Page 55 of Puck
He must have caught my stifled laugh, because he glanced back at me. “What’s funny?”
I indicated his gun. “I was just wondering where you’d stashed that, and thought, certainly not in your pants.” He blinked at me blankly, not following the joke. “Because I did a rather—ahem—thoroughsearch of that region, if you’ll recall.”
Layla couldn’t stifle a laugh, and a grin spread across Puck’s features.
“Yeah, no gun hiding in these pants,” he said.
I rolled my eyes at him. “You ruined the funny.”
“You wanna check again? Make sure I’m not hiding any more . . . firepower?” He winked at me. “Could be worth double checking.”
I laughed. “Hmm . . . yeah, I’m good. Pretty sure I wouldn’t find anything this soon anyway.”
“Ohh, shots fired,” Layla howled.
Puck just made a droll face. “Sure about that, darlin’? You might find yourself shocked how fast I can reload.”
I felt my face heat up, knowing both Kyrie and Layla were listening, and probably the driver and both guards, though who knew if they spoke English. None of Ivar’s men seemed to be paying attention, one standing near the hood, and the other near the rear end, their big fuck-off machine guns in plain view. Clearly, Ivar wasn’t worried about attention.
“Oh fuck off,” I said, because I didn’t have a better comeback. Mainly because I was pretty sure he’d be ready and raring to go, and I couldn’t deny that I’d sure as hell like to find out.
“Can’t take the heat, don’t dish it out, babe.”
“I can take the heat, asshole.”
He smirked, and I wanted to smack the smirk off his face as much as I wanted to kiss it off. “That’s not all you can take, sweet thing,” he said, with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.
I choked on my own shock, then growled, and slapped him across the cheek, hard enough to count, but not hard enough to really hurt. “You’re a bastard, Puck Lawson.”
He let me hit him, and when I went to smack his arm he caught my wrist and yanked me out of my seat and against his chest. “And don’t you forget it,” he said. But then, more softly, meant just for me, with a thumb grazing over my cheek: “I’m just teasing, Colbie. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I gave him a lazy smile. “I can take a joke, Puck.”
He laughed. “Well good, because I’ve got jokes.”
“Yeah, just not funny ones.”
“Ooh, now that’s what you call shots fired,” he said, brushing his lips against mine.
Ivar appeared with Temple and Lola in tow. He shot Puck a frown. “Can it not wait? We are on a timeline, you know.”
Puck lifted me into the van. “Hey, I’m ready when you are, bro.”
“Just do not be so distracted you miss important things.”
“Not a problem.”
Ivar nodded. “Now we go to another airport, and this time to a larger aircraft for the journey to the States.”
We were loaded into the van again and winding through Prague. Temple was touching a spot on the back of her head, right at the hairline at the base of her skull; she twisted in the seat and lifted her hair up to show us a small square bandage.
“Get the chip out?” Puck asked.
Temple nodded, held up a corked glass tube; inside the tube was a tiny cylinder not much bigger than a grain of rice. “I felt that bump, too, but I thought it was just a pimple or something.” She shook the tube, making the device rattle inside. “I can’t believe those assholes put a chip in me! If Duke and the boys hadn’t already killed most of them, I’d want them dead.”
“Yeah, well, we’re working on that,” Puck said. “The real culprit is Cain. Those jackasses were just the hired goons.”
“Is that thing deactivated or whatever?” Layla asked.