by Mia Downing
He must have sucked in a breath because Charlotte glanced at him, her blank stare growing confused, then concerned. She opened her mouth as the limo stopped but turned away.
Jake ushered them to another new rental car, this one a generous, sleek sedan. “Get in,” Jake ordered.
After they’d settled in their seats, Charlotte pressed against the far door again, Jake at the wheel, Aaron demanded, “So what exactly does this mean? If someone saw her tattoo, what’s going to happen?”
“We don’t know,” Jake said, glancing over at Charlotte.
“How long will it take to know?”
“We don’t know that, either.”
“Well, what the fuck do you know? Because if I’m reading all of your secrecy between the lines correctly, she’s less safe than I am. Why the hell would you send a spy you don’t want visible to be with me?”
Why indeed? Charlotte had never understood the reasoning but had trusted her boys would see to her safety. The original plan had been to get Aaron to agree to going home to the ranch, but he’d shot that down. But why would two men who loved her set her up to be on the arm of an up-and-coming actor? Especially if they knew the cost of her being made by the motherfuckers?
“Christ on a motorbike.” Charlotte bolted upright and stared at Jake in the rearview mirror, finally getting it. “They wanted to blow my cover. That was the plan from square one.”
“What?” Aaron turned to Jake. “Is that true?”
Jake held her gaze, and by the way those blue eyes of his became shuttered from emotion, she knew she was right. Damn them to hell.
“When were you going to fill me in on the plan, Jacob? Right before I walked out the door for the premiere tonight?” She never called him Jacob unless she was deadly pissed. “And don’t deny it. I know I’m right. Just tell me.”
“We planned to move in Manhattan,” Jake muttered.
“You don’t think it would be smart to involve me in the plans for my future, since it is my ass on the line?”
“Low risk, sweetheart. We would have told you in D.C. before we left.”
He was right, of course, about risk. “And what about Aaron? He’s on my arm, too. What happens when the asshole I set up in Egypt decides Aaron needs to settle my score?”
“We’ll see to his safety.”
“And yet you shoved me into his bed, knowing what this would trigger?”
Jake sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. “I only wanted you to be happy. Both of you.”
“Happy?” She closed her eyes again and counted to ten, slowly, and then did it again in French. “I can’t believe this. I trusted you.”
“You have no reason to stop trusting me, or Chase. Yes, we should have informed you sooner, but Chase didn’t feel you needed to know until it was time to move.”
Of course not. Here she’d thought all along she was a queen, waiting to move with them. She was just a pawn, set out on the board, waiting to be taken. She fought the despair and sadness, channeling the anger instead. “Was this your idea or his? Or were you in agreement on something for a change?”
“His.”
Her phone went off—Chase’s ring tone. She fished her phone out of her purse and handed it forward to Jake. “You deal with that.”
Jake answered on the second ring. “Chase. She doesn’t want to talk to you. She knows.” Jake listened a moment, sighed, and handed Charlotte the phone. “That was a live taping, Char, and he’s not thrilled. Just talk to him.”
“He’s not thrilled? Jesus, as if I give a bloody flying fig.”
Aaron sucked in a breath next to her—she’d almost forgotten he was there. He was so quiet, taking it all in. He fumbled for her hand, and she let him hold it though her body felt so cold she could barely feel his fingers around hers.
Charlotte put the phone to her ear and ground out, “I have nothing to say to you.”
“That’s right, start pointing fingers, sweetheart.” Chase’s laugh was bitter. “I’m not the one who forgot to cover my tattoo, so don’t go blaming this on me. We didn’t plan for it to happen this way, days early, with no support in place. Christ, Charlotte, what were you thinking?”
“That the two men I love wouldn’t set me up to have my cover blown, that’s what I was thinking. Now or New York, why does it matter?” She thought of Blonde Bitch and how the woman had singled out her tattoo. Too convenient, knowing what she knew now. “Did you tell that bitch to pull me on stage?”
“What? No.”
“Don’t lie to me, Sanders. You fuck everyone over eventually. Get me flustered by telling Jake to push me at Aaron, tell that bitch to look for my tattoo. You couldn’t be up front with me about this, so I didn’t have to feel like a bitch about babysitting?” She thought for a moment and hissed out a breath. “When you die, the devil is going to greet you with open arms, you bastard. I can’t believe you used your son to force me out here.”
He’d given her a choice—go to California or stay home. It was hard for her to be around kids. When she looked at a child, she did the math in her head. Her baby would be almost five, riding a two-wheeler, learning to play soccer, thinking about kindergarten, beginning to read and write. She’d chosen to go to Aaron instead.
“Charlotte, no. I wouldn’t have made you stay home with Kate. Honest. I gave you a choice because you looked exhausted and I thought you needed to come home. You need to start separating work from personal. They’re two distinct entities. Right now, this is work.”
Yes, and she was faced with the struggle Jake and Kate faced every day—loving Chase while working for him. Though right now, Jake was just as high on her shit list. “It’s all looking fairly blurred to me from where I sit, and I’m having a hard time telling the truth from the lies.”
“The truth is we don’t know if you’ve been made yet or not. We won’t know for a few days, and I plan to use this to our advantage. You’ll go to the premiere tonight, make sure your tattoo is visible. You’ll go on to Manhattan, and we’ll set up a support team there. We’ll have Aaron’s agent put out press statements about you attending together, since you’re sure to be America’s sweetheart now.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you, too, sweetheart.” Chase paused, papers rustled. “We’ll have support for you in New York, and we’ll have Jake stand in as Aaron at the premiere. We’ll stash Aaron in a safe house with security.”
“And I’m supposed to just wait.”
“Yes. We’ve offered the bait—you. We’ll see what bites.”
She never envisioned her endgame happening this way. She pictured a high altitude plane jump followed by ass kicking in a warehouse filled with gun crates and cocaine. At the very least, she pictured her and the ringleader facing off, her killing him a split second before he killed her. It worked for her.
But none of it started with her at a movie premiere, her cover blown because of a tattoo her husband had marked her with. “Why not just tie me out on a street corner to a lamppost? They can pick me up at will.”
“Don’t be a smartass.”
“What do you want me to be, Chase?” she asked softly, one step from feeling dangerous. “Because I don’t think we’re on the same page here.”
“I want you to be the best agent you can be. I want you to do your job. You have your orders. Go to the premiere, go to New York, be visible, stay safe.”
“Stay safe? Really?”
“They don’t want a dead woman.”
If she had any blood left in her veins, it would have frozen at the tone in his voice. “Why are you doing this to me?”
“You wanted this,” Chase reminded her coldly. “This is what you asked for, trained to be. Here it is, sweetheart. You ready? I hope so, because once this rolls, there’s no stopping it. Now put Jake back on.”
She handed the phone back to Jake, numb. She struggled internally with the part that wanted to curl up and die. Chase had never gone off on her in boss mode. Never. She’d always watched as h
e told others to suck it up and get on with the job. Yes, he was a bastard. She knew this. But he’d never been a bastard to her. He’d always been her favorite. Now…she didn’t know.
“Hey,” Aaron whispered. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she lied. “We’re going to the premiere tonight, then tomorrow off to New York. It will be okay.”
“You don’t look like it will be okay.”
“I just found out my two favorite people in the world lied to me. How do you want me to look?”
Aaron picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, the act sweet and endearing in the midst of the hell she was suffering. “This is my lucky day. I just moved way up on your list. You might even love me best now.”
Despite not feeling like smiling, she couldn’t resist the tiniest of one. “Punk. You’re on your own list, and there’s nothing about love on it.”
Aaron’s grin faded as he studied her. “You can’t explain more? I’m not trying to be nosy. I just want to help you through this.”
She glanced forward to Jake, still on her phone as he drove. “No.”
“Is there anything you can do? I can do for you?”
“No.” But she thought about it. Why did she have to sit here and wait for them to set her up? This was her endgame, not his. He should have informed her, involved her in the moving of the pieces. But no, because that’s not what he did. He ran the show, and God forbid anyone move anything without Chase knowing.
Her mind flew a million kilometers a second. She didn’t have to sit here. What was stopping her from going to England and finding out the truth? Every time she wanted to move, Chase wouldn’t let her. She knew where to go, who to ask, but Chase always shut her down, told her she’d blow the case so wide they’d never recover enough to nail who they needed to nail.
Her old boss, Albert Reese, still lived in England, retired now, but they’d never moved in on him because Chase and Jake had said she’d ruined the case when she destroyed evidence they needed. Her first huge mistake, one that would land here, under Chase’s vigilant watch.
As far as she was concerned, the case stopped and started with Albert Reese. There wasn’t anything to keep her here any longer. If Chase and Jake were willing to toss her to the motherfuckers, then she was going rogue.
Somehow, she had to get herself out from under Jake’s nose and across the pond. Aaron, she’d miss him, but Jake would keep him safe, out of danger. She wouldn’t need to worry as she struck out alone.
She laid her head against Aaron’s shoulder and inhaled, needing his spicy scent to keep her sane. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and held her close, kissing her forehead.
“I’m sorry you’re in the middle of this,” she whispered.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” He kissed her again, on the temple this time. “Just tell me you’re going to cooperate with Jake and Chase?”
“Why would you ask me that?” He’d joked that he wanted to learn her, and unfortunately, he might have succeeded. She’d need to be careful going forward.
“Because the look in your eye doesn’t bode well for either of them.”
“Everything will be fine, love. Just fine.”
And it would be. The endgame had started, and she was playing the game on her terms. She’d go to a premiere tonight, she’d make love to Aaron afterward, and in the morning, she’d jump-start her own path and purpose. She just had to find a way.
****
On your knees, punk.
Those four words in a text were enough to make Aaron break out into a frenzied sweat. His cock stirred, and he struggled for air despite the fact he was surrounded by two hundred of his co-workers, all dressed up for a film premiere.
He adjusted his jacket to hide the evidence of his arousal and glanced around the theatre foyer, decked out with a feast for the occasion. Charlotte had ducked off to powder her nose or whatever women did. Something told him she wasn’t one of the usual women, holding hands on the way to the bathroom, whispering about their dates’ asses. She was probably casing the place or talking to Jake. Maybe she had to pee, but she’d do it fast and efficiently, like she did everything else.
So he texted back, Will you blow me when the house lights go dark, Ma’am?
Your career?
She had a point. The theatre would be packed. The world would know I’m not gay.
Bi?
Only you can claim my ass, Ma’am.
It was nice to banter with her after the stressful afternoon they’d had. After the interview had gone to hell in a hand basket, Charlotte fought for composure. She’d ignored Jake and ended up going for a run alone despite Jake’s protests. If they wanted her, let them come get her, she’d said, but she’d taken her gun.
After the run, she’d seemed a lot clearer. More focused. She still ignored Jake but allowed Aaron back into her world. Granted, it was a cold world with no sex at this point, but he’d take it.
“Really? I can have your ass?” she breathed a moment later in his ear, over his shoulder, her voice seductive and all-American Amanda. “Might be fun to work that in before the power shifts.”
“I was joking, but if it makes you that hot…” He wanted to nuzzle her neck, dip his face down into her cleavage. Damn that blue cocktail dress, sexy, backless, just long enough to cover the gun strapped to her thigh. “Can we leave?”
“No.” She rounded to stand in front of him, just an inch shorter than he in her silver heels. He wanted to make hard, burning love to her later in only those shoes, if she’d let him.
“Jake needs to work,” she whispered.
Jake was their limo driver for the night, hoping to score on some information by hanging with the other drivers while the film ran. Charlotte seemed pissed about that, too. But his Danger Girl had a right to be pissed. If Jake had been in the works to set him up like he had Charlotte, he’d be just as resentful. The endgame party was starting, all because her watch broke. He was confident she’d win. No one was better prepared than Charlotte.
Aaron grabbed two glasses of champagne off a passing tray and handed her one. “Do you drink anything besides tequila? We’ve never discussed it.” At the wedding, she’d made him do a shot before he could dance with her. Liquid courage, he’d guessed. Thankfully, he hadn’t felt the need to drink anything with a proof rating lately.
She smiled and glanced around the room, playing the part of star struck. “I can have a glass, but I don’t usually drink when I’m working, unless it’s part of the cover.”
It hurt to be reminded he was just a job. He snagged some hot munchies off a passing tray and handed one to her. “And when you’re not?”
She scanned a different section of the room and smiled as she sampled a stuffed mushroom. “I like white wine. Not a fan of red, but perhaps California has something to offer that will tickle my fancy.”
That sparked an idea. Aaron tugged her arm, dragging her to a quiet corner. “When this is all over, after you face the bastards, will you go with me to Napa? We’ll hit a few vineyards, find a bed and breakfast. Make love all afternoon.”
“No.”
“No?” Her answer shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did. Of course, she’d balk.
“Sex only. Didn’t you get that? There isn’t a ‘when this is all over,’ not for me, not for you.” She smiled brightly as Grant, Aaron’s co-star, slapped him on the back as he passed.
“Besides,” she lowered her voice, “you’re the end of the road for me, punk. You’re my one chance to live.”
He couldn’t let her slip away from him. “When you’re done with whatever they’ve screwed you over with, quit. Come live with me. Be my personal bodyguard if you have to have a title other than my girlfriend. I can pay you if money is a worry. But I want you to be mine. All the time.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I can’t quit, even if I wanted to. But the scariest part of that is you want me to be yours.”
He shrugged and drained his champagne flute, wishing for harder liquor.
“So? I want you to be mine. My girlfriend, my bodyguard, my lover, my—”
“Don’t!” Her eyes were wide as she placed her fingertips on his lips, stopping him from saying wife. They both knew it was coming, but he was the only one eager to hear it.
She shook her head. “We can’t discuss this here. But it won’t work. Trust me.”
The lights flashed, signaling time for everyone to take their seats. He smiled, outwardly a perfect gentleman with his girlfriend, when inside she was the woman he wanted to throttle and then fuck upside a wall. Definitely fuck, he was so angry.
“I’m not done with this.” He used the voice that usually swayed her to his side of things, the deep voice that came from his balls.
She sighed. “I know. But you need to be done, because I thought I was very clear, from the beginning.”
“Another session of camp, then, when this mess you’re in has cleared. I’ll write you kinky love letters. Hot texts. We can meet for sex in seedy hotels across six continents.” He felt like a desperate man being lowered into a well, and when he got to the bottom, he’d drown. Only she wasn’t listening to his pleas to stop lowering him into the darkness. “I need more.”
The glare she pinned him with was bone-chilling at best. “What you need is to go sit. Now.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
He put his hand on her back and smiled until his teeth hurt. He filed in behind her when all he wanted to do was run. He didn’t want to be here on a good day, never mind now, when she only served to remind him time was running out. They had until New York. She’d go on to whatever hell waited for her and be miserable. He thought he’d done a fairly good job of keeping her happy up until a few minutes ago. Except for fucking up by letting those jerks drag her on stage. Aaron sighed and slouched in his seat.
Now, he had to watch himself for two hours and seven minutes. Some of it pretty close to naked while the woman he loved sat next to him with a gun strapped to her thigh. He closed his eyes and leaned back as the opening music started, planning on one hell of a nap.
