by Lexi Blake
“Ian, I made a terrible mistake. I should have trusted you. I should have told you what was happening.” That was her real crime. She’d thought he would help her, save her, but she hadn’t risked it. From the day her father had kidnapped her until that moment when she’d taken Nelson’s drug, her life had been a careful balancing act, a constant game of not tripping over the landmines of her father’s world. Everyone in that world wanted something from her and they were all willing to hurt her to get it.
She hadn’t known there was trust and love and softness in the world until she’d met Ian Taggart.
“I would have had you taken back to the States and placed under custody,” he explained. “You did the right thing if you wanted to stay out of the rendition pool. You played me and you played me well.”
“You knew something was wrong, Ian. You knew it, but you didn’t do a damn thing about it because you were in love with me.” If she could just get him to admit it, maybe they had a chance. Her hands were starting to shake. Just a little. She could handle it.
“I was thinking with my dick. I don’t do that anymore. You cost me my job, Charlotte. How on earth do you think I would ever give you another shot? Do you want to kill me this time?”
“If I wanted to do that I wouldn’t be here.”
He leaned against the elevator wall, studying her through hooded eyes. “Or, the more likely scenario is you need intelligence for your boss and you think you can seduce me again. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m attracted to you. You’re exactly my type. Big tits, nice hips. You’re not some petite little thing I could crush. I wish it wasn’t true, but I want to fuck you hard. I want to do it here and now. You might have control over my dick, but it won’t change a damn thing. I’ll fuck you and then I’ll kick you out of this building and then I won’t give you another thought.”
She hated how much his words could torch her, but she’d figured out a long time ago that this was the price she had to pay. This terrible vulnerability was the price all women paid for loving a man. If she closed herself off, built up a wall between them, then she would never get back to that place where she’d been loved and safe and pure. God, loving him had made her pure, and she hadn’t felt that way in such a long time.
She reached out to him, letting her fingers brush the bristly skin of his jawline. He hadn’t bothered to shave. “I always think about you.”
He forced her hand away. “No, Charlie. Not like that. If you want to throw down, I’ll do you, but I won’t listen to that shit again.”
Because it wasn’t shit. Because he’d loved how she’d loved him. He couldn’t fool her. He could lie all he liked, but it was there in his eyes.
“Will you kiss me?” It would all be worth it if he would put his lips on hers again.
His head shook, a sharp rejection. “No. I don’t kiss.”
“You did.” He’d kissed her so long. He’d spent what felt like hours drugging her with kisses.
“I don’t now.”
“So you haven’t kissed anyone since me?”
Ian’s lips curled up in an evil little smile. “I’ve fucked probably a hundred women since you, darling.”
But he hadn’t kissed a single one of them. It made her heart leap. “I haven’t kissed anyone either. Not in all these years.”
His eyes went stony. “I don’t care.”
She had to find a way to make him care. “Will you just let Adam look at the data I collected?”
“I’ll find my own,” he replied.
“God, you are so stubborn.”
“It would do you well to remember that.” His phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and grimaced. “Speak of the devil. What is it, Adam?” He snarled into the receiver. “No, I am not fucking my fucking wife in the fucking goddamn elevator. I’m having a discussion with her. And she’s not my fucking wife. And tell security I’ll start the goddamn elevator when I’m good and ready. You know I can fire you, asshole, so watch it.”
He slid the phone back in his pants and jabbed the button on the elevator.
“I forgot about the claustrophobia. I’ll have you at the bottom in a minute.” He sounded almost tender, but then seemed to remember he shouldn’t do that. “When we get to the lobby, you don’t have to worry about close spaces because you never have to walk into this building again.”
The elevator slid down the shaft, and Ian turned away from her.
The doors opened, revealing a pretty young woman in a yellow skirt and a blouse that was at least a size too big for her. She wore glasses, and her dark hair was in a messy bun.
She’d been smiling, but she lost it once she looked at Ian. She looked like a deer in the headlights of a raging oncoming truck.
“Phoebe, you’re late,” Ian said in a pitch black voice.
The girl, who couldn’t be much past twenty-four, blanched. “I’ll just take the stairs, Mr. Taggart.”
She ran as fast as her kitten heels could carry her.
“That was mean. Are you having fun scaring little girls now?”
He took her by the elbow and started hauling her out. “They seem to be the only ones I can scare anymore. I’ll be shocked if she makes it up all fifteen flights. Someone’s going to have to go get her. Why do I pick up fucking strays? At least you’re one I can get rid of. Security!”
Two men immediately stepped up. They were dressed in almost military looking uniforms. “Mr. Taggart?”
He pointed a finger her way. “Don’t let this woman back in the building.”
She couldn’t allow that to happen. “I will sue the holy fuck out of everyone here. He’s my husband. I own half of the fifteenth floor.”
Ian’s jaw squared, his eyes hardening. “We’re not married.”
“Yes, we are and I have the documents to prove it.”
Ian smirked. “And I have your death certificate. It’s all framed and everything.”
She pulled out her ace. “You’re the only one who has it.”
He stopped. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave that hanging out there. I’m sure there are some files with MI6 and the Agency, but good luck getting those. I think you’ll find they’re classified.” Actually Chelsea had recently erased all the pertinent info, but she let Ian believe what he wanted to. The minute she’d known the Florida operation was going to be a success, she’d put her plan into motion. “The marriage certificate is back in place as of yesterday. According to all public records, we’ve been living together happily for almost six years now.” She smiled at the security guards. “We’re trying to have a baby. The doctors told him he has sluggish sperm. It’s made him really cranky.”
He took a step toward her, his voice going low. “Sweetheart, I am going to settle in on that bench right over there and I’ll pull up that little skirt you’re wearing, pull down your underwear, and spank you until you scream and all in front of these very nice, very vanilla people. Do you want that?”
She shook her head. “I’m not wearing any underwear, Ian. You told me I wasn’t allowed to. It’s made packing so much easier.”
He gripped her wrist and started hauling her out of the building.
He seemed to be under some kind of impression that she had dignity to protect or something. Dignity didn’t mean crap to her. She planted her feet. Unfortunately, the smooth marble surface helped her to slide right along.
“Out you go, Charlie. If I see you here again, I’ll call the cops. And you should understand my first call when I get back upstairs is going to be to my lawyer. If we’re still married, honey, we’re getting a divorce.”
“I don’t want a divorce, Ian.”
“I don’t care what you want.” He used one broad shoulder to open the glass doors, letting in a blast of pure Texas heat.
Charlie stumbled a little as her feet went from marble to concrete. Ian cursed and caught her before her ass found the ground. “Ian, please. Let’s talk about this. I can prove I’m not working f
or Eli Nelson.”
He made sure she was steady on her feet before moving away again. “No, you can’t.”
“There has to be something.” She wasn’t sure he would believe her if God came down and whacked him over his very masculine forehead with the truth. Her righteously paranoid husband would just decide that the heavenly father was a double agent sent to kill him. “Ian, you have to trust your instincts. Look at the data in front of you. Read what I’ve sent you. Look at it dispassionately and then form a logical conclusion. You’re the smartest man I’ve ever met.”
“Follow my instincts? I did that once. I shoved all the facts aside and followed my instincts. That’s how I lost my job and I damn near lost my life. You taught me that lesson, Charlie. Good-bye.”
He started to turn away, and Charlie felt her heart squeeze.
He stared for a moment, his eyes on the door, and then she saw it. A single glint off the metal handle.
“Get the fuck down!” Ian yelled, his body moving with predatory grace.
He hit her with the impact of a locomotive, and she found herself tackled and thrown to the ground just as the bullets started flying.
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 t
hem 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.
