So when he stepped closer, she rushed to him and leaped into his arms.
“Uncle Chris. What a terrific surprise!” She kissed his cheek and did her best not to grimace when he squeezed a little hard. Letting him see any hint of pain was like teasing a rabid wolf with the scent of blood.
“What’s wrong?” He immediately set her down and looked her over. Then he glared at her abdomen. “Ribs still bothering you?”
She didn’t think she’d given away anything in her expression. And she’d contained a groan. Yet he always knew.
Reading her mind, he smirked. “I have my ways. I know everything.”
“And you have Malcolm and Sven on speed dial.”
“Hell, I have all of Team Ten on speed dial.”
She grinned. “I did miss you, even if you are a pain.”
His tanned face creased in a smile. “Same.” He hugged her under one arm, the other holding a small pack over his shoulder, and made the long walk with her toward the parking garage. “I’m glad to be back on U.S. soil, I can tell you that.”
“Nice.” She studied him, not seeing any new scars, thank goodness. “Where’ve you been this time?”
“Been having fun down south in Venezuela. Got a heck of a tan.”
“I noticed.”
“But after this break, I’m heading out with the boys for a while. I need the vacation.”
She huffed. “Vacation. Right.”
He laughed and teased her about being a government narc until they finally found the car. They left the airport, chatting about nothing in particular. The weather, the vagaries of their jobs, about the guys being idiots as usual and getting themselves into the kind of trouble that Sven typically talked them out of.
“And Smith.” Her uncle smiled. “He’s been a joy to be around lately. I’m not sure how he did it, but our fixer is housing us in a mansion while we work the next gig. I think it belongs—er, belonged—to a drug runner who owes Smith a few favors. But I don’t like to ask questions. Our boy is skilled, no doubt.”
“And no longer in jail? Nice.”
Smith—his first or last name, no one had ever confirmed—only went by that one name. The guy could get anything anyone needed at any time. In the middle of a desert and wanting an air-conditioned space to get out of the heat? Smith could find it for you. Stuck in a war-torn area without modern conveniences and hostile natives? Smith could find you a karaoke machine and disco ball and turn an entire village into one dance-happy rave.
Uncle Chris shook his head. “He was only in jail to talk to an inmate he needed something from. Not that bars can hold Smith back.”
“I don’t think anything can.”
“He wanted to come for a visit, but we need him to help us plan for our next big adventure.”
“Malcolm mentioned some work in Africa.”
“Yep. We’ll be there for a good three to four months. I just hope I can keep Min and Shawn from killing each other.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “The boys need some down time. Maybe a little break back home…” The calculating look he shot her had her skin crawling.
“Oh no.You can’t send those two back here together. They’re a wrecking crew!”
“That’s not nice.”
“It’s true though,” she grumbled. Smith was a handful, but Shawn and Minjun were volatile mercenaries who shot first and asked questions never, not later. “You normally pair our crazies with our calmer guys.”
“Yeah, but things are getting hairy. And speaking of, I hear you’ve been getting some action with the FBI lately.” He smiled, a proudparent. “Your capture of the Code Blue Killer was exceptional. Lionel told me all the gritty details you failed to mention. But the Red Ribbon Killer.” Uncle Chris frowned. “You cut that one a little close.”
“Malcolm has a big mouth.”
“He does indeed, but it was actually Sven who filled me in.”
“I had it covered.”
