Too Hard to Handle, page 23
“Because that fuckin’ reporter has been nosing around again.” Boss put the vehicle in park and switched off the engine at the same time Becky stopped grinding sheet metal and flicked off the boom box. It was strangely quiet all of a sudden, except for the whistling sound of Winterfield breathing through his nose. “No way was I taking the chance she might get a gander at dickhead.”
“That’s you,” Zoelner said to Winterfield, his expression bland. “Just in case you were wondering.”
Since Winterfield was still wearing duct tape, all he could do was glare.
The door beside Penni burst open to reveal Ozzie, leaning heavily on his crutches. His blond hair was mad-scientist wild and his face looked like a storm cloud. He was wearing a black T-shirt with white block lettering that simply read Beam Me Up, Scotty. The tongue-in-cheek sentiment was incongruent with his serious, slightly harried expression. “Hurry up and get out,” he said, glancing furtively over his shoulder.
Well, that’s a fine hi, how are ya. “What?” Penni frowned at him even as she ducked out the door. “Why?”
“Because she arrived early,” he said, noting the bandages on her cheek and the bruises ringing her throat. He frowned, tsked like an old maiden aunt, and gave her a quick, absentminded hug. “Glad to see you made it back safe and sound,” he whispered in her ear, his aftershave tickling her nose. “I swear I didn’t think you’d run into any trouble down there. None of us did. If we had, we never would’ve agreed to send you.”
“All’s well that ends well,” she assured him.
He pushed back to study her face. “And is all well?”
She glanced over her shoulder to see Dan unfurling his tall frame from the Hummer. The vehicle was big, but Dan was bigger. He looked all shoulders and legs trying to exit through the door. “I’m not…” She shook her head. “I don’t know, exactly.”
Ozzie flicked a glance at Dan, his expression turning contemplative before he pulled her into another hug. “There’s still my offer,” he whispered in her ear.
Penni’s heart melted for the guy. Just a little. He was a womanizer, a playboy, and never seemed to take anything seriously. But under all that swagger and mockery beat a true heart. “You know,” she speculated, “if you’re not careful, some woman is going to take you up on that offer someday.”
“Hey, dickhead,” Dan grumped, dragging her out of Ozzie’s embrace. “Keep your dirty mitts to yourself.”
“I’ll flip you for her,” Ozzie said, pretending to dig in his hip pocket for a coin.
“Wow.” Penni frowned at him. “Just when I think there might be hope for you.”
He winked and leered.
She sighed and shook her head.
“Keep your eyeballs to yourself too,” Dan warned, “or I’ll be tempted to plant one on your kisser. See how it affects that silver tongue of yours.”
“You wouldn’t hit a wounded man, would you?” Ozzie leaned more heavily on his crutches, wincing and rubbing his leg like it pained him terribly. Then a grin split his handsome face and he reached forward, dragging Dan in for a bear hug. He slapped Dan on the back so hard Penni was surprised Dan didn’t hork up a lung.
“Missed you like crazy, you sorry sonofabitch,” Ozzie said. Dan couldn’t see it, and Penni figured she wasn’t supposed to see it either, but for just a second Ozzie’s expression was heartbreakingly sad, almost…anguished.
“Whoa,” Zoelner said after he pushed Winterfield out of the vehicle. “Should we give you two a couple of minutes alone?”
“Don’t be jealous,” Ozzie teased, shoving Dan away and dragging Zoelner in to wrap his arms around him. “There’s enough of Ozzie to go around.”
Chelsea hopped out of the Hummer at the same time Boss rounded the front bumper. “What do you mean she arrived early?” Boss asked, going back to Ozzie’s original statement. “I thought she was scheduled to show in thirty minutes.” He checked his watch. And then his questioning expression turned fierce when Becky—who’d finished putting away the giant grinding tool and setting aside the sheet metal—squealed and hopped into Dan’s arms. She squeezed Dan’s neck and peppered his cheek with kisses while telling him how happy she was to have him home. Boss waited barely a beat before grumbling, “Okay, Mrs. Knight. That’s enough of that.”
Becky pushed out of Dan’s arms, rolling her eyes at her husband. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
“Well…yeah,” Boss harrumphed, crossing his arms and scowling dangerously.
Apparently the men of Black Knights Inc. were terribly proprietary when it came to other men putting their hands on their women. That Penni should feel a little zing of pleasure that Dan had treated her like she was his made her want to kick her own ass. She wasn’t some fawning heroine in a romance novel who needed to be the center of some chest-thumping man’s desire to feel complete. She was a modern woman who’d proved herself capable of anything and everything—without a man by her side, thank you. But still…there it was. That zing.
Someone should take away my Girl Power Club card…
“Well, you’ll just have to keep that green-eyed monster in check for, like, two more seconds,” Becky said, wrapping her arms around Zoelner’s waist and giving him a squeeze. Zoelner stiffened and patted her on the head like an older brother might do to a kid sister. But Boss didn’t seem to notice the platonic nature of the embrace.
“One Mississippi, two Mississippi,” he counted quickly, grabbing Becky’s arm and pulling her next to his side. “And where’s my warm welcome?” he demanded.
“You’ve been gone…what? An hour?” Becky reached into the hip pocket of her snug jeans to extract a Dum Dum lollipop. She used it as a pointer to indicate Dan and Zoelner. “They’ve been gone three whole months.”
“Still…” Boss shrugged. And if Penni hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn’t have believed the huge, hulking beast of a man could pout. But he did.
Becky chuckled and wrapped her arms around her husband, laying her face against his broad chest. “There,” she said. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” A grin twitched at Boss’s lips, highlighting the scar that snaked up from the corner of his mouth.
It hit Penni again. Family. This was Dan’s family. And what would they think of her when they knew, what would he think of her when she told him that she—
“Good, great.” Ozzie interrupted her thoughts. “The welcome homes are complete. Now everybody scram, because Geralt is stalling her, but he can’t do it for too much longer. She’s already suspicious, and if we keep her standing around out by the front gate, it’ll make her even more so. Which is exactly the opposite of what this little show-and-tell is all about. We’re trying to assuage her suspicions.”
Penni was hopelessly lost. Who was she? And, totally off subject, but who actually used the word “assuage”?
Obviously she wasn’t the only one suffering from what-the-huh? Dan was scowling so hard she was surprised his eyebrows didn’t slide right down the center of his nose. “What the hell is going on here?” he demanded.
“Ozzie has agreed to give Samantha Tate a fuckin’ tour of the warehouse,” Boss grumbled.
Dan turned to Ozzie, blinking. The sunlight streaming in through the huge leaded-glass windows caught the blond steaks in his sandy hair and made them shine like spun gold. “That took some balls,” he said.
“Actually”—Ozzie scratched his head—“it was Becky’s idea.”
“So it took some ovaries.” Becky grinned. “A far more hardy reproductive organ.”
“And you chose Ozzie to do the honors because…?” Dan let the sentence dangle.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Becky gestured toward Ozzie’s ridiculously handsome face.
“I feel so objectified,” Ozzie mumbled.
“Just use all your charm and bullshit to distract her from asking any really probing questions,” Boss said.
“You say that like it’s so easy,” Ozzie huffed. “I’ll have you know, I’ve spent years honing my charm and bullshit to—”
“Who’s Samantha Tate?” Penni asked Dan from the corner of her mouth.
“That nosy reporter Boss mentioned,” he told her. “She’s been on our ass like a bad rash since the day we opened our doors, always hanging around trying to get something on us.”
“Like what?” she asked.
“You got me.” He shrugged. “Proof that we’re more than we seem? Something that’ll get her name above the fold in the Chicago Tribune?”
“Yikes.” Penni shuddered, knowing the reason Dan and the Black Knights were so effective was because they were such a clandestine group. Catching the eye of a reporter was seriously bad news.
“You said it,” he agreed.
Boss, who’d stopped listening to Ozzie, added, “So Becky suggested we bring her in and show her around the place. Show her we are building bikes. Show her the CAD software Ozzie and Becky use to do the designs. Show her the painting process and the parts storeroom. And hopefully, once we’ve done all that, we’ll have satisfied her curiosity.” After a breath, he said, “And maybe then she’ll leave us the fuck alone.”
“But on the day we’re housing and interrogating the world’s most notorious traitor?” Zoelner asked incredulously.
“Mmmph,” Winterfield said from behind the duct tape, still glaring in that menacing, slightly insane way that made the hairs all over Penni’s body stand up. To coin a phrase the boys in her old neighborhood had liked to use, I don’t know nothin’ from nothin’. She was no psychologist after all. But she’d bet dollars to donuts that Winterfield had lost every single one of his marbles. Besides the whole World’s Worst Traitor thing, there was just something off about him.
“We didn’t know we’d be doing that until a few hours ago.” Boss said, shaking his head and cursing.
“Fuck-all bad timing,” Dan snorted.
“And then some,” Boss agreed.
“So what else is new?” Dan asked.
“Nothing as far as I can tell,” Boss said. Then his scare-away-small-children expression morphed into another grin. “It’s damn good to have you back.”
Whatever Dan opened his mouth to say was interrupted when Vanessa called down from the second-floor landing, “Geralt is bringing her in! Everybody look alive! Oh, hey!” A wide smile split her face when she saw Dan and Zoelner. “I was in Rock’s office and didn’t hear you guys arrive. Welcome home!”
“No time for that,” Boss groused. “Zoelner, take Winterfield and lock him in the interrogation room.”
“You have an interrogation room?” Penni asked Dan, looking at him askance. She’s been impressed with what little of Black Knights Inc. she’d seen while Becky and Ozzie booked her flight to Cusco. But never in a million years would she have thought the warehouse came equipped with an interrogation room. BKI headquarters were like a CIA black site on crack and raised to the power of ten.
“It’s really just an old storage building that we’ve turned into a gym. But it has soundproofing and heavy things that we can tie our guest to,” Dan said.
Okay, so maybe not on crack. But still raised to the power of ten.
“Chelsea, head on up to the offices,” Boss continued as if neither of them had spoken. “I don’t want Miss Tate to get a look at you and start asking questions about who you are.”
“Done.” Chelsea pushed her glasses up her nose, hoisted her satchel higher on her shoulder, and turned for the stairs. “I need to check in with Morales anyway. See if he’s learned anything new on our mysterious airport shooter.” Dolly Parton’s “9 to 5” started wailing from the bottom of her purse. “After I let my mom know we made it home safe and sound.” She made a face. “I forgot to call her when we landed.”
An amused noise sounded from the back of Zoelner’s throat, and Penni turned to see him fighting a grin.
“And you two.” Boss leveled his gaze on Dan and Penni.
Dan instinctively reached for her hand. It was sweet and charming that he always sought to touch her. And when her palm was kissing his, when her fingers were curled around his, she felt safe and wanted in a way she never had before.
You keep this up and you really are going to have your Girl Power Club card revoked.
“What about us?” Dan lifted a brow.
“Go hide yourselves upstairs in your room,” Boss said. “I don’t want Samantha Tate getting a gander at Penni either. Especially since she looks like she went ten rounds with a heavyweight.”
Penni reached up to touch the bandages on her cheek.
Becky rolled her eyes and elbowed Boss in the stomach. It didn’t budge the giant, but it did cause him to frown and blink down at his wife. “Good God, Frank,” Becky harrumphed. “What have I told you about thinking before you open your mouth.”
“What?” Boss asked, his tone completely baffled.
Becky turned to Penni. “It’s not that bad,” she assured her. “You still look beautiful.” Before Penni could thank her—or call bullshit, more like—Becky winked at Dan and said, “When I heard you guys were coming, I put in an order at Downtown Dogs. Picked them up right about the time you were landing, so they should still be hot. Grab a few on your way up.”
Zoelner, who was already marching Winterfield toward the back of the shop, turned and shouted, “I love you, woman!”
Dan pressed a hand over his heart, grabbed Becky’s fingers, and kissed them. “I’m gonna name my firstborn after you. I swear it.”
Penni felt a little stab somewhere in the center of her chest. Dan’s firstborn. Dan’s family. And where did she fit in? Did she fit in at all?
“Yeah, okay, good.” Boss pulled Becky’s hand out of Dan’s. “I’m getting sick and tired of all you fuckheads pawing at my wife.”
Dan chuckled, and Penni ached at the affection and peace she saw glowing in his face. He was home, surrounded by the things and the people he loved, and he’d never looked better or more handsome. It was as if being back here brought out the sparkle in him. The shine. And she was as blinded by his brilliant smile as she was dazed by it.
He turned and extended a hand. “Shall we?”
Penni looked down at his broad palm and long fingers. Both were callused; both were hard. Both had given her pleasure like she’d never experienced before. Of course pleasure was the last thing on her mind when she suddenly realized the importance of what Dan being home really meant. There was no more putting off the inevitable.
Time to face the music, Penni-pie. Her father’s voice sounded through her head.
I know, Dad. Give me the strength…
Swallowing, she placed her hand in Dan’s, and walked toward the metal stairway that led to the second-floor landing. With every step she took, she was reminded again that what happened in the next few hours was going to shape the rest of her life.
Chapter Eighteen
“I’m assuming by ‘dogs,’ Becky meant hot dogs,” Penni said, her delicate hand held tight within Dan’s. He just couldn’t help himself. He felt better when he touched her. Whole somehow. Complete.
Well, that’s scary as hell, isn’t it?
He tried to shake off his sudden unease but didn’t quite manage it. These feelings he had for Penni were equal parts wonderful and frightening. Wonderful because caring for a woman, wanting a woman was a heady, exhilarating experience. And there was the added bonus that when he was with her, he didn’t think about taking a drink. Didn’t need to take a drink.
Frightening because he didn’t know where all this was leading. To bed, for sure. But then what? She hadn’t flown all the way to Cusco just to engage in some bow-chicka-wow-wow. She wanted more from him. He figured she was going to ask for more from him in pretty short order, now that the craziness of the past twenty-four hours was behind them. And the question that kept nagging him was, how would he answer her? He didn’t know if he could give her more. Didn’t know if he wanted to give her more. Because giving her more was…well…frightening. And wonderful.
Fuckin’-A! It was circular logic, and he couldn’t seem to break free of it. Your mind is a dangerous place; don’t go in there alone! The little slogans he’d picked up in AA worked for more than just giving him the occasional boosts he needed to avoid the booze.
“Dan?” Penni asked, pulling him to a stop once they reached the second-floor landing. “Are you okay?”
“Uh, sorry.” He shook his head, realizing he’d been a world away. “What were you asking?”
“I asked if you’re okay?” Her big, brown eyes were filled with sweet concern. Kind eyes. Sweet eyes. Wonderful eyes that I could drown in, wallow in forever. Jesus!
“No. Before that,” he said, avoiding the question. The truth was, he wasn’t sure he was okay, but he sure as shit didn’t want to tell her as much and then have to explain why that should be. Since he’d never lied to Penni, not once, and since he didn’t plan to start now, he figured escape and evasion were the best options.
“Oh, I asked if Becky was talking about hot dogs.”
Okay. Good. A banal topic. He could work with that one.
“Roger that,” he told her, leading her past the long row of closed doors that led to the Knights’ offices on their left. To their right was the huge, open space that housed the big conference table and Ozzie’s myriad computers. The place usually looked like NORAD. Satellite feeds, speakers squawking with positions and updates since inevitably one of the Knights was checking in from some mission or other. And ’80s hair bands booming in the background because Ozzie had wretched taste in music.
Today, however, it looked like little more than what Ozzie and Becky and Boss were hoping to portray: a high-tech custom motorcycle company. Designs for various bikes showed on every computer screen. Schematics for upgraded engines and wiring systems littered the long computer desk. A rebuilt V-twin engine sat on newspaper in the middle of the conference table. Lying beside it were hand tools and a pile of greasy rags.
