Page 53 of Puck
“I’m not!” He sat up straighter. “You really think at this point I’m the type to blow smoke up your ass just to make you feel a little better?”
“So what could I have done better?”
“You’re not insecure, are you?”
“No, but I’m not sure I believe you.”
“So if I tell you it was perfect, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I’m not saying that.”
He frowned. “Then what are you saying?”
“I don’t know!” I threw up my hands. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before. On a plane, in public? With a guy I’ve known a matter of hours? I don’t usually make out with a guy on the first date. I’m not a prude, but I don’t trust easily, and I have to have some level of trust before I feel comfortable enough with a guy to let him touch me, to be naked around him. Not because I’m insecure about how I look—I eat healthy and workout and I like how I look. It’s more just . . . I don’t know. But there’s something about you that I just . . .trust.So I don’t know why I did any of that with you. Why I let you touch me, why I touched you, why I’m even thinking about having sex with you, much less feeling like I need it more than I’ve ever needed sex in my life.”
“I’m not a stranger to casual sex, you know that about me at this point. But this is different for me, too. When I’m working, I’m normally laser-focused. This is a job for me, and also more than a job. Getting Layla and the girls back safe to their men, who happen to be not just my coworkers but my friends, my brothers in arms . . . it’s more than a job—it’s personal. So for me to get distracted? That’sneverhappened. Not since that shit with the madam. I learned my lesson. After that, I avoid temptation while working no matter what. Work is work, a job is a job, and I donotallow myself to be distracted. But you . . . you’re not a distraction. You’re . . . fuck, I don’t know, Colbie. I don’t fucking know. I can’tnotdo this with you—shit, that sounded stupid. I just mean . . . I could no more stay away from you than I could just stop breathing.” He palmed my cheek, and his hand was big and rough and warm and comforting. “Hear me when I say this: I need this more than I’ve ever needed anything or anyone, too. I absolutelyhaveto feel you, naked and pressed up against me. I have to be inside you. It’s imperative. I don’t care what it takes to make that happen, I’ll fucking do it.”
I heard the sincerity in his voice, and I believed him.
And that scared the bejeezus out of me.
* * *
We landedat a tiny airport that Ivar informed us was several kilometers outside Prague—this one at least had an actual paved runway. A new Mercedes-Benz passenger van was waiting, with several men standing around it, each armed with a submachine gun, a larger version of the one Puck had used in the Range Rover, with an actual barrel and stock.
“They are friends of mine,” Ivar reassured Puck, as we descended. “This airport is secure.”
“Secure from Cain?” Puck asked, sounding skeptical.
“Even from him,ja.” Ivar pointed at the control tower, and I could see several figures dressed in black on the roof. “Snipers. Two of them, one with eyes on us, one with eyes on the approach. Another with an RPG, in case of breach.”
Puck seemed impressed. “Red carpet, huh?”
Ivar shrugged. “Precautions.” He gestured at the waiting van. “Bitte.”
“What’s the plan, Ivar?” Puck asked.
“My associate operates in Prague. The plan is simple. We drive to her flat, she removes and deactivates the tracer in Miss Kennedy, and then I deliver you to Mr. Roth.”
“I like simple plans,” Puck said.
Puck climbed in, and I followed and somehow ended up sandwiched between Puck and Layla, the other women behind us, Ivar in the front seat, and two of the armed guards in the very back. Once we were in motion, Layla leaned close to me and whispered in my ear.
“So . . . you and Puck, huh?” she asked, for a third time.
I felt my cheeks redden. “Layla, what you saw—”
“Colbie, if you apologize or say some stupid shit like ‘I don’t do that sort of thing, normally’”—her voice took on a whiny, simpering tone—“I swear to fuck, I’ll punch you, and take away any and all cool points you’ve earned with me up till now.”
I eyed her. “But—”
She put her finger over my lips. “No buts.” Her voice was pitched low enough that only I could hear her. “Puck is a cool guy. Not my type physically, but that doesn’t mean I don’t recognize the fact that he’s sexy. He’s a badass, and I’d bet any money he’ll rock your motherfuckin’ world.”
I snickered, a sound awfully close to a giggle. “He already did.”
“So don’t you dare try toexplainthat shit or make it seem like you have something to hide.” She bumped me with her shoulder. “Sister, when you decide you like a man, you get to choose what you do about it, and you don’t owe fucking anybody any explanations. So what if you just met him? If you trust him, you decide you want him, then you jump on that dick and ride him like a goddamn rodeo champion. That’s your right as a woman, as a person, and as a responsible adult. And when you’re done, you’re done. That’s it.”
“What if . . .” I wasn’t quite sure if I could even formulate the question out loud.