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“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 f**kin’ 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.”
Liam “Lee” Nightingale of Nightingale Investigations was a badass private investigator-slash-bounty hunter-slash-anything goes man with a team of badasses to back him up. He’d contracted with me and I’d worked jobs with them when he needed a woman. I liked him, respected him and his team. They took pretty much any job that came along as long as the client could pay the hefty invoice which meant the lawfulness of their activities was a bit vague. That said, they had close ties with law enforcement so it was a helluva lot less vague than Knight’s.
Cabe “Hawk” Delgado, on the other hand, was a badass commando with a team of badasses to back him up. His jobs were usually more covert, intense and often out of town. I’d done one job with him and his team in town and that shit was extreme. It was kickass fun but it was extreme. Since most of his work was out of town, I didn’t have a lock on the looseness of his morals.
In movie terms, Lee Nightingale was James Bond except more kickass and super cool. He didn’t bother messing with gadgets when he could just shoot someone. He was also a Broncos fan and, I had a feeling, when he had the time, James Bond watched rugby.
Hawk Delgado was John Rambo without exceptions notwithstanding the headband.
What I knew about both of them was, regardless of what they thought about his business, they were smart enough not to make an enemy of Knight Sebring and he returned the favor. There was mutual respect but no discussion about Knight’s operations. I never asked how they felt but then again, even if I did, they’d never tell.
My brows stayed up. “Hawk Delgado knows Creed?”
“You know their connection?” I asked.
“Worked jobs together.”
“Those would be?” I pushed.
“They would be for you to ask Creed, Sylvie,” he stated. “You got it in you to put that shit behind you, you gotta get to know your partner. I’ll tell you this, it’s f**ked how shit works but he’s you except male and maybe a little scarier. The shingle says PI. The word says his resume has a lot of blank spots and his skill set is varied. He doesn’t take the job if he doesn’t believe in the mission and like or respect who he’s workin’ for.” Knight grinned. “But he charges a f**kuva lot more than you do.”
My eyes went back to the window to take in the empty club and I muttered, “He’s got kids to support.”