In-Laws vs. Outlaws: Hitman vs. Hitman, #5

By Cari Z and L. A. Witt

Really, guys? Seriously?

A fifth book after we said you were getting a standalone?

Oh, and now you want a wedding. Because you've made it through four books and—

You know what? Fine. But we're not going easy on you.

Bet you wish you'd just gone to Vegas don't you, August and Ricardo?

In-laws vs. Outlaws is the final—so help us, it really is the final—book in the Hitman vs. Hitman M/M romantic suspense series. Fans of L.J. Hayward and Alice Winters will love this swoony and romantic happy ever after for the grumpy-sunshine assassin duo.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GallagherWitt
• Release date: May 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781642302028

Book preview

Chapter 1

It took a lot for August to be rendered speechless. It had to be the result of something exceptional, something truly surprising.

Witnessing acts of immense stupidity could do it, at least until he got his mouth working again so that he could laugh. Committing acts of immense stupidity never did it. He tended to resort to swearing then, whether he was hip-deep in a duck pond or had fallen ass-over-teakettle down an iced-up driveway—he knew he should have splurged for the heated pavement, damn it, he’d had bruises from that for a month.

Ricardo could sometimes manage to strike August dumb, especially when he did that amazing thing with his tongue, but Ricardo wasn’t here to partake in a friendly bout of public fornication. Nope, this time August’s silence was thanks entirely to what his sister, Elodie, had just told him.

He gripped his phone a little tighter as he stared out the windows of the Igualada-Ódena Airport. It was a small, regional Spanish airport about forty miles from Barcelona, and from here he had a clear view of the twin runways, including the one where the plane he’d come here to meet had finished taxiing a few minutes earlier.

August finally found his voice. "What the fuck do you mean, you’re not on the plane?"

Everyone in a ten-foot radius turned to stare at him. One elderly abuela clapped her hands over the ears of the small child standing in front of her and gave him a look that would have shriveled his balls if they hadn’t already retracted inside of his body thanks to his sister’s calm, bat-shit crazy announcement.

We’re not on the plane, she said again, like that was a perfectly normal thing instead of the beginnings of a hideous shitstorm from whence he might not recover.

August’s free hand found his hair and pulled hard. Nope, not distracting enough. He squeezed his aching toes together in his shoes and fought to quell the nerves trying to get the better of him, the little bitches. Why not? he asked after another second with what he thought was a reasonable measure of aplomb.

Elodie laughed. Laughed. Cruelty, thy name was family. You sound so worried! Relax, it’s going to be all right. Paschal and I decided we wanted a few more days to ourselves at the estate in Nice. We’ll be there in time for the ceremony.

El…you can’t leave me alone with them.

You’re not alone, she said. You’ve got Ricardo.

August scoffed. "And you think Ricardo is going to be a positive influence on the clusterfuck barreling toward me down the runway? He’ll offer to shoot them five seconds after meeting them, if he doesn’t just go ahead and do it without asking first."

"They’re not that bad."

I haven’t had a one-on-one conversation with either of them that wasn’t court-ordered by a therapist since I was eighteen! he exclaimed, unwinding his feet so he could start pacing. Talking over the phone is one thing, but in person? Mom never stops comparing me to Laurence, and Dad can’t even look me in the eyes. There were so many reasons why being alone with his parents was a bad idea. Elodie knew that—she’d played mediator with them for most of his life because she saw how bad it was between them.

Maybe that was why she’d decided to spend some extra time in Nice. Maybe she was sick of having to be the only adult in the room. Maybe it was time for August to nut up and handle his parents on his own with every inch of the grace and charm he was capable of.

Fuck that. It was time to get drunk. He glanced around the airport, looking for the nearest source of alcohol. Ah, there was a bar. Perfect.

They’re getting better, Elodie said as August waved down the bartender. There wasn’t time to sit down and drink, though—he’d have to take this to go.

He pointed at a menu. Txakoli, por favor. Una botella, he added when the man seemed confused. The confusion vanished when August plopped down a fifty euro note on the polished wooden surface of the bar.

Are you…drinking right now?

Not yet, but I hope to be soon, he said, watching the bartender head into the back.

August, you have to be able to drive. Elodie’s voice had gone serious.

"No, I don’t, actually. I foolishly rented a limousine for all of us, because I knew if I drove I’d be abandoning you to another half hour of ‘alone’ time with our parents in the back of one of my regular cars and I didn’t want to do that to you because I, unlike you, give a shit about whether you’re happy or not!" he shouted into the phone.

There was dead silence for a long moment.

He sighed. I’m sorry.

Good.

I don’t like this, though.

I know. But August… It was Elodie’s turn to sigh. "Don’t you think it’s time to move on from everything that happened between you and our parents when you were a teenager? I know the kidnappings were awful—I know, I’m not making light of what happened to any of us, much less you and Laurence, she said quickly, but look at how far you’ve come. Look at the wonderful thing you’re about to do, with your wonderful person. Wouldn’t it be nice to get married without constantly stressing over what Mom and Dad might think about it all? Just…talk with them, please. Introduce them to Ricardo—they’ll love him."

They’ll hate him, August said morosely. Just like they hated Paschal.

Wha—they don’t hate Paschal.

"Sure, not anymore, since he’s proven he’s not a gold-digger. August brightened a little. At least I’ve got that going for me in this case. Ricardo could never be mistaken for a gold-digger, he’s not enough of a bimbo."

Are you implying something about my husband? Elodie demanded in mock offense.

If the scrubs fit… His sister squawked, pulling a reluctant smile onto August’s face. Look, I’m not calling him an idiot, Paschal is crazy smart, but you know if he was a flavor he would be vanilla with a hint of pumpkin spice, and—

August. Darling.

August whirled around so fast he almost lost his grip on his phone. Standing five feet away from him were an elegant couple, the woman as glitteringly flawless as a diamond, and with a demeanor about as warm. Her platinum blonde hair was shellacked into total immobility, and her designer outfit—Gucci, maybe? August really ought to keep up better on women’s fashion—was a pale pink with gold stitching that complemented her fair coloring. She had a useless miniature purse under one arm, and the other hand was tucked into the elbow of the man next to her.

August’s father was barely taller than his mother when she wore heels that high, and he seemed somehow stooped despite the broad shoulders and perfect carriage. He shared August’s bright blue eyes, but they drifted to the side just before meeting his gaze. Of course they did.

Renata and Edouard Mason had arrived.

—gust? August? Are you okay?

It took a few seconds for him to remember he was still on the phone with Elodie. They’re here, he said in a perfectly pleasant tone. We’ll have to talk later. He ended the call before she could say anything else and put his phone away. Mom. Dad. It’s nice to see you again.

Is it? his mother asked. One wouldn’t know from the distance you’re keeping right now.

They were the ones who’d set up the five-foot perimeter, but whatever. August could be gracious. No, he could. He tucked his pride and apprehensions away and walked over to his mother, kissing both her cheeks and giving her a brief hug before holding a hand out to his father. Edouard peered at it for a moment, something odd flashing over his face, before he finally shook.

That’s better, Renata said, a smile briefly curving her pale pink lips. How lovely to see you in a civilized country once again. She’d shifted from English to French, and August followed along with hardly an eye-roll.

It’s nice to see you too. You look well.

Ah, we’re fine, darling, very fine. Time spent with your father is never dull.

August glanced at his father, who again wasn’t quite looking at him. Seems dull as fuck to me. Good. Do you have your bags together already? Our car is waiting for us.

Of course. His mother waved behind them toward two overflowing baggage carts attended by airport staff.

Good thing he’d brought the limo.

Is everything arranged for us at the hotel? she asked.

Oh yes. Because there was no way in hell August was putting his parents up within ten miles of where he and Ricardo were living.

His mother arched one perfectly plucked eyebrow. Let’s get on with it then, shall we?

Sure. Just—