tonight.”
“So?” Things happened all the time. It was human nature.
“So, regardless of what happened, she was checking out of my place when Conseco’s guys showed up.”
Oh, now he got it, and it sucked. Big-time. No wonder Kid looked like hell. Nothing took more starch out of a guy than making love to a woman he was crazy about only to have her split in the middle of the night. Man, that hurt.
Kid was tough, as steel-bellied as the next Marine, but he looked about as broke up as the girl. Of course, having two dead guys bleeding all over your kitchen floor and one bleeding out in your garden made for one helluva night. According to the agents downstairs, the transvestite had been clean, no record, no previous arrests, no drug habit—just somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Nikki McKinney had been in the same damn place at the same damn time. If he’d been Kid, he’d want her out of Panama, too, no matter who she was marrying.
But what Kid was asking—
damn.
It was impossible. No way was Smith going to let his night take a nosedive on such a crappy plan.
“I don’t do the crying thing,” he said, nodding in the girl’s direction.
“She’ll be okay,” Kid was quick to promise—too quick.
“I don’t think so, Chico.”
“She’s just a little blown away right now.” Kid made a small dismissive gesture with his hand, his expression pained. “She’s been doing great, but it was, well, it was ugly. About as ugly as it can get. I’m sure the guys filled you in.”
“Yeah.” They sure as hell had, and he was impressed. Kid had kicked some major ass, but the boy was missing a major point here: Kid was the one with the half-million-dollar bounty on his head, and
he
was the one who needed to get his ass on a plane back to the States.
“Sorry,” he said, eyeing the girl again. “But whatever needs to be done, I can guarantee she wants to do it with you, not me.”
The office was pretty good-sized, but not big enough to keep Smith from hearing Nikki McKinney let out a little sob, which just proved his point and hardened his resolve. Spending the next nine hours with a crying woman was real close to the top of his “Avoid At All Costs” list, right under untimely death and a desk job.
Kid took a deep breath, swore, then swore again.
“All right,” he said, after a couple more long moments. “Sure. Fine. I can take her home. Have them bring a car around to the back door.”
“There’ll be a Boy Scout badge in it for you,” Smith promised, not quite managing a grin.
“Screw—”
“Me. Yeah. I got it the first time,” he said under his breath, watching Kid turn back to the desk.
C
HAPTER
8
Denver, Colorado
T HERE WERE ONLY two things Travis didn’t either respect or admire about Skeeter Bang, and those were her sunglasses and her ball cap. The rest of her was extremely hot, extremely tough, extremely smart. Everything about Skeeter Bang was extreme—including her aversion to letting anybody see the scar that ran diagonally across her forehead and through one of her pale blond eyebrows.
It wasn’t pretty, but neither was it as disfiguring as she seemed to think, and the ball cap and sunglasses she wore to hide the scar made it damn near impossible to read her sometimes.
Like now.
She’d gone very still, the envelope still in her hand.
Then he felt it, a slow heat crawling up his spine, and he knew why Skeeter had gone so still.
Jane Linden was awake.
Jane.
He didn’t dare turn around, not yet. The girl tore him up like none other. He had no explanation for the way he felt about her, kind of wildly, crazily in lust. She didn’t seem to know he was on the planet. But a sweet, awful yearning had hit him hard the first time he’d seen her, the first instant, and over the last two weeks, it had only gotten worse.
“Here,” he said, extending his hand to Skeeter. “I’ll, uh, put it with the other ones.”
Four other envelopes had been delivered to
“So?” Things happened all the time. It was human nature.
“So, regardless of what happened, she was checking out of my place when Conseco’s guys showed up.”
Oh, now he got it, and it sucked. Big-time. No wonder Kid looked like hell. Nothing took more starch out of a guy than making love to a woman he was crazy about only to have her split in the middle of the night. Man, that hurt.
Kid was tough, as steel-bellied as the next Marine, but he looked about as broke up as the girl. Of course, having two dead guys bleeding all over your kitchen floor and one bleeding out in your garden made for one helluva night. According to the agents downstairs, the transvestite had been clean, no record, no previous arrests, no drug habit—just somebody in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Nikki McKinney had been in the same damn place at the same damn time. If he’d been Kid, he’d want her out of Panama, too, no matter who she was marrying.
But what Kid was asking—
damn.
It was impossible. No way was Smith going to let his night take a nosedive on such a crappy plan.
“I don’t do the crying thing,” he said, nodding in the girl’s direction.
“She’ll be okay,” Kid was quick to promise—too quick.
“I don’t think so, Chico.”
“She’s just a little blown away right now.” Kid made a small dismissive gesture with his hand, his expression pained. “She’s been doing great, but it was, well, it was ugly. About as ugly as it can get. I’m sure the guys filled you in.”
“Yeah.” They sure as hell had, and he was impressed. Kid had kicked some major ass, but the boy was missing a major point here: Kid was the one with the half-million-dollar bounty on his head, and
he
was the one who needed to get his ass on a plane back to the States.
“Sorry,” he said, eyeing the girl again. “But whatever needs to be done, I can guarantee she wants to do it with you, not me.”
The office was pretty good-sized, but not big enough to keep Smith from hearing Nikki McKinney let out a little sob, which just proved his point and hardened his resolve. Spending the next nine hours with a crying woman was real close to the top of his “Avoid At All Costs” list, right under untimely death and a desk job.
Kid took a deep breath, swore, then swore again.
“All right,” he said, after a couple more long moments. “Sure. Fine. I can take her home. Have them bring a car around to the back door.”
“There’ll be a Boy Scout badge in it for you,” Smith promised, not quite managing a grin.
“Screw—”
“Me. Yeah. I got it the first time,” he said under his breath, watching Kid turn back to the desk.
C
HAPTER
8
Denver, Colorado
T HERE WERE ONLY two things Travis didn’t either respect or admire about Skeeter Bang, and those were her sunglasses and her ball cap. The rest of her was extremely hot, extremely tough, extremely smart. Everything about Skeeter Bang was extreme—including her aversion to letting anybody see the scar that ran diagonally across her forehead and through one of her pale blond eyebrows.
It wasn’t pretty, but neither was it as disfiguring as she seemed to think, and the ball cap and sunglasses she wore to hide the scar made it damn near impossible to read her sometimes.
Like now.
She’d gone very still, the envelope still in her hand.
Then he felt it, a slow heat crawling up his spine, and he knew why Skeeter had gone so still.
Jane Linden was awake.
Jane.
He didn’t dare turn around, not yet. The girl tore him up like none other. He had no explanation for the way he felt about her, kind of wildly, crazily in lust. She didn’t seem to know he was on the planet. But a sweet, awful yearning had hit him hard the first time he’d seen her, the first instant, and over the last two weeks, it had only gotten worse.
“Here,” he said, extending his hand to Skeeter. “I’ll, uh, put it with the other ones.”
Four other envelopes had been delivered to
Similar Books
