Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(34)
Before she could ask what exactly they had come up with—not that it was any of her business, but her curiosity was absolutely killing her—he propped his foot on the edge of the claw-foot tub and pulled up the hem of his Levis to reveal his ankle holster. Inside was a Bersa Thunder CC handgun. It was small, meant for concealed carry. But with an eight-round magazine that held .38-caliber bullets, it was still mean enough and deadly enough to persuade most guys to rethink any less-than-gentlemanly impulses.
“If I was going with my big, bad, protect-the-woman instincts,” he said, pulling the weapon from its holster and seeming to weigh it in his hand at the same time he weighed his thoughts, “I’d ask you to stay here where you’d be safe.” He passed her the gun. She hesitated to take it, but when she finally did, she noticed the metal was warm from his body. “But after what happened in Kuala Lumpur, you have as much right as anyone to be there when we capture Winterfield.”
Her mouth dropped open. Her eyes flew wide. Everything inside her came to a screeching halt except for her stomach. It turned upside down and spewed hot, stinging bile up the back of her throat.
Sweet Christ.
Dan cocked his head, his eyes narrowing into considering slits. “That is,” he said, “if you wanna be there.”
The image of her partner Julia’s charred corpse flashed before her eyes, causing a lump the size of the Rock of Gibraltar to form in her chest. The memory of that night, of seeing her friends reduced to ash and gore, cut into her like it always did. Like shrapnel. Leaving her bleeding and disoriented.
She was supposed to be done with this kind of work. Done taking chances. Done putting herself in harm’s way. But…all her teammates, all her friends, deserved justice. They deserved to have Winterfield spend the rest of his life rotting in a dingy, cold eight-by-ten. And, as Dan said, it was her right, her duty, not only to her lost friends but to the country she’d served for over a decade, to help put him there.
She paused a second longer, her inner war waging one final battle.
“Penni.” Dan placed a hand on her shoulder. The pressure and heat of his palm had her eyes jumping to his concerned face. “I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. I just thought—”
“No,” she interrupted him. “You didn’t.” Then she slid out the clip, checked to see that it was full, and glanced back up at him. Now that her decision was made, determination burned like a hot coal behind her breastbone. “Let’s bring that sorry sonofabitch in once and for all.”
Chapter Eight
Plaza San Francisco
Friday, 9:12 p.m.
Helluva place for a homicide…
The thought ran through Dan’s head as, arm in arm with Penni, he passed by Chelsea, who was pretending to be a distracted tourist studying a map of Cusco while loitering on a park bench in the corner of the little square. Save for Chels, the place was deserted, thanks to the near-freezing temperatures that had descended the instant the sun sank behind the mountain peaks. The sightseers were back at their hotels, fighting the chill with a late dinner and drinks…or with each other. And the locals, having no one around to sell to, had closed up shop for the day and gone home to seek their own reprieve from the night’s frosty breath.
Cusco was one of those cities that rolled up the streets after dark. The only nightlife to be had was tightly contained around the city center, and the rest of the place pretty much turned into a ghost town.
“Ghost” being the operative word. Dan wasn’t given to melodrama—he left that to Chelsea—but the little square was spooky. The kind of setting that belonged in a Stephen King novel.
A few decorative streetlights lit the perimeter around the grassy area, leaving big puddles of inky black shadows everywhere, especially beneath the trees. The only sounds to breach the silence were the burble of the fountain and the shushing sound of his and Penni’s footsteps. And the air was redolent with the earthy smell of damp cobblestones and the sharp bite of an electrically charged atmosphere.
A storm brewed somewhere close by. And it was as if the sky overhead was holding its breath…waiting for something portentous to happen. A lightning strike and a low mist creeping across the ground would make the scene complete.
Dan shivered inside the warmth of his jacket and led Penni toward their rendezvous point. It was an old building around the corner and a block down from the square. Besides being in a great location, it was undergoing renovation so it was guaranteed to be empty. And batting three for three, it also sported a conveniently large portico that cast a massive black shadow they could easily dissolve into. Which is exactly what he and Penni did.
Shrugging out of his backpack, he set it on the sidewalk beside the double doors to the main entrance of the structure. Five seconds later, his lock-pick set was in his hands. Ten seconds after that, the door to the building was open. After replacing his lock picks in his backpack, he shoved the bag just inside the entry and turned to find Penni’s arms crossed, her mouth pursed.
“What?” he asked innocently. She glanced pointedly at the open door, and he quietly cleared his throat. “Let’s just say that growing up on the mean streets of Motor City taught me a thing or two.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, then shook her head when he couldn’t stop the smirk pulling at his lips. He sobered and pointed to her purse. “Keep it or store it?” he inquired quietly.