Holding her gaze, I smirk. "We both know who made the first move there."
"Yes, but in my defense, the cable went out in the hotel room."
"Bombs will do that, Minka."
"She's like a little girl."
"No, she's a woman. She was a woman when Locke stole her, and she's a woman now. Babying Darla helps those around her but does nothing to help her."
"I'm not babying her. I'm treating her with respect. You just want to date her."
Shrugging, I take Minka by the arm. "If you respect her, trust that she can tell me to fuck off."
"You know she can't."
"Right, because Darla was real subtle about feeling uncomfortable around Manny and Saskia."
Minka wants to respond to my comment but has nothing. Meddling is in her bloodline, going back generations.
"Behave and I'll be back around six with Shelley. We'll have a girls' night."
Before Minka leaves, I hold her by both shoulders and stare into her dark eyes.
"Thank you for all your lectures today. No one pulls the know-it-all grandma routine like you."
Shaking away my hands, she frowns. "When we train next time, I'm hurting you a little more than usual. Prepare yourself for the reckoning, Frosty."
Once Minka is out the door and I've locked everything down, I return to the living room where a damp-haired Darla sits. I swear she must own a dozen pairs of the same gray sweats. She's showered twice so far today and returned in the same style clothes.
"What did you do before Locke?" I ask and startle Darla, who turns slowly to look at me.
I watch her movements and study the expression on her face. If this were a movie, I'd think she believed a killer was in the house, and I was the prime suspect. After a moment of staring at me in horror, Darla relaxes.
"I read books," she says as if giving up a secret.
"What kind of books?"
"Nonfiction mainly. I liked learning about people in other parts of the world."
"Do you like traveling?" I ask, stepping around the kitchen island until Darla looks afraid. After taking a step backward back into the safe zone, I cross my arms. "I've been all over the world, and most of it is a shithole."
"In your line of work, maybe all the places you visited were shitholes. That doesn't mean everywhere is."
Grinning, I inch closer. When she doesn't panic, I re-cross my arms. "You're an idealist. I like that."
Darla only watches me. I know she's working hard to get the words out.
"You and Minka dated."
"She told you that, huh?" I ask, grumpy now. "What else did she say?"
"You were clingy."
Frowning, I'm ready to call Minka and bitch at her for lying. Something about Darla's expression tells me that she's the one telling lies.
"What else?" I push.
"She found you wearing her shoes once."
"I don't know about the clingy thing," I say, joining her on the couch, "but the shoes thing is a hundred percent true."
Even smiling, Darla scoots away from me a little. "Was that part of your assignment to wear her shoes?"
"No, but I did once dress up as a nun."
Smiling wider, Darla shakes her head. "I don't believe you."
"It's true. I wasn't very convincing, though. That's how I met Minka. She had the same target and made me. I made her too. No way would an old woman have such clear eyes."
"Is your job fun?"
"My old job and my new job aren't quite the same. I used to target people. Now I protect them when they're targeted."
"Which do you like better?"
"I've only been doing this job for a few days. We set-up shop a few months ago and did mainly lame jobs since then. You're my first real deal client. How am I doing?"
Darla doesn't answer with words. Her gaze runs from my hand to my forearm along my bicep to my throat where it lingers. Finally, Darla studies my face and nods.
"Are you trying to seduce me?" I whisper, raising an eyebrow.
The courage in Darla's expression falters, and she begins to breathe too quickly. I force my gaze to the TV where she's watching a travel show.
"I like the snow," I say, changing the subject. "I couldn't live in cold weather without growing to hate it. Still, as a kid and even later, I loved vacationing in the mountains."
"Do you ski?"
Returning my focus to her now calm face, I nod. "I'm pretty damn great at it too. I could teach lessons."
Darla smiles. "I'm good too. My grandfather was an instructor."
"Once I kill Locke, and you're safe, what do you think about us finding out who is the better skier?"
While Darla and I stare at each other, I see her working through the possibility of being free of Locke. What can she accomplish without the weight of fear holding her down?
"Okay," she whispers, and I struggle not to kiss her.
Her lips are begging for attention, but I force myself to stand up and walk to the kitchen.
"I'm restless. The apartment gym is empty. Let's go work out."
"I don't like exercise," she says, shuffling past me to the kitchen cabinet where she finds a bag of licorice. "I'm trying to gain weight."
"Bulk up with muscle," I suggest, stepping closer.