Against the Dark
“Okay, maybe bothered wasn’t the word—more needled him. Perhaps even whipped him into a lather. He’d taken her gun, held her listening device in his hand, questioned her. ABBA indeed.
It was as if her sheer hotness and the strange allure of her secrets had overridden his critical faculties. A safecracker.
Touché, he thought.
Because who would suspect a gorgeous Latina to be a safecracker? Or her friends—the blonde bombshell and the willowy black leader—to be criminal cohorts? Though, who would suspect a slightly nerdy looking math whiz like him to be capable of choking a man to death, of looking in his eyes as he dies? Or for sardonic Macmillan, with his professorial Hugh Grant act, to have fought three men to death in a pit in Peru? They were all playing on stereotypes. Camouflage was one of the jungle beasts’ main weapons.
She’d probably told the ABBA story to her friends.
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