Love and Let Die

Chapter Eleven

“What the fuck are you doing with my hard drives?”

Why hadn’t he thought to have his bedroom soundproofed? Ian came awake to the shrill sounds of his sister-in-law fucking up his very carefully laid out plans. He’d planned on waking up and easing into Charlie’s pussy before she’d really opened her eyes. He’d planned on starting the morning better than the way they had ended the evening.

“Keep your fucking voice down.” Simon’s low command came through loud and clear.

“Do they have to argue in front of our room?” Charlie groaned a little and turned toward him. He’d freed her after she’d fallen asleep. He’d never really meant to leave her tied up all night. It would have done terrible things to her joints and made her awfully crabby. Sleepy eyes opened, and she laid her head on his chest.

It was simple to curl his arm around her, drawing her close. He hated the fact that her referring to the room as theirs sounded so fucking right. But he wasn’t going to fight it anymore. Fighting it had only made him miserable.

So he was having an affair. With his wife. He wasn’t going to look past that and keeping her alive for today.

“I swear to god if you don’t give me back my hard drives, I’m going to take your balls off.”

“I would love to see you try, little girl.”

Charlie whined a little. “Make them go away, Master.”

If only he could. He gave her a squeeze and rolled off the bed, not bothering with clothes. If they wanted to throw down outside his bedroom, they could deal with the fact that he had morning wood.

He threw the door open and Simon was standing over Chelsea, his face red. Ian could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “You two both shut the fuck up. Where’s Damon?”

Simon stood down. “He and Baz left early this morning. They’re meeting us at the office in a few hours.”

At least they hadn’t been listening to Chelsea scream about her hard drives. “Then why the fuck are you two standing outside my door, wrecking my morning? I had a late fucking night what with all the killing and burying bodies and listening to Alex hand his balls over to Eve.”

Chelsea turned, her face a stubborn mask. “I want to see my sister.”

Ian wanted a lot of things that he wasn’t going to get. “I want to fuck your sister but I can’t because the two of you won’t keep it down long enough for me to take care of business.”

There was a chuckle from behind him and then Charlie’s arm wound around his waist. Her body hugged his from behind. “You have no discretion at all.”

Sleep seemed to have done his sub a world of good. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d stopped the macho revenge bullshit. He’d halfway expected to wake up and find her missing, but instead, she’d been wrapped around him, a little smile on her face. “Discretion is useless in this case. Now, in your sister’s case, it could very likely get you killed if she keeps running around screaming about her hard drives.”

“I want them back.” Chelsea didn’t seem to be in the same good mood as her sister. Maybe Simon should have tied her to a bed.

“Not going to happen. I traded them for your sister’s freedom.”

Chelsea huffed a little. “Bullshit. I could have gotten us out of that. Charlotte, you can’t believe this asshole. He’s one of them.”

He waited for Charlie’s deeply detailed defense of him, but she just put her head against his back and sighed. “No, he’s not.”

Neat. Succinct. To the point. He liked it.

“Charlotte, you can’t let him do this to you,” her sister pleaded. Her face twisted in a little frown of disgust. “Can’t you put that thing away?”

His cock was tenting out of his boxers, poking its way through the fly. “I told you how to make it go away, but you’re still here.” Charlie chuckled behind him, her mouth on his back sending the little laughter reverberating through his skin. It did nothing to get his dick to slow down. “Besides, it looks like Simon there has wood of his own. You’re not complaining about that.”

Simon flushed. “God, you’re a fucking bastard, Taggart. It’s my deep pleasure to tell you that fucking your wife is going to have to wait. Liam’s on his way in. He bagged a Russian and he managed to not kill his, so we’re bringing him into the interrogation room in five.”

Fuck all. He really couldn’t screw his wife. Damn it. His day was already going to hell. “Fine.”

“You have an interrogation room?” Charlie asked, her voice incredulous.

“Doesn’t everyone?” He wasn’t going to apologize for having a proper home. Dungeon. Check. Interrogation room. Check. She didn’t even know that he’d turned the shed in the back into a detention cell. Now that he thought about it, he really had made this house into a home. He just needed Charlie to pick out shit like curtains. Should he put curtains in his detention cell?

“I’ll take this one off your hands.” Simon had an oversized paw on Chelsea’s elbow.

She pulled away from him. “Don’t think this is over. Charlotte, I don’t care how good he is in bed. You can’t let him wreck our future.”

“The future in which you blackmail high-ranking officials?” Charlie asked, finally showing some irritation. “The one where I get renditioned because you can’t keep your hands out of the pie? Just tell me you haven’t been hacking MSS. I don’t think even Ian can work a deal with the Chinese.”

Her sister flushed. “No. I stayed away from them. You have to understand that the officials I’m working over deserve it. If you only knew the kind of things they do, Charlotte.”

“I don’t have to know,” Charlie shot back. “You shut that shit down now. We’re out of the information business. If Ian can settle everything, we’re going to keep our noses clean and stay off the radar.”

Chelsea huffed away looking like a kid who had just had her favorite toy taken. Simon followed after her.

Ian turned to Charlie, allowing her to twist until she hugged him, his cock up against her belly, the easy intimacy comforting. “So you’re on board now?”

She turned her face up. God, he loved how pretty she looked without an ounce of makeup on. “You’re right. At least half of the people looking for me will go away if we give up the business, but Ian, you have to know that my uncle won’t stop. I can’t hide here forever.”

He had no idea what he would do with her if she could stay. There was still so much between them, so much he couldn’t trust about her. Still, he didn’t want to fight more. He hugged her close. “We’ll figure it out as we go along. Now go and take a shower and then deal with Miss Frowns A Lot. She and Simon would be so much happier if they would just get it over with and fuck.”

“That’s your solution to everything.”

It was his solution to his massive hard-on. Now that he was kind-of, sort-of done with shoving her away, he should really be able to fuck his wife. He had five years of fucking to make up for. He pressed his cock against her, his hands finding her hair. “It’s a really good solution.”

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to hold her still and explore her mouth lazily. They could start the morning right. His lips hovered right over hers.

“Ian!” Liam’s voice rang out. “I caught us a nice fat fish.”

There was a flurry of Russian curse words and Charlie tensed.

Fuck. He pulled her close, forgetting about his stupid, needed-more-than-it-was-going-to-get cock. “It’s going to be okay, baby. I’ll deal with this fucker.”

“Are you going to kill him?” There wasn’t an ounce of judgment in her question, just an offhand curiosity.

He’d thought about it, but he didn’t really want to bury the dude in his backyard and Alex’s was already full, so he was going to make another deal. “Li’s going to hold him here until the Agency can pick him up. They’ll take him along with the files and then it’s out of our hands. I really only have a couple of hours to talk to him, so go and get cleaned up. We have to be at the office by noon.”

She nodded and squeezed him one more time. “All right, Ian. I’ll watch out for Chelsea and make sure she doesn’t get into more trouble.”

He stared down at her. “You’re really going to take a shower? I expected a fight.”

She shook her head. “Nope. You take care of douche-nozzle assassins and I’ll make myself pretty.” She sobered a bit. “I trust you, Ian. I made a mistake the first time, but I’m not making it again. I love you. I’m handing this problem over to you. Please fix it for me.”

God, she couldn’t know what that did to him. It made him want to wrap her up and never let the world fucking touch her again. It made him want to stand between her and anything that came her way. “I will, baby.”

She walked away and after a moment, he heard the shower turn on.

“Hey, I’ve got the fucker in the interrogation room.” Li frowned. “What are you going to do, mate? Are you going to threaten him with your dick? You should put that thing away. You’re going to scare me with it.”

He flipped Liam off and went to grab his pants.

Ten minutes later, he stared at Yuri Zhukov, who looked a little worse for wear. “What did you do to him? Or was his nose always three inches from the middle of his face?”

Li smiled. “Nah, that was Karina. He got a little handsy with her, and she put him in his place. She’s a crazy bitch. I like her. I think she cheats at cards, though. And she broke a nail. She says that will cost you extra.”

Great. Now he was paying for mani-pedis. He glanced at the mirror to the side. Alex and Eve were behind that mirror, watching everything that happened. Eve would be profiling the man, talking to Liam through a Bluetooth device. “Did he say anything in the car?”

“Beyond ‘please don’t lock me in the trunk’ and ‘don’t kill me’? Some stuff in Russian, but the great news is I don’t speak a lick of it. It’s so much easier to kidnap people when you don’t speak their language. All the crying becomes background noise.”

Liam was talking out his ass, trying to get a rise out of the Russian. That much Ian got because the man he was describing was not the man sitting in the interrogation room. Zhukov was deadly silent, his face a mask of darkness.

And he damn straight spoke English. Everyone in the syndicate did. Of course, the good news was, Ian spoke Russian.

“Dobroye utro,” It was Russian for “good morning.”

A black brow rose above the assassin’s eyes. “Ah, someone who has brain in head. You must be Taggart. My boss send his regards.”

His boss had sent a couple of bullets his way, but at least they weren’t going to have to conduct the interview in Russian. “So, you’re going to drop the tough-guy act?”

“This is no act. I have been with syndicate for twenty years. Now I am dead man.”

Because the syndicate didn’t forgive and forget. Even if Zhukov managed to get away, they would assume he had been disloyal and kill him themselves. “The Agency will keep you safe from the syndicate for as long as you’re willing to talk to them.”

“Yes, I am sure their hospitality will be wonderful. I have heard so many good things from our Middle Eastern friends.”

Oh, the Agency was going to want to know about those friends. But Ian wanted to know about other friends.

He took out a picture of Eli Nelson. It was from the year before, but it was all he had. Nelson had been careful since London. “Let’s have a talk. As long as you’re truthful, I think you’ll like my hospitality.” It went without saying that if he didn’t, the opposite could be true. “Is your boss involved with this man?”

“My boss is involved with many such interesting people. He is businessman.”

“He is criminal.” Ian pointed to the picture. It wouldn’t do to give up that he was going to take out Denisovitch as well. “But my people don’t tend to mess with your people. We leave that to cops. I’m interested in this man.”

He studied the photo for a moment. “I know of this man. He works for a group that my boss is interested in.”

“A group?” Now that was new information.

Zhukov laughed a little. “Ah, then the great Taggart does not know everything. I rather thought this was truth. You have been out of game for too long. But then again, I am merely, how do you say? I am worker bee. I probably know nothing.”

Ian stared at the man.

Liam leaned over, whispering in his ear. “Eve says he’s ready to deal. Something about body language and being in control. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I think he just looks like an asshole.”

“Pass me the bottle.” If the Russian was ready to deal, Ian was ready to be more hospitable.

Liam passed him a bottle of vodka and two shot glasses.

The Russian’s eyes widened. “You are not barbarian after all.”

Ian poured out two nice-sized shots. One didn’t drink alone in Russia. “Of course not.”

Zhukov looked at the vodka. His hands were still tied in front of his body, but Ian was sure he was smart enough to know that he wasn’t going to get untied. No, he was waiting for the second reason Ian was drinking this morning. To prove he wasn’t trying to kill the fucker.

Ian picked up his shot glass. A toast was the way to start any important negotiation. “To your continued health.”

Because if he didn’t have something good, his health was in danger.

Zhukov held his up with clasped hands. “Yes, I think we could both use wishes for health.”

They clinked glasses and downed the entire shot.

“It’s eight in the morning. How can you drink vodka at this time of day?” Liam asked with a little shudder.

Zhukov shrugged. “Any time is time for vodka.”

Ian poured out another couple of shots. “So you were talking about a group.”

“Was I? Maybe there is group. Maybe there is not.”

“That’s interesting because just a moment ago, you sounded very sure.”

He downed another shot. “I am not on inside of syndicate.”

Bullshit. “You’re their top assassin.”

“I was favorite of old guard.”

“Of Vladimir Denisovitch?” Charlie’s father had run the syndicate for many years.

“He was like father to me. When his brother take over, he has his own favorite.”

Yeah, Ian had probably killed his “favorite” the night before, but he wasn’t going to tell Zhukov that. “So the new guard came in and you were on the outs.”

“You Americans have colorful way of saying things. Yes. I was no longer favorite.”

“Yet, he trusted you to come after his number one target.” There was no doubt in his head that Mikhail Denisovitch was obsessed with killing his niece.

“He did not send me alone.” Something about the man’s smile was off. Ian didn’t need Eve to tell him he was hiding something.

“Yes, he sent at least three of you. Do you care to give me an actual number of how many he put under contract for this job?”

There was a slow shrug of the assassin’s shoulder before he answered. “More than three.”

Great. That told him a lot. “Why does your boss want to kill his niece while he’s perfectly capable of doing business with the man who killed his brother?”

That seemed to flummox the man. His eyes tightened slightly, and he glanced back down at the photograph. “No. Charlotte killed her father.”

Ian shook his head, tapping at the image of Nelson. “This is the man who killed Vladimir Denisovitch. He exchanged his services as an assassin for Charlotte’s misdirection of an operative. He then used Denisovitch to cover his own criminal activities with the Agency.”

“Charlotte tried to hire assassin to kill her father, but she could not find a man to take job. We discovered who killed the boss because of this man. He come to Mikhail with documents Charlotte sent him proving she was trying to hire him.”

“And no one ever lied?” Why was Mikhail so ready to believe Nelson? “I happen to know that Charlotte was with me the morning Denisovitch was killed.”

She’d been at their flat in London and then she’d been dead.

“It is not long flight. It is four hours from Sheremetyevo to Heathrow. Easy flight to make when one wants to kill a man. This one has helped us in many ways since then. I think I believe man who helps over whore any day.”

A hand came on his shoulder. Liam. A silent reminder to stay calm. He needed it because he really didn’t like this tattooed motherfucker calling his wife a whore. He was the only one allowed to make that mistake. But he needed information from this man. He calmed himself and Liam’s hand disappeared, reaching out to refill the shot glasses.

“What kind of work does he do for you?” Ian asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Yes, I would, and the Agency would like to know as well. Have you ever been waterboarded? They say it’s like drowning over and over again. Just when you think it’s going to be over and death will be pleasant, that’s when they let you breathe again. Only for a few minutes. Just to get you ready for another round.”

Liam chuckled a little. “I’ve heard some stories about the Agency frying a man’s balls off. If they’re not careful enough with the torch, the damn things go up in flames. Tell me something. How’s your grooming routine, boyo?”

The man’s jaw tightened and his hands suddenly threaded together as though he was finally understanding that this wouldn’t be some simple stint in a comfy US jail. “He helps us with pipeline work.”

What the fuck? “Are you talking about what’s happening in the Samara Oblast?”

“You do not know. I thought you would know.” He suddenly looked like a man who might keep his balls on his body.

“Tell me what Nelson is doing in Russia.” Ian tried to come up with something. The mob tended to rule Russia. The last thing Ian heard was that Nelson was setting himself up as an arms dealer. Was he buying old weapons from the mob and selling them in Africa and the Middle East? What did that have to do with a pipeline?

“I think not. I think I keep this information for Agency or whoever shows up for me. I give this information to you and I have nothing to bargain with.” He smiled a little, showing uneven teeth. “I am surprised you do not know this. I would think the whore would tell her lover.”

“Ian,” Li began.

But Ian was a little sick of listening to this fucker and he was pretty sure their discussion was over. If he was in the man’s place, he wouldn’t give up the intel to anyone except a person in power either. Ian leaned forward, trying to keep his hands on the table instead of wrapped around the man’s throat. “You want to explain to me who you’re talking about?”

A humorless laugh came out of the assassin, and he pointed at the picture of Nelson. “I speak of your whore wife. She knows this man well. Very well.”

“Yes she does, because she hired him,” Ian insisted. He really didn’t like the insinuation the man was making.

“You have my computer. Maybe you should check it. We all get file on whore. I call her this because everyone in syndicate know how she stay alive so long. She fuck everything she can. Charlotte Denisovitch is called the Moscow Mare because so many of us ride her.”

Ian saw red. Pure grade-A blood-red filled his brain, his sight going to a weird almost watery version of the color. Blood pounded through his system, a violent rhythm. It was funny really. He didn’t even remember going over the top of the table. One minute his brain was trying to process what the man had said and the next Alex was pulling at him, shouting at him to stop because he had Zhukov on the ground, his chair thrown back and the table kicked away. Somehow he’d been the cause of all that chaos, but it didn’t matter now. He had one job to do in all the world, and he felt good about doing it.

“Ian, you’re killing him,” Alex yelled. “You have to stop.”

But Ian didn’t want to stop, not when the fucker had just started to turn blue and his eyes had begun to bulge. It wasn’t time to stop yet. He squeezed a little harder. The asshole’s throat was thick, but Ian easily handled it. His hands were big enough to do the job.

“Ian, stop it.” Liam was getting in on the action, trying to pry his right hand back.

“Ian, we need him alive.” Alex was on his left arm.

Neither man was making much progress. They didn’t really need this shithead. According to him, there were several more just like him, and Ian didn’t care who gave up the information. He did care about killing this motherfucker. He squeezed a little harder and managed to get his knee in the guy’s crotch.

An image of Charlie underneath this shitbag nearly seared into his brain. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t be rational about it. He no longer cared about the op or the deal or anything except killing the man who might have violated his wife.

“Ian, he was lying.” Eve was the only calm voice in the whole world. She knelt down, her face coming into view. “Please talk to me about this because I believe he was lying to put you in a bad position.”

Ian bared his teeth, looking down at the man who was only weakly fighting now. “Who’s in the bad position?”

“What’s happening?” Another voice finally pulled him out of his killing zone. “Ian?”

He dropped Zhukov and turned to Charlie. She was wearing yesterday’s clothes but her hair was still damp from her shower. She wore no makeup and looked young and vulnerable.

But then she would want to, right? A good agent knew to look the part. Charlie looked the part of the sweet, innocent sub who just needed her Dom to protect her, to love her.

Fuck. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to think about this. He couldn’t talk to her right now.

“Get ready. We need to go to the office.” He started to walk away.

“Ian, what did he say?” Her hand came up to stop him.

He stepped back. He couldn’t touch her right now either. His head was wrong. All he could see was his wife draped around Eli Nelson. Had she lain in bed with the fucker, plotting his downfall? Had she given up all her sweetness to the man and then turned around and tossed herself in Ian’s bed?

“It doesn’t matter. Get ready.”

“It does matter.” Her eyes filled with tears. She started to walk toward him, but Liam was there, pulling her back.

“Give him a little space, darlin’. He can’t talk right now. He needs to go and cool off before he speaks another word to you.” The words came out of Liam’s mouth like a warning and one Ian was definitely going to heed.

“Li, do you have this asshole’s computer?” He’d said there was a file on Charlie. Ian wanted to read that fucking file.

Charlie was staring at him, her face pale, but she let Liam hold her back.

“Yeah. Adam’s already got it. Boss, I think we shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” Li said.

“I want those files ready for me by the time I get to the office.” He stepped away, nearly running to his room where he shut the door and tried to get the image out of his head.

* * * *

Charlie looked back in the interrogation room, her whole heart sinking. “What did he say?”

Liam shook his head. “You got to talk to Ian about that.”

He wasn’t going to be helpful. Charlie looked to the other woman in the room. “Eve, please.”

Alex was hauling Zhukov up, forcing him to his feet. The assassin, for his part, was just trying to breathe. “Charlotte, you just need to give Ian a couple of minutes, okay? He’ll come to his senses.”

What did he need to come to his senses from? He’d been ready to kill Zhukov. She didn’t blame Ian for that. The assassin had been one of her father’s right hand men, a silent killer with evil eyes. She’d always been careful to steer clear of him.

Eve stepped forward. “Why don’t we go and fix some breakfast? Maybe that will put the men in a better mood.”

“Please tell me what he said,” Charlie asked, hating the near begging in her voice. Ian was a professional. Ian was cool and calm when he was working. The Agency wanted to talk to Zhukov so Ian would make sure they got the chance. Except he’d been about to kill the man, which meant Zhukov had said or done something so vile that it pushed Ian out of his icy professionalism.

“I tell him how you fuck every man in the syndicate, bitch. I tell him how much we all loved fucking you.” Zhukov’s voice was scratchy, used, but there was no way to hide the malice there.

She gasped, the enormity of it hitting her at once.

Ian believed him. There was no other explanation for him trying to kill the man or for looking at her like she’d caught something contagious. He believed Zhukov, a man who had never spoken more than ten words to her before today. Ian believed she’d slept with him.

And…oh, god, he thought she’d whored herself out to the syndicate.

Eve took her hand. “I told him I thought Zhukov was lying.”

“He didn’t believe you, bitch,” Zhukov choked out. “He knows truth now. Maybe he do my job for me and kill whore himself.”

“Get him out of here, Alex, before I finish the job for Ian,” Liam said, taking her hand and hauling her back. “I’m going to do what the boss damn well should have done. I’m going to take care of her.”

He hauled her out of the line of fire, moving toward the kitchen. Charlie followed, feeling like a zombie. Her legs moved. She was still breathing, but she felt dead inside.

Liam dropped her arm when they reached the kitchen. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair before heading for the coffeepot. He poured out a mug and placed it on the big country-looking table. “Sit down and drink some coffee, love. It’ll make you feel better.”

She sat and placed her hands around the ceramic of the mug, warming her skin. She hadn’t realized how cold she’d gotten.

“You don’t know what it was like in there, so get it out of your head. Ian’s a smart man. He’ll figure it out.” The Irishman sat down across from her, his mouth frowning.

“It sounds like he already figured it out.” She felt hollow on the inside. She’d thought for a moment that they were okay. Just for one tiny moment. The whole time she’d been in the shower, she was wondering how they would make it work.

“He’s being a jealous idiot. You have to give him some leeway. The man ain’t been in love before.”

“I slept with two men before Ian and none since.” The words came out as though she simply had to defend herself, but it didn’t matter. “I thought I was in love with one of them. He laughed at me after I gave him my virginity. He had a bet with some of the others that he could fuck the boss’s daughter. I was looking for comfort from the other. I didn’t find it. I certainly never touched Zhukov.”

“How about Nelson?”

She closed her eyes. Of course it had gone there. “Never. It doesn’t matter now.”

Liam watched her carefully, as though searching her face for anything that would tell him she was lying. “He seemed to think he had some sort of evidence.”

“It has to be doctored. I didn’t sleep with Nelson. I didn’t send him love notes. Nothing of the kind. I used the man to save my sister. That was all.” She used Nelson and then she’d stolen his cash.

What the fuck was she going to do now?

Liam’s cell phone buzzed. He looked down at it. “It’s Avery. I’ve got to take it. She’s getting her car looked at today. Thanks for helping her out last night.”

So that’s why he was being nice to her. She nodded as her sister walked in the room and Liam walked out. God, the last thing she needed was an “I told you so” from her sister. She stared down at the coffee, trying not to think about the way Ian had looked at her.

Chelsea slapped a hand on the table. “You can’t do this, Charlotte. We need to get out of here now. Do you honestly believe they won’t turn us over after they’re done with us?”

Charlie looked up and her sister had a stalker. Simon leaned against the doorframe, a guard letting them know they weren’t going anywhere.

“I don’t know,” Charlie replied.

Her sister slid into the chair beside her. “What do you mean you don’t know? I thought everything was hunky dory between you and the man meat.”

Her sister didn’t like Ian. That much was clear. “He thinks I slept with Zhukov.”

Chelsea’s jaw dropped. “Eww, that’s horrible. He’s like five hundred years older than you.”

“And Eli Nelson.”

There was a low “fuck” from the doorway that let Charlie know Simon’s ears worked just fine.

Chelsea frowned his way. “Go away, you pervert.” She reached for Charlie’s hand. “He is never going to trust you again. Can’t you see that? He’s not the kind of man who can forgive you. My god, he believes an assassin over you.”

“Or he needs some bloody time to think about it,” Simon interjected. “Did you consider that? You walked back into his life not two days ago and you expect him to keep up? You can’t give him five seconds to catch his bloody breath, can you?”

Simon had a point. So did Chelsea. One was all about logic and reason and one required some modicum of faith. Faith in Ian. Faith in the fact that she loved him.

“What kind of evidence could Zhukov have on me?” Charlie asked, her eyes coming up. “Ian said something about a computer and a file on me.”

Confusion crossed her sister’s face. “I don’t know.”

“You know everything, Chelsea.”

“I don’t know this.” Her arms crossed stubbornly. “I only know that you’re going to get us killed. Why are you doing this? Can’t you see it’s not worth our lives? It’s not worth our business.”

There was part of the problem. “It wasn’t supposed to be a business, Chelsea. It was supposed to be a way to stay alive. It was supposed to be protection, but you’re in too deep. You’ve gone places that could cost us more than our lives.”

“I did it for us. Information is power. We decided it a long time ago. If we couldn’t get out of this world, then we had to rule it. I figured out how to do that, Charlotte. We needed power to be safe.”

“We were never safe.” Except she’d felt that way last night. Even this morning, she’d felt safe walking away from a problem and leaving it in Ian’s hands.

“We were a hell of a lot safer than we are now. Now we have nothing and it’s all because you can’t keep it in your pants.”

She stared at her sister. When had she become the bad guy? She’d given up Ian for Chelsea. She’d done her duty.

“That’s the way you talk to your sister?” Simon said, frowning Chelsea’s way. “That’s the way you talk to the sister who sacrificed for you?”

“Stay out of it, Weston,” Chelsea shot back. “You don’t know anything.”

Simon wasn’t giving in. “I know enough to see a spoiled brat in front of me. I thought at first that you were just scared and on the run and that you probably needed someone to protect you, but that’s not your story at all.”

Chelsea sighed. “No, that’s not my story. I’m a powerful woman.”

“No, you’re a fucking scared little brat who’s willing to ship the only person who ever loved you out to a torture chamber if it means keeping your precious power. I’ve known men like you. They’re cold inside. They’re dead. Something disconnects and they can’t form bonds anymore so they treat the people around them like chess pieces, and they don’t tend to cry when their pawns die. They just find more.”

Chelsea flushed, her fists coming down on the table. “My sister is not a chess piece.”

“You’re treating her like one,” Simon said. “You hide behind her. You let her take the rap for the things you do and you don’t tell her everything, do you? Because you’re smarter than she is. You know better. She’s just a woman, but you’re something more. No one can touch you. Not really. You let whoever gave you those scars win. You let him turn you into a monster.”

Her sister slapped Simon right across his handsome face, but the Brit didn’t move an inch. “Go away. I am not telling you again.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone. I think I kind of like your sister and I owe my boss the world, so I’ll protect his woman when he can’t. Tell her the truth. Tell her about your connections to Nelson. You didn’t stop talking to him, did you?”

Betrayal bit through Charlie as Chelsea went stark white.

And said nothing.

Simon smiled, but it was a humorless thing. “It made sense. Once I started looking into The Broker, I knew it was you and not Charlotte. Charlotte did stupid shit like stopping terrorist plots and giving a million dollars to animal shelters. That was what you wanted her to think the ‘business’ was about.”

“The fucking poodles weren’t going to protect us,” Chelsea bit back.

“So you contacted Nelson because he knew the business and you wanted in. Tell me, did you contact him as Charlotte?”

“Chelsea?” She waited for her sister to tell her it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have been working with Nelson.

A long moment passed. “He didn’t want to talk to me. He always had a thing for Charlotte. She never saw it. If she hadn’t fallen for that Neanderthal, Nelson would have protected us. He had power.”

“What have you done?” At least she knew what kind of evidence Ian would find on her.

Chelsea stepped back. “I was just asking questions. Charlotte, I think he’s bigger than he seems. I think he’s connected to some very important people. I’ve started to see patterns that don’t make sense to me, and they come back to him. If I could get something on him, if I could make him work for us again, we could maybe figure out what’s happening and then we would be in such power.”

Her sister had gotten in far deeper than Charlie had ever imagined and she’d dragged her along. Everything she’d sacrificed was meaningless because her sister had just ensured she could never be redeemed in Ian’s eyes. And she’d placed them in a situation where Charlie couldn’t start a new life.

“You’re a lot like your father,” Simon said.

Chelsea stopped, her body going still. “I am nothing like him.”

“You ruined your sister’s life over power and money. I would say you inherited a lot from him. Did you think about taking over the syndicate yourself?”

“I am nothing like him.” Chelsea said it in an almost disbelieving voice. She turned and walked away.

And Simon stayed.

“I thought you were watching over her.” Charlie wanted to be alone, to let the hollowness sink in. Ian was lost. He would believe what he wanted to believe. He would believe whatever would allow him to go back into his comfortable shell and never come out again. Chelsea was lost, too. Charlie had done it to her. This was her fault. She should have insisted that her sister go to school, but she’d been so alone.

“She doesn’t need watching over. I thought for a minute she did, but that one will always take care of herself. You, on the other hand, you need a keeper, love.” Simon walked to the cupboard and pulled out a pot, filling it with water and placing it on the stove to heat. “Ian should be here, but he needs a minute or two.”

“I think that’s over, Simon.” Everything was over.

“Not at all. A man doesn’t nearly kill another man over a woman he doesn’t love.”

“What about a woman who betrayed him?”

“He’s being quite the drama queen about that. I watched him last night. Oh, he looked very calm and professional, but he was desperate to get you out of that situation with MI6. If he wanted to pay you back, you would be in Europe on your way to Egypt or the UAE right now. He wants you. You just have to make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

“I think I’ve tried everything.”

“How about simply staying?” Simon asked. “How about just giving him time? Just sit here and look pretty and vulnerable and don’t spout shit at him. I assure you he’ll come to the proper conclusions.”

“And what are those?”

“That you’re not capable of sleeping with the same men who broke your sister. You’re beyond that, love. You’re whole in a way she isn’t. I stayed up late last night looking over all your records. Yes, you took money from some corrupt bastards, but you also spread it out to women’s groups and child protection agencies. You’re a warrior, Charlotte. You’re a protector. You’re everything he needs in a partner.”

She shook her head. “I betrayed him. Chelsea’s right. He can’t forgive me.”

“Then he’s an idiot and you move on. You did what you had to do to protect your sister. She was your responsibility.”

“Yeah, I seem to have fucked that up, too.”

“No. She’s the one who chose her path. She should have followed your example. She’s…a very interesting woman, but at the end of the day, she’s been broken and it’s made her cold. You didn’t do that. Forgive yourself and move on. Forgive yourself for Ian, too, and you might have a shot at making it work.” Simon stood up, brushing his dress shirt back to an unwrinkled state. “You did your penance. I’m working on mine. Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we? Tea fixes almost everything, my mother used to say. A bullet tends to fix the rest.”

He went about preparing tea, but Charlie just stared out the window. Nothing was going to fix this, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

She looked out at the yard that could have been hers and wished she’d made different choices.