Thrill Ride (Black Knights Inc. #4)(36)
“It’s a gift,” Ozzie grinned then spied Eve behind the kitchen counter. He dropped his duffel bag on the clay-tiled floor and slapped a palm over his heart. “I swear Eve,” he crooned in what Bill had come to recognize as his panty-removing voice, “you get more beautiful every time I see you.”
Eve blushed, a hand fluttering to her throat as Ozzie skirted the center island and snatched her into his arms, smacking a kiss on her cheek and squeezing her until she smiled and batted ineffectually at his shoulder.
“Put me down, you big goof,” she laughed, her sapphire eyes sparkling.
Bill discovered that he was grinding his teeth so hard he was probably in the process of pulverizing his fillings. Any second now, there’d be little shards of metal alloy shooting out of his ears.
“I’ll put you down when you agree to marry me,” Ozzie retorted, nuzzling her neck.
“You ask every woman you meet to marry you,” Eve giggled, squirming in his arms. “Now put me down!”
“Yes!” Bill shouted, tossing aside the report he was reading on the latest brand of plastic explosives and slamming his lemonade on the end table. He pushed up from the plush sofa and glared at Ozzie until it was a wonder the kid didn’t spontaneously combust. “Put her down!”
Ozzie dropped Eve, lifting a questioning brow at Bill. The guy’s sandy blond hair was even wilder than usual, thanks in part, Bill suspected, to the fact that upon hearing Boss’s demands to get their asses down here ASAP, the boys had hopped the first military transport they could find. Which probably meant they’d spent most of the night in the cold belly of a cargo plane trying to find a comfortable spot among the shipment of whatever was being transported and the high-grade netting holding it all in place.
“Well, who pissed in your Post Toasties?” Ozzie inquired, coming around the island so he could bend and dig something out of his duffel bag.
Despite himself, Bill felt one corner of his mouth twitch. “Are people still saying that?”
“Oh, yeah,” Ozzie’s nod was vigorous. “I am. You can’t go wrong with a classic.” He pulled out a digital camera and started snapping pictures of Eve’s lavishly decorated living room.
Bill jumped when Ghost said from beside him—the man was stealthier than anyone should be—“Give the kid a break, Wild Bill. He’s sufferin’ from a double whammy of excess bravado and testosterone. And we all know that particular combo is eventually fatal.”
Staring at Ghost—a guy renowned for being aloof and taciturn—Bill’s jaw slung down to hang somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. “Doth mine ears deceive me?” he finally managed to ask. “Or did you just string, like, twenty words together? What has Ali been doing to you?”
“Probably has more to do with what he’s been doing to Ali,” Ozzie quipped, hooking the string on the camera around his wrist so he could beat out a three-stroke rhythm in the air—bah-dah-bum.
“Jesus,” Bill shook his head and leveled Ghost a look, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “How many hours have you been cooped up with him?”
“Too many,” Ghost replied. “Wonder Boy is on a Pat Benatar kick. The idiot sang ‘Heartbreaker’ the entire way here. And, I swear, if I hear one more doncha mess around with me I’m gonna shoot myself in the head. And then I’m going to shoot him in the head.”
Ozzie opened his mouth to point out the preposterousness of this particular plan, and Ghost pointed a warning finger in his direction. “Don’t even think about it, kid!”
“Heartbreaker, dream maker, love taker,” Steady sang as he dropped his duffel and hopped up on one of the barstools surrounding the kitchen island. He grinned evilly at Ghost, and even bedraggled, unshaven, and unshowered, Carlos “Steady” Soto still managed to resemble a GQ ad. In fact, his swarthy, Latin looks had once prompted Becky to accuse him of being pretty enough to simply melt his enemies’ bullets. “What?” He pasted on what Bill suspected was supposed to be an innocent look and shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t sing the headshot-worthy part.”
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Ozzie nodded, slapping a high-five with Steady before the two bumped knuckles.
Bill caught a glimpse of his sister standing in the middle of the room, her hands planted on her hips, her mouth stretched in a wide grin. She absolutely loved having “her guys”—as she called them—together. Ate up all the quips and banter with a soup ladle. And, not for the first time, he patted himself on the back for suggesting to Boss all those years ago that she and her custom motorcycle business be the ones to provide the cover for Black Knights Inc.
Since a very young age, he’d known that whatever made his kid sister happy, made him happy, too. With the exception of one thing: her best friend, Eve. And speaking of…He turned to find the woman in question rummaging through the refrigerator, loading up her arms with all the food she’d been preparing over the past few days.
The cooking was a new thing. When he’d dated her all those years ago, she hadn’t known how to boil water much less whip up a tasty batch of chicken tetrazzini.
You’ve come a long way, haven’t you, sweetheart? And for a moment he forgot all the heartbreak she’d caused him, feeling nothing but pride for her. Pride for how she’d broken away from that spoiled rich girl stereotype to really make something of herself. Pride for the way she’d come out of her shell, overcoming the nearly debilitating shyness that’d plagued her as a teenager.