Love and Let Die

Chapter Four

Ian gritted his teeth hard as his shoulder hit the concrete. He rolled to the left, tucking Charlie close to his body as he tried to maneuver them to the trees that lined the walkway.

Panic was spreading. The minute the shot rang out, there were screams and shouts, and the people who had been milling around in front of the building had scattered.

He wasn’t carrying. What the hell had he been thinking? Charlie had his head in a mess.

“Ian, are you all right?” At least she was calm. Most women Ian knew would be screaming by now. They would be fighting him. But Charlie had completely relaxed in his arms, making it easy for him to roll her out of harm’s way. She’d trusted him to take care of her.

“I’m not hit if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Boss?” Jacob Dean was suddenly at his side, and he hadn’t forgotten his firearm.

“I thought I told you to stay upstairs.” Ian brought his head up. There was a row of oleanders to his left. They were roughly four feet tall and thick. They would suit his purposes nicely. “Get us some cover. He’s probably done, but I can’t take the chance.”

Because the minute he’d seen the glint of a scope reflecting off the window, he’d had a vision of Charlie lying in a pool of her own blood. Was this just his fate? To always see her like that?

Jake moved, his gun at the ready. He placed himself in danger so Ian didn’t have to put Charlie there. “I think he’s done, too, boss. The cops are already on their way. Move, now.”

Ian was up on his feet, but he kept his head down and covered Charlie as he lifted her up. Three long strides and they were safely behind the bushes. Trees were at their backs. If the fucker wanted to take a shot now, he would have to get damn lucky.

“Adam’s already pulling the security tapes. The cops will want them because they’re going to try to identify who the intended victim is. Standard procedure. I figured we should keep Mrs. Taggart’s face out of the papers since she’s probably got a couple of agencies looking for her.”

Fuck. He hadn’t even thought about that. In the distance, he could hear sirens wailing.

“She’s not Mrs. Taggart,” Ian said, his teeth locked in a grind.

“I have the papers to prove it,” Charlie replied.

There was no point in arguing now. They didn’t have the time.

“So who’s trying to kill you, Charlie?” There was no doubt in his mind this was all about her.

“Maybe someone was trying to kill you,” Charlie shot back, a frown turning those gorgeous lips down. “Have you met yourself? I can think of any number of people who you’ve pissed off enough to try their hand at a little assassination.”

She wasn’t entirely wrong, but Ian knew damn well this wasn’t about him. “Charlie? The cops will be here any minute. How much do I have to lie to them?”

She shook her head. “Not at all because you don’t actually know anything.”

How could he go from saving her life to wanting to strangle her in less than ten seconds? “You are going to go back upstairs with Jacob because god only knows what the cops have on you. You’re going to my office and you will stay there. Is that understood?”

The sweetest smile flashed across her face. “Yes, Master. I will absolutely obey that dictate. Jacob?”

Jake helped her up. “I’ll take her through the back. I think I can make it without losing cover. Adam will shut down the cameras, and he’s already got a call in to Brighton.”

Derek Brighton was their DPD contact. He was also a Dom at Sanctum. If Ian was going to have a chance of not getting Charlie involved in this, he would need Derek.

He watched as Charlie followed behind Jake. She was calm and collected. No one would ever think she’d damn near had her head taken off by a sniper.

It wasn’t sexy. Nope. It was annoying. He tried to tell himself he would like it better if she was one of those women who would scream and cry and be terrified.

He found those women to be deeply annoying.

That was it. He never really loved her. He just liked the fact that she was quiet during a shootout. Yeah. That had to be it.

Just as Charlie disappeared into the maintenance door, the cops showed up, sirens wailing, tires screeching. They couldn’t be quiet during a shootout either.

But they could fuck everything up.

Ian couldn’t let that happen. This had just become his op.

Two hours later, he was finally able to go back to his office, having convinced the officers that it must have been a car misfiring since there was only the one sound. People, he’d told the officers, were just too jumpy these days.

While the police were talking down frightened onlookers, Alex had already found the bullet and started his own investigation.

“I want to know where the fucker was, what he was shooting, and who he fucking works for,” Ian said, walking into the conference room.

Adam was sitting in the back, his head down as he typed. Jake and Alex were staring at a bullet casing through the plastic bag it was held in.

Grace was holding Phoebe’s hand as she breathed in through her inhaler. She sent Ian a dirty look. “Really, Ian? What is wrong with you? You made her walk up fifteen flights of steps?”

“I didn’t make her do anything. She took one look at the elevator and ran the other way.” Again, another reason to prefer Charlie. Phoebe was a pretty woman. She had curves in all the right places, though she attempted to hide them all. She pretended to be frumpy, but there was a lovely body under all those clothes. Unfortunately, she also seemed to have a ton of fucking inhibitions. If he’d told Charlie she was late, she would have shot him the finger and gotten on the elevator.

The elevator. He’d forgotten how much she hated them. She was painfully claustrophobic, but she still got on them. He would never forget the way her hands shook, but she could keep her face perfectly placid. Only the fine tremble in her hands gave away that anything was wrong.

“She’s got to take a self-defense class or something,” Jake said, sighing. “That is the single subbiest female I have ever met in my life. Okay, Charlie’s fine. She’s been on the phone with her sister.”

“Did you tape the conversation?”

Grace gasped. “Tape the conversation? He wouldn’t do that.”

“Of course,” Jake replied, ignoring her entirely. Security protocols weren’t part of Grace’s employment training. “I texted Alex with a 540 right before I brought her up the maintenance elevator. She was a little shaky.”

Not about the shooting, but the elevator would do that to her. “Good.”

“What is a 540?” Grace asked.

He should have cleared the room, but at the end of the day, Grace was family and Phoebe did a decent job. They deserved to know how McKay-Taggart operated. Though he would never tell them about a 640. It was code for what to do if they all came under fire. Grace, Eve, Phoebe, and any other women were to be protected first and foremost to the point of the men giving their lives. Every single man he employed had to agree to the protocol. Even the latest, Jesse. He’d practically jumped up and down at the prospect. That was when he’d known he would hire the little fucker. Underneath his puppy dog exterior, he was a protector. He was a Dom. “It’s a code for watch and observe. Alex turned on the cameras in my office. Adam’s been watching her from the moment she walked in.”

“Her sister said she’d call her back, but that she thought she had a line on someone. Charlotte didn’t bother to mention she’d just been shot at,” Jake explained. “She told her sister to call her back and now she’s waiting.”

“She seems to like to smell things, boss.” Adam looked up. “She’s been smelling the jacket you keep in your office. She’s nosy, too. She’s looked through all your drawers. She also called out for pizza. She doesn’t act like a woman who’s terribly worried about being shot at.”

“Because she’s used to it.” He wondered just how many times something like this had happened to her. What had the last five years really been like? If she was telling the truth and she’d walked away from both the syndicate and screwed Eli Nelson, then her every moment had to be a delicate balance of working to stay alive. The Russians alone would be hell to stay clear of, not to mention someone with Nelson’s talents.

Absently, he reached over and grabbed a donut. It had been a nasty day. He needed it. He watched the monitor on Adam’s computer. Charlie was sitting at his desk, her legs curled into her chest as she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. He could see the long line of her throat and how it sloped gracefully toward the curve of her breasts. Though the camera was black and white, he knew how perfect her skin was, the only thing marring it being the scars, and yet he’d always paid such attention to them. He’d kissed her scars over and over, tracing them with his tongue as though they were a roadmap to the woman and he could learn her through touch and taste.

He bit into the donut and nearly sighed. Lemon. He fucking loved lemon. Tart. Sweet. Tangy. Just like Charlie.

“Hey, I brought you some coffee. Do you want me to clear these out, Ian?” Grace held a mug of coffee in her hands and gestured to the boxes of donuts.

“Hey, I’ve only had one,” Adam said, jumping up, his hands reaching straight for the lemons, the little fucker.

Ian batted him away. “Mine.”

“Dude, there are like thirty donuts left.”

“Anything else, but the lemons are mine.” How long had it been since he indulged in something as simple as a lemon-filled donut? Forever. He took a sip of the coffee Grace had handed him and his eyes closed in pleasure. “Oh, that is so good. Did you change coffee brands?”

Grace had the oddest look on her face as she stared up at him. “No, after what Charlotte said earlier, I thought I would try something new. I made it three times stronger than I normally would.”

Adam shuddered. “It tastes like motor oil.”

“Shut the fuck up, Adam. It tastes like heaven.” Yeah, he would have Grace teach his new sub how to make his coffee. Because he was still totally doing that. Charlie had made him deeply aware that he needed an outlet. Just because she remembered he liked lemon donuts and how he wanted his coffee didn’t make up for the whole screwing him over thing.

“You know what would take the motor oil taste out of my mouth?” Adam asked. “Lemon.”

“Fuck you. Buy your own lemon donuts.”

Grace sighed. “Also Derek Brighton is here. I put him in Alex’s office. Yours was full.”

He picked up what was left of the box and walked out. “Alex. Your office. Now.”

“Awesome,” he heard Adam say as he walked out. “I hate it when he stops using verbs. If I get scurvy it’s his fault for hogging the lemons.”

Alex caught up to him. “The bullet is a .30 caliber. It doesn’t tell us much. Probably from a sniper rifle. Simon and Jesse are working on trajectory. They’re pretty sure the shooter was roughly seven or eight stories up and to the northwest. There are two hotels that might work. Sorry. We can’t be more specific without bringing out some equipment that would tip off the cops.”

“I would bet you’re going to find that the rifle used was a Dragunov. It’s what the Denisovitch syndicate uses. They believe in supporting Mother Russia. They also tend to work clean. Tell Simon to try to figure out what room he was in, but I would bet my life they won’t find a damn thing. Our shooter’s gone.” He took another bite of his donut. It was the only fucking thing that had gone right all day. “Shit. She needs to leave.”

“Or we need to protect her,” Alex suggested.

“Or we need to let them take her out and then all my problems would be solved.” He said the words and knew he would never fucking let it happen.

“Ian,” Alex sighed.

He was deeply grateful to be able to push through Alex’s door. He didn’t want to get into it with Alex. Ever since Alex and Eve had reconnected, Alex had been all about his freaking feelings and shit. Now Alex expected him to have feelings, too. Come to think of it, that was Charlie’s fault. All bad things were Charlie’s fault.

All good things came from lemon cream.

“Derek, good to see you.” Ian greeted the big cop who paced across the floor of Alex’s office.

Derek Brighton had been on Ian’s Green Beret team. Ian kept up with all his former team mates, but he’d always been close with Derek. When Ian and Alex had looked for a city to start a business in, it had been Derek who advised them to move to Texas. Derek was their liaison with the DPD, and they needed him far more often than Ian would like.

“I would love to say the same, but I’m more inclined to ask why the fuck I have two investigators downstairs who firmly believe that a possible terrorist attack was nothing more than a car backfiring.”

And Derek was smarter than the average cop. Still. He had to give it a shot. He finished off his donut and took a nice swig of coffee. “Oh, that? Yeah, I was down there. Some asshole needs to get his exhaust checked. Freaked the hell out of the tourists.”

Derek frowned. “Really? Just the tourists? Because I’ve been doing this for longer than the beat cops and I managed to notice that the shop across the street has CCTV and one of them is pointed this way. Guess what I saw?”

Mother flying fucker. He was going to crucify someone. “No idea.”

“I saw you, big guy. I saw you figure out what was going to happen about two seconds before it did. What did you see? Glint off the window? Somehow I’m thinking that didn’t come from a fucking exhaust problem, Tag.”

He was screwed. Or maybe not. Brighton was a reasonable man. “Why aren’t the cops swarming me right now?”

“Because the last thing this city needs is a terrorist threat,” Brighton said, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

“I don’t think it’s a terrorist threat,” Alex said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“So who did Ian piss off? Is the CIA finally moving past burning him to actually killing him?” Derek asked.

“I didn’t get burned.” Television was going to be the death of the intelligence officer. “I walked away.”

He had gotten burned. Just not by the Agency. Charlie had burned the holy fuck out of him. She’d burned so hot he couldn’t help but get singed.

“We have it under control,” Alex said.

“I need more than a reassurance.” Derek was unmoved, his square jaw tightening. “I need to know what’s going on. Were they gunning for Ian? Will they try again?”

This should be the point at which he would turn Charlie over to the DPD and let them deal with her. She would be out of his hair. He wouldn’t have to see her again. She was right in his office and all he had to do was walk Derek down the hall and explain that she was very likely on several Most Wanted lists. He grabbed another donut. He was going to have to hit the gym.

“What’s wrong with him?” Derek asked.

“He’s thinking.” Alex knew him really well. “He’s plotting some shit out in his head, and I have to really, really hope that he does the right fucking thing here.”

Well, he knew what Alex wanted. He sighed. He wasn’t going to be rushed. Fuck, that tasted good. The combination of tart and sweet and the bitter of the excellent coffee was practically perfect.

Of course, if he gave her up, she would be taken into custody and very likely dead in the next twenty-four hours, and not in the “come back in five years” kind of way.

That was bad, how? He could let her go and find his dream sub—a hot little sub who never questioned him and cooked better than Sean and deeply enjoyed anal. He didn’t know if Charlie liked anal. She probably would if he did it. He was really fucking good at it. But he wasn’t going to do it.

Eli Nelson would be happy if she died. Well, Nelson would be happy if he believed Charlie’s bullshit story about screwing him over. Could he totally discount it? He didn’t want to ever make Nelson happy. Therefore he couldn’t turn Charlie in.

Decision made.

“Eli Nelson is gunning for me.”

Alex let loose a long breath of relief. “I was worried you wouldn’t tell the truth.”

Ian shrugged. “I’m practically George fucking Washington. I cannot tell a lie.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sure. Am I looking at a sniper running around Dallas?”

Likely not. At least that he could be honest about. “You know how the pros are. They take their shot and then they dive deep. The last thing they want is a city on the edge. I’ll be on guard, and Simon and Adam are already working on figuring out who Nelson hired. We’ll take care of it. All you do if you bring the force into it is cause yourself and the city a mega shit ton of problems. Oh, and if you want the national media focused on every little problem the DPD has, you could call this a random sniper attack. It’s not. It’s about me, and that means it’s going to end up being classified. Save yourself and the city a whole lot of trouble. It was a car backfiring.”

Derek cursed under his breath. “Fine. But I fucking swear I will have your guts if you’re lying to me and there’s another attack. My ass is on the line here, Tag.”

“So is mine and I can protect it better if we keep this quiet.”

Derek nodded and started for the door. “I’ll leave it be for now. I’m informing my CO.” Derek often slipped into military lingo. “But he’ll be okay with it. By the way, who’s the girl?”

“The girl?” Damn it. He didn’t need Derek looking into her.

“The female you protected,” Derek prompted.

Alex snorted a little. “Ian took a new sub.”

That motherfucker. Ian forced a grin on his face. “Hot little thing. Though I worry she might get scared off. You know, after today. She’ll probably be gone tomorrow. You know how women can be. One little attempted murder and they’re on to the next guy.”

Alex shook his head. “Nah, she’s made of sterner stuff than that. You should meet her, Derek. She’ll be at Sanctum tonight.”

“All right,” Derek said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her tonight. I’m alone so watching the big guy get taken down by a sub might make my day worthwhile.”

Alex had fucked him hard. Ian scrambled. He never fucking scrambled. “I decided to take a couple of full-time subs. She’s just the first. I’m auditioning, if you know what I mean.”

Derek studied him for a moment. “I do. I’m a little lonely, too. I don’t think I could handle two, though. Maybe just one. Hell, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just start taking applications. I’ve avoided it because I know Amanda would apply. Fuck, man, couldn’t you keep out the subs I have to work with? See you tonight.”

Amanda was the brat bitch of Sanctum. Ian was pretty sure she was nasty to all the other subs, but no one had asked him to take care of her, so he was leaving it alone. Sometimes the subs needed to work out their own problems.

He wondered how Charlie would handle Amanda’s brand of mean girl. That might be fun to see.

Derek strode out the door, and Ian turned on his best friend the minute it slammed shut. “You’re a bastard.”

Alex just smiled. “My parents are still happily married.”

“You know what I mean. What the hell was that?”

“That was about giving you a chance despite yourself. You’re not thinking about this. You need to take two fucking minutes. Your wife came back from the dead.”

“No, according to everything I know she came back from St. Augustine.” He didn’t need this shit. Now he had to take her to Sanctum tonight. He had to dress her up in fet wear and walk beside her and pretend to be her Master. That was Alex’s fault.

Alex ran a hand across his head, obviously frustrated. “She saved me, man. She brought me back together with Eve. Why would she do that? She walked in front of a bullet. I would be dead. That bullet was headed straight for my damn heart. Give me one reason why she would do that beyond the fact that she loves you and she’s trying to make her way back to you.”

He couldn’t even consider that. “Or you’re pissed at me.”

Alex’s eyes rolled. “Why would I be pissed at you?”

He didn’t have a really good answer for that. He actually treated Alex like gold. Alex was his brother the way Sean was his brother. One by DNA and history, the other by sacrifice and blood. “It doesn’t matter now. You’ve set me on a path. I have to take her to Sanctum tonight. The place will probably blow up.”

“I’ll call Ryan and put some security protocols into place.”

Security protocols wouldn’t save Charlie. God only knew how many bullets would be flying her way.

Because she isn’t on the move. Because she’s staying here for you. She took the bullet meant for Alex for you. Why didn’t she kill you before? It would have been more expedient. Why come back now?

His inner voice sucked ass. And was a little naïve.

He set down his coffee and walked to the window. Alex’s office was next to his. They shared a spectacular view of the city. Was Charlie standing next door, looking out at the same set of buildings? Was there really only a wall separating them?

“Hey, I would love to know where your head’s at, man.” Alex stepped up. “You should know I was joking about why we stayed. We couldn’t leave you. I know you’re going to think it’s stupid and it would make you vomit, but I would never leave you alone to deal with this. You might not want my advice, but I’ve watched you mourn her for five years. You loved that woman. I know she betrayed you and if your final decision is to let her go, then I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t come near you again. But I think you need her. You either need to give it another shot or you need closure, and you can’t get that if you don’t talk to her. You might not give a shit that I’m here, but I am here if you need me. Eve is here if you need her. Sean is here. I know you think you’re alone, but you have a whole family around you.”

He was definitely going to vomit. And he felt oddly secure.

Would he have this weird family around him if he’d stayed in the Agency? He doubted it. He would have drifted further and further from them. He would have been forced to hide so much of his life from them that being around them would hold no meaning.

If he’d spent the last five years in the CIA, would he even know his brothers anymore? Or would Sean and Alex have drifted away, their lives meaningless to his plots? He knew himself. He didn’t lie. He’d enjoyed the plots, loved pitting himself against others in a deadly little game. He’d gotten a rush off it. He’d been a little obsessed with it.

Until he’d found something he was more obsessed with. Charlotte. Charlie.

Had she saved him from a life that held absolutely nothing but the game? He would never admit it but he loved Grace. She had rapidly become the heart of his little family. Grace and Sean and Carys. His niece. He liked the way she looked at him, with a little bit of wonder. There was nothing but pure love in his niece’s eyes, and it had cleansed him in a way.

Would he have held Carys in his hands if Charlie hadn’t found her way into his life?

Likely not. She probably wouldn’t exist because he would never have started McKay-Taggart and Sean would never have met Grace.

He didn’t like the feeling that he owed Charlie anything at all. It wasn’t like she meant to keep him from a family-less life.

“Do you want another donut?” Alex stared out, not looking at him. His hand was out, a sugary bit of confection sitting there.

He took the fucking bait. “I don’t want to talk.”

“Cool.” Alex nodded. “We can just stand.”

Ian stood with his best friend.

Maybe he wasn’t so alone.

* * * *

Charlie let the chair twist to the left and then the right. It was a big leather chair, solid and well built, like the man it belonged to.

Was it brutally pathetic of her that it had been worth it to be nearly murdered because she’d been in his arms for a few seconds? She hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t reacted herself. She’d just trusted him.

Was he about to toss her out again? Her phone rang. She looked at the incoming number before answering. “What’s up, Chelsea?”

“Okay, it’s official. Yuri Zhukov’s in town. He’s traveling under a Polish passport, but I found the fucker.” Her sister sounded almost chipper, like finding out a highly paid Russian assassin had found them was a thing to celebrate. God, she was so tired. So fucking tired.

So at least she knew who was taking shots at her. “I’m glad you found him, but you were a little late.”

There was a pause on the line. “What happened? Fuck. The shooting downtown that turned out to be a car backfiring? That was about you?”

So that’s how Ian had played it. She’d wondered exactly how he was going to keep the cops out of it. “It wasn’t a car. I’m pretty sure it was Zhukov, but Ian took care of it.”

“How did he take care of it?”

“He threw his body over mine and then handled the cops.” Which was a really good idea because if he hadn’t, there was every likelihood that her face would have gotten into the system and the minute that happened, she would have more than Zhukov on her ass.

“We need to move,” Chelsea said.

Yes. That was the protocol. The minute they even had a hint that someone from the syndicate knew where they were, they left town. Sometimes they left the whole damn country. But she’d known the minute she’d started the St. Augustine op that she wouldn’t be leaving again. She would fix the problem and get her husband back or the fuckers could take her down. She was done. That didn’t mean Chelsea had to be. “I want you to go. Head to the islands for a while. You like it there.”

“You want me to leave you here? That’s insane. Charlotte, that man is going to get you killed.”

“That man” was right behind her. Oh, he moved silently, but she had years of practice in making sure she always knew if someone was stalking her. Her teen years had been one long lesson in always knowing her surroundings, in memorizing and cataloging anything that could help her to survive. The memory of his scent had helped her to survive these last few years. He still used the same soap, clean and masculine. She breathed it in. She turned and her heart skipped a little beat. It was still amazing to be in the same room with the gorgeous bastard. Her eyes held his as she replied to her sister.

“You’re probably right, but I’m going to take the chance. Chelsea, you knew this was where I was going. I never lied to you about what I wanted. I love you. Leave me a note if you’re heading out.” She clicked the phone off over Chelsea’s vigorous protests.

She turned it off because there was no way her sister didn’t call back.

“Your sister?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes. She thinks it was a man from my father’s syndicate.”

“Zhukov or Sobrev?”

Charlie frowned. “Zhukov. How did you know that?”

Ian shrugged a little. “Maybe I’m the one who hired him.” He set the coffee down on his desk as she gave him her best stare. “Fine. I happen to know that the syndicate has two long-term assassins they use. I made a study of your father’s organization after they became involved with my Irish operation.”

Liar. He’d made a study of her father’s syndicate after he thought they killed her. But she was going to leave him his pride. “Zhukov arrived at DFW under a Polish passport.”

Ian grunted a little. It was his preferred method of communication. She’d learned to interpret his many guttural, caveman-y sounds. This one was his agreement grunt. “Not surprising. He’s the senior of the two. They must really want you dead.”

It was time for some more honesty. “I’m surprised. I thought they would nab me, not just kill me. I know a couple of things they would probably really like to get the lowdown on.”

His eyes narrowed. “Did you steal money from the Russian fucking mafia?”

She really wished she could say she hadn’t. “I thought of it as my inheritance.”

“Goddamn it, Charlie.” When he growled at her like that she actually felt cared for. She was so fucked up.

“I could give it back. In the years since I took it, I’ve made ten times that.”

“Do I dare even ask how you managed that? Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Because he knew her really well. Again, something that gave her hope. But she didn’t mention all the information she’d sold over the last couple of years. She’d tried to do good with it, but she wasn’t sure Ian would see it that way. She was absolutely certain that the world’s intelligence agencies didn’t see her as a force for good. She’d heard they had a code name for her—The Broker. Hopefully, Ian never had to find out about that. “Did you have a hard time with the police?”

“I have contacts. It’s fine. You’re in my chair.” Ian frowned down at her.

She gracefully stood. “Of course, Master.”

Ian tossed his big body into the chair and flipped open his laptop. “I have Simon working on who took that shot, but I need you to keep your head down. He’ll try again.”

So he wasn’t going to toss her out. Wasn’t that interesting? It would have been the easiest thing to let the police take her. Once she was in the system, it wouldn’t be long before someone came calling. There were several governments who would love to get their hands on her. He wouldn’t ever have to deal with her again. So he’d made his choice.

But then she’d made hers, too. She would deeply prefer to stay with Ian and that meant following protocol. She sank to her knees. “Yes, he will try again and likely soon. Zhukov is very impatient. I guess they’ve decided to cut their losses and take me out.”

She let her head sink onto his lap, the way she used to. He could sit for hours just petting her while he worked. It seemed to soothe him. For those hours she could let her thoughts drift because she was safe. She’d been able to daydream, and every thought had been about him.

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his thigh and almost immediately felt his quick and sure interest.

But his whole body went utterly still, like a rattlesnake had wrapped itself around him, coiled and ready to strike. “Charlie? Would you like to tell me what you’re doing?”

Getting her husband back. “You think better with a sub at your feet.”

“I’ve never had a fucking sub at my…” Ian stopped. “You should get up now.”

He’d never had a sub at his feet but he’d had a wife there. Just her. Only her. She had to remind him just how good it could be between them. She’d noticed that he’d brought the lemon donuts in with him. He needed her. He was so rigid. He didn’t allow himself anything, not even comfort. She’d grown to truly understand this man. Despite the fact that he came off like a big bad take-nothing-from-no-one Dom, he was actually a service-oriented top. It was what no one at the club she’d met him at understood. Ian needed to serve his sub, to meet her needs before his own were met. It was why he hadn’t taken the time to explain to Grace how he liked his coffee made. If he did that, if she changed her ways for him, he would owe her. He didn’t like to owe anyone.

But he did believe in the power exchange.

“I was very scared, Mast…Ian.” She didn’t need to push at this point. She just needed him in the right frame of mind. She let her eyes drift up. His hand was moving, carrying the lemon donut to his mouth. He was enjoying the treat she’d bought for him. He would enjoy this, too, if she just phrased it in the proper way. “Could I just have a few moments? It would relax me. I feel like I’m on the verge of tears, and I know how you hate them.”

He groaned a little. “You don’t have tear ducts, Charlie.”

Not true. She’d cried more over him in the last five years than she’d cried in all the years before. He held the key to her emotions. When she’d met him, it had been years since she allowed herself the release of tears. She couldn’t help herself. She rubbed her cheek against his thigh again, reveling in being so close to him.

He didn’t touch her. In the past he would have petted her head, his palm stroking her softly as he worked. But there was nothing from him now.

Then again, he didn’t toss her out on her ass. It was progress.

A long moment passed where she heard him sigh and tentatively relax into his chair. Even his muscles seemed to uncoil and accept the situation.

“What do you know about Eli Nelson?” There was the sound of his coffee mug scraping against the desk as he sat it down again.

A dangerous question, but one she had to answer.

“I can send you the file I have on him, but it’s spotty at best. I can tell you that he’s involved with my uncle.”

Ian used his sarcastic grunt this time. “Does that really surprise you? You stole money from both of them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. It only made sense that they would help each other out.”

She really hated her uncle. Mikhail Denisovitch had been her father’s right hand man. She had a couple of cousins who had been okay, but they were still syndicate men. She had no doubt they would kill her on sight if they had to. It wouldn’t matter that they’d hung out together and laughed. Denisovitch men were loyal to the syndicate first and blood later.

“I know he’s met with my uncle a few times. I’m sure he claims he found the information that I was the one who hired the assassin. He didn’t do it himself, of course. I have no doubt everything looks perfect. The man knows how to set a woman up.”

The tension was back in his legs. Damn. She shouldn’t have mentioned that. His voice was a low rumble. “Yes, he certainly does.”

She needed to get him thinking about the present. “He knows what he’s doing and how to stay off the radar. Most of what I’ve learned is because his contacts fucked up. It’s almost never him. In the beginning I got a ton of info, and when I would follow it through, he was waiting there to try to take me out.”

“How do you know the Indian lead isn’t the same thing?”

She’d wondered about it. “I don’t, but it doesn’t follow his pattern. No one can really cover every bit of his trail these days. There are too many CCTV cameras. I think that’s why he left England.”

“He was done in England. He was through fucking with my team. He did exactly what you said, baby. He set us up to do his dirty work so he could walk out with the prize—an already set up network of arms dealing. I managed to shut that shit down, but it took some maneuvering.”

Ah, the joys of habit. He’d always called her baby. His fingers drummed along the table, a sure sign that he didn’t know what to do with them. She could tell him where to put his hands, but she thought he wouldn’t take suggestions kindly at this point.

“So he’s looking for a new racket. I’ll have Chelsea look into this Kashmir guy.”

“No, I’ll have Adam do it. You and Chelsea should be on a plane going somewhere that is absolutely one hundred percent not here.”

She needed him to understand that leaving wasn’t an option. “I am not leaving again, Ian. I’m making my stand here. I’ve spent five years on the run, and I’m tired. I want a life. I want it so bad, I’m willing to risk the one I have now. I want to be your wife and have some babies and be your sub. If you throw me out, I’ll sleep on the street outside your house because you need me. You need me and no one else.”

He pushed his chair back, seeming not to care that he jostled her. “You should go and sit with Eve. No. Phoebe. Eve would talk to you. Phoebe’s scared of her own shadow.”

She settled back on her heels, looking up at him. “I would rather be with you.”

His jaw formed a stubborn line. “You can sit with Phoebe or leave my building. It’s one or the other. I’m willing to give you some shelter because I’m not sure if you’re playing me or not, yet. I can’t let you go if you have information I need, but I’m not going to play the devoted lover again, so get out of my office.”

Damn it, she’d pushed him. She’d always been so impatient about the things she really wanted. It was her Achilles’ heel. She got to her feet with no help from him. “All right. I’ll go and sit where you want me to. May I have a computer?”

Those arctic blue eyes narrowed. “So you can blow up the world?”

He was a deep believer in hyperbole. She ignored him. “So I can make some notes about what I know.”

“Just send me the file you have. I’ll make my own notes.”

He could be so stubborn when he wanted to be, and he almost always wanted to be. “Damn it, Ian. I can’t just sit there for six hours or so until we go home.”

“I’m not taking you home, Charlie. Because of Alex, we have to go to Sanctum tonight. If you don’t effectively play the role of my sub, our cover with the DPD could be blown. So maybe you should sit around and think about obeying me. Go.” He pointed to the door. “Don’t you dare cause any trouble. I swear if I hear you even talking to someone, I’ll tie you up and gag you, and not in a fun way.”

He would do it. But she’d just been given the keys to the kingdom. She was going to have to make sure she sent Alex McKay a little thank you note. “Yes, Master.”

“I am not your Master.”

“If it walks like a Dom and delivers orders like a Dom, it’s usually a Dom. If he’s brutally sarcastic, he’s my Dom.”

Ian caught her arm, whirling her around. “I mean it, Charlie. I am never going there with you again. That part of my life is done. I might fuck you again because Alex has put us into a horrible position and we always seem to end up in bed, but it’s only going to be sex. I won’t allow you in again. Do you understand? I’m trying to warn you. If you let me, I’ll tear you up and I’ll enjoy it. I’ll take everything I can and give you nothing in return except pain and regret.”

But he’d already saved her life. “I understand. I’m willing to risk it.”

He loomed over her. His presence sent her every nerve into overdrive. He closed in on her, forcing her back against the wall. She was suddenly so aware of her body—the way her nipples peaked, her breath picked up, her pussy ached.

“That’s not very smart, Charlie.” He stared down at her. If she didn’t know him the way she did, she would have sworn he wasn’t affected at all. His face was emotionless, his body all intimidation. But she heard the way his voice had deepened and she expected that if she just reached out a hand, she would find his cock hard and wanting.

She hesitated because touching him when he was in this state without permission would be a bad idea. Her Master needed his control back. She was going to give it to him. “I think it’s the only smart thing I’ve ever done.”

He leaned in, pressing his body against hers. Yes, he was definitely not unaffected. “Then I won’t try to help you again. I’ll take what you give me and I won’t apologize, but this is going to go my way from now on. You’re going to obey me or this whole process is done.”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off him even as he pressed his cock against her belly. She couldn’t help but soften against him, but she kept her hands to her sides. He wasn’t ready for her affection. “All right, Ian.”

“Go to the accounting office. I expect you to be sitting there in her office at five o’clock. At noon, you may get up and have lunch with Phoebe in the break room. She’s the only one who doesn’t eat out or in her office. You may not talk to her. I’ll have someone go downstairs and get you a sandwich and a drink. You will have forty-five minutes at which time you will return to your seat. If you need a bathroom break, ask Eve or Grace to escort you.”

Oh, he was going to try her limits, it seemed. She knew she should agree, but the bratty words just flowed from her mouth. “I think I can find my way to the bathroom, Ian.”

“That’s ten.”

She had to take a deep breath. Oh, fuck, he was going there. “I thought you weren’t my Master.”

His hands were on her shoulders, lightly tracing the lines of her body. His voice had softened as though he was thinking of something else, something sweeter. “I’m your Dom for now because it’s the only way I can trust you to do what I tell you. You’re dangerous and someone has to keep you in line. I’m viewing myself as a rattlesnake handler. We’re in high protocol, Charlie. You will speak when spoken to. You will obey my every directive or you will take your punishment. If you do not follow my rules, I’ll contact the Agency and let them handle you.”

He wanted her in a corner with no way out. He didn’t seem to understand she didn’t want out. He needed to be in charge. She was willing to spend a boring day so that he got what he needed. “Yes, Master…I mean, Sir.”

Master meant they had a special relationship. She’d fucked that up. A Sir could be any Dom. It was a politeness. Despite the fact that he was definitely acting like her Master, he needed to be Sir for now. She could play that way.

“I mean it, Charlie. This is all you’re going to get out of me.” He pressed his cock against her, bringing his forehead to hers. “I’m not the man you knew. I’m a bastard, and I won’t feel a moment’s regret fucking you and leaving you to your fate when I’m done. When I have what I need out of you, I’ll walk away and I won’t look back. I buried you a long time ago. There’s nothing left but a little bit of lust and a whole lot of business between us.”

But the lust was so building. She could practically feel it rolling off him. “If we’re laying all our cards on the table, I should tell you that I intend to find my way into your bed and I intend to stay there. I don’t care how long it takes. You loved me once. I’ll make you love me again.”

“I never loved you, Charlie.” He breathed the words against her skin. His hands moved from her shoulders to her chest, his eyes trailing down. He let his palms rest over her mounds and sighed a little.

God, if he didn’t love her, she would take the connection she felt with him anyway. “Again, a risk I’m willing to take. You want me.”

He took a long step back, but his eyes remained on her chest. “Yes, but it’s not the same. It’s sexual chemistry. I’m willing to admit that I have it with you. I have more sexual chemistry with you than most other women. But lust is all there is between us. Show me your breasts.”

Lust felt so good. She ignored his line about most other women because it was just sheer stubborn stupidity. In the last several years she’d learned to shove the bad crap aside and revel in the rare sweet times. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t tease and taunt him. She simply pulled the shirt over her head and tossed it aside before going to work on her bra.

Cool air hit her skin. Her nipples were still puckered from the feel of his hands on her body. She let the bra slip out of her fingers before assuming the position she was sure he wanted. Hands clasped behind her back, chest thrust out.

Ian stared. Charlie waited. He liked to spend long, agonizing moments just looking at her.

Your body belongs to me. Your breasts, your pussy, your ass are all my property. He’d said the words to her so long ago, but she could still hear his dark voice claiming her.

What do I get in return? She’d asked, her voice breathless.

I’m yours. Only yours, Charlie. Everything I am. Everything I have. Everything I will be. All yours. Past. Present. Future. I’ll give them to you.

She’d screwed up the past. Needed the present. Longed for a future. So she stood there, offering him everything she had.

He reached out and placed a hand on her breast, lightly at first, his fingers skimming her skin. His eyes were down, watching the place where they connected. He traced the round disc surrounding her nipple, watching it tighten and peak for him. He brushed the nipple, making her want to beg him to tug it into his mouth. Her body was softening in all the right places. She could feel her pussy getting wet and ready. All he had to do was touch her and she was ready to spread her legs and welcome him home.

Instead, she stood perfectly still. He didn’t seem to be taunting her. There was a bland look on his face, but his fingertips were tender as they explored her, running along the blue veins that crossed her chest. He skimmed the puckered scar where the bullet had gone into her shoulder, just under her clavicle bone. He spent time there, circling it with his thumb, staring as though memorizing the place.

His fingers moved again, this time to her throat. She remembered when she’d worn his collar. It had been leather at first, but he’d bought a Cartier gold collar that circled her neck, reminding her always that she was his.

“Where did it go?” Ian asked as though reading her mind.

Tears sparked against her eyes. “I don’t know. It was gone when I woke up. They had taken my ring off, too.”

She’d lost her collar and the platinum and diamond ring he’d bought for her. She’d felt naked for so long without them. It had taken her almost a year to stop reaching for the collar. She’d worn it for so short a period of time, but it had become a habit to touch it when she was nervous.

“It’s somewhere in Scotland Yard’s evidence room then. Or someone stole it.” He touched the place where his collar had sat.

“I’m so sorry, Ian.”

He seemed to come back to himself. “It’s all right. It was only money. I made more.”

She closed her eyes, blinking back tears because he was willfully misunderstanding her and there was not a damn thing she could do now to fix it. She’d known he would punish her. She hadn’t known how much his distance would hurt. “All right, Ian. I’ll get dressed and go sit with Phoebe.”

At least it would likely be quiet in the accounting office. That Phoebe chick didn’t seem like a big talker. She could think about the situation, find a way to get to him.

“You owe me ten, sub.”

She thought he would forget about that. God, she was standing here with him and she was half naked and he wanted to smack her ass. Suddenly she wasn’t sure she could handle it. “Ian, you don’t have to discipline me. I understand. The situation is serious. I’ll sit with Phoebe and I won’t cause trouble.”

“Twenty.”

He was such a damn hardass. “Fine. Where do you want me?”

“Over my lap. You’re overdressed for discipline. Take it all off and place yourself over my lap. When I’m done, you can get dressed and think about not defying me again. You’ll have a whole afternoon to contemplate your new reality. If you don’t like it, there’s the door, sweetheart. Don’t expect me to step in front of another bullet for you.”

She let her fingers find the waistband of her skirt.

“Are you really not wearing underwear?” Ian asked, sitting back down in his chair. Somehow he made the functional piece of furniture seem like a throne.

She kicked off the flats she was wearing as she tugged the skirt off. “I told you. I’m not allowed to wear underwear.”

“Not while you’re serving me, you’re not. But when we’re done, you can do anything you like, Charlie. If you want to cover that pussy with plastic wrap, I won’t give a shit. But while we’re playing Master and sub, you’ll follow my rules. Come closer. Show me your pussy. I need to make sure you meet my standards. Brighton won’t believe our cover for a second if you’re not groomed properly.”

If she wasn’t, what would he do? Very likely shave her himself. He would tell her the whole time that he didn’t want to do it. He had to because it was part of their cover and he wouldn’t love her but, oops, his penis slipped inside and that didn’t mean anything either.

“I got lasered.” She stepped in front of him.

“Spread your legs.”

God, he was going to kill her. She moved her legs apart, giving him the access he wanted. His hand slipped between her legs, running across the petals of her sex, lighting her pussy up. “I’m smooth everywhere, Ian. Believe me, she was very thorough. I screamed for two days while she ran the damn thing up my labia.”

His free hand smacked her ass, a sharp beat against her flesh. “No cursing.”

No cursing. No pubic hair. Nothing new there. “I’m just saying I’m perfectly smooth down there.”

“I’ll be the judge of that. When did you decide to get this procedure done? Did you check into the company?”

She gasped as his fingers slid into her labia, parting her and testing the skin there. God, there was no way to hide the fact that she was wet and ripe. “I got lasered about six months ago because I was tired of shaving and there were weeks when I couldn’t take a bath because I was on the run. I found the shop I used on the Internet.”

He moaned a little and brought his hand back out. “Not smart. You should have had them vetted and visited the facilities and gotten recommendations.”

Yeah. She wasn’t going to tell him she’d used a coupon. Or that the place had doubled as a nail salon. Or that the person who lasered her might or might not have been a dude. She couldn’t be sure. He’d had the prettiest blonde hair that didn’t match his five-o’clock shadow. “I will next time.”

“Over my lap. We’re on the stoplight system.”

Which meant red was her safe word. Every cell in her body was suddenly awake and alive, but her brain was a little apprehensive now. Ian could be a ruthless, nasty bastard. He really could use her and toss her out like garbage. He could split her open and make her ache.

She would be safer running. She knew how to hide, knew how to disappear.

None of it meant anything without him. If he tore her up, then at least she’d have another few moments with him. Maybe hurting her would give him a sense of peace because what he didn’t know, what she hadn’t told him, still haunted her to this day.

She hadn’t been entirely out when he’d found her body. She’d heard his low shout, felt him lift her into his arms.

She’d felt it when his body had been wracked with sobs and she’d heard him plead to God to bring her back.

She had put him through that.

Charlie placed herself over his lap, vowing to stop being a coward. This was what she owed Ian—a chance. He would have a chance for closure with her, a shot at finding some peace. They would have a chance at being together again.

If her heart broke, then that was just what she deserved.

She filled her lungs slowly as his hand moved over the curves of her ass. Like everything Ian did, he took his own sweet time, saying absolutely nothing. Anticipation hung in the air like a mist she couldn’t quite see through. She knew exactly what he was going to do and yet she lay there, her heart pounding, waiting for him.

Smack. Charlie heard the sound crack through the air before she felt the sting against her skin. Fire lashed through her. She bit back a curse because Ian wasn’t warming her up. He’d gotten right to the hard stuff.

Smack. Smack. Smack. Pain flared. Tears welled. She didn’t even think about stopping them. It felt too good. She’d been strong for so long. This was a release, pure and simple. She let loose, crying out as he continued his discipline.

Over and over he rained down on her willing flesh. He wanted to say she didn’t have tear ducts? Yeah. She could show him. He hadn’t told her she needed to be quiet, so she cried out.

He didn’t say a word though she knew he would keep a perfect count. She would get every smack he’d promised her. She also knew that he would stop if she screamed out red. The word didn’t even play through her head. This was what she’d longed for. Ian had taught her she needed this, taught her to not be ashamed that she was different and required a little kink to find her peace. There had been no peace before him, and no peace after him, just a deep disconnect from the world she’d grown to love.

She lost count, didn’t care to know. He could go on forever and they could stay in this place. She would take the pain to feel the connection to him. While he was disciplining her, they were the only two people in the whole world. Everything else could fall away and she could be herself, the Charlie she’d discovered when she fell in love with him. The Charlie who would sacrifice herself for others, who reached out and made friends. The Charlie who was brave enough to deserve those friends.

The room went quiet. Only the sounds of her gasps and tears could be heard. Ian’s hand stilled against her flesh, and she wondered for a moment if he would deny her what he would give any other sub he’d just disciplined. That might hurt most of all. She could take anything he dished out as long as she got the aftercare that completed the cycle even if it was nothing more than a few words of praise, a moment or two when she felt like she’d pleased him.

Slowly, his hand soothed against her skin, rubbing in gentle circles where he’d been so rough before. “You did well, Charlotte. But then you always did. How do you feel?”

Released. Peaceful. Just the slightest bit empty because she wouldn’t be in his arms. “I’m green, Sir.”

“Get up then.”

She sniffled a little. Maybe it would be good to have the afternoon to think about what she was doing. She pushed herself off his lap and stood on shaky feet, turning toward where she’d left her clothes.

He frowned her way, reaching for her hand. “Where are you going? I didn’t tell you to leave.” He tugged her into his lap, his arms encircling her. “Have you forgotten the drill?”

She was on the verge of tears again because his cheek nestled against her forehead, the intimacy so sweet she could hardly stand it. He cuddled her close, sighing as her arms went around him.

“I do this for all the subs I discipline, Charlie.”

Of course he did. He was known as the tenderest of Doms. His reputation for cuddling was world renowned. She loved him, but he was a dumbass if he thought she was buying that. She’d made a study of him before she’d met him and kept up with him since she’d died. Ian Taggart was known as a bastard who preferred to contract his sexual experiences so the women he screwed would never think that he would stay with them. Yes, she was certain he snuggled with all of them and smelled their hair, breathing them in like they were the air he needed to live. “Yes, Sir. I won’t mistake it for anything but aftercare.”

“See that you don’t.” He rocked the chair back and forth, his hand smoothing her hair back as she held on.

No matter what happened, she wouldn’t let go.