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“Young.”
Gunner laughed. “For you?”
It wasn’t just that she was young. There was a certain doe-eyed innocence about her that belied the party-girl act she’d displayed that day on Fire Island. The good-girl vibe she gave off today was opposite of how he remembered her.
“I don’t do good girls,” he said to Gunner.
“Is there some requirement that we do the bridesmaids, because I’ll tell you what, I’d do Penelope in a hot minute.”
“What are you, fifteen?”
Gunner smirked. “If I were, I sure as hell wouldn’t be complaining about the age difference.”
Razor looked over at the group of bridesmaids. Even though Ava and Aine were twins, there was something different about them that he couldn’t define. They both possessed mouth-watering curves, but only Ava’s called out to him and made him take notice. Only Ava made him want to pull the pins holding up her sandy blonde hair, and let it cascade over her tanned shoulders, only to gather it in his hand and grip it tightly as he took her sweet body from behind.
“We’re here another few days,” s
aid Gunner. “Ask her out.”
“Out? For what? A date?”
Razor didn’t do dates. He didn’t take pretty girls out for dinner, or for walks on the beach, or kiss them politely at their front door. He offered them a night of off-the-charts, hotter-than-hell sex, and expected them to be long gone by sunrise.
“Hey, boys,” said Doc, approaching them with his wife, Merrigan, former MI6, and now managing partner of K19. Merrigan, code name Fatale, had been one of the deadliest assassins in the UK’s Secret Intelligence Service, but now, six months pregnant, she seemed perfectly happy managing the day-to-day operations of their business.
“Nice wedding, Doc,” said Razor. “Quinn is absolutely stunning.”
His teammate beamed. “She is, isn’t she?”
Razor wondered if Doc regretted not being a part of his daughter’s life for the last fifteen years. The reason for his absence had been to keep her safe, but there had to be a part of him that wished he’d had the opportunity to get to know her as she was growing up.
Merrigan touched Doc’s arm. “The meeting,” she murmured.
“Right. I hate to bring up business on a day like today, but I got an urgent call from Striker.”
“What for?” asked Gunner.
“Asset protection.”
Griffin Ellis, code name Striker, was K19’s primary contact at the CIA, and was responsible for the majority of work that came into their firm.
“I thought we were closed for business for the next six months.”
“We are,” said Doc. “Except the asset is practically family. It’s one of the bridesmaids.”
“Which one?” Razor asked.
“It might be one of the twins,” said Merrigan.
“What are we protecting her from?” Razor asked at the same time Gunner asked about the other twin.
“I don’t know the answer to either question yet,” said Doc. “We’ll find out when we meet with him later this afternoon.”
He and Gunner exchanged a look. The four partners of K19 had agreed not to accept any new assignments for at least six months, and even then, they’d evaluate whether they wanted to extend their moratorium on new business.
If they accepted, Razor would be the only one of the four available to take it on.
Given Merrigan was pregnant, Doc was out. Mercer had just gotten married, and he and Quinn were leaving on their honeymoon in the morning. As it stood, they had no firm itinerary, nor did they have a planned date when they’d return.
