go down. Instinctively I dived over him, spinning and shooting in midair, taking out at least a dozen guys.

It was almost as if our whole lives had been leading up to this moment, and God, we were perfect together. Only then did I realize Jungkook had taken a bullet in the leg. As I knelt to see how bad it was, he shook his head indicating that he was okay.

Slowly we got to our feet. Because of his wound, Jungkook had to lean on me a little for support. I liked that. Then we turned, poised to shoot... And were met with silence. There was no one left to return our rounds. We had gotten them all. Every damn one of them. We waited a moment, braced for a last- minute surprise. Wondering if we were only dreaming that it was all over. But the only sound filling the eerie silence was the sound of our heavy breathing.

It was true. It was all over. And we were both still alive. With a groan, we let our burning-hot guns drop to the ground. Our eyes locked. Our lips collided. And we kissed, celebrating our lives right there in the middle of the war zone—as if we were the last two people in the world.

Then a noise woke us from our embrace. We instantly turned, drawing more guns from behind our backs. Four barrels pointed toward the sound. But it was only a flaming Mr. Homemade and several Roombas lurching through the debris. Dozens of assassins lay dead on the floor as if asleep. Every hired gun in the business, more or less. Atlanta and Father had lost everyone.

Everyone but Mr. and Mrs. Jeon.

I wasn’t sure where our bosses were. But I knew that somewhere, somehow, they were watching us, tracking everything that had just gone down. I could imagine their stunned faces. Their shock. Their horror over what this had done to their payrolls, their organizational charts, and their staff. Both agencies were gonna need a helluva lot of freelance work in the near future.

And I knew a couple of very fine freelancers who might just be available. For a price, of course. I blinked as we headed into the dazzling sunlight, and thought, Butch and Sundance, Bonnie and Clyde, Thelma and Louise . . . this one's for you.

God, it was all over. It was really over! We were free!

And then I turned to Jungkook and said what I’d been wanting to say for ... who knows how long?

Jungkook ...

“Yeah?”

“I want a baby.”

JUNGKOOK

I felt really weird all of a sudden. Kind of like I’d

been punched in the gut. Kind of like Superman. Pretty smart woman, my Jane, coming up with a line like that, here and now.

“I want a baby,” she said. And I knew when I looked at her: I did, too.

Life-and-death situations were just a routine part of my job. But now Jane had changed all that. Love kind of made you think about things. Like life, death, eternity. And what the hell does it all mean? Finding Jane again had given me something to live For. Was I scared by her words? Hell, yeah. But so, what? I made a living out of stuff that would scare most people shitless.

How could babies be harder than that?

“Urn, okay, honey,” I said softly. And the smile she gave me made me look forward to keeping my promise.

JANE

exhausted, streaked with blood and sweat, we strode outside like the Wild Bunch, our weapons still drawn, just in case there were any surprises left. Shoppers cowered behind cars. Babies cried. Grown men wept. Old ladies prayed. Suddenly a woman ran out in front of us. Jungkook raised his gun to shoot But I touched his arm and shook my head. It's okay; His jaw clenched; but then, relieved to know it was all over, he lowered his weapon. I helped him into the van, then climbed in on the driver’s side. We were both exhausted, and God, I just wanted to rest for a minute. But sirens began a distant wail and I knew it was time to go.

I looked at my watch. If all had gone according to plan, Atlanta and Father would be tallying their losses-thirty men, at least, on his side; I didn’t have time to count how many on her side. That’s all of their collective agents on the eastern seaboard. They might even heave a sigh of relief for not calling in their West Coast, London, and Taipei offices. But then they’d be surprised by the unexpected visit of Benjamin Danz, there for what he thinks is a scheduled debriefing. Ah yes, the warning signal on Father’s computer would no doubt tip them all off to the existence of an explosive device ... but would Danz find the credit card Jungkook had planted on him in time? I looked at Jungkook and felt a sudden tremor. I know he felt it, too.

As I drove out of the parking lot, I covered Jungkook’s hand with mine, felt the mingling of our sweat and blood. He smiled at me and laid his head back, his eyelids dropping. I recognized that look; he was fighting sleep. And that was fine with me. He needed the rest, and I was glad to drive my injured hero home.

But. . . home?

Where was that?

Our house had been demolished.

I thought of all the beautiful furniture we’d bought, the knickknacks, the objects d’art. All the boxes in our basement, full of packed, organized, and alphabetized possessions. All gone. Everything was gone. God, we’d destroyed everything we’d ever built together. Nothing remained.

Where do we go from here?

Just then Jungkook whispered my name in his sleep. I looked over with a smile and noticed a huge bulge in his pants pocket. Not that I was looking. As he shifted in his seat, I could see the tip of a silver flask jutting out of his pocket. It was the one I’d given him so long Ago. So, something did remain after all.

A silver vessel. Something to toast our new life with.

To dodging bullets, I’d had it inscribed. Love, Jane.

These magic words whispered into a future we couldn’t possibly have imagined. Jungkook and I had dodged a lot of bullets together. And not just the ones fired from guns. We’d dodged a lot of emotional barbs throughout our six-year marriage, too, but we’d lived to talk about it. And that’s when I realized: Our home wasn’t destroyed. Our house was. Just a house.

After growing up without a real one, I’d tried to make this one perfect. I’d filled it with possessions that I thought I loved. I guess I brainwashed myself into thinking that perfection meant security, permanence, love. But it was just a house full of things. Nothing that really Mattered. Jungkook and I could go anywhere and call it home now. As long as we were together. I was no longer a naive young newlywed: I knew there’d be a hell of a lot more bullets to dodge in our future—both on and off the job-but we proved we were up for the challenge.

It was going to be a messy, dangerous, unpredictable life. And I couldn’t wait for it to get started.

JUNGKOOK

Jane. What an amazing woman.

We made it.

Another chance . . .

Tomorrow . . .

DR. WEXLER

“So how are you in your marriage now?” I questioned.

MR. JEON: “Uh....” He and Mrs. Jeon turn to face each other, a sensual smirk on her face as she bites her finger seductively. Mr. Jeon turns back to face me his wife's eyes never leaving his face. “Doing alright aren’t we, I mean listen I'm not gonna lie to you there were times were I just wanted to tsk kill her-”

NOTE: Mrs. Jeon smiles at her husband's statement

MRS JEON: “-Likewise...” she states softly a small nod smile never leaving her lips

MR JEON: “But uh couldn’t take the shot” he gestures toward her, she bites her lip sensually, crossing her legs over her lap. “Who would have thought?”

I chuckle “Thats a good sign, sometimes you have to battle through”

MRS JEON: “That’s marriage right”

MR JEON: “Yeah you take your best shot and....” he looks lovely at his wife, she reciprocates his look

MRS JEON: “OH! We redid the house!” she states excitedly

MR JEON: “We did, yes we did” he chuckles

“You know there will always be challenges” they nod “Threats out there”

MR JEON: “Yup” popping the p sarcastically

“But you can handle it together”

MR JEON: “So far...” he whispers

MRS JEON: “Yes we ca-So far?” she looks at Mr. Jeon with a sarcastic expression that asks are you serious; He shrugs in response an unknowing confused smirk reaching his face. a laugh leaves her lips “what is that?”

MR JEON: “I’m leaving room for the unknown”

MRS JEON: “So far...” she taunts shaking her head, a my husband is an idiot look reaching her face.

“And do you feel that your relationship styles are more conducive to the---”

MR JEON: “-Ask us the sex question” a knowing smirk appears on his face, his hand scratching the back of his neck

MRS JEON: “Jungkook!” she whispers. Mr. Jeon looks at the ground awkwardly, Mrs. Jeon faces me smirk on her face.

“Uh-well that. Uh” I stammer

Mr. Jeon holds up both his hands mouthing 10. Mrs. Jeon Looks at him knowingly.

#jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook spy au #jungkook assassin au

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pastelchris · 4 years ago

Text

shotgun.

PAIRING: jeon jeongguk x kim taehyung

GENRE: heavy angst.

WARNINGS: major character death, mention of blood, mention of weapons, cursing, mention of wounds and heavy heavy angst.

author’s note: hi!! i’m back with something different this time! i’ll keep it short because it’s almost midnight and i have school tomorrow. i’ve had this story in my notes for years now, it’s one of the first i’ve ever written and today since i didn’t have the strength to write something new, i decided it was time for her to be translated! so here she his, just something i couldn’t stop thinking about after watching not today’s mv for the first time. the pure wave of panic in jeongguk’s eyes when he hears the shotguns and turns around has been in my mind since 2017. said that, i hope you’ll enjoy this as much as i did when i wrote it!

ashes and snow mixed with each other, becoming one, as they slowly fell back on the boy’s pitch black locks and sweat dripping face of jeongguk, hiding behind a car, the rifle well clasped in his hands, ready to be used.

that was going to be the final match,

they had sent him the live coordinates, and the team had immediately left to the suburbs, armed from head to toe, determined to capture once and for all the gang that had been haunting their city for months now.

click.

in the silence of the night, light up only by the moon and the streetlights, as well as the various led lights of the abandoned building, the sound of a weapon being loaded echoed.

jeongguk clawed his ears, indicating the others to follow him, flattening against the vehicle, he begun to walk to the source of noise, stepping out in the parking lot in front of the building, whom was completely empty If not for a single figure, quietly dangling in the middle of nowhere, a gun in his right hand and a red hair band between his ashy blonde hair, locks comfortably falling on his eyes and cheekbones, he looked like the most dangerous of angels.

he had always been like this, as far as jeongguk could recall, his aurea would make the most turn their gazes away, they feared him, and yet were so fascinated by the presence of that tall, beautiful creature, radiating such confidence and power, there were rumors going around the campus that a gaze of his would be enough to light you up and leave nothing but ashes behind his back once he was gone.

as their eyes met, jeongguk felt the ground under his feet almost disappearing;

that look of his had been the cause of his destruction, so deep and expressive, seemed to be constantly staring into his soul.

he saw him grin, perfectly conscious of the positions of his, and jeongguk’s allies.

the dark haired turned around, stumbling into a bundle of pink locks, none other than his first officer and best friend.

« jesus, jimin! » he hissed,

« Quick, go to the other side, we’ll take care of this mess, take seokjin with you, if the situation gets complicated here, come back, if not, stay there, got me? »

jimin nodded before slipping silently in the night, side to side with the oldest, who took a last glance at jeongguk before he disappeared into the darkness.

once he was sure that they had obeyed his order, the raven haired returned to pay attention to the figure, which in the meantime was looking at his nails, waiting for some sign of him, which didn't come, forcing him to speak.

« damn jeongguk, years of living together and you won't even say hello? »

he flicked the tongue on the roof of his mouth, disappointed, as he added:

« have they not taught you manners? or did a cat feast with your tongue? yet when we were together, you’d always have so many things to say....» he let out a short laugh, no hilarity, and then went back to looking at him, eyes lost into the darkness of the parking lot.

« well then I'll have to teach you everything again i guess. »

and from there it was complete chaos.

his comrades came out from the shadow, hair bands in head and guns in hands, they started shooting.

being repaid by the policemen, who jumped out of the cars, the black bullet vests dirty of snow and ashes and the guns ready tightly between the hands.

but taehyung wanted him,

and he wouldn't waste his bullets on anyone else.

there he was, standing there in the corner, leaning over a car, he waited for jeongguk to arrive, who didn't delay to please him, popping out of the car, his dark eyes on the oldest, who stared back with an excited, curious look in his ones, like a young sherlock holmes who was presented a stimulating case after months of withdrawal.

jeongguk armed the gun, ready to fire, sweat was dripping on his face, from the forehead where dark hair stick, to his chin, biting down his cold lips, he closed his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the situation, he dissociated by reality for a couple of minutes;

as he came back to his senses, he froze to the spot, taking in the sudden silence around him.

as he suddenly came back to reality, dropping his weapon, starting to turn around, he realized that he was alone, his mates, twenty, twenty-five brave men like him, were laying down in pools of blood that dyed with crimson red the pearly white snow.

at that moment, chest quickly rising and falling and head spinning around,

he thought that if the expression "the sky fell on him" really existed, then by then he would’ve already been dead under the weight of the dark deep sky.

he fell down on his knees, hot tears making their way from his burning eyes to his dirty cold cheeks, followed by sobs, which gradually turned into a rag, then into a scream.

he screamed until his throat started to ache, until he felt like he had no more voice to let out, tearing the nocturne silence apart.

once he recovered a little bit of lucidity, getting a hold of himself, he looked up, eyes full of hatred, towards the blonde boy, who was already looking at him, feeling almost sympathy for that child who had just lost his entire team.

he approached him, kindly laid the barrel of the gun under his chin, followed by one hand on his shoulder.

taehyung lifted his face with the weapon, causing their noses to touch, he gulped, conscious that what he was about to do would only complicate the situation, but unable to hold back.

he softly laid his lips on jeongguk’s, capturing them in a kiss that soon led to despair and anger, leaving the younger in a total state of confusion;

jeongguk felt ashamed, he felt absolutely an ass as he kissed the other back, choosing to forget for a second everything that was going on around them.

taehyung’s lips still tasted the same, they weren’t sweet, nothing of his was except for his face; it was more as if a lightning bolt just fell over him, it gave him goosebumps and made him feel free; taehyung had this power over him, of making jeongguk feel like the freest of people, it made everything seem possible, even the most far things.

jeongguk sighed into the other’s lips

returning to when they were two completely normal high school kids, to when they were on the same side and their biggest problem was what movie they were going to see at the cinema on the weekend.

he closed his eyes, letting the other swallow him into the kiss, feeling tears stain his cheeks with their transparent, warm liquid.

he thought that if that was his end, then it could have been way worse.

click.

the magical aura of that moment was abruptly ripped out by a hiss, followed by a whisper, then blood.

jungkook's arms trembled, stretching out with around the older, trying to hold him, face crossed by the panic of someone who had never faced that situation, not on his skin.

he started calling for help without realizing, embracing the blonde's body in his arms, who in the meantime was looking at him through his eyelashes, face contracted in pain.

he stretched his hand out over jeongguk’s cheek, wiping out a tear, then turned it down to his lips, releasing them from his teeth.

« j-jeez, how many times have I told you to not to bite your lips? you're just gonna ruin them. »

his voice put some lucidity back in jeongguk, who shifted his gaze back over him, grimace getting slowly replaced by a slight smile.

« good boy. »

the dark haired tried to speak, but not a sound came out, leaving him hanging on a painful sigh, while the sirens of the police could be heard in the distance, he was unable to think of anything else except the body that was growing colder and heavier in his arms, staining him with musky red blood.

« t-taehyung?» he said, voice high key shaking, receiving a positive sign from the other, who slightly nodded, struggling to let out any words over the growing pain.

« yeah gguk, im pretty sure that’s my name. can you /please/ smile for me? i deserve it, don't I? if I am to die, I want to take your beautiful smile to the afterlife.»

but jeongguk couldn't, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't smile, he chuckled off a sob as he felt him grab his hand and lay it on his chest.

he saw him look up on the night sky before speaking once more, his voice reduced to a flexible whisper.

« Isn't she beautiful?»

the younger looked up, meeting the presence of the moon, who looked at them quietly from the dark sky.

he nodded, charmed.

« yes... yes, it is, it is beautiful. »

he unconsciously put his head on the older’s chest - growing colder and colder by the seconds - he crouched by his side, grasping him as if his own life depended from it.

his chin started trembling and silent tears wet the fabric that was completely red on which his head was laying.

he felt the older’s heartbeat slowing down over and over and over, until it became almost an imperceptible sound.

then every noise stopped, the moment the blond parted his blueish lips, letting one last word out, which he had taught to him the full meaning years before, and that had been suspended between them for years.

« i love you. »

and he died.

quietly, while the battle was raging around them, and jeongguk cried silently, without knowing that in the distance there were other people doing the same thing, including namjoon, who had been for years like a father to taehyung, and couldn't stand to lose him like that, along with hoseok and yoongi, who, respectively, sobbed and watched the scene, cheeks wet and burning eyes.

and so, on that cold night of february, the moon became silent viewer of the massacre, whose worst loss was without doubt the love of two boys, the victim of fate, as unpredictable as cruel.

a week later.

he looked in the mirror, fixing his tuxedo and the last buttons of his shirt, sticking his jacket and fixing his tie.

jeongguk sighed, passing his long finger over his eye bags, a memory from the previous heavy and tiring week.

he sighed, repeating an encouraging mantra in his head, hoping it would work.

« come one jeongguk, you can do this, you have to do it.»

then he came out, finding, parked over the gate, seokjin’s black car and the latter, which slightly waved at him, followed by jimin’s wide encouraging smile, the pink hair combed with gel.

« come on, gguk, we'll be late!»

seokjin started the car, not even waiting for the other to fasten his belt, heading to the cemetery.

he had the smart idea of putting on some music, distracting the younger from all the thoughts that were nagging him, making that journey unfairly carefree.

he parked silently in front of the dark gate, removing the keys from the car and getting out, followed by the pink one and at last by jeongguk, who, a little reluctantly, abandoned the tepor of the car to dive into the cold air of March, slipping his hands into the pockets and locking the car, reaching with a few falcats the entrance of the cemetery, observing the two colleagues who, having preceded him, were already halfway across the street confabiling each other.

he got lost looking at all the plates covered by ivy, climbing to the trees, without realizing he'd reached his destination.

to wake him from his thoughts, it was the sudden appearance of three other figures, as elegant as them, who were approaching him, the bandana replaced by a fancy hairstyles held in place with gel.

« thank you for coming.»

the tallest of the three, what jeongguk remembered being namjoon, gave him a brief look, full of meaning, before he joined seokjin and jimin, followed by the guy with mint hair, yoongi, and the one with red fire-locks, hoseok.

they sat there in silence waiting for the seventh component to arrive, which jeongguk found himself carrying, head in the line, gulping heavily as he tried to hold himself together until they reached the freshly made hole, in which the mahogany coffin would’ve been buried in a matter of minutes.

at that point, tightened in their suits, the six boys, too young to go through all that, melted into sobbing and crying, leaving jeongguk alone with his thoughts.

251228

the snow was gently falling on the rooftops of the city, decorated by coloured lights and christmas carols, who accompanied jeongguk, held tight in his black coat, to the place which he visited every christmas.

he kneeled next to the marmorean plate, cleaning it out of snow and laying a deck of black roses, the rarest ones he could find, and their favorite from day one.

he gulped, squeezing in his jumper.

« hi.»

jeongguk breathed in. it was always as hard as the first time.

« long time no see? i guess. i actually see you everyday, everywhere, everytime i close my eyes you’re there, smiling at me, teasing me, and more than everything, gasping for air between my arms.

jeongguk spoke up, voice getting louder by the seconds.

« jesus christ i fucking miss you alright? yeah you’d say, of course i do! of course you already know right? as if i hadn’t been telling you the same thing for over than eight year...funny. it’s just that...jeez it’s not easy to stop missing someone, and i just...i just can stop missing you, it’s feel like a crime to wake up and not think about you first as i wait before opening my eyes... oh baby i’m a wreck without you, can’t you see? i need you here to stay, i need you here again, and it hurts so fucking much sometimes i’d rather not wake up, even if it meant dreaming of your pale skin and blueish eyes. darling when i’m fast asleep i see this person watching me...saying, is it worthy? well damn i don’t know anymore. there is something and there is nothing in between and in my eyes i only see you, and everytime i try to embrace you you disappear and it’s getting so hard to bear--» he gasped for air, breathing in and out slowly to try and calm himself down.

« are you you enjoying yourself there right now? do you have a family? did you find someone to share your destiny with? i hope so, because, you see, I tried, I have a family now, of course, it's not like having you, but you have to settle sometimes, right?» he sighed, feeling stupid. « jesus....remember that promise we made ourselves? that we would walk together to the end, well, here I am, even if you can't answer me, I am here walking next to you... Merry Christmas taehyung, i...i love you, i still fucking love you so much and it’s killing me day by day.»

gulping, he rose up, dusting the snow from his knees and walking to the gate, tears prickling in his eyes and chest painfully rising up with every breath he took.

he started sobbing, hiding his face behind the sleeves of his coat as he walked away, unaware of a figure who had watched him from behind a tree the whole time, his translucent lips bent over a blurry smile, eyes full of imaginary tears of those who had never stopped dreaming, of those who had never stopped loving.

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