Those Denalis equaled one of the Nightingale boys.
I relaxed, stood there and watched as Shaw Drake parked, cut the lights and ignition, and folded out of the car.
Shaw was a new recruit.
Former Marine. Tall. Built. Dark-brown hair. Preposterously gorgeous.
I wasn’t sure if this kind of thing was a prerequisite to the hiring process, but I knew Shirleen, the Operations Manager who did the hiring, and I’d been invited to her screening of 300 to christen her huge new TV in her fabulous new condo.
So I was guessing it was.
I couldn’t blame her. Daily eye candy in the office didn’t hurt anyone.
But the sheer amplitude of these guys’ hotness?
Cripes.
“You good?” he asked me, attention trained beyond me to where Mr. Shithead ran away.
The Nightingale crew had cameras on SC. And at the Oasis.
Reminder: when it came to the Angels, they weren’t taking any chances.
I should have known I’d be covered when some creeper approached me in the parking lot. And the NI&S guys were probably who was calling me.
I was still impressed with how fast he got there.
“How did you get here so fast?” I asked.
“Call went out to everyone, I was closest. Headed to the gym. Gabe’s on his way.”
Well…wasn’t that just marvelous?
I had yet to figure out how I was going to tell Gabe to back off (again) but do it nicer this time, and it would seem I wasn’t going to have the opportunity to figure out how to do that.
Also, what was with these guys?
Who went to the gym at five in the morning?
Were they dedicated to the task of giving every human being on the planet an inferiority complex?
If so, they were succeeding.
“Just to say,” he began with humor in his tone, “I’m not a threat. You can lower the Taser.”
“Oh.” I lowered the Taser. “Sorry.”
He approached. “Do you know that guy?”
I nodded while shoving the Taser in my bag. “Yeah. He’s one of our informants. And not the hang-and-eat-cheeseburgers or chill-in-his-man-cave type.”
“Right.”
It was then, more headlights flashed in the parking lot, and in drove a very familiar Jeep Wrangler.
Why me?
All right.
