Or maybe it’s me who needs to keep my mind off her father because I have a lot of fucked up feelings and insights into the man that I don’t want to share. Starting with me not believing that he had me join that black ops operation with any intent of me living long enough to come back for his daughter. Won’t he be surprised when we bring him home tonight?
For now, I stick to our talk of food. “We can hobnob with all the rich and famous in the city at the hottest restaurants, baby, but I promise—I promise you—once you have a street hotdog, you will want another.”
She laces her red Chuck Taylor Converse sneakers and steps in front of me. “Street hotdogs are disgusting.”
I catch her hip and lean in close, inhaling the fresh floral scent of her silky brown hair. “Not in New York City.”
“Do you know what they put in hot dogs?”
“They who?”
“Everyone. It’s a universally disgusting recipe for indigestion.”
“Tell me.” I nuzzle her neck and murmur. “I think it might get me hot.”
She laughs and a voice lifts from the kitchen. “We’re here!”
At the sound of Adrian’s voice, Candace jerks back, her eyes wide. “They have to know who died in DC.” She ducks under my arm and dashes away.
I know Candace and there’s no stopping her when she’s on a mission. I pursue her, and without the pleasure of any real time to appreciate her perfectly perky ass, because she’s flying like a bullet looks for an enemy. She’s about to enter the kitchen when I catch her hand and join her. We step into the room together and the whole damn rodeo is here: Adrian, Smith, Adam, and Asher. Smith holds up bags that have my nose tingling. “We come bearing gifts,” Adam says, indicating trays in his hands. “Starbucks for all.”
“And,” Smith adds, lifting the bags in his hands. “Breakfast tacos and hell yes, you Texans know how to do breakfast.”
“You know it, man,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “There was a time when I’d have danced the naked mamba for a good Texas breakfast taco.”
“Oh fuck,” Adam says, holding up his hand. “Do not give me that visual before I eat.”
“Any news?” Candace asks, folding her arms in front of her, clearly not appreciating our fun as shit personalities.
Asher doesn’t look at me, but he’s not Fifty Shades of Grey but rather Fifty Shades of Avoidance—okay he might be Fifty Shades of Grey, but I don’t want to know about his kink. He pats his bag where it hangs at his hip. “I’m locked and loaded to work, but let’s eat first.” He motions toward the living room. “Let’s get cozy and chow down.”
Translation: he’s hungry as a bear and if he tells Candace what he knows, he won’t get to eat. That tatted up blood model wannabe pussy backs up my assumption by heading to the living room without waiting for her approval. The herd follows all with their heads tucked low.
Candace scowls at their backs and then at me. “What was that?”
“Food before words but not fucking. It’s a thing.”
“No,” she says. “No, it is not. Not today.” She launches herself toward the living room.
I catch her wrist. “Baby—”
She whirls on me, her green eyes lit like fire. “Rick Savage—”
“Oh fuck. That is never the start of something good.” I let her go.
She’s gone in a blink, charging toward the living room. I run a hand over my face and follow. By the time I’ve caught up, Asher and Adrian are on the couch. Smith and Adam are in the chairs on either side of them. All have taco wrappers open and in their hands. Damn, I wanna have a taco wrapper open and in my hand. Better yet, I want a taco in my mouth. Or Candace, but I’m pretty sure she’s not in the mood. At present, she’s standing in front of the fireplace and the center of the room. “Who died in Washington three weeks after my mother died?”
Asher sighs and sets his taco down. I close the space between me and Candace, and stand beside her eyeing Asher and waiting for the answer he clearly knows. His lips thin and his eyes meet mine. Yes, he knows the answer. And no, Candace is not going to like that answer, because it’s going to make her father look like shit. And as one of his soldiers, even at another time and place, me right along with him. But I’m not going to stop Asher from telling her the truth. I’m done running from it. Her father ordered assassinations. I was, I am, an assassin. I can’t hide from this. Candace can’t hide from it either, not if we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.