She expected the pressure on her throat to ease, but it didn’t. And Roy’s voice now sounded like it was drifting in from a hundred miles away. “Pretty woman, walkin’ down… Pretty woman, walkin’ down…”
It took the lead agent barking, “Keith, I said enough!” for the rabid government dog to take his arm off her throat.
The blood rushed to her head so quickly it made her dizzy. And the sound her windpipe made when she raked in a lungful of air was half gargle, half gasp.
“Let’s get her loaded up,” the lead agent added. “Maybe she’ll be more cooperative back at headquarters.”
“Wait!” Cesar yelled when she found herself being frog-marched across the room. “What about her Miranda rights?”
“They’re the FBI,” she said hoarsely as she was hustled by him. “They don’t have to abide by the same legal requirements as local law enforcement.”
“Do you know what they’re talking about? Did you—”
“No.” She shook her head even as Overzealous Johnny Lawman—Overzealous Keith Lawman just didn’t have the same ring—shoved her toward the bedroom door. “But it sounds like I’m in trouble and I can think of only one person who can help me out of it.”
Cesar gave her a subtle nod, indicating he’d received her message loud and clear. And that helped stave off the panic attack clawing at the back of her brain.
The private government defense firm Sam worked for was small enough to have to share space with a custom motorcycle shop, but the job she’d done with him had ended up with her on a phone call with the FBI director himself.
Like they say,she thought a little desperately,when it comes to getting out of a jam, it’s all about who you know.
Samuel Harwood might not be willing to admit she was nearly thirty instead of thirteen. He might not have spent the last decade and a half fantasizing about her the way she’d been fantasizing about him. But one thing hediddo was pay his debts.
He owed her. And she was calling in that IOU.
2
Black Knights Inc., Goose Island
“He nearly shot my dick off!”
“Well, if he’d managed to hit a target that small, I’d have called him up and recruited him to our side.”
Sam stopped running the shammy over the chrome exhaust pipe of his pride and joy—his black-and-white Harley chopper named Pale Horse—to see Fisher grin at Eliza.
Instead of getting bent out of shape that BKI’s secretary, den mother, and onsite chef extraordinaire had maligned his manhood, Fisher simply wiggled his eyebrows. “I like knowin’ ya think about what I’m packin’ in my pants, doll face.”
“Oh…” Eliza batted her lashes. “Idothink about you, Fish. In fact, you were the first thing I thought about when I woke up this morning.”
“Yeah?” Fisher flashed a hundred-watt grin.
“Yeah.” Eliza nodded. “I thought of you and I was reminded to take out the trash.”
Sam chuckled and then laughed harder when Fisher shot him a quelling glance.
“Hey!” He lifted his hands. “Don’t get mad at the audience for enjoying the show.”
“Don’t ya have anything better to do than encourage her to take chunks out of my ego?” Fisher gestured toward Eliza.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t. ’Cause I had to fly back here with you instead of staying down south with the others. I coulda been on a beach in Aruba being served umbrella drinks by a dark-eyed beauty. But instead I’m here in the Great White North listening to you two fight like children.”
“The next mission requires precision ballistics. Who better than you, our resident marksman, to help me finetune the logistics?” Fisher was quick to retort.
“I can almost smell the coconut oil and rum.” Sam’s tone was purposefully petulant. He made sure his expression said he was thinking of how the other three members of their team—only three because Hunter was on his honeymoon—were sunning themselves in the Caribbean instead of being back in Chicago freezing their dicks off.
“I can sing ya some Jimmy Buffett and pour some sand in your sheets if that’ll make ya feel better,” Fisher offered.
Sam flipped him the bird before pulling a watermelon-flavored Jolly Rancher from his pocket and popping it into his mouth. He’d been partial to the candy as a teenager. But he’d kind of forgotten his penchant for the sugary little snacks until six months earlier when Hannah had reminded him by secretly slipping one into his pocket—a trick she’d obviously learned from her older sister.
