Her Husband Shielded His Mistress From the Gunman — Until the Assassin Recognized the Wife

The towering gunman in the black suit didn't look at Vincent.

He slowly looked across the chaotic ballroom, his cold, lethal eyes locking directly onto Maryanne, who was still clutching the velvet chair in her silver gown.

"I'm the man who is going to make sure your wife doesn't go to federal prison for your crimes," the gunman stated smoothly.

Maryanne gasped, her massive brown eyes widening in pure, breathtaking shock. She recognized the deep timber of his voice. She hadn't seen him in fifteen years. He had legally changed his name and vanished into the darkest, most highly classified sectors of military intelligence.

"Marcus?" Maryanne whispered, completely paralyzed by the impossible reunion.

Marcus was her older brother.

The cinematic realization crashed over Vincent with the force of a nuclear bomb. The man holding the gun wasn't a cartel assassin. He was a highly lethal, off-the-books intelligence operative who had just intercepted the federal transmission.

"You betrayed my sister, Vincent," Marcus whispered lethally, completely ignoring the mafia boss's panic. "You dragged her name onto federal indictments to shield your own assets. And then you brought your federal informant mistress to her anniversary gala."

Vincent swallowed hard, suddenly realizing he was entirely outmatched. "Marcus, wait, we can fix this."