She and Dan took up the “party behind” position and trailed No Neck onto one of the busy cobbled roads fanning out from the square. The street was lined on both sides by two-story buildings made of plaster and stone. In this part of Cusco, the first floors were occupied by trinket shops, convenience stores, and small eateries. The top floors, with their brightly painted balconies, were where the owners of the shops made their homes.
The air on the little avenue was redolent with the smell of exhaust, cooking meat, and frying pastries. A gang of gnarly-looking street dogs rooted in an overturned trash can. And a taxi screamed around the corner, rattling and beeping at the tourists who had the bad sense to tarry in the street.
No Neck glanced over his shoulder at the woman who squealed when the taxi’s side mirror came within inches of her hip, and Penni sucked in a breath when she saw his eyes. They were ice-blue and completely devoid of emotion. Seriously, looking into those cool, empty pools, she would not have been surprised to learn he was blood brothers with a snake.
Dan squeezed her fingers.
She peeked over at him, and even though he winked, the expression on his face was clearly keep your shit together.
Right. Because even if her head was spinning—you know, having suddenly been sucked into the cyclonic craziness of an operation; she was really going to have to strangle Becky for that dick-twiddling comment—she was a trained agent. Except… Oh, crap. No Neck hooked a right onto an even smaller street.
To be clear, the size of the street wasn’t the problem. The problem was the steep incline of the little thoroughfare and its accompanying sidewalk—which was nothing less than a long flight of stairs. Cusco was built in the valley, but it quickly climbed up the sides of the surrounding mountains. And like the Big Bad Wolf, Penni was instantly huffing and puffing. Unlike the Big Bad Wolf, she’d be hard pressed to blow out a candle, much less blow anyone’s house down.
Dan turned to her. “Y’okay?” Two words smashed into one.
“We’re doing a lot more legwork than I planned when I decided on these boots,” she told him.
“Bullshit. You’re not acclimated.” Due to Cusco’s elevation, the air was incredibly thin and she was having a hell of a time catching her breath. Scratch that. She wasn’t catching her breath.
“S-stop giving me the”—pant, pant—“evil eye. You’re only allowed to use it if you’re”—pant, pant—“Italian. I think it’s a law or something.” What she wouldn’t give for one of those little wheeled oxygen carts the concierge at her hotel had been passing out to the out-of-breath out-of-towners when she’d checked in.
“You’re a lot sassier than I remember,” he grumbled, slowing their climb when Zoelner popped out from around a corner up ahead, taking his position in front of No Neck.
Thank Christ for small miracles. She couldn’t have kept up that pace for one second more.
“Oh, you mean I’m sassier than I was”—pant, pant—“after all my friends and coworkers were killed?” She sucked in a deep breath that didn’t seem to contain one drop of oxygen. “Is that what you mean? Because I’m pretty sure”—Geez, her heart was pounding. Her ears buzzing. Little spots of light danced in front of her eyes—“that situation didn’t really lend itself to sassiness. What? What’s that look for?”
“I’m just trying to decide whether or not I like this new, mouthy Penni DePaul,” he said, brow quirked.
“Oh, you like me.” She winced at the stitch in her side. And even though she sounded confident, truth was, she waited, literally breathlessly, for his response.
She hadn’t been herself in Malaysia. She’d been a mess both emotionally and professionally, and Dan’s calm, his self-assurance, his all-around badassedness—Is that even a word? Well, if it’s not, it should be—had been the only things that’d kept her from falling completely apart. But the fact of the matter was, he didn’t really know her. Not the real her. The smart aleck. The tomboy. And maybe he liked his women vulnerable and fragile and—
“Roger that,” he said. She didn’t have long to wonder if he was talking to her or the woman in his ear when he added, “I’ve sorta had a thing for ball-busting broads since Susie Edwards threw a rock at my head during second-grade recess. Musta been born with a little bit of masochist in me.”
Again with the “broad.” Of course, the way Dan said the word made it sound good. She would’ve blown out a breath of relief if she had a breath to spare. And he must’ve sensed some of what she was feeling because the smile he gave her was as sweet and dry as the wind blowing down from the mountains. But the light shining in his eyes? Forget about it. It was anything but sweet and dry. Just the opposite. It was hot and liquid, churning and burning and making her wonder if it was possible for her underpants to combust.