by Lexi Blake
“And Theo?”
Did he have to figure out everything? “Don’t sleep with him. It’s just your cover. Sometimes operatives don’t use their covers to get a little something something.” Ian scratched his head, trying to think of an example. It was hard. His operatives were the worst when it came to sleeping with their partners—Simon and Chelsea, Jesse and Phoebe, Alex and Eve—or being stupid fucks and falling in love with their targets—Sean and Grace, Li and Avery. Hell, Jake and Adam had married their freaking client. It could be their new slogan. McKay-Taggart: We Don’t Keep It In Our Pants. Oh, well, there was one he could think of. “Alex and I went undercover once and we did not sleep together.”
Alex shrugged. “He tried but I wanted someone a little more tender. Li used to go undercover with Karina and he’s never once slept with her. Then there was that first mission we sent Jesse on at the strip club.”
Ian cleared his throat. He was pretty sure Jesse had slept with about ten of those strippers, but that had all been before Phoebe.
Alex shook his head. “JoJo, Eboni, and Misty Rose weren’t his partners. Simon was. Si swears up and down they’ve never cuddled. Not once. So you’re safe, Erin.”
“You’re all jackholes, you know that, right? And Liberia? Really? I left the damn Army so I didn’t have to spend all my time in the world’s shitholes.” Erin was shaking her head as she walked away. “Simon gets to go to Venice. Li’s biggest op was in London. I get fucking West Africa.”
“Don’t forget the Ebola,” Tag called out. “You’re welcome.” He shook his head as she disappeared around the corner. “They’re totally going to do it in Africa.”
“Oh, they will so do it, but then that’s your plan.” Alex started toward the conference room again. “You know she’ll probably end up being your sister-in-law. Your girls will call her Auntie Erin and she’ll teach them how to make homemade grenades or something.”
“Yeah, well, I can’t seem to get rid of anyone anyway, so I might as well minimize the damage. God only knows who Theo would drag home if he wasn’t all moony over Erin. I’m pretty sure Case is going to show up with some chick he scrapes off the floor of a bar. That boy can drink.” He had to smile because the light of his fucking life stepped out of the break room.
Charlie Taggart. The sight of his gorgeous wife made his heart speed up. He knew she was due to deliver their babies in five weeks, but damn he wanted to fuck her long and hard. She was stunning, a freaking super-hot fertility goddess who made his dick stand up and cheer every time he thought about her. She had a grin on her face as she caught sight of him. “Hey, those people from LA are completely insane. They asked for spring water but nothing filtered by modern hands or from any country with a dictator or not approved by Angelina Jolie. They also asked for water without carbs. Seriously. They think water has carbs. We could make so much money off these people.”
It would be a miracle if he survived the afternoon. “How does Chelsea feel about heading to LA for a couple of weeks?”
“Months,” Alex said. “This could take months and Sully has promised to pay top dollar.”
Charlie frowned. “I don’t know that I want to be so far away from my sister after the babies are born. I kind of hate that idea.”
“I’ll figure it out.” If Charlie wanted Chelsea, who was the single least maternal woman he’d ever met, around their babies, then Chelsea would be there. “Maybe this once, Jesse can work with Michael.”
She went on her toes and kissed him. “Thanks, babe. And have you come up with a name yet?”
“Rocky.” It was a joke between them now. “Or Rambo. Hey, maybe you’ll name yours Rambo. I think they’re perfect names for twins.”
She made a vomiting sound and slipped her hand in his as they walked down the hall. “Over my dead body.”
“Is he still doing this? What was it last week?” Alex asked.
Ian saw the conference room up ahead. It was full of Sully’s “cast.” Apparently, it wasn’t Kendalmire’s way to travel with less than an entourage. “Chuck. Girls can be named Chuck.”
“Not if they want to have any kind of a social life. Ian, they’ll be here soon. Mine is Kenzie. Her sister needs a name that wasn’t plucked from an action movie.” Charlie gave him her death stare but it was really softened by the hand on her belly. She smoothed it over as though soothing the babies inside. “We can talk about it after the meeting.”
He stepped inside, and Sully was talking to his people.
“This is all going to be over soon and it won’t disrupt your schedule.” Sully spoke in silky tones, like he was calming down an unruly child. “Trust Mr. Taggart. He’s got a sixth sense about this kind of thing. We’ll have you safe in no time, Hoover.”
Hoover Kendalmire stood at the back of the conference room, his likely expensive loafers tapping against the floor. “My life isn’t safe, Sully. There’s nothing about this life that’s safe, and I’m going to put it all into my music, man. You’ll see. I’m going to be the new Eminem. Except way more attractive and less angry. Why so angry, dude? But seriously, I’m going to be the Eminem of Malibu.”
Sully sighed. “Well, we can get right on that as soon as we get back to California. We’ll be out of here soon.”
An emaciated blonde flipped her hair back. Ah, the girl who modeled. According to her press kit, Brie Westerhaven was the daughter of a minor rock star from the eighties and a groupie who didn’t know how to use birth control. The show chronicled her attempts to make it big on fashion runways while her dunce boy attempted to take on the music business in absolutely the most superficial of ways. They were surrounded by hangers on. Hoover’s two brothers, his producer, who looked heavily invested in dental gold if that grill he was wearing was real, two personal assistants, who looked like they really wished they’d finished college and gotten real jobs, and the chick with the crazy eyes.
Ian looked over at Alex, who shook his head.
“You can’t know that,” Alex muttered under his breath. “Don’t, Ian. We should follow procedure.”
“Do you see those eyes?” It was all so clear to him and he’d spent two seconds with these people.
Alex’s mouth firmed stubbornly. “It could mean nothing. Let Jesse handle it. He’ll follow procedure and we’ll actually make money off this.”
Brie shook her head as she paced. “God, I hope we get back to Cali soon. This is so boring. I thought Texas was one of those not real places. You know what I mean.”
She glanced over at a woman who stood by her side, staring up at the model as if she was the second coming of the Virgin Mary. “I do. You’re so smart, Brie. I didn’t think Texas was real either. I mean who would? Sully, we should tape this scene. Brie is so funny.”
“Dude, anyone who’s seen Dallas knows it’s real, hello.” Hoover waved a hand through the air as though it was all too much for him. “Don’t you watch TV and shit? Where do you think J.R. came from? It’s a brilliantly ironic television show about global warming.”
The pixiesque woman by Brie shot the DJ a look Ian had seen before.
Damn, Sully had really lost his touch. He used to be good at understanding the people around him. Alex wasn’t going to like it, but Ian really couldn’t stand the thought of even having these people as an open case halfway across the country. It was time to shut this shit down.
He pointed at the girl because despite the fact that Sully was willing to pay by the hour, if these people didn’t get out of his office he was going to launch a grenade at them. “It’s Crazy Eyes. She’s a closeted lesbian in love with Dimwitted Blonde, and she tried to kill Douchebag.”
Damn, didn’t they know it was always the bitch with the crazy eyes?
His wife turned, about to yell at him—yeah, he knew that look—but Crazy Eyes saved him from the inevitable lecture about giving peace a chance and shit by pulling a forty-five out of her outrageously large handbag.
“You don’t deserve her!” Crazy Eyes shouted as she point
ed the gun at Hoover.
All hell broke loose, but then it wasn’t really a day at the office without a little chaos.
Chapter Two
“Crazy Eyes, I swear to god if you fire that fucking gun in my conference room, I will kill you myself, and you won’t like how I do it,” Ian swore. His heart was going to beat out of his fucking chest. Charlie was in here. If the bullets started flying, she could get hit. The babies could get hit. Damn it, they were supposed to be safe here.
Brie had a hand over her chest as though protecting herself. “Marcy, what are you doing?”
Sully put out his hands and eased toward Crazy Eyed Marcy with the calm movements of a lion tamer. “Marcy, honey, there’s no need for this. Hoover wasn’t trying to be mean. You know how he is. Let’s calm down and talk about this.”
Hoover had ducked behind the dude with the grill and was currently peeing his pants, if the smell was any indication.
Yeah, Sully was going to pay for that.
“Charlie, get out of here.” He didn’t like how shaky Marcy was. And she’d already proven herself entirely incapable of hitting her target.
“It’s fine, Ian.” She didn’t move, merely watched as the chick with the gun pointed it her way.
“Don’t move,” Marcy said, her voice thin and reedy.
“God, Marcy, you’re such a drama queen.” Brie huffed and sat down in one of the chairs and started to look at her nails as though the rest of the action bored her.
“Marcy, honey, why don’t you give me the gun?” Sully asked.
“Wait, it was Marcy?” One of Hoover’s brothers scratched his head and seemed to be trying to the figure the situation out.
“Dude, I thought you slept with her,” the other brother whispered in a too loud voice.
Marcy pointed the gun toward Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb. “I only love Brie. I would never sleep with any of you.”
Alex leaned toward him. “You get Charlie and I’ll take down the girl.”
Ian nodded. He had to be careful. Normally he would simply hit Charlie with the force of a steamroller, forcing his body over hers so if a bullet came their way it would take him out instead of her. But her body wasn’t her own. Her body held their babies. His girls. All three of his girls were in danger. His heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream. Normally he went ice cold in these situations. Charlie was deadly all on her own. His wife could take care of herself, though he preferred to handle the dangerous stuff. She was competent, but she was almost nine months pregnant. God, if anything happened to his girls…
Charlie had died once. Oh, it had all been a ploy in a spy game they’d been playing, but he’d spent five years in hell mourning her. He couldn’t do it again. He couldn’t lose her again and god, he couldn’t lose their daughters. He had a sudden vision of burying all three of them, and it stopped him in his tracks.
“Ian, are you all right?” Alex whispered.
And that was the moment Charlie chose to make her play. Marcy had backed up, moving away from Sully, who seemed to be putting himself between the gun and his star. Unfortunately, it moved Marcy’s back close to Charlie, who had her in a choke hold before Ian could scream. The gun fell out of Marcy’s hand, clattering to the floor.
“Oh, my god. Something’s kicking me!” Marcy said before her eyes closed and she went limp.
Charlie let her drop to the floor and Alex was kicking the gun away before Ian could move. She grinned his way, her hand on her belly. “Ian, the babies just went crazy. I swear to god they could tell we were taking someone down. They’re already helping Mommy take out the bad guys.” She frowned. “Babe, are you all right? You are really pale.”
Ian sat, staring ahead as he tried to get himself under control.
“I think you broke him,” Eve whispered to Charlie two hours later.
“I can still hear, you know.” He hadn’t moved in hours. He was replaying the situation over and over in his brain. The sight of Charlie creeping up on a woman with a gun while she was super pregnant wasn’t one that would go away easily.
The Dallas Police had shown up and hauled Crazy Eyes off to prison. She was about to find out just how damn real Texas was, complete with a prison system where she could totally find a new girlfriend since Brie wasn’t interested. She hadn’t been all that interested in Hoover, who had required a change of pants, either. She had been interested when the press had shown up downstairs.
Derek was going to keep McKay-Taggart’s name out of it so they didn’t become the go-to security firm for douchebag reality stars. Lieutenant Brighton had tried to question Ian, but all he’d managed to say was something about asking Charlie since she was freaking Superwoman and his babies in utero could kick ass.
Jesus. He couldn’t breathe.
“Babe, do you want something to eat? I can have Sean bring something over.” Charlie was using a deeply soothing tone on him as she rubbed his shoulders.
“Not hungry.” He might never eat again.
“How about some Scotch?” Charlie offered.
“I know Alex has some eighteen-year-old,” Eve offered. “Or we could go back to my office and sit and talk. You’ve been through something traumatic. You need a safe place to discuss your feelings.”
That got him moving. He wasn’t going to have a flipping session. “I’m fine.”
He stood up and started down the hall but not before he noticed Eve taking a twenty-dollar bill from Charlie, who was shaking her head.
“Told you it would work,” Eve said under her breath. “Now you need to go and fix him. That man is in serious denial.”
He wasn’t in denial. He knew damn well there was absolutely nothing he could do. He strode down the hallway. It was utterly out of his control. He hated this. He wasn’t in control of fucking anything anymore.
Adam started to walk out of his office and shrank right back in when he saw the look on Ian’s face. At least one person was still afraid of him.
He needed more fear from his employees. He should begin routine beatings. Yes, that would make him feel better. He could randomly beat the shit out of people, and then he would have the illusion of control.
Because it was all an illusion.
He’d just sat down in his chair when she came through the door, closed it quietly, and locked it behind her.
What was that about?
“Ian, I know you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad.” He couldn’t be mad. She was ridiculously pregnant and that meant he couldn’t get mad. He couldn’t take charge. He couldn’t do fucking anything. He was supposed to be “supportive” and calm, even when she did stupid things like take down a killer with a choke hold.
“Yes, you are furious and I don’t really understand how you aren’t yelling at me. Come on, babe. It would make you feel so much better. Do you want me to get the paddle out? It’s been a while since you gave me a good long spanking. We could both use it.”
Yes, he could so use a nice session where he took out all of his frustrations on her gorgeous backside. But again, she was pregnant. “I think you’re right. I’ll have some Scotch and chill out here. It’s not a problem, though I’m sure Alex is pissed I didn’t draw this out.”
She reached out a hand, and when he thought she would lower herself into his lap, her knees found the carpet and she knelt down beside him. “You always have had an instinct for finding crazy eyes.”
“Baby, that can’t be comfortable. Let me help you up.”
“No, I want to be here. I’m fine. You have got to stop treating me like I’m made of glass. I’m fine. You’re the one who’s fragile right now.”
“I am not fragile, Charlie.”
A little glint hit her eyes. “Prove it.”
Frustration raced through him like a freight train. When she got that light in her eyes, he was usually in for a hell of a time. His Charlie could take as much as he could give. Their kinks matched beautifully. He topped and she loved to be topped.
If he was honest, he would say his kinks changed for her. He’d been hardcore, dominating women for both discipline and sex. His D/s style had been rigid. Now he was a lovingly indulgent top who spanked his wife more because she liked it than for any real disciplinary reasons.
Though today, he’d definitely wanted to smack her ass for pulling that stunt. She could have been killed. She could have lost the babies. Anything could have happened.
“I’m not going to talk you into punishing me, am I?” Charlie asked, her eyes wide and innocent.
He wanted to, but he didn’t dare. She was so close to delivery. She might think she was superwoman, but she was pregnant with twins and he would be damned if he caused her a single moment’s discomfort until she was fully recovered.
Then all bets were off and her ass was his.
And he would still have to deal with the fact that he wasn’t in control. Two small girls would prove that to him once and for all. He couldn’t control those girls. Kenzie and…
One of his babies didn’t have a name yet and he couldn’t come up with one. He’d been joking about Rambo, but he couldn’t for the life of him come up with a name. The one thing Charlie had asked him to do.
“Ian, you’re going to be good at this. Everything is going to be fine. I know you’re scared, and I didn’t make that any better by taking down crazy pants by myself. I think you need to relax. You’ve spent the last several months catering to my every whim and I really need to pay you back for that.” Her hands were close to the fly of his slacks. She was on her knees, that gorgeous mouth of hers trembling. “I need you to top me. I need to know that you still want me. For weeks you’ve been so sweet and so distant. I know I’m big, but I still need you. I need to be more than the mother of your children. I need to be your wife. God, I miss being your submissive.”
And he longed to be her Master. What could it really hurt? If he was gentle, he wouldn’t hurt her.
