Finding Summer - Suzanne Halliday Page 0,97

time, the Department of Justice issued my paycheck. I have more stamps in my passport than candles on my birthday cake. Yes, I have a carry permit, and when I’m working, a gun is standard equipment. That doesn’t make me a murdering asshole.”

“Quite a lot to digest.” She checked out his body language from head to toe, became agitated, and started listing a raft of possibilities floating on the churning waves of her worried thoughts.

“Are you a mercenary? Like a legal gun for hire? Is this about bad guys and terrorists or garden-variety criminals? Do you have to check in with the local police when you travel?”

His brows arched, and she blew out an exasperated breath.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake. I don’t live under a rock. This may come as a surprise, but unless you’re hiding an Iron Man suit or are a part of a super-secret government project to create a race of superhumans, you aren’t special. Guaran-goddamn-teed the FBI or the NSA or the XYZ have my name in a file. The Army checks their high-level people quite thoroughly.”

“Oh, baby,” he sniggered. “You keep talking like that, and I’m going to have to make passionate, mind-blowing love to you.”

Biting back a snort of laughter, she made a face, and asked, “What part got you hot? The Iron Man suit or the NSA?”

Winking and shaking his head, he comically drawled, “I like most things with three letters.”

Feigning disbelief, Summer squawked and covered her face. “Three letters as in s-e-x? We were having a moment.” She snorted. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”

“Testosterone side effect.”

She wasn’t ready to laugh this away. She still sensed danger, and no amount of joking around was going to make her forget.

“So tell me about now. Who are you, really?”

He grinned. She blinked and wondered what he found so damn funny.

“Do you know the saying about birds of a feather? Well, it’s true. Cops, soldiers, spooks of all stripes, colors, and talents tend to flock together. My flock of cuckoo birds nested in New York City.”

Reaching into his back pocket, he withdrew his wallet and fished through it to hand her a dark blue card. Except for one word—NIGHTWIND—it was blank. She turned it over in her hand several times. There were no other markings. Single-word calling cards signified exclusivity.

“We take on what falls between the cracks. Some of it is pro bono.”

Pro bono? She was instantly intrigued. “You mean like white hat stuff? Righting wrongs?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, and sometimes it’s a little more like Robin Hood. Wealth redistribution.” He chortled.

“I see.” It wasn’t so much what he was personally capable of as it was a case of knowing people. She laughed. Only Arnie would be his own guy.

“So in a way, you are the ultimate in I have a guy.”

He threw his head back for a hearty laugh. “Not much danger involved in being the guy.”

Her mind was in no way set at ease. Maybe danger wasn’t an everyday part of his life, but she still felt it hovering.

“NIGHTWIND.” She felt something flutter in her chest. “Evocative word. What’s it mean?”

His expression stilled and grew serious. Whirling clouds of gray replaced the sparkle in his eyes. She was keenly aware of a shift in the air.

“The hot, dry winds of a desert night in the Middle East, when treachery and danger hid behind every rock. Well”—he shrugged—“it’s something you never forget. The night winds can lull a man into forgetting how precarious his situation is.”

Summer was willing to swear that the card with just one word vibrated in her fingers.

“This isn’t a business card, is it? Not in the classical sense. No name. No contact information.”

“We don’t advertise.”

Intrigued by this, she asked the obvious. “Why not?”

“Advertising is for amateurs.” His lip curled in a sneer. “We don’t dabble. There’s no room in our line of work for dilettantes. The inept make things worse. NIGHTWIND operates on a different level.”

“So when you make jokes about danger and act like it’s a non-issue, are you just being cocky or not?”

“I can handle an aging hag with blinders on and both hands tied. No cockiness required. Just stating a fact.”

The job thing seemed covered, more or less. Flogging the danger subject to death wasn’t going to change what she felt. That just left the matter of this family he so cavalierly dismissed.

Summer searched for her next words. What question should she ask? It took ten seconds to realize she had nothing. Dysfunctioning families were par for the

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