Hell for Leather (Black Knights Inc. #6)(9)
“So this is Theo’s latest project, huh?” Zoelner asked, pushing Mac from behind, forcing him to follow Delilah into the house. “What happened to that old Victorian he was fixing up in Lakeview?”
“He finished it two months ago,” Delilah said, walking toward the sawhorses.
“Did he end up selling it for what he was hoping?” Zoelner inquired, strolling over to a big thirty-gallon trash can pushed into one corner and tossing his empty coffee cup inside.
“About fifty grand more than he was hoping for.”
“Wow.” Zoelner whistled. Delilah turned to gift him with the first smile…well, half-smile, really…she’d worn all night. Mac felt his hands curl into fists.
Whoa. What the hell is that all about? Perhaps it was still a remnant of the scotch? Though, if he was being honest with himself, that excuse had just about run its course. “Am I mistaken, or did we come here for a reason?” he demanded, feeling unaccountably…something. Something he refused to name.
“Yes.” Delilah nodded, her smile disappearing as quickly as it’d arrived. And, damnit, now he wanted to kick his own ass for being the cause of that. “Yes, we did. I’ll run upstairs to the room he’s using as his office. I know, way back in the day, before he plugged everything in to his iPhone, he used to keep an address book in the top drawer of his desk. Maybe it’s still there. And maybe it has Charlie’s information in it.”
Aloud Mac said, “Sounds good.” But inwardly he instructed himself not to watch her climb the steps to the second floor. Unfortunately, what he told himself to do and what he did were two entirely separate things. The truth was, Delilah was dynamite from any angle. But with a set of buttery-soft leather chaps hugging her legs and revealing the jean-clad wonder that was her perfect, heart-shaped derriere, the view from behind was, in a word, staggering. He hadn’t heard Zoelner cross over to him, so he jerked when the guy clapped a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“She’s the kind of woman you hate to see leave but you love to watch go. Am I right?” Zoelner winked at him.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he insisted, his back teeth grinding so hard he wasn’t sure if it was them he heard crackling or the plastic drop cloth beneath his booted feet.
“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Zoelner mimicked, doing a fairly good impression of a Texas drawl, before snorting so loudly Mac figured it was a wonder the guy didn’t swallow his tonsils. “You keep using that phrase in reference to your relationship with our oh-so-tempting bartendress. Which leads me to believe you’re completely full of shit.”
“First of all, I don’t have a relationship with our oh-so-tempting bartendress. And secondly, I believe you’re still piss drunk.”
“You might be right,” Zoelner admitted with a lopsided grin. “About the piss drunk part, anyway. But tomorrow I’ll be sober, and you’ll still be full of shit. So, there.”
And, see, that little tit-for-tat proved Mac’s theory about the lowest common denominator. He frowned, which only caused Zoelner’s grin to widen. Then the guy shrugged and glanced around the room. “Man,” he said. “Ol’ Theo sure has his work cut out for him with this place.”
And that reminded Mac of what had been bugging the holy hell out of him for the last few minutes. “How in the world do you know so much about what’s goin’ on in the lives of Delilah and her uncle anyway? I mean, a Victorian in Lakeview? Seriously?”
Zoelner slid him a look that questioned the validity of his college degree. “I know so much about what’s happening in their lives because I, you know,” he made a sarcastic gesture with his hands, “actually talk to her and stuff when I go into her bar to have a drink.”
“As opposed to?” Mac inquired.
“Grumbling and growling and giving her dirty looks all the time.”
“I don’t do that.”
Zoelner’s face flattened. “Dude,” he said, “you really have no idea just how bad you’ve got it, do you?”
Mac refused to respond to that question based solely upon its preposterousness. He knew what it was like to “have it bad.” He’d had firsthand experience with “having it bad.” And he most certainly did not have it bad for Delilah. In fact, he’d go so far as to say—
A hard thump sounded directly above their heads. And Mac discovered what it was like to have a full-on heart attack. Because that thump was immediately followed by the sound of Delilah’s bloodcurdling scream…
Chapter Two
Delilah had just switched off the overhead fixture to her uncle’s upstairs office, plunging the space into inky darkness, when the faint light drifting up the stairwell from the lower level illuminated the fact that the door beside her…moved. And not the kind of movement usually seen in an old house full of loose hinges, strange drafts, and suffering from the occasional effects of a settling foundation.
Oh, no. This kind of movement had purpose behind it. It had…a person behind it!
Everything that happened next occurred in ultra-slow motion, like an old 45 vinyl record being played at 33 RPMs. And for what seemed an eternity, she watched, dumbfounded, completely transfixed, as a large shadow emerged from behind the door.