Bane: Elite Operatives (Bad Boys of X-Ops Book 4) by Rie Warren Page B

me if I happen to know a certain fundamentalist group?”
    Oh hell no. Kiki was not giving up tail for terrorist intel. I didn’t give a fuck how much Blaize wanted that info.
    Before I could charge in, macho-colors flying, Kiki placed a soothing hand on Carlos’s arm.
    “But what about Nina? Your beautiful wife? I could never be the other woman, Carlos.”
    “I’ll divorce her.”
    And then suddenly they were laughing like old pals.
    I chuckled once, the effects of the blow still trickling through me.
    “How do I know you’re not just trying to cut me out of the deal with the foreigners?” Carlos jerked his chin toward the guns Igor was passing around.
    “We don’t want to sell to them. We want to buy from them.” Kiki smirked, deftly reaching to pull out a cigarette from the pack in my hand.
    Cuntface immediately bent toward her to light the end with his flashy zippo.
    “We heard they have some wicked explosives.” Kiki blew out a stream of smoke.
    “We?” Carlos asked.
    “Yeah.” Cabron . “I’m the silent partner.” I bolstered up from the edge of the truck, making my muscles very apparent.
    Kiki shot me a look. Probably meant stand the fuck down.
    But I was all ready to play bad cop if push came to shove.
    “Fine. I’ll put you in touch with Nasim.” Leaning toward Kiki, he did the kissy-face thing again. “He’ll be in the City in a few days.”
    I shook the slimy shit’s hand, wanting nothing more than to take my KA-BAR and knife him all the way through to the spine.
    Settling into the passenger side of the truck after packing away our cocaine surplus, I saluted Igor through the open window.
    Dumb schmuck .
    Kiki shotgunned it out of the area to the sound of random gunfire as the dudes played with their new toys, yipping wild shouts with that ear-bleeding Muzak turned up.
    I slouched down, careful to move my leg as little as possible as the truck jarred over ruts in the dirt track.
    “Fuck. I hate that shit.” I rubbed my twitchy nose.
    With one hand on the wheel, Kiki reached into the back and grabbed a bottle of water. She tossed it to me.
    “Never had a taste for blow?” she asked.
    “Hell no. My body is my temple.” I thankfully guzzled the liquid ounces. “Now, if we’re talking about blowjobs . . .”
    She huffed a laugh, sending me a flirty glance. “I already know how you feel about those. And, by the way? That temple of a body of yours has a few holes in it.”
    Her dry comment drew a smile from me. “Yeah well, I’m a danger to myself and others.”
    If only she knew .
    Sobering for a moment, I tapped a pack of cigarettes on the dash. “Carlos got a hard-on for you or something?”
    “You’re jealous of a cartel ringleader?”
    “Depends. You ever do him?”
    “You think I’m into crime lords who mistake wearing Hugo Boss and Polo cologne for being civilized?” Kiki rolled her eyes. “I’m into honesty. Not assholes.”
    “So you’re just playing him?”
    “Come on. We all adopt different personas to get what we want when the situation warrants it.”
    “Yeah.” I rubbed my fucking nose again. “Yeah. Guess so.”
    We drove in silence for a few miles.
    I turned on the radio and fiddled until I found a station I liked. Kiki started humming along to the tune.
    I watched her. Baby Spy. Shadow operative. Former Feeb. And who knew what else.
    The woman I was falling for.
    Singing along to a classic rock tune while driving us away from a drug deal.
    And I was supposed to bring Allegra into this life?
    ****
    An hour later we met up with Blaize and Storm at another undisclosed location to hand off the coke. Walker and Justice were still on standby in their hidey-hole.
    When we rolled up beside their vehicle I was surprised the windows weren’t fogged due to a heavy-duty makeout sesh. Those two—since NOLA—couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
    Storm. He’d caught that goddamn garter at Justice’s wedding.
    Yup.
    He was next.
    The wedding virus we’d