Too Hard to Handle, page 27
The hard stone of fear that had been perpetually lodged in George’s chest since the day he’d begun working for Spider started grinding against his ribs. Despite the cool fall day, sweat beaded on his upper lip. “I won’t fail.”
“See that you don’t,” Spider said. “I can’t abide another of my employees disappointing me so utterly. I won’t abide another of my employees being caught.”
Spider always referred to the people he kept under his thumb as employees. Although indentured servants was probably more accurate. They all paid for what Spider had over them by living their lives at his beck and call. And dying at his beck and call too.
As if Spider was reading his mind, he continued, “You know what I’m saying, don’t you, George?”
Oh, yes. George knew. And he barely resisted the urge to puke up the sesame seed bagel he’d eaten. A shudder started at his core and worked its way outward, until his arms and legs were shaking. “You’re saying that, no matter what, no matter how this goes, I am not to be captured alive.”
“Precisely.” Spider’s tone went back to being bored. And George didn’t mistake the sound of a newspaper page being turned.
He blinked away the tears burning in his eyes. “But, Bella… I—”
“Don’t worry about her,” Spider said. “I will see that she continues her education with the money you socked away for her.”
“A-and the evidence against me?” George asked hesitantly, referring to the murder weapon, the gun that could prove his guilt once and for all.
“It will be properly disposed of,” Spider assured him. “Your daughter will never know the truth. Your name will remain clear.”
Smashing. Brilliant. Except I’ll be dead. Although, in truth, ever since joining Spider’s ranks he’d very likely been a dead man walking.
“Hopefully it doesn’t come to that,” George said softly, trying to convince himself more than Spider. He still had so much to live for. He wanted to see Bella pass her A-level exams. Wanted to see which university she got into. Wanted to meet the man she would eventually fall in love with. Wanted to walk her down the aisle…
“We shall see,” Spider said offhandedly. Adding, “Good luck, George. Don’t let me down.”
And with that Spider was gone, cutting the connection without signing off. George blinked down at his mobile, trying to sort out once again how he’d gone so far off the rails on this assignment. But hindsight was 20/20, and there was no use haranguing himself for things he couldn’t go back and undo.
At least, no matter what, my Bella is safe. It was well known to everyone who’d ever come into contact with Spider that the man never lied and he never broke his word. George could take some comfort in that.
Shoving his mobile into his trouser pocket, he was glancing through the bagel shop’s window when the massive gates of Black Knights Inc. swung open. A blond man on crutches escorted a curvy chestnut-haired woman outside the wall. The couple hobbled over to the guardhouse and knocked on the door.
George saw his chance. Now, now, now! It would be so much easier not to kill the guard at the onset. That way he wouldn’t have to take the chance that someone would discover the man’s body and sound an alarm.
Quickly shouldering the hold-all, George pushed away from the table and exited the bagel shop. Cool wind whipped off the nearby river and wicked the sweat from his upper lip. Keeping his head down, making sure the brim of his ivy cap obscured his face from any street cameras, he crossed the road. While the wounded man and the pretty woman distracted the guard, he slipped through the quickly closing gates. And then there he was, inside Black Knights Inc. He couldn’t quite believe it.
The old saying he and his friends used to chant in the schoolyard came to mind: Easy peasy, fricaseesey. Wash your bum in lemon squeezy! He hoped it was a sign that the rest of his mission would go as smoothly.
* * *
Black Knights Inc., Third Floor
Saturday 3:39 p.m.
“Where else does it hurt?” Penni asked after she’d kissed the bruise beside the crescent-moon scar on Dan’s stubbled jaw.
He pushed the covers down to his waist and pointed to the discolored skin on his left pectoral muscle. The Russian’s fists had done a number on him. Dan was black and blue. Of course, being black and blue was better than being dead like Kozlov. But no. No! She wasn’t going to think about that. Not now. Not when she was safe and warm inside the circle of Dan’s strong arms.
Coward.
I know! Damnit! I know! she admitted at the same time she pressed her mouth over Dan’s heart. She could feel the organ beating steadily, heavily against her lips. Then she caught the little bud of his nipple between her teeth and laved it with her tongue. She just couldn’t help herself. It was so flat and brown and tiny. She loved the way it instantly beaded. Loved the low, growly sound of approval at the back of Dan’s throat. Okay, so who was she kidding? She just loved…him.
And there it was. The truth in all its discombobulating glory. But it’s not like it was a grand epiphany or anything. She’d known she loved him since she hopped off the plane in DC three months ago. She’d known she loved him because a hole had opened up in her chest when she watched the jet taxiing toward the runway, ready to take him to Chicago and far, far away from her.
Oh, sure. She’d tried to convince herself that what she felt for him wasn’t real. She’d tried to tell herself that it was some sort of hero worship or deep-seated infatuation brought on by the hell they’d been through together, by the way he’d helped her soldier on during one of the most difficult times of her life. But she’d eventually had to admit that it was neither of those things.
Getting to know Dan, seeing his grit and determination and true character shine through in Kuala Lumpur, had been like months of a relationship condensed into just a few days. They’d bypassed all the small talk and bullshit, skipped the part where they each put their best foot forward, and gotten right down to nitty-gritty. Right down to the core of each of them. And what she’d found at Dan’s core was something good and steady. Something to revere and admire. Something to…yes, love. But now the questions were: Does he see the same things in me? Does he feel the same things for me?
“Does it hurt any place else?” she asked him, determined to shove aside her tumultuous thoughts. She wasn’t ready to contemplate them. She wanted just a little more time. A little more happiness. You know, before she dropped her whopping, mega, ginormous bomb on him.
“You’re fine just where you are,” he assured her.
“Are you sure?” she teased, bouncing her eyebrows. “There’s no other place on you that hurts? Even a little?”
They’d started this game because they’d fallen into the bed after she finished him off with her mouth—and talk about h-h-holy shit; that had been hot. And as soon as their heads hit the pillows, they’d both gone out like lights. Just blink! Snoozeville.
Multiple, body-shaking orgasms will do that to a person.
At some point though, she’d rolled over, her arm flying wide because she wasn’t used to sharing a bed with anyone, and her hand had smacked him on the forehead, directly over his butterfly bandaged wound. He’d yowled and sat up, blinking in confusion. She’d shot out of bed like the mattress had turned into a snarling, toothy beast. But when they realized what had happened, they dissolved into laughter, crumbling back against the pillows.
In contrition, she’d leaned over and kissed his boo-boo. And one kissed owie had led to another kissed owie. So on and so forth, until they were here now. On their way to another round of getting hot and sweaty. Which you bet your ass was absolutely fine by her.
“Well,” he said, his eyes full of warm, sleepy desire, “there is one other place.”
“Let me guess.”
He threw the covers back, revealing his burgeoning erection. It was lengthening before her eyes, filling, thickening, the skin growing dusky with blood.
“Just as I suspected,” she said, biting the inside of her cheek. “But if memory serves, I’ve already kissed that boo-boo.”
“True.” His expression turned wide-eyed and innocent. “But now it’s aching again and—”
“Oh, you’re breaking my heart.” She pouted playfully.
“And you can see how eager it is for another kiss.”
When she glanced down, it was to find him fully aroused—which was always an awe-inspiring sight—and bouncing up and down on his flat stomach above the inky black letters of his tattoo. “All right already, you’re making it do that,” she accused him.
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Well, maybe,” he admitted. He smiled seductively and laced his fingers behind his head so she could fully appreciate the show he was putting on for her, but he inadvertently hit the framed photo on the nightstand, knocking it to the floor.
“Here, let me get it,” she said since it had fallen on her side of the bed. She leaned over the mattress and placed it back on the metal and glass table. When she turned back, it was to find Dan’s eyes on the picture. The look on his face was soft and peaceful.
“Who is she?” she asked curiously, staring at the redhead, admiring the woman’s small, compact frame. People always complimented Penni on her tall, lithe build, but they wouldn’t be so appreciative if they were forced to wear her legs for a day while flying coach. Ever since she was a girl, she’d wanted to be short and curvy and—
“My wife,” Dan said, his head cocked, his expression all about the well, duh.
“Pardon me?” she asked, digging a finger in her ear.
“That’s my wife,” he repeated.
The bottom fell out of her stomach. Just gone. And her heart dropped down to take up the void. If her life was a movie, this is the part where the sound of a needle scratching across a record would echo in the background. “Y-you’re married?” She recoiled.
“No,” he assured her, grabbing her arm and keeping her in bed when she would have tossed back the covers and vaulted off the mattress. “I’m widowed…er…widowered.” His frown deepened. “Is that even a word? Whatever.” He waved an impatient hand through the air. “You get the point. But I thought you knew.”
“N-no,” she managed even though her throat was dryer than the Carménère wine her father had liked to drink on Christmas Eve and special occasions.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He made a face and shrugged. “Huh.”
Huh? Huh? That’s what he had to say? She didn’t… She couldn’t… She wasn’t…
Shock. Penni was in shock. And she knew her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, but she couldn’t stop herself. Questions formed and dissolved one right after the other. A dull swoosh, swoosh, swoosh sounded between her ears. And was it just her, or had the room halved in size? The walls were closing in, weren’t they?
Finally, one question bloomed to life and retained its shape long enough for her to grab hold of it. “H-how did she die?” she asked, not surprised her voice came out reedy and thin.
Dan’s a widower! He had a wife! She couldn’t believe it! Then again, there was that flash of pain she occasionally saw in his eyes. And she suddenly remembered the conversation they’d had in Kuala Lumpur when he tried to convince her he wasn’t worth her time, when he admitted he was dealing with a bunch of personal stuff and was all fucked up about it. But he hadn’t expounded beyond that. And she hadn’t pressed.
Oh, why hadn’t she pressed?
Because you didn’t want to know, that’s why. You just wanted to get naked with him.
True, true. Which just proved, once again, that she was a total ass.
“Violently,” he admitted, pulling her from her swirling thoughts. His left eyelid twitched. A muscle in his jaw did the same. There. There was that sadness, that flicker of pain. Her heart ached for the way it caused his beautiful green eyes to darken. “She was gunned down just inside the gates.” He bobbed his chin in the direction of the BKI’s entrance. “It’s a long story that involves a hired thug, some stolen files that incriminated a U.S. senator, and a shoot-out. But basically it comes down to her being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Despite the fact that Penni was reeling, absolutely reeling with the knowledge he’d been married before, that he’d still be married if life and evil men hadn’t interfered and taken his wife—his wife, Christ almighty!—from him, Penni was able to whisper, “I-I’m so sorry, Dan.” Tears of sympathy gathered and burned behind her eyes. She was feeling a gazillion different emotions, but the ones she could identify were compassion and understanding. So she decided to just go with those. “That’s… It’s terrible. I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, rolling in his lips, growing quiet. Then, “But it’s probably not much different than a nineteen-year-old girl losing her father in the crossfire of two rival gangs.”
Her brow furrowed. She blinked. “What the… How do you know about that?”
“I may have done a little research on you when I got back from Kuala Lumpur,” he admitted, his expression sheepish.
“Y-you did research on me?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, rubbing a hand over his beard stubble. “And I’ve been wanting to tell you how sorry I am for your loss, but I didn’t know how to bring it up. It’s not something you just say right out of the blue, you know?” That charming way he smashed his words together made it sound like right outta th’blue, y’know.
“Thank you,” she told him. The dull ache that knifed into her stomach anytime she thought about the night her father died was so familiar she could ignore it. “It was a really long time ago.” And that had another one of those flimsy, ephemeral questions swirling around in her head suddenly solidifying. “How long ago did she die?” When she realized how nosy that sounded, and how insensitive, she was quick to add, “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Geez. Don’t answer that. You probably hate talking about it.” After a shake of her head she added, “It has become glaringly apparent to me that I am a blue-ribbon-worthy ass.”
“No you’re not.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re wonderful. And it’s okay to ask me anything. I’ll always give you the truth.”
Yeah, he would. Because he was an honest, upstanding guy. And she was…a blue-ribbon-worthy ass. She couldn’t help reiterating.
When he squeezed her shoulder again, she instinctively scooted away. All the comfort and ease she usually felt had vanished. It was weird to be in bed with him, naked. You know, what with his wife smiling at her from the photograph. She nonchalantly tucked the comforter around herself, trying to play off the move by pretending to pick distractedly at a stray thread.
Dan frowned, cocking his head first at her and then the space she’d put between them. So much for nonchalant. “It was over two years ago.”
She stilled, her fingers no longer plucking at the string. “Recent then,” she said. And what was that she was feeling? She didn’t know. It was like a cross between dread and fear and heartbreak. And then a thought struck her like a blindside haymaker from a heavyweight. Oh, God! Am I a rebound?
“In some ways it feels recent,” he admitted. “In other ways it feels like a lifetime ago. Maybe even another lifetime. I guess ’cause going through something like that, losing someone you love so unexpectedly, it…changes you. I’m not the same man I was back then. I’m harder in some ways, softer in others. You know what I mean?”
She did. The day her father died was the day her life split in two. There was the Penelope Ann DePaul who’d come before. That girl was footloose and carefree. And there was the Penelope Ann DePaul who’d come after. That woman was a little bit more circumspect and a lot more serious. But that was beside the point. Because…just over two years?
That familiar dull ache in her stomach was joined by a brand-new nauseating pain. “H-have you…” She wasn’t sure how to put what she wanted to say without being indelicate. “Um, what I mean is…” Just spit it out, Penni-pie. No use skating around the truth. “Have you dated much since?”
“Dated?” The look on his face was incredulous. “No.” He shook his head, causing a lock of hair to fall over his forehead, concealing the wound there.
Okay, so was he doing that guy thing where he meant he hadn’t “dated” women but he “shagged” a whole truckload of them? “But you’ve…been with other women, right?”
He narrowed his eyes, lacing his hands behind his head and studying her. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“I-I guess not.” You bet your ass it does! And, shit. That was the first time she’d lied to him. It didn’t sit well. But in her defense, it was like she was in the eye of the storm. Her life, and all her dreams and hopes and fears, were swirling around her at 300 mph.
She didn’t know how she felt about Dan being a widower—other than knowing she felt terribly sorry for him and the loss he’d suffered. She didn’t know what it meant for the future she’d hoped might be possible. She didn’t know if it changed—
Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You haven’t even told him what you came to tell him.
True. Too true. And maybe now was the time. You know, what with so many emotional Molotov cocktails having already been thrown. Blowing out a deep breath, scolding her stupid heart for being lily-livered and sinking down to hide somewhere around the vicinity of her knees, she opened her mouth—
“You’re the first,” he said, preempting what she’d been about to say.
“I’m sorry?”
“Since my wife.”
“Come again?” She heard his words but they weren’t computing. Or maybe she just didn’t want them to compute. And goddamnit! The room had shrunk again. She would swear the ceiling was slowly falling, getting ready to crush her.
“There haven’t been any others,” he said.
“Oh-kay.” That’s what she said. What she thought was Oh, Christ on the cross! I am the rebound! She felt like crying. Or puking. Or maybe screaming? So she was completely surprised when her next words were “What was her name?”
A brilliant smile spread across his face when he unhooked his hands from behind his head and turned slightly, tapping the traditional heart-and-arrow tattoo on his shoulder.
