Hitman vs Hitman - L.A. Witt Page 0,51
yeah.” August shrugged. “You weren’t going to make the lady share a bed with one of us rakish rogues, were you?”
Heidi snorted, and when Ricardo glared at her, she smothered a laugh but didn’t seem all that apologetic.
Ricardo sighed heavily. “Let’s just unpack the car and then check on who the facial recognition picked up, all right? Then we can figure out, uh, sleeping arrangements.”
August brightened. “Perfect.”
It only took a few trips to unload the car. August locked the garage door, the back door, and then the door to the stairs, and they were securely tucked into his subterranean lair.
Ricardo glared at the bed they’d somehow be sharing tonight, then at August, who radiated pure smugness, and somehow managed to be both insufferable and hot.
How am I going to keep my hands off you when we’re in the same bed?
As he put his bag of clothes and toiletries on one of the dressers, he looked pointedly at August. “Just so we’re clear—no one’s sleeping naked.”
August’s face fell. “God, you just take the fun out of everything, don’t you?”
Ricardo rolled his eyes, and admittedly, he had to fight hard not to laugh.
They left the bedroom and settled in to figure out what facial recognition had found for them. While August logged into his system, Heidi said, “Is there a bathroom down here?”
“Mmhmm.” August absently pointed at the hallway just beyond the stairs. “First door on the left.”
Heidi got up and disappeared down the hall. A set of door hinges squeaked, and August sat up so suddenly he nearly fell out of his chair.
“First door on the left! The left!”
“Oh! My bad.” Heidi paused. “Wait. Is this…” A light came on, and August swore under his breath just before Heidi said, “Dude, there’s a whole other bedroom in here.”
Ricardo eyed August. “Is there?”
“Well, but it’s…” Then he sighed and deflated. “Yes, there’s another bedroom.”
“Uh-huh. Of course there is.” Ricardo rose. “Heidi, why don’t you take that one, and I’ll take the sofa?”
“You sure you don’t still want to share with August?”
Ricardo huffed. “Don’t you need to pee or something?”
Heidi giggled, and another door closed, cutting off the sound.
“For fuck’s sake.” Ricardo shook his head and started toward the bedroom he was absolutely not sharing with August tonight. “I’m going to get my things and bring them out here.”
“Damn it, Ricardo!” August called after him. “Don’t you dare take away my ‘there’s only one bed’ romcom fantasy, you fucking tease!”
Ricardo shook his head. And he was glad he had his back to August.
At least then the asshole couldn’t see him laughing.
Chapter 12
The next morning, August woke up to three good things: one, a refinement of the initial hit on Heidi’s mystery assailant (the program had given him five possibilities, and August had firmly told it to DO BETTER, DAMN IT and it had acquiesced). Two, the smell of strong coffee brewing in his safehouse’s kitchen. And last but not least, the sight of Heidi sitting at the kitchen table with her bags packed at her feet, sipping on a mug of joe while Ricardo put bread in the toaster.
It wasn’t that August wanted her gone, necessarily—it was more that he just didn’t want her here. Liaisons and hitmen weren’t supposed to mix, the time he and Ricardo had both spent spying on their respective reps aside. The fact that she had her luggage ready to go and was wearing her jacket meant that she was feeling confident enough to cut them loose.
“Mmmhi,” August said, stretching his arms above his head as he walked through the living room into the kitchen. The extra layer of carpet padding squishing gently under his feet made him smile. “Everybody sleep well?”
“Best night’s sleep I’ve ever gotten in a meth lab, hands down,” Heidi deadpanned into her coffee mug.
August winked as he sidled around her to get to the coffee pot—which was conveniently next to Ricardo, oh my. He’d have to slide right in there…get nice and close…
Ricardo left the stove to go rummage in the fridge. Jackass. August tried not to pout as he filled his mug. He leaned up against the counter, ready to smolder—he was wearing his smoldering shirt, it clung in all the right places while not making it look like he was trying too hard—but instead of coming back over, Ricardo plunked a plate down on the table and said, “Sit.”
“Are you feeding me?” August asked interestedly.
“I’m providing you with food, yes.” Ricardo’s statement was following by him dishing up a helping of