Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  “What’s happened about Danielle?”

  “You don’t have to worry about her anymore. She’s still in Amahad but in prison. Kadar’s talking with the FBI and Interpol about her. They’re very interested in her relationship with Amir al-Fahri. I can see a lot of interrogation in her future.”

  Just the name makes me shiver, “And what about al-Fahri? Does he know about Nasir?”

  Sean and Ryan exchange glances, but it’s Sean who continues to update me, “Not as far as we know. Well, it’s not as if we have an address to send a card of condolence.” That’s true, I suppose, and as Nasir had been the one who would have dispatched me, I shouldn’t feel much remorse about it. “He’ll know he’s missing, but not anything else. Yet.”

  As my eyes widen at the word Sean ended with, Ryan takes over, “Kadar destroyed the evidence. Al-Farhi will find out his son is dead, but hopefully, we can conceal your part in it.”

  “How?” I pull myself up straight, wanting to know everything that’s been going on. “Tell me, please, Sean.”

  “Kadar arranged for the removal of the bodies. His men staged a helicopter crash in the desert; the wreckage burned out. All that was left were charred bodies. That an unknown helicopter crashed and five unidentified men were killed has been reported on news channels.”

  “Once Amal al-Fahri finds out it was his son, he’ll want an investigation, surely? Forensics will show they were shot.”

  A twisted grin appears on Ryan’s face, “The wreckage was found by Sofian’s tribe, and you know how primitive the desert people can be. They buried the bodies. Somewhere, in an unmarked grave. Before reporting the ‘accident’.” His fingers put his description of the crash in quotes. “Everything’s been cleaned up; there’s nothing to find.” Ryan stands and prowls around the room, “Cara’s monitoring the dark web, but there’s nothing yet about anyone trying to locate Nasir. I think she’s working with the American security forces and plotting about leaking news on his whereabouts to try and trap al-Fahri. But it’s nothing for you to worry about, there’s nothing to link you to his death. Nasir’s father will have suspicions, but there’s nothing to confirm it. No body, no evidence.”

  “Supposition is enough for al-Fahri to declare war.” My eyes narrow as a thought comes to me, “And Danielle knows. If she gets the message out…”

  “Nessa, don’t you think we know that? She’s being held in solitary with only Kadar’s most senior and trusted guards having anything to do with her.”

  I’m not convinced; it’s still a risk. And if the most wanted terrorist in the world gets to know I’m the one who fired the gun taking out his only son? I don’t give a lot for my chances. If there’s any way Danielle could make my part in it known, she will do so out of spite; I’ve no doubt about that.

  Leaning over, Sean takes my hand, “You didn’t have a personal beef with the man, Nessa. You were doing your job, working as a Grade A operative. If anything, I think his sights will be set on the organisation, not an individual. And as we’re on Amahadian soil, I suspect al-Fahri’s fury would be directed at this country, and not at any us in any event. He’s already got the hots for Kadar, remember? But we’re not taking chances, the whole team is still here, and as soon as possible we’ll be returning to England.” He squeezes my fingers, trapping them in his palm, “We’re taking every precaution to ensure Danielle doesn’t talk to the wrong person, and unless she does, the only information that al-Fahri will be able to surmise is that it’s probable Nasir went down in a helicopter crash. And even that, he won’t be able to confirm.”

  It doesn’t help much. It was only months ago that Kadar’s most trusted employee turned traitor on him for the promise of sufficient reward, as Sean knows only too well. Danielle has money, and everyone has a price. While she’s still alive and breathing, there’s a danger my part in Nasir’s death will come to light. Frowning, I appreciate that working in the field carries more risk than just being prepared to take a bullet for the person under protection. In defending them it’s all too easy to make yourself a target. But I’d been protecting Mollie, and I don’t regret a single thing I’d had to do to keep her safe.

  “I’d do it all over again, Sean.”

  Closing his eyes briefly, he opens them again and stares at me intently, “I know you would. And I’ll never be able to thank you enough for saving my daughter. Fuck, Nessa, another person might have let them take her. But you put yourself at risk, sticking by her side. Caring for her better than her real mother.” As he breaks off his breath hitches, “If they hadn’t taken you with her, she might have died through lack of care. Her mother didn’t seem to think about her comfort at all.”

  I contradict him, “In her own way, does. She cares about her as though she’s a possession. What she did wrong was having not thought about her well-being. She’d made no preparations for her care. All she wanted was to get her back.”

  His blue eyes stare into mine, “As I said, she didn’t give a fuck about her. You’re right; she’s nothing more than a toy to her.”

  Sean’s kept me updated with Mollie’s progress, but suddenly I want to see her to assure myself she’s not suffered permanent damage from my inept attempts to care for her.

  “I want to see Mollie.” I can’t wait to see her any longer. In the two days since we were rescued, Sean’s been spending half his time with me, and the other going to the opposite end of the hospital to check on his daughter, but now I need to see her with my own eyes, to know that my efforts to keep her alive had been enough.

  Ryan and Sean exchange glances and seem to have a silent conversation over my head including raised eyebrows then nods. Ryan disappears but returns shortly with a wheelchair.

  “Let’s break you out of here,” he grins.

  “I can walk.”

  Sean waves away my protest, “You’re still weak. Wheelchair or nothing.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I can tell by the way he speaks it’s a Dom’s instruction, and the sound of it makes my toes curl. There had been moments over the past few days when I never thought I’d see him again, let alone hear his voice. But the impulse to see the baby I’ve grown so close to drive me to give in without further protest, and soon I’m being wheeled through corridors and up in a lift to the area reserved for children and babies.

  Seeing the drip in the little baby’s arm is distressing, but she’s awake, her eyes scanning the room. When I draw closer to her cot, her arms come up and reach for me, and a smile crosses her face.

  A nurse comes up alongside, “Babies are more resilient than we give them credit for,” she tells me with an easy smile as she reads the concern in my expression, “You can pick her up, it would do her good to have a cuddle.”

  I step back, making way for Sean, but he surprises me, “I think it’s you she wants, Nessa.” He pulls up a chair and waits for me to sit down, then gently lifts her out of her cot and places her in my arms. Immediately she grabs hold of my hair and pulls it. She’s alright. She’s going to be okay. Seeing her smiling face, knowing she’s safe, fed, rehydrated and clean now and looking like she’ll make a full recovery, I understand how much we bonded during the days we spent together. My heart almost stops as I remember she isn’t mine, and I have no sway over her now.

  But as her father kneels beside me, putting his arms around us both, I feel a sense of coming home. A home which doesn’t belong to me. Holding Mollie, breathing in her scent, tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I signed a contract with Sean, sex as he wanted it, but only in situations which meant neither of us were involved in each other’s lives. It was something I thought I’d wanted, but now I know I agreed to it as it was a way to have an exclusive relationship with him. I no longer want restrictions, I want him.

  Sean, the manwhore. The man who doesn’t do relationships. In any form.

  He holds us both, his arms tight around us as if he doesn’t want to let either of us go. But it’s an illusion.

  He’s murmuring something, but I can’t
process the words he’s saying. He’s repeating them, over and over again and at last, they seep into my befuddled mind. “You’re both mine, now. I’m never going to let either of you go. Ever again.”

  I look up to tell him that I’m an independent woman, that I don’t want to be around children, that I’ve got a career… But the words don’t come out of my mouth. Instead, I rest my head on his shoulder staring up at him in disbelief as he continues, his words smashing the walls I’d built around my heart into smithereens, “I reckon Mollie would like a brother or sister eventually, how do you feel about that, Nessa?”

  My gut clenches. Me? To have Sean’s baby? Balancing Mollie on one arm, I reach out my hand and grab his as though it will give me strength. A baby with a man who won’t walk away? Who I can trust? Who’s saying he wants a child with me? Pulling away from him, I place his baby in his arms.

  “Sean, neither of us should make decisions now.” Playing down the words he’s said cuts me to the quick when he’s offering me everything I ever wanted, but I know I have to be the sensible one, “It’s a reaction to what we’ve been through, what you’ve been through. Your worry about Mollie and me.”

  He holds his daughter with such gentleness and care, my stomach twists with the thought that could be my child. His face, though, is dark, “Are you saying I don’t know my mind? That having you in my life wasn’t something I’d been thinking, dreaming, about while going frantic with worry about where you were, how you were? Whether you were still alive?”

  I force myself to be strong, to be logical, “That’s the point, isn’t it? The fact you lost us both. A reaction to your concern. This,” I wave my hand around the room of the foreign hospital, signs in Arabic on the walls not letting us forget for one second we’re still three thousand and more miles away from home. “I don’t want promises made in the heat of the moment, Sean.”

  His eyebrows crease, “Then I’ll just have to show you when we get home, won’t I?”

  And home is where I’m headed the next morning, much sooner than I expected. When you know an emir things happen quickly. As soon as Mollie’s pronounced fit to travel, we’re whisked by helicopter to the capital where the plane is waiting to fly us back to England. Ben, himself, meets us at the airport, as though wanting to ensure we’re okay with his own eyes, and drives us himself to Sean’s home.

  The conversation during the journey is more of a debrief with the boss. As we pull up outside Sean’s apartment building, Ben clarifies the last bit of information he needs, then gets out of the car and gets Mollie’s stuff out of the boot.

  Sean turns to me, I refuse to look into his eyes. “Are you coming in?”

  It’s all I want to do. But I’m still convinced Sean’s still not over the shock of his baby going missing, and his invitation has more to do with his feeling of gratitude toward me for keeping her safe, along with his guilt we got taken in the first place. I need to give him time. “No now, Sean. Let’s put some space between us. Some time to come to terms with what’s happened.” That’s the sensible thing to do, isn’t it?

  I hear him sigh, “If that’s what you want, Nessa. But it won’t change anything.” He gets out of the car and I feel such loss as he walks away with his baby in his arms that I almost call him back, but I bite my tongue.

  One of us has to be rational. Leopards, or manwhores, aren’t known for changing their spots. We need to get back to normal, settle into the familiar routine before making decisions that will affect our future.

  I know my mind and what I want. Now I’m giving Sean space to discover if he really knows his.

  Chapter 36

  Sean

  Why won’t she believe me? What can’t she see that she’s come to mean everything to me?

  Entering my lonely flat with my baby, something only a few days ago I’d feared I’d never be doing again, I know I’m a completely different man from the one who set out to find Mollie’s mother. Putting the sleeping baby down in the cot that Mum had bought and set up for me, I pull up a chair and sit staring at her, unwilling to leave her alone, even for a second. I’ve changed since Nessa and Mollie’s abduction and rescue, but if I’m truthful the change started much earlier than that, from the time I was kidnapped and shot. Or even a few months before that.

  As Mollie snuffles and kicks her blankets off, my introspection continues. I might have the well-earned reputation as a switch, but when I’d been sent into a BDSM club to rout out a wannabe Dom who’d been stalking Jon Tharpe’s woman, I’d laid myself open to abuse. The scars on my back will fade, but will never completely disappear, and the damage done to my mind will always remain. The horror of being at someone else’s mercy, a man who’d ignored my safeword taking away all my control is hard to shake. I thought I could bounce back, could return to my old anything-goes way, but I haven’t, and I won’t. I’ve denied the overriding Dom side of me for too long. I’m not playing at it, this is what I am.

  And there’s only one woman I want to be my sub. And not just in the club.

  Nessa needs someone to watch out and care for her, just as much as Mollie. And I’m going to do everything I can to convince her that I’ve changed and that change has been coming for a long time. I just hadn’t seen it. The events of the past few days have been the catalyst I needed to consolidate the revelations about myself. And now I know she’s the one. The woman I want to spend my life with. I’ve just got to convince her.

  Mollie kicks out again and gurgles, I pull her blanket back up. Then go to the single bed beside the cot in my guest room, unwilling to have her out of my sight. Laying myself down, I close my eyes. Mollie’s home. And now I’ll just have to work on Nessa.

  The next morning, I take Mollie to see my Mum, who is delighted to have her back safe and sound. I sketch over what happened, sparing her the more horrific details of what had gone down. When I explain, from now onwards, Mollie is going to be my sole responsibility, that’s all she needs to hear. Her pleasure in the reunion makes her more than happy to have her granddaughter in her care for the day, leaving me free to go to work. After the requisite hug to reassure her we really are both back safe and sound, I leave and make my way into the city.

  And now here I am, entering Grade A, and it seems hard to imagine the events of the last week have really happened. I wave at Sandra and quickly jump into the lift to evade the nosy receptionist who’s left her desk and is heading my way. I hide my grin as the doors slide closed when she’s only a few feet distant, not missing the disappointed frown she sends my way. Oh, she probably knows the gist of what’s been going on already, but I’m not going to satisfy her curiosity any further. I don’t want every Tom, Dick and Harry in the building knowing everything about me.

  Making my way to Ben’s office I pause to get a coffee, and then arrive on time for our pre-arranged meeting. But he’s not alone. I walk in, then pause, seeing I’m faced with a complete stranger.

  Ben nods at me, then wastes no time in making introductions, “Sean, this is Jason Deville.”

  My mouth drops open. I’d come to believe the man was a figment of Ben and Jon’s imagination or at the very least a sleeping partner with no interest in the business. In all the years I’ve been working for Grade A, I’ve never actually met the other senior partner and my, albeit elusive, third boss.

  As he steps forward to shake my hand, he makes a correction, “Devil.” He grins as he tosses out the shortened version of his name, “People call me Devil.”

  The scar that reaches across his face pulling down the corner of one eye and giving his welcoming expression a cruel twist suggests why. The firmness with which he grips my hand, muscles visibly tensing beneath his shirt make me glad that he’s on my side.

  As last I get over the shock and recover my ability to speak. “It’s good to meet you, at last, Devil. I was beginning to think you didn’t exist.”

  He gives a hearty laugh, “I know. And it’s best to keep it that way.”

  Ben’s frowning, “Sean, this me
eting is on a need to know basis. Devil will be leaving shortly after, and as far as anyone else knows, he was never here. Got it?”

  “He’ll have to avoid Sandra.”

  Ben laughs, “You’re not wrong there.” Then, as quickly as the smile came, it fades away, “I asked you to come in because we’ve heard something that concerns you directly. Sit.”

  As Devil and I take the proffered chairs in front of Ben’s desk, I push aside my intrigue at the man I’ve never met before, and look curiously from one to the other instead, wondering which one is going to enlighten me.

  It’s Devil who clears his throat, “I understand that you have no particular relationship with Danielle Smith, is that correct?”

  My voice is strong as I give him the confirmation he’s seeking, “You’re right. I had a one night stand which resulted in the birth of a child. My daughter. The baby I love. The mother is not someone I’d want in my life.”

  “And now you haven’t got that choice.” As I glance quickly up at Devil, my eyes narrowing as I wonder what he’s telling me, he continues, “She was killed. Last night, in prison.”

  “How?” My eyebrows rise at the news.

  A shake of his head, his dark mane swinging around him with the gesture, Devil answers my question, “We’re not quite sure on that. Another prisoner or perhaps even a guard. There was a fire set, sufficient to cause an evacuation. In the kerfuffle, someone must have knifed her. Shanked, as our American friends would say.”

  My relief is immense. Nessa no longer has to worry about Danielle exposing her part in Nasir al-Fahri’s death. But, taking a moment to think through the implications, the next thing I feel is anger. Danielle potentially had information about the terrorist organisation that she had yet to share. I sum up my frustration in a simple question. “Who the fuck would want to stop her talking to us?”

  Devil and Ben exchange glances, and again, it’s Devil who leans forward, “She hadn’t yet spoken to the FBI or our SIS or anyone else for that matter. With so many people wanting information from her they were still scratching their arses trying to work out who was going to take the lead. Al-Fahri has caused trouble over a good portion of the globe.”