the result of, too. Finally, Edge nodded and stepped back, apparently convinced Day wasn’t going to face-plant in the dirt yet. Day didn’t put too much faith in his unsteady legs and half-walked, half-staggered the few steps to lean against the hood of the battered Charger.
Edge followed him, leaning one hip against the hood as he offered him a smoke. Day shook his head, sliding his companion a sidelong look. Rollie might have thought Day was dangerous, but Hayden Edge was a cut above, and then some. He was a tall man, with a lean, wiry build from years in the field, both in service and after it, running his own outfit. Whiskers covered his upper lip and chin, too short to be called a beard and too thick to be called stubble. Striking ice-blue eyes watched Day with interest.
“Done eyeing me up, or you want me to pirouette as well?” he asked in amusement. “Now, you were about to tell me about this clusterfuck you got yourself into. Because we’re way past a SNAFU with this one and edging toward pooch-screw territory. So, out with it.”
Day snorted. “Eloquent as ever, I see.” Amusement filled him, but not enough to make him laugh. He didn’t think that was a good idea, thanks to his current condition. Why Edge talked the way he did, Day had never figured out. Unlike Day, Edge could and had pulled the full-on James Bond routine in the past. His English accent was cut-glass if he chose to exert himself, yet he spoke like the ex-commando he was.
“Spit it out, boy. Told you I ain’t in the mood to get annoyed.”
“All right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I took a job—”
“You took the Gavilan job. What are you, fucking nuts?” Edge looked at him as though he’d grown another head.
Day sighed. In hindsight, it had been a bad move. But the deal had looked good, too good to be true if he looked back on it, and it was. “Yeah, it was a good deal. One last job, and I can buy my cabin and retire.”
“Yeah, and I dream of having a mansion filled with bikini-clad supermodels with soccer ball implants and the sex drive of rabbits in heat. But too bad, dreams don’t really come true. Not the good ones, anyway.” The sarcasm dripped from Edge’s tone.
“What did I tell you about jobs that were too easy to be true? You really thought a simple snatch and grab would be worth that much? Heck, a rookie fresh out of the farm could have done that job cheaper, and then he would have gotten his stupid head blown off.” Edge’s tone was a toss-up between amused, incredulous, and plain old frustrated as he looked at Day as though contemplating boxing his ears for being such an idiot. “So what do you plan on doin’? With two dings and a bleeder, you ain’t gonna be prancing about anywhere.”
“You don’t like false tits. Said that often enough.” Day couldn’t help it. The response was automatic as he recovered from Edge’s verbal assault.
Edge moved, and Day responded on instinct, rolling his good shoulder and bringing his arm up to cover his head as the older man clipped him around the ear like the rookie he had been when they’d first met.
“Okay, okay. I need some help. I got to get her out of there. They aren’t going to let her walk. Not after something like this.” His voice held an edge of pleading, which surprised him.
Day recognized the look Edge gave him, and it was the same one he gave the rookies when he was sizing them up. Edge only had two categories for rookies: good enough, and civilians. And right now, the ex-commando was trying to see where Day fell.
“Shit, boy. Don’t tell me you’re in love with the doc. ‘Cause I got a fresh one right here if you say yes.” He pulled his hand back for emphasis.
Day’s lip curled, ready for a contemptuous of course not , but then he paused. Did he love Rollie? His face obviously mirrored his indecision, because Edge snorted. Day looked up, schooling his expression. “Then go for it, because the answer’s yes.” Quite
Edge followed him, leaning one hip against the hood as he offered him a smoke. Day shook his head, sliding his companion a sidelong look. Rollie might have thought Day was dangerous, but Hayden Edge was a cut above, and then some. He was a tall man, with a lean, wiry build from years in the field, both in service and after it, running his own outfit. Whiskers covered his upper lip and chin, too short to be called a beard and too thick to be called stubble. Striking ice-blue eyes watched Day with interest.
“Done eyeing me up, or you want me to pirouette as well?” he asked in amusement. “Now, you were about to tell me about this clusterfuck you got yourself into. Because we’re way past a SNAFU with this one and edging toward pooch-screw territory. So, out with it.”
Day snorted. “Eloquent as ever, I see.” Amusement filled him, but not enough to make him laugh. He didn’t think that was a good idea, thanks to his current condition. Why Edge talked the way he did, Day had never figured out. Unlike Day, Edge could and had pulled the full-on James Bond routine in the past. His English accent was cut-glass if he chose to exert himself, yet he spoke like the ex-commando he was.
“Spit it out, boy. Told you I ain’t in the mood to get annoyed.”
“All right. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I took a job—”
“You took the Gavilan job. What are you, fucking nuts?” Edge looked at him as though he’d grown another head.
Day sighed. In hindsight, it had been a bad move. But the deal had looked good, too good to be true if he looked back on it, and it was. “Yeah, it was a good deal. One last job, and I can buy my cabin and retire.”
“Yeah, and I dream of having a mansion filled with bikini-clad supermodels with soccer ball implants and the sex drive of rabbits in heat. But too bad, dreams don’t really come true. Not the good ones, anyway.” The sarcasm dripped from Edge’s tone.
“What did I tell you about jobs that were too easy to be true? You really thought a simple snatch and grab would be worth that much? Heck, a rookie fresh out of the farm could have done that job cheaper, and then he would have gotten his stupid head blown off.” Edge’s tone was a toss-up between amused, incredulous, and plain old frustrated as he looked at Day as though contemplating boxing his ears for being such an idiot. “So what do you plan on doin’? With two dings and a bleeder, you ain’t gonna be prancing about anywhere.”
“You don’t like false tits. Said that often enough.” Day couldn’t help it. The response was automatic as he recovered from Edge’s verbal assault.
Edge moved, and Day responded on instinct, rolling his good shoulder and bringing his arm up to cover his head as the older man clipped him around the ear like the rookie he had been when they’d first met.
“Okay, okay. I need some help. I got to get her out of there. They aren’t going to let her walk. Not after something like this.” His voice held an edge of pleading, which surprised him.
Day recognized the look Edge gave him, and it was the same one he gave the rookies when he was sizing them up. Edge only had two categories for rookies: good enough, and civilians. And right now, the ex-commando was trying to see where Day fell.
“Shit, boy. Don’t tell me you’re in love with the doc. ‘Cause I got a fresh one right here if you say yes.” He pulled his hand back for emphasis.
Day’s lip curled, ready for a contemptuous of course not , but then he paused. Did he love Rollie? His face obviously mirrored his indecision, because Edge snorted. Day looked up, schooling his expression. “Then go for it, because the answer’s yes.” Quite
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