Too Hard to Handle (Black Knights Inc. #8)(43)

The air inside the deserted building was as heavily scented as a South Side hooker. But instead of dime-store perfume, the smell was sawdust and plaster. It filled Zoelner’s nose and mouth when he sucked in a breath, preparing himself for whatever bombshell Chelsea was poised to drop.

“Stanislav Rubashkin is the former military intelligence colonel for the KGB,” she whispered. “He defected to the U.S. after the Soviet Union fell in ’91.”

Boom!

And there it was.

Zoelner glanced into the far corner where he’d left Kozlov after he duct-taped the Russian’s wrists and ankles—double duct-taped them actually; Kozlov was a big boy. “Cocksucking sonofabitch,” he hissed. “That jackass is real? I thought he was just a crazy rumor.”

“Nope.” Chelsea shook her head, glancing furtively in Kozlov’s direction. The Russian was nothing but a big, shadowy blob against the still darkness of the corner. “No rumor. Rubashkin is as real as it gets.”

“How come I never heard anything about that?” Penni asked. “I mean, I know it was way before my time, but it had to have been huge news and I—”

“You don’t know anything about it because it was never reported,” Chelsea said. “Rubashkin was a course unto himself in CIA Hush-That-Fuss 101.”

“Huh?” Dan’s intense scowl was visible even in the near-dark room.

“The CIA took him, held him, debriefed him for almost two full years, and then they handed him over to the U.S. Marshals Service, who have been hiding him ever since,” Chelsea explained.

Zoelner watched as Dan and Penni exchanged a look.

“You see, Rubashkin cut a deal,” Chelsea went on. “He gave us an unfettered peek into the lives, finances, and ties of the movers and the shakers behind the Iron Curtain, told us everything we wanted to know about how the Soviet Union operated and who was likely to rise to power after its fall. And in exchange, we agreed to give him full immunity, a new identity, and protection from the long arms of his former friends in the KGB.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. The glasses thing—half sexy, half nerdy—was too charming for words…usually. But not when the hand she used to do it with was shaking like an addict’s in the middle of detox.

Zoelner didn’t realize his feet were moving until he’d already closed the distance to her. “Hey.” He lifted a hand, then faltered. Touching Chelsea was never a good idea. She was so soft, so immensely touchable. And putting his hands on her, even in the most innocent ways, always reminded him that what he really wanted to do was put his hands on her in very un-innocent ways.

Which was a problem. Only partly because Chelsea had never given him any indication she’d welcome his touch, innocent or otherwise.

Or maybe you’re just a big ol’ *.

Allowing for that possibility, he forced himself to grab her shoulder. “You okay?” He gave her a little squeeze.

Soft. So unbearably soft…

“Yeah.” She nodded, standing a little straighter and lifting her piquant chin.

And tough too. A dichotomy that worked on him like pasties and thongs worked on other men.

“Sounds like Rubashkin was a real winner,” Penni muttered, disgust lacing her tone. “And by winner, I mean a rat scurrying from a sinking ship.” She took Dan’s hand, threading her fingers through his. And when Dan dragged her close to his side, Zoelner wondered if the two of them realized they were already acting like a couple. He envied their ease with one another. How they just seemed to naturally fit together. Two pieces of a puzzle clicking. No pretense. No bullshit.

Which reminded him…What the hell am I supposed to do with my hand now? Do I drop it? Do I leave it on Chelsea’s shoulder? “Easy” and “comfortable” certainly were not words he would ever use to describe his relationship with her. Choosing the first of his two options, he hoped to cover up any awkwardness by rubbing his hands together like he needed to warm them.

It seemed to work. Chelsea didn’t appear to notice anything amiss as she agreed. “You said it. But we gave our word to protect him in exchange for the information, so that’s what we’ve done. What we’ll continue to do. I’m sure the marshals are moving Rubashkin as we speak. Just as a precaution.”

“What a phenomenal waste of taxpayer money,” Dan grumbled, shaking his head.

“Can’t argue with you there,” Chelsea agreed. “But hey, let’s look on the bright side here. If it weren’t for Rubashkin, we never would have stumbled across Kozlov.” She hooked her thumb toward the corner. “And without Kozlov, we never would have known about al-Rahma. And without al-Rahma, we never would have known when and where to expect Winterfield.”

Her face brightened, a grin suddenly stretching her lips. Chelsea had the best smile. Her teeth flashed white, her cheeks plumped, and her happiness shined in her eyes, making them glint like polished gold. “Hey, guys, you do realize we’re finally about to bring Luke Winterfield down, right?”

Zoelner took a page from Kozlov’s manual and spit on the ground in punctuation. “It’s way past time.”

“Right.” Dan bobbed his chin, releasing Penni’s hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. Penni’s arm went around his waist just as naturally as you please. “So, then, what’s the plan?”