Thunderstruck (Ramsey Security #1)

I sweep past her and take a nearly unconscious Darla into my arms. Walking to the living room, I brush my lips against her forehead quickly. I want more, but Minka is watching while Darla isn't an active participant. These tiny details keep me from enjoying the warmth of her in my embrace.


Once she's comfortable on the couch, I realize Darla's watching me. I wait to see her reaction. She holds gaze for longer than I expect. Minka is also watching me, but I ignore her until Darla dozes off.

"Just no," she whispers when I join her in the kitchen. "She's all kinds of messed up, and you lack the kind of personal skills necessary to deal with her."

"I dealt with her fine," I say, checking the security cameras. "We need to get these images to show up on our phones."

"There's some damn issues with the equipment compatibility. I told Rafael he should hire on a real IT security nerd, but he figured we could contract out to local geeks. Nobody listens to me, just like you aren't in regards to Darla."

Sighing, I hold her gaze. "I'm not doing anything, Minka."

"I know you. In fact, you're wearing the same look as when we worked the Bogotá assignment, and you insisted we save the priest. How did that fucking turn out?"

Instinctually scratching the scar on my throat, I feel not an ounce of regret about Bogotá. Then again, I survived.

"What do you suggest?" I ask, returning to the kitchen.

Minka tugs at my shirt, pulling me down so she can whisper in my ear. "Don't forget where she was for nine months. Don't be like that freak Locke and only see what you want from her."

I pat her on the head, and Minka immediately gives me a dirty look.

"Thanks for dumbing that down for me, Habanero."

"Frosty, you're asking for trouble."

A moment passes while I peek around the couch to see a dozing Darla. She's an angel wrapped up in dark blue oversized flannel. Minka isn't wrong that I want Darla. She likely isn't wrong about Darla being unable to want me back. Despite Minka's many great insights, I refuse to step away from the angel on the couch.





11


~~~

Darla

Fear Overwhelms

Awakening from a fog, I'm relieved to find Troy back at the apartment. I dozed off the night before thinking about his staggeringly beautiful blue eyes. I dreamed of his voice when he shared the story about his mom. When I saw Manny this morning, I felt abandoned. Unable to think, I quickly lost myself in panic. As usual, once the fear overwhelmed me, I couldn't calm down. Now I'm awake on the couch, feeling more ridiculous than relieved upon seeing Troy again.

"Look who's awake," Troy says, setting a glass on the table in front of the couch. "Here's the tea you like."

I sit up and stare at Troy. He doesn't look angry about my earlier freak out.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, reaching for the tea.

"Why, for not wanting to look at Manny's porn mustache all day? No one can blame you for that. It's his wife's fetish, so why must the rest of us suffer?"

Smiling, I hold his gaze for as long as I can. Troy is different today, yet I can't figure out how.

"I should have told you Manny was switching with me," Troy says, standing over me.

"You did, but I forgot."

Studying me, Troy nods. "Minka and I will be switching off. No more porn mustaches and whatever scared you about Saskia. I'm assuming it was her dead eyes."

I frown up at him. "They were nice. I just freaked."

Troy smiles easily. "Protecting their feelings is sweet, but save it for when they're in the room and can appreciate the gesture."

I narrow my eyes. "Don't tell me what to do."

Troy's smile widens. "You're fun after a nap."

His smile promises more than simple teasing. The sexual heat radiating from him surprises me, and I check my sweats to make sure my body is properly covered. Finding myself a mess, I hide behind my hair. I'm unsure how I feel about a man like Troy finding me attractive. I'm leaning towards liking his attentions when Minka arrives.

"Go figure out the security feed thing," she says to Troy.

His gaze lingers on my face before he finally leaves the room. I sip my tea and hope Minka doesn't tell me I'm a loser for thinking Troy likes me.

"You need a new wardrobe," Minka announces, flopping onto the couch.

Frowning, I say nothing while wrapping myself tighter in the sweats.

"I knew a German government agent who sold info. She hated femininity. I don't know why since we weren't friends. Anyway, she always wore shirts with long sleeves and high collars. Only her face and hands were ever bare. She didn't wear baggy, uncomfortable clothes like you but kept herself covered."

Remaining silent, I study Minka's tight tank top and black jeans. Her skin is golden like Troy's. Minka notices my gaze on her.

"I like dressing this way, but I wear whatever fits for the job. I'm sexy when I need to flash skin as a distraction. I'm covered up when I need to blend in. I ugly up shockingly easy," she says, giving me a wink. "People are blind to those they don't find physically attractive. That's why I'm always suspicious of mousy women and nerdy men. I've played that con too many times as a way to gain access to a location."