Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(19)

“Aw, thanks, Dan,” she said. She really liked Dan. He was the definition of “a good guy.”

“Who you calling a monkey?” Z lifted a brow. And although she was sure he would argue the point, he was a good guy too.

“If the fez hat and cymbals fit, my friend…” Dan winked.

Chelsea loved the byplay between the two of them. Listening to them banter the last couple of days had been like getting backstage tickets into the minds of men. “Aw, look at you two,” she said, “being all Rocket and Groot.”

Z blinked at her, his eyes narrowed. She sighed at the familiar expression. Dagan Zoelner was far too serious. Oh, sure, he liked to mix it up with the insults and the wisecracking—if there was one truth, it was that Z possessed a razor-sharp wit. But even when he was joking around you’d be hard pressed to see a smile on his face.

Chelsea had decided to make it her life’s goal to rectify that wrong And she managed it occasionally by busting the man’s Bs—as he so often put it. With the right quip, the right insult, the right witty reply at the right moment, she could coax…not a smile, necessarily…but certainly a grin out of him. She lived for those instances. Because when Z smiled, it was like the sun coming out after a hurricane. Brilliant and blinding and so beautiful you almost couldn’t stand it.

“Rocket and Groot? I don’t know what that means,” he said.

“You know, Guardians of the Galaxy?”

He just shook his head.

“The anthropomorphic raccoon and the tree thing?”

Now he simply lifted a brow.

“You really should get out more,” she told him before turning back to Penni. “Anyway, back to the original topic. Until recently, I spent most of my days locked in an office. Which means this new position I’ve taken is not something my mother is accustomed to.”

“I thought most family members didn’t know about…” Penni let the sentence dangle, then finished with a carefully worded, “the specifics of what you do and who you do it for.”

It was customary for family and friends of CIA agents to be under the impression that their loved one worked for another, safer government agency. It protected everyone in the equation because a person couldn’t be blackmailed or tortured for information they didn’t have in the first place.

“Oh, my mom knows I work for the Bureau of Land Management.” Chelsea leveled a meaningful look on Penni. “But she’s also one smart cookie, and when the Bureau of Land Management sends me out of the country, she worries. A lot.” She blew out blustery sigh. “The curse of being an only child. Now”—she picked up her menu—“enough about me, let’s talk about our friend upstairs.”

“Who is he?” Z asked eagerly.

After three months on assignment with nothing to show for his time, Chelsea knew he was more than ready to get this party started. And oh, how she loved seeing the light of anticipation glowing in his storm-cloud eyes. Z was one of those men who was classically handsome, with a broad forehead, high cheekbones, and a chiseled jaw—which made his ability to blend into his surroundings just that much more astonishing. But he was never more attractive than when he was neck deep in the middle of some crazy mission and his adrenaline was running.

“His name is…” She lowered her voice to something barely above a whisper even though it wasn’t really necessary. They were far enough away from the next table that their conversation couldn’t be easily overheard. In fact, thanks to the high, echoing ceilings and the tile floors, the noise inside the restaurant was something close to a dull roar. “Andrei Kozlov.”

“Sounds Russian,” Z said with a grunt.

“Is Russian,” she replied. Then added, “Ultra Russian,” for effect.

“For God’s sake, what does that even mean? Ultra Russian?” Z turned to address Penni. “In case it wasn’t obvious, Chels missed her calling. She was really meant for the stage.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Chelsea told him. “What’s life without a little drama, huh?” He opened his mouth to argue—he enjoyed arguing with her almost as much as she enjoyed taunting him—but she went back to the topic before he could. “When I say he’s ultra Russian, I mean he’s…” Again she glanced around before whispering, “KGB.”

For a couple of seconds, silence reigned around the table. Then, “I thought those guys went the way of the dinosaur when the Soviet Union collapsed,” Penni said, continuing to peruse her menu, pretending they were having the usual small talk while deciding what to eat.

“Officially they did,” Dan informed her. “But unofficially they formed the Federal Security Service, now known as the FSB.”

“Pfft.” Chelsea waved a hand of dismissal. “Words, shmerds. Once KGB, always KGB.”

“And you all think he’s here to…what?” Penni asked. “Buy Intel from—”

“Lord Voldemort,” Chelsea interrupted. She wasn’t superstitious by nature, but this mission made her twitchy. “Call me crazy, but if we are finally on the right track here, I don’t want to jinx us by saying his name out loud.”

“Who is Lord Voldemort?” Z asked, frowning.

Who is… “Didn’t you read Harry Potter?” she demanded, glaring at him.