Chapter 9
“You want me to do that?” Angel asked when Christian fished his lock-picking set from his rucksack.
“I can bloody well pick a lock,” he managed through gritted teeth. “Get ready to disarm the alarm once I open the door.”
For a moment, Angel was quiet. Then he said softly, his voice raspier than usual, “It was an accident, you know.”
“What was?” Christian insertedthe tension wrench into the bottom of the keyhole and slid the pick in beside it. Now it was a simple matter of sliding and jiggling until all the pins in the lock fell into place.
Civilians took such comfort in locks. If they had any idea how easy one was to pick, they wouldn’t sleep so well at night.
“Emily slipped and took me with her,” Angel said. “We landed in a tangle.”
Christianglanced over his shoulder, glad to see that Emily, Ace, and Rusty had walked toward the small gravel car park. They were keeping an eye on the narrow country lane, making sure no one happened upon them. It wouldn’t do to be caught red-handed picking the lock. Not much they could say to talk their way out ofthat.
“No skin off my nose,” Christian told Angel, turning back to concentrate on histask.
“Really?” There was no mistaking the skepticism in Angel’s voice. “You could have fooled me.”
Christian sighed and glared up at Angel. “What the devil are you on about?”
“You and Emily.”
“Thereisno me and Emily.”
“Really?” One of Angel’s dark eyebrows arched. “You could have fooled me.”
“You’re repeating yourself.”
“If there is no you and Emily, then what wasthat kiss in the hangar’s parking lot about?”
“Like Emily told you”—if Christian gritted his teeth any harder, his molars might explode—“it didn’t mean a thing. Heat of the moment.” Her words scraped across his brain like fingernails down a chalkboard.
“So”—Angel nodded—“thatis what this is all about.”
“Whatwhatis all about?”
“You turning into Oscar the Grouch. You heard Emilysay that. Then you came around the corner and saw us on the ground. But like I said, it was an accident.”
Christian sighed and let his head hang between his shoulders. Angel was right. Seeing Emily on top of the handsome bastardhadmade Christian want to box Angel’s ears until his head rattled.
Lifting his chin, Christian did his teammate the courtesy of looking him in the eye when hesaid, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to take any of it out on you.”
“Understandable.” Angel gave a Gallic shrug. “Probably would have reacted the same way if the woman I loved was on top of another man.”
A startled breath wheezed from Christian’s chest. “Love?” The word barely had enough oomph to make it past his lips. It was one thing to admit to himself that he was sweet on Emily. Another thingaltogether to admit it to someone else. “I wouldn’t call it love.”
“No?”
“Maybe the opposite.”Liar, liar, drawers on fire!
“Hate?” Angel scoffed. “Let me be the first to tell you, the opposite of love is not hate. The opposite of love is indifference, which is one thing you donotfeel for Emily.”
“Fine.” Christian punctuated the word with a terse downward jerk of his chin. “Soit’s not hate. It’s annoyance.” Then he figured he’d better sprinkle some truth into his pack of lies if he had any hope of throwing Angel off the scent. “And an unhealthy amount of lust.”
“What’s the holdup?” Emily called to them. Her arms were crossed against the damp and cold, and the mother of all scowls scrunched up her pretty face. “Christian, if you’re having trouble with the lock,let Angel do it.”
Let Angel do it.Right-oh. Because Angel was sooooo accomplished, sooooo bloody brilliant at everything.
