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I just had to keep my eyes straight ahead, my lips pursed, and my panties on.
CHAPTER7
Ethan
“Pasta? Are you sure?”
“Penne alla vodka,” Angela said firmly. “She didn’t say she was gluten or lactose intolerant, right? Everybody loves mypenne alla vodka, Ethan. Relax.”
“I am relaxed,” I barked, and immediately felt guilty. Angela was an awesome chef, and enjoyed living out at the Mountain House whenever we were in residence here. She was bonded with Freya, too, and she loved my nine-year-old niece, Holly. We didn’t have any other mature grandmotherly vibes in our family, orphaned as we were, with nothing but estranged toxic assholes for relatives. Angela was a treasure to be treated with kid gloves.
“What about the steak you were talking about?” I asked.
“That’s for the second course. We’ll start with a plate of red olives and grilled artichokes, with crusty ciabatta rolls, thenpenne alla vodka, then thetagliata, sliced and dressed with cherry tomatoes, arugula, and flakes of Grana Padano. For dessert, lemon profiterole.”
“Lemon? You think that’s a better choice than chocolate?”
Angela was trying not to smile. “Yes,” she said, patting my hand. “Lighter.”
Aw, shit. I was making an ass of myself, acting all jittery. “Fine,” I snapped. “She said she was flexible, so I’ll take her at her word. Whatever you do is fine.”
“It’ll be good, don’t you worry.”
I swallowed back the profanity that was pressing to get out. “I’ll go pick out some wine.”
“Done,” Angela said. “I picked out a Salice Salentino for the meal. And a Prosecco rosato. Polvanera. Very romantic. Delicately pink.”
“It’s not like that,” I told her. “I barely know the woman, but she got in the middle of a gun battle this morning just because she happened to be standing next to me, so the least I can offer her is a nice lunch.”
“Of course,” Angela soothed. “Now go get yourself cleaned up while I get to work. You look disheveled.”
I looked down at my grit-stained, bloodied shirt, and turned without another word, heading to my room. Each of us—my brother Shane, my sister Freya, and me—had our own comfortable apartment in this complex, on different floors. Each apartment had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, and a full kitchen. I had wanted to have my family near me, but not to be in each other’s faces all the time.
I hurried through my shower, wanting to be ready to greet her when she emerged. I felt like I was jazzed on coffee, I was so excited about lunch with the lethal receptionist.
I was probably cruising for a bruising, as my dad used to say. My earlobe still stung. Some of the bruises on my shins were from her. She might just kick my ass.
But she’d made the first move, in the elevator. So, aside from the bullets and the darts and the stun gun and dragging her into a windowless van and then a helicopter against her will, at least I could be sure she had been genuinely interested. At one time.
And holy shit, what was I thinking? I had no business lusting after this woman. She might be right where her bosses wanted her to be. Well-positioned to seduce me. She certainly wouldn’t have to try very hard. I was easy, when it came to blonde hellcat warrior maidens.
How was it even possible, that a girl with that level of combat training had just happened to be there, at the right place and the right time, to save me from Nicole Volange’s goons? She’d probably severely injured or even killed a couple of them.
That wouldn’t have happened if she had been on their team. No way. And besides, she seemed so clear, so straightforward. The personality equivalent of a knife blade. I just didn’t see her as a spy, an assassin, a honeypot. She seemed so direct, honest to the point of brutality. She’d practically put a spike heel right through Hugh Clemens’ eye.
She had a fire in her belly. And in her gorgeous golden eyes. Maybe they had sent her to gather information about my movements, not to kill me. They wanted the data locked in my brain first. Could be they had sent her to bone my brains out and then fuck me up for good?
I could think of worse ways to go.
But no, this wasn’t about killing me, at least, not yet. First, they wanted what they wanted, and my brain had to be intact, for that. If Kat was a blameless, innocent bystander, all unsuspecting, then it would be a dick move to come on to her. But from the look in her eyes, her lethal instincts, her peppery temper, she was anything but unsuspecting. She might be the most suspecting woman I’d ever met, up to and including my own little sister. Freya was a prickly, iron-clad piece of work. Or, rather, she had been, before she fell in love with Jed Clearwater.
But I did not have the energy to contemplate that clusterfuck, which had almost gotten Freya gruesomely killed. It was bad enough to be uncomfortably aware that my baby sister was rolling around in bed with one of my comrades-at-arms.
On the plus side, Jed was suspicious, too. A boot-leather tough sonofabitch with lightning-fast reflexes. He’d saved Freya many times over, and each time had earned him a few grudging points. It was comforting to know that someone else out there was as ferociously motivated as I was to keep Freya safe, with Shane still missing in action.
Who the hell could have sent Kat to protect me? That bloodthirsty, murdering bitch Nicole Volarge was still on the loose, still slavering for a Masters sibling so she could torture the access codes for SmokeScreen out of us. But where did the warrior maiden fit in? If not for Kat, Nicole Volange would have had my sorry ass for sure.
Other forces were at play. I was getting to the bottom of this. Things were still too weird to let down my guard. Or let out my dick, either, for that matter. I wasn’t taking my eyes off that woman until I was absolutely sure of her agenda.
