He snatched it out of my hand and it disappeared in a blink.
Bullshit moaning weasel.
My eyes went to the TV sitting angled toward him at the end of the reception desk. I leaned into my forearms on the desk and checked it out.
“Classic porn,” I muttered. “Odd choice.”
“Seen all the others, like, a gazillion times,” Clyde muttered back and I grinned.
I had no doubt.
“We havin’ a party?” Clyde asked because I usually paid him off then took off and I looked from the porn to him.
He was balding and not liking it, thus growing a line of hair way too long in order to do the comb-over, a tactic that men should abandon. I didn’t know when they’d get that bald was beautiful all you had to do was have the balls to carry it off.
Clyde clearly didn’t have those kinds of balls. Then again, he was slender, narrow-shouldered, had an unfortunately shaped nose with a hook at the end and a bump on the ridge and squirrelly eyes. Thus, just physically, there were a myriad of reasons he lacked confidence. Not physically, he was a whiner, not a good trait in anyone, man or woman.
It was my experience anyone could work anything. A man or woman could be what convention said was ugly or overweight and if they held their shoulders straight, looked you in the eye and had a ready, genuine smile, that shit melted away. The light shone from within and if you had the balls to shine it, all anyone would see was beauty.
Alas, people did not get this and Clyde was one of those people.
“Waiting for my partner,” I answered and his brows shot up.
“You got a partner?” he asked.
“Yup,” I replied.
“Since when?”
“Since a couple of hours ago.”
“I give it a week,” he muttered, his eyes sliding back to the TV.
I hoped it would last a day. I worried it would last a month.
I moved to a chair, sat my ass in it, lifted my boots up to rest crossed at the ankles on the coffee table scattered with Retreat brochures and settled in. I killed time by calling Serena to make sure she was okay (she was, kind of). Calling Knight and leaving a message that I’d connected with Creed and we were on the job. And last, calling Live to check in to make certain he wasn’t beating himself up too much. The last call lasted a while because he was beating himself up too much and it took some time and an arsenal of my teasing to get him to feel better.
I’d barely flipped the phone shut on Live when I heard a tap on the window and I looked there to see Creed outside, crooking a finger at me.
“The summons,” I said to Clyde. “Gotta go.”
“Don’t come back now, ya hear?” Clyde returned and it was my turn to roll my eyes since he was full of it. Sure, if his bosses found out he was doing what he was doing, he was shit out of luck and a job. He was also a survivor so his bosses would never learn and he averaged a hundred extra dollars a week for doing nothing so he’d keep doing it. Unfortunately, he’d also keep bitching about it.
I didn’t bother with a wave or retort as I walked out and stopped on the sidewalk next to Creed.
“Well?” I asked.
His answer was to turn the camera’s back to me with an image on it.
I leaned in and checked it out.
“Whoa, soccer dad likes pony play,” I murmured. “Ride ‘em cowboy.” I heard Creed’s chuckle and looked up at him. “How’d you get in?” I asked.
“They had other things on their mind and the TV blaring loud. Got in through the bathroom window,” he answered and I felt my eyes get big.
“Shit, man, those are high and tight.”
“Upper body strength and determination go a long way,” he replied.
He was not wrong about that and visibly had the former while the latter was demonstrated on the camera.
“Right on,” I stated, lifting up my hand in an invitation for a high five.
He stared at my hand and didn’t move.
“Seriously?” I asked. “You gonna leave me hanging?”
His sky blue eyes came to mine and again I held my breath as his hand moved. He gave me a high five but when his big hand clapped against mine, it stayed there. His fingers shoved through, linking with mine, bringing our hands down. Then he shifted them so we were palm to palm, fingers curled around the sides. This he took straight into another shift where we had our fingers curled together from tips to knuckles in our palms. He then used my hand to pump our arms twice so hard, I was forced to take a step into him.
Then he let me go.
I forced air in my lungs.
Then I joked, “I’m learning good things about you, partner. Jive handshake master. I like it.”
He shook his head grinning, tossed the camera in the air, my hands shot out to catch it so it wouldn’t fall and, seeing as I was engaged in this endeavor, he had the chance to start sauntering toward my girl.
I took a moment to watch mostly because his shirt hung really good from his shoulders. It was untucked so it mostly covered his ass but his movement hinted at a fine one. And I was coming to the conclusion I seriously liked his boots.
Once I processed this information, I followed him.
I stood at the big one-way window in Knight’s office that faced down to Knight’s now empty nightclub and watched Creed stroll across the vast space toward the front door.
The meeting was done. Rhash met Creed. Creed gave his brief. We discussed our plans and now Rhash was gone, Creed was off to work the boys and I was going to spend the rest of the afternoon finding and surveilling Nick Sebring.
I felt Knight get close but I didn’t take my eyes from the window as I watched Creed walk out the front door.
“It’s him,” Knight murmured.
“It’s him,” I confirmed.
“Fuck, babe, you never shared his name. I had no fuckin’ clue. I did, that contract would not have been signed.”
I looked up at him. He was scary handsome in all the ways those two words could communicate. That was, he was incredibly good-looking, tall, dark-haired, striking blue eyes that were a deeper and more vivid blue than Creed’s but they were no less effective. His features were not beautiful, they were aggressively masculine. He was also scary because he just was aggressively masculine in a way that no woman or man could mistake. Just like with Creed, with one look at Knight, you knew you did not play with him, you did not mess with him. If you couldn’t deal with all that was him, you avoided him.
It was hot. Luckily, since we’d made our decision that drunken night years ago and he was in way deep with his woman, he was like a brother to me, so his hot didn’t affect me, our relationship or the job I did for him other than the inescapable fact I couldn’t mistake it.
“It’s cool,” I assured him. “We’re cool. We’ll get this done. No worries.”
His eyes moved over my face as his lips muttered, “Why don’t I believe that?”
“Knight, you know me. I’m about the job. No joke, we’ll get this done.”
Finally, his gaze locked with mine. “I want this job done, you know that. What I don’t want, in gettin’ that, is you shredded in the process.”
Seriously, I loved Knight Sebring.
“I’m good,” I said softly.
Knight studied me again before nodding and saying, “Word is he’s the best.”
I found this interesting.
“We got the best in Denver so I’m surprised you didn’t go to Nightingale Investigations,” I remarked.
“Who do you think told me they heard that shit on the street?” Knight asked and I felt my brows go up.
“Lee Nightingale?” I asked back.
“Yeah but he’s covered in work. He recommended Hawk Delgado but I had a sit down with him. Delgado isn’t about finesse like Nightingale can be so we decided it wouldn’t work. It was Delgado who recommended Creed.”