Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(12)
“Bullshit. You’re not acclimated.” Due to Cusco’s elevation, the air was incredibly thin and she was having a hell of a time catching her breath. Scratch that. She wasn’t catching her breath.
“S-stop giving me the”—pant, pant—“evil eye. You’re only allowed to use it if you’re”—pant, pant—“Italian. I think it’s a law or something.” What she wouldn’t give for one of those little wheeled oxygen carts the concierge at her hotel had been passing out to the out-of-breath out-of-towners when she’d checked in.
“You’re a lot sassier than I remember,” he grumbled, slowing their climb when Zoelner popped out from around a corner up ahead, taking his position in front of No Neck.
Thank Christ for small miracles. She couldn’t have kept up that pace for one second more.
“Oh, you mean I’m sassier than I was”—pant, pant—“after all my friends and coworkers were killed?” She sucked in a deep breath that didn’t seem to contain one drop of oxygen. “Is that what you mean? Because I’m pretty sure”—Geez, her heart was pounding. Her ears buzzing. Little spots of light danced in front of her eyes—“that situation didn’t really lend itself to sassiness. What? What’s that look for?”
“I’m just trying to decide whether or not I like this new, mouthy Penni DePaul,” he said, brow quirked.
“Oh, you like me.” She winced at the stitch in her side. And even though she sounded confident, truth was, she waited, literally breathlessly, for his response.
She hadn’t been herself in Malaysia. She’d been a mess both emotionally and professionally, and Dan’s calm, his self-assurance, his all-around badassedness—Is that even a word? Well, if it’s not, it should be—had been the only things that’d kept her from falling completely apart. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t really know her. Not the real her. The smart aleck. The tomboy. And maybe he liked his women vulnerable and fragile and—
“Roger that,” he said. She didn’t have long to wonder if he was talking to her or the woman in his ear when he added, “I’ve sorta had a thing for ball-busting broads since Susie Edwards threw a rock at my head during second-grade recess. Musta been born with a little bit of masochist in me.”
Again with the “broad.” Of course, the way Dan said the word made it sound good. She would’ve blown out a breath of relief if she had a breath to spare. And he must’ve sensed some of what she was feeling because the smile he gave her was as sweet and dry as the wind blowing down from the mountains. But the light shining in his eyes? Forget about it. It was anything but sweet and dry. Just the opposite. It was hot and liquid, churning and burning and making her wonder if it was possible for her underpants to combust.
Yep. He liked her. And more than that, he wanted her. It was there in his face. He was letting her see it. No holds barred. And then she was dizzy for a reason that had nothing to do with the lack of O2 in the air.
She opened her mouth to tell him…well…everything when Zoelner called, “Hey, you guys!” in his best Sloth from The Goonies voice. He was ten steps in front of No Neck, waving frantically, his iPhone held out in front of him like your average, overly exuberant tourist. “Fancy meeting you here! Now, smile for the camera!”
“Smart,” she whispered when No Neck glanced up the steep steps at Zoelner. But before Zoelner could take the picture, No Neck ducked into the doorway of a convenience store. The move caused his jacket to fan out, and Penni got a good long look at the piece he was carrying in his shoulder holster. Christ on the cross!
“You think he looked up long enough for Chelsea to snap a photo?” she asked as they stopped in front of the souvenir shop located a handful of steps below the doorway of the convenience store.
Dan cocked his chin, listening to something she couldn’t hear. “Roger that. Now do as Zoelner says and smile for the camera.”
“Cheese,” she said when Dan threw an arm around her shoulders. In contrast to the cool mountain air, he was hot as a furnace. Curling into him seemed like the most natural thing. And allowing him to hold her up since her under-oxygenated muscles were complaining about the task was an added benefit.
“Got it!” Zoelner crowed the second after the flash on his iPhone blazed. Then he was skipping down the steps toward them. Penni saw No Neck exit the convenience store and continue his way up the hill. “I suspect it’s too soon to have his identity?” Zoelner murmured once he was in front of them, pantomiming showing them the photo while simultaneously listening to Chelsea’s response.
“Chels says yes it’s too soon,” Dan said for Penni’s benefit since she wasn’t wearing her own earpiece. Bless him. “His mug shot is being run through the software now.”
“Okay. So while Chelsea tries to determine just exactly who he is,” Zoelner said, still smiling, still waving his hands around like they weren’t having a really serious, supersecret conversation, “let’s follow him. See where he goes with that big gun strapped to his side.”
“That’s not a gun,” Penni grunted. “That’s the Mona Lisa of death. Did you get a good look at it?”
“A T/C Contender,” Dan said. “Rifle-like accuracy and power in a handgun. Whatever Skinhead is doing here, he wants to do it with precision and from a distance.”