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Maybe a god.
He sure as hell looked like one.
Moved like one too. She looked on, certain she added drool to her gawk, as he greeted Sol Wrightman, who’d entered and made a beeline for him. They clasped hands then butted shoulders, making her notice John the hulk was taller than the agent in charge of her Secret Service detail, who was no small man. The bigger difference was in their demeanors. Sol was a constant dervish, full of jagged energy. John’s movements were just as powerful but fluid in their force, flowing from one action to the next, backed by the strong surety of all those muscles. No, she couldn’t see them. But she damn well knew they were there.
Sol was accompanied by another man, whom she recognized from their brief introduction from the day before. The guy’s name also began with an S but that was all she could remember, despite how his bold bone structure, expressive lips, and endless legs seemed better fitted for an underwear ad model than a top-shelf Vegas security advisor.
“Ready to go, champ?”
She swung her attention toward the source of the challenge, wondering how he’d snuck into the room. Had the hulk smoked over her attention so thickly, she hadn’t notice Dan Colton’s own entrance?
Nota question to which she wanted a real answer.
“Well hey there, runt.” She pushed to her feet and pulled the polished businessman into a hug that’d leave bruises. She was fully justified, especially since the man’s wife, Tess, looked on with a laugh of approval. “Gah,” she muttered, pulling back to slap his well-defined jaw. “It’s so unfair.”
Dan shook his head, freeing his penny-colored waves out of his piercing blue eyes. Since officially stepping away from the CIA to head Colton Steel, he’d let the locks grow into some trendy asymmetrical look, longer on top and shaved at the sides. “What’s unfair? You don’t like the dressing room? Is everything okay at the villa?”
“Everything’s great at the villa.”
“So says the girl who can make the nastiest news smell like roses. I don’t give a crap about the roses, Trace. You’re doing me a huge favor here, so if The Bellagio isn’t cutting it, I can—”
“I’m fine with the villa.” She chuckled. “It’s gorgeous.” A fold of her arms emphasized the point. “I’m not fine with the fact that you’re hotter now than you were in high school.”
She expected her friend’s beat of discomfort. Dan was hotter than he’d been at fifteen, but the only person who didn’t get that was Dan at thirty-three, courtesy of the mottled burn tissue along the left side of his face. Because of it, his features would never be Ken doll perfection again, but he was still here after a mission that should’ve taken his life. Instead, it’d made him a hero. Regrettably, the man hadn’t seen it the same way. His self-pity party had been in full swing until Tess came along and walloped well-needed sense back into him.
“Yeah, well,” the man muttered. “Who’s now just a schmuck trying to make a buck, and who’s the fucking vice president? And fuck, there goes my mouth again. Fuck.”
“Guess what, runt? The fucking vice president has a teenage son. She’s heard the word a few times before.”
Dan snorted. “Don’t remind me of that, either.” His gaze swung over to Luke. “Who gave him permission to grow up?”
Tracy raised both hands. “Don’t look at me, mister. I’m clingin’ to the saddle and hangin’ on for the ride.”
“Fuck.”
Dan’s encore of the word felt more like a new curtain rising. His cocky growl was gone, replaced by a rasp as if he’d seen a ghost. His expression conveyed the same thing—as his stare jumped from Luke to the hulk. In less than a second, her old friend jolted forward, tackling the man in a brutal bear hug.
“Well hello, beautiful.” That caramel baritone sounded even better when infused with a laugh. “What’s a pretty spook like you doing in a joint like this?”
“Not pretty or spooky anymore,” Dan countered. “I could ask you the same question, ground pounder.”
“Not pounding so much ground anymore, either.”
The guy could’ve jammed Dan’s finger into a light socket and shocked him less. That didn’t concern Tracy as much as the hulk’s open discomfort. He clearly didn’t like the feeling and refused to wear it well. Nevertheless, he gave Dan a follow-up through tight teeth.
“Got back from the mission in Kaesong and brass called me in. Said they ‘thought it best’ that I cash out early on my billion years of stored-up leave.”
Quietly but quickly, Dan’s demeanor turned as dark as his friend’s words. “You have more than a billion and they know it.”
“Knew it.”
“You also made the right call on that mission—and they know that.”
The man grunted. “Right.”
Dan chuffed. “Usually am.”
“Pffft.” The man attempted a subtle shrug. Not easy with shoulders the breadth of football fields. “Somebody’s gonads had to get smashed for it, brother. They went for the simple choice.”
