Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(10)

“No.” She was quick to cut him off. “It wasn’t that.”

“What protocol?” Zoelner asked, looking back and forth between them. “What curfew? What are you guys talking about?”

“The midnight curfew the Secret Service enacted after that clusterf*ck”—now clusterf*ck she knew very well—“in Colombia, where a bunch of their agents got caught with ladies of the evening in their hotel rooms,” Dan spat.

“Ladies of the evening?” Zoelner smirked. “Is that for the benefit of our mixed company, or have you been reading historical romances again?” The idea of big, bad Dan “The Man” Currington with a Georgette Heyer novel in his hand made the corner of Penni’s mouth twitch.

“You’re missing the goddamned point,” Dan growled. And there he went again, Mr. Growly Growlerton.

“Which is?” Zoelner asked.

“That the Secret Service thought it could tell its own agents when it was bedtime.”

Zoelner turned to her. “And I take it you broke your curfew?”

“I did,” she admitted, still coming to terms with what breaking her curfew that night had meant. “And it saved me from the incendiary device the terrorists had planted under my hotel bed.” But it’d left her the sole survivor among the Secret Service agents who’d been on The Assignment.

“Hot damn. That was a lucky break,” Zoelner mused, eyeing her curiously. Then, “If you don’t mind me asking, what caused you to go against protocol?”

She glanced over at Dan, remembering how they’d been seconds away from getting down and dirty in his hotel room. That night they’d finally given in to the chemistry that’d been bubbling between them. No, on second thought, it wasn’t chemistry. It was astronomy. Because she’d been the moon to his earth, seduced into his orbit by the sheer force of his gravitational pull.

“Ah.” Zoelner nodded sagely. “I get it.” He rubbed a hand under his chin. “And that explains more than you know.”

“What do you mean?” She stuck out her tongue to catch the stray drop of ice cream that threatened to roll over her fingers.

“Nothing,” Dan cut Zoelner off, his eyes zeroing in on her tongue like a sniper taking aim at a target. Heat instantly washed down her body from the top of her head, making her toes curl inside her boots. They’d resumed their usual position now that her heart was no longer taking up the space. “And back to the point, which is…” He made a rolling motion with his hand. “You’re no longer with the Secret Service?”

“I’m not.” Now they were getting down to brass tacks.

“Why?” he demanded. “What happened?”

“Well, I—”

“Never mind,” he quickly cut her off, causing her brow to furrow in frustration. “Why you’re out of the Service is less important than why you’re here now. ’Cause if you’re not part of some attempt to apprehend Winterfield, then you’re in Cusco to…” Again with the rolling hand.

“To talk to you.” There. She admitted it.

“To me?”

“To you.” Inexplicably, the song sung by the Mad Hatter and the March Hare in Alice in Wonderland skipped through her head. A verrrry merry un-birthday… To me!… To who? Oh, you! And like the Mad Hatter’s conversation, this one seemed to be all over the place.

Finally, Dan asked, “Why?”

Okay, so she hadn’t exactly planned to say this in the middle of a busy Peruvian square, much less in front of an audience, but the way things were going, if she didn’t take the opportunity to tell him what was in her head, what was in her heart, and—

Penni-pie, just pull up your big-girl panties and do it! Her father’s advice echoed through her head, ever the voice of wisdom and reason.

She screwed up her courage and blurted, “Because I—”

“Holy shit!” Zoelner spat, cutting Penni off. She blinked over at the man. Damnit! He had the worst timing. “You two look alive if you want to stay that way.”

Now it was her turn to say, “Huh?”

“What is it?” Dan was suddenly on point. She could feel the tension radiating from him like he was a live wire. As she casually followed the direction of Zoelner’s stare so as not to draw too much notice to herself, her instincts and training allowed her to immediately spy what had snagged his attention.

“We’ve got a skinhead packing heat at three o’clock,” Zoelner said, and Penni noticed he’d gone eerily still. No part of him moving. Even the wind refused to tease the ends of his hair. Then he started cataloging the guy’s features, and the quick, businesslike descriptions told her he wasn’t talking to her or to Dan. “Looks Eastern European. No neck. Has one of those narrow skulls suggesting he won’t be winning any Academic Decathlon championships.”

A quick glance at his left ear revealed the tiny, flesh-toned earpiece. Part of her wondered who was listening in. The other part of her lightbulbed the fact that she’d landed herself in the middle of a live operation, despite having been assured by the folks back at Black Knights Inc. that Dan wasn’t too busy to talk to her.

Great. Just…grrrreat! Never let it be said that life in Penni Land wasn’t chock-a-block full of twisty, turny excitement.