Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(110)
“So what else did they say?” Leo interrupted, not willing to engage in that argument. Again. “After receivin’ the digitized copies, did Alex gave ’em any indication that—”
“Hold on there, Leo, my boy.” Uncle John raised the hand not wrapped around his cocktail glass. “Don’t let your mind go runnin’ around like a gnat in a hurricane. First of all, they didn’t go into any detail with me. Second of all, I don’t think they’ve got any details. The sorry sonsofbitches have been stuck on a transatlantic flight all day long. They just landed in Key West a little while ago. They’re goin’ to rack out there for the night and head here first thing tomorrow mornin’. You’ll have to hold your questions until then.”
Leo sat back in his chair, frustrated by the delay but comforting himself with another long pull on his beer.
“I need to run to the little girls’ room,” Tracy suddenly announced. “Want to”—hiccup—“come with me, Sophie?”
After a quick look at Doc, Sophie pushed up from her lawn chair. “Of course,” she said, giving the back legs of her Daisy-Duke-style jean shorts a quick tug. It didn’t do a damn thing to cover the lower curve of her ass cheeks peeking from beneath the frayed denim.
“I’ll show you the way.” Romeo bolted up from his chair. The guy knew an opportunity to move things along when he saw one. “You coming, vato?” he asked Doc, one black brow raised meaningfully.
“Be there in a sec,” Doc said. The three of them still seated around the fire watched, heads tilted, as Romeo herded the women across the sand toward the house. What? They were all healthy, red-blooded, heterosexual males, and the sight of long, tan legs and sweet, heart-shaped derrieres was not something to be missed.
“Hey, LT,” Doc said, taking the toothpick from his mouth, “if you’ve changed your mind about Sophie, I’ll gladly hara-kiri myself.”
“You’ll what?” Leo turned away from the view.
“You know,” Doc snickered. “I’ll fall on my sword so she can, uh, fall on yours.”
Maybe he really was getting too old, or maybe he just had other things on his mind—not Olivia, not Olivia…okay, probably Olivia—but Leo just couldn’t force himself to feel any enthusiasm about the prospect of another meaningless one-night stand. “Thanks for the offer, even as distasteful as you just made it sound.” He grimaced. “But believe me when I say she’s all yours if you can get her.”
“Don’t you worry.” Doc winked, pushing up from his seat, throwing the toothpick into the fire, and turning toward the rambling old house. “I’ll get her.”
Yes, sir, Leo figured Doc probably would. After all, a woman had once told him that Doc was the spitting image of some big French actor. And though Leo hadn’t the first clue who she was talking about, he figured from her dreamy expression that the comparison was meant to be a compliment. “Me and Uncle John will hang out here. Give you all some time to do your wooin’.”
“If that’s the case, you may be here all night,” Doc boasted. “My wooing has been known to last—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Leo waved him off. “Get lost, will you? I’m tired of lookin’ at your smug face.” And sure enough, Doc’s expression became even more…well…smug. Leo grinned because he knew just what to say to get rid of it. “Besides, you stay here too much longer and you may give Romeo time to convince dear, sweet Sophie that a little two-for-the-price-of-one action could be lots of fun.”
Doc’s grin melted away as he called Romeo a foul name beneath his breath. But to Leo’s surprise, Doc didn’t hightail it up to house. Instead he angled his head, his eyes searching Leo’s face over the glow of the fire.
“Well?” Leo asked. “What are you waitin’ for?”
“It, uh…” Doc lifted a hand to scratch his head.
“What’s up, bro?” And, yes. More than his men, or his friends, or even his crew, the five guys who’d hitched their wagons to his mule were his brothers. In every way that counted.
“You know, the, uh, the way I see it,” Doc said haltingly, “part of our pledge included no more *footing around when it comes to going after the things we really want.” Leo watched Doc unconsciously rub the tattoo on the inside of his left forearm. “And it’s been obvious since day one that you want Olivia Mortier.”
Damn. Just hearing her name spoken aloud made the hairs along the back of Leo’s neck stand up.
“So, why don’t you send her an email, huh? See if she’ll take some time off from The Company to come down here for a little visit.” And now that smug smirk was back on Doc’s face. “Maybe after she’s wobbled your knob a time or two, you’ll stop mooning around like a lovesick teenager.”
Sonofa—Sometimes it sucked ass living in such close quarters with a group of men trained and tested in the fine art of observation. “Wobble my knob? What are you? Thirteen?”
“Avoiding the question?”
Damnit. “For the record,” Leo growled. “I don’t want her to wobble my knob, as you so eloquently put it.” A voice inside his head warned him his nose would be growing Pinocchio-style any minute now.