Into the Mist (Falcon Mercenary Group #1)(29)

He gave her an earpiece with a mic extending around to her mouth, and she grinned tiredly up at him as she put it in place. “Tits, love the earring, dude. When did you get it?”

He fingered the gold hoop dangling from his fleshy earlobe. “You like it? Did it myself.”

She tried not to shudder. “It’s you. Definitely you. Now what’s up with the meet and greet? Had no idea I rated such special treatment.”

He flashed his perfectly straight, disgustingly perfect white teeth at her in what looked more like a snarl than a smile. “And miss out on this story? Hell, girl, this will only get better when I get the call from Jonah asking me where the hell you are. That’s when the fun begins.”

She gave him a sour look. “Don’t egg him on. It’ll only make things worse for me.”

He patted a thick envelope on the seat beside him. “I got your stuff here, but you don’t get it until you spill.”

“Blackmailing bastard,” she muttered. With a resigned sigh, she gave him the much abbreviated version of the story behind her run-in with Eli Chance and her subsequent meeting with Esteban in Paris.

“And you trust this dude?” Tits asked incredulously. “I seriously gave you more credit for smarts, Ty. I might need to knock some sense into that pretty head of yours.”

She bared her teeth and snarled. “Don’t get condescending on me, ass**le. I don’t trust the dickhead further than I can throw him. He has his purpose, though. He can tell me where Eli Chance is.”

“You could find that out on your own,” Tits said calmly.

She nodded. “I could, but I’m on a tight timeline here. If I don’t already have Jonah hot on my ass, he’ll be there shortly. The less time I spend f**king around trying to find Eli, the better off I’ll be. I don’t believe for a minute that Esteban has shit that can help Damiano, but I do believe Eli does. He’s who I want, and if I have to go through Esteban to get to him then I will. I need him to think I’m working for him, though, because he’s made threats against Damiano I can’t ignore. When I’m done with Eli, I’ll take Esteban’s sorry ass out.”

Tits whistled. “That’s quite an agenda you got there, girl.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”

“You’ll be glad I brought this along, then,” he said as he stuck his hand under the seat and pulled out a bag.

She reached for it, the weight of it forcing her to rest it on her lap. When she looked in, she found a variety of weapons. All her favorites. She looked up at Tits and gave him a wicked grin. “You’re the shit, you know that?”

Tits laughed. “I really need to teach you better American slang. You sound ridiculous. Now do I get a kiss?”

She rolled her eyes, leaned forward and planted her lips against his. She tried to pull away just as fast, but he held her firm, deepening the kiss into a hot, lusty mix of lips and tongues.

She balled her fist and punched him in the gut. He broke away, laughing his fool ass off.

“Ein geiler Wicht,” she muttered.

“I love it when you curse at me in foreign languages. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

“Asshole.”

He grinned again. “Consider that payment for services rendered.”

She shot him a dark look and was tempted to punch him again, but damn, the man was built like a brick house and her hand hurt like hell from her last hit.

“When’s my flight to Paris?” she muttered. “And how the hell am I going to get all this shit on my flight?”

“I’m the shit, remember?” he said with a cocky grin. “Private jet. Only the best for you, Ty baby.”

She briefly considered giving him another kiss, but he looked too damn hopeful.

“I don’t suppose you thought to bring me any clothes, did you?” she asked, pissed that she hadn’t put it on her list of required items.

He grinned again and shoved a pair of jeans and a T-shirt at her. “As long as I get to watch you peel out of that wetsuit, I’ll even throw in a pair of boots.”

“Casse-toi.”

“Oooh, French now. My life’s ambition is to get you to curse at me in Russian while we make love.”

She laughed. Honest to God, how could you do anything else around this irreverent bastard.

“My Russian is rusty. I’d probably just end up telling you what a small dick you have.”

He looked affronted. “Hey now, no need to get all personal on me.”

“Besides, my tits aren’t big enough for you, tit-man.” Tits had gotten his nickname way back when for his affinity for big-busted women. His type had little in the brains department. Tyana was convinced that smart women scared him. It made no sense to her that a guy as intelligent as Tits would be so terrified of a woman with a brain, but then men were a mystery to her. One she didn’t have any real interest in solving.

“For you, I’d make a sacrifice.”

“I’d have to dumb down too much for you,” she said sweetly. “Now turn your head while I turn my back so I can get out of this damn wetsuit.”

She swiveled around, knowing full well he wouldn’t do the same, but the most he’d see was her ass, and it wasn’t as if he hadn’t saved it enough. She figured he deserved a glimpse.