Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(35)

“Store it,” she said, pulling the strap over her head and handing it to him. He tucked it beside his backpack inside the building and then joined her in leaning against the outer wall. Silently, they waited for Chelsea to arrive and for Zoelner to check in and give them Kozlov’s location.

Dan and Penni had followed the Russian from the hotel when he’d left it a mere ten minutes after they’d finished the call to BKI—obviously the Russian liked to arrive early to these types of things. But they’d been forced to hand off tailing duty to Zoelner when Kozlov made one turn too many on his way to the square, and they feared their continued presence on his six would draw the Russian’s attention.

Kozlov was good. Cautious. Taking a circuitous route to his destination. But they were better.

I hope it stays that way.

Dan rubbed his hands together to calm his nerves at the same time Chelsea—having skirted around the block—approached from the opposite direction he and Penni had chosen to take. Penni shivered beside him. And without thinking, he threw an arm around her shoulders, hugging her close and offering her his body heat. She glanced up at him, the tip of her nose rosy with cold, and gifted him with a soft smile. It struck him as a sweet invitation to bend down and take a taste of her lips.

Some of what he was thinking must have been wallpapered across his face, because when Chelsea stopped beside them and shoved her glasses up her nose, she whispered, “Ugh. You two need to get a room.”

Dan offered her a withering glance he wasn’t sure translated in the darkness. “If you recall,” he said softly, “we had a room.”

A feisty smile split Chelsea’s face. “Oh, that’s right. So, besides the interruption of Kozlov’s call, how did that go?”

“Not as far as I’d have liked it to go. If we’d had ten or fifteen more minutes…then maybe,” Penni said.

Dan choked and glanced down to find her grinning up at him unabashedly. “You’re not making this easy on me,” he warned her.

“Good.” She winked. “Means I’m doing something right.”

And then they just stood there, staring at each other, grinning at each other, wanting each other.

“Holy crap,” Chelsea said. “I don’t know whether to be jealous or sick.”

“Be jealous,” Penni informed her, her tone heavy with innuendo. “Be very, very jealous.”

“Oh really?” Chelsea tilted her head toward him. “That good, is he?”

“Better,” Penni assured.

Both women turned to look at him appraisingly. And when he scowled, they dissolved into giggles. It had been his experience that when women got together, they just naturally joined forces and started making easy targets of the men around them. In an effort to divert their attention away from the invisible bull’s-eye on his chest, he released Penni to activate the button on the side of his diver’s watch. When the little light came on, he pointedly checked the hour. “Almost go-time,” he said, pulling his Ruger from his jacket pocket and gently thumbing off the safety.

His ploy worked. Instead of continuing to poke fun, Penni reached into her coat and transferred his little Bersa Thunder into the front waistband of her jeans.

Convenient, he thought, eyeing the placement and thinking of the ease with which the weapon would be available for a quick draw. If you’re a woman. If you’re a guy, you risk shooting your balls off.

Figuring a bullet in the butt was better than one through the dick, he placed his handgun in its normal position…tucked into the waistband at the small of his back. Maybe not as quick a draw, but he liked his pecker with just the one hole, thanks.

“Are you sure it was a good idea to give her a weapon?” Chelsea whispered, eyeing the Bersa and Penni with equal distrust, the feminine camaraderie having vanished so quickly Dan was surprised he didn’t see a puff of smoke.

He started to jump to Penni’s defense. But Penni grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers and telling him without words to keep his mouth shut. Like a smart man, that’s exactly what he did.

“I’ve been trained to handle every kind of firearm, from a six-shooter to a sniper rifle,” Penni said quietly, her adorable chin jutting out just a touch.

Ho-kay. So she can definitely fight her own battles. Two things occurred to him then. One, the hotheaded New Yorker in Penni lurked just beneath the surface—he’d probably do well to remember that. And two, the woman had a set of balls on her to shame an elephant. Damnit! Both made him like her more.

“That’s not what concerns me,” Chelsea whispered. “What concerns me is that after what happened in Malaysia, you might be tempted to blur the line between justice and revenge. We need Winterfield alive. We have no idea what he’s sold or to whom. There could be a ticking time bomb out there somewhere. We have to bring him in for interrogation or we could find ourselves in the midst of another 9/11.” Chelsea’s golden eyes seemed to be on high beam when she pinned a look on Penni.

“Look,” Dan insisted quietly. Truth was, he enjoyed a good catfight as much as the next guy. But not when the cats in question were women he both liked and respected. “We’re all professionals here. Penni knows what’s at stake.”

Chelsea studied Penni’s face a second more, and Dan was about to remind her that regardless of what she thought, she wasn’t calling the shots. But before he could open his mouth, Chelsea must’ve seen something in Penni’s expression that eased her misgivings, because she nodded. “Okay, good. So then let’s do this the right way.”