by Mia Downing
Charlotte leaned back in her chair, glad for the distraction because the punk was going the wrong way in his mind. He should be thinking about what was next—next film, next girlfriend. Not her. Not when her hours were counting down quickly.
She wrapped her arms around her waist and tried to concentrate on the film. How did she tell him that this was a suicide mission? It sounded melodramatic if you weren’t close to the facts. The facts were simple, though. Motherfuckers weren’t to be messed with, and she planned on messing. She didn’t plan on living to clean up on aisle three, either.
Finally, she lost herself in watching her punk do his thing quite brilliantly, though his spy skills left something to be desired. That seventies handhold on the gun, the fake explosives, and Jesus, when you stabbed someone, they didn’t bleed like that. She leaned over at one point and growled, “If I ever catch you sticking a loaded gun into your pants without a holster, I’ll cut your dick off myself.”
“Will you blow me first?”
“Punk.”
And then the love scene arrived, with Aaron’s naked ass on the screen, his lean body even harder and leaner in this film, so buff, his chest unwaxed. God, she wished she’d be around when that hair grew back, so crisp and dark brown, with a happy trail that would lead to the heaven beneath his boxer briefs. She squirmed in her seat and shoved her hands between her thighs, careful of her gun, wishing he’d leap off the screen and fuck her instead of that tramp.
But he didn’t get to fuck the bit of fluff, either, because the bad guys arrived and he yanked on his pants, commando, picking up the gun to shoot—safety still on, stupid punk. She leaned over to crow in delight and realized Aaron’s beautiful eyes were closed. Tight.
“What’s wrong with you?” she whispered.
“I don’t want to watch me doing that.” He waved his hand. “Or any of this. I hate watching my films. Usually, I just stay out in the lobby and drink, or I sneak home. I’ve had my eyes closed the entire time.”
That didn’t seem like Aaron. Not one bit. She had expected him to devour himself, because at times he was so cocky she wanted to smack him senseless. But here he was, shoulders rolled, slouched in his seat, looking like he’d rather have teeth pulled.
“Would you like to leave?”
“Would you let me?” He opened his eyes and looked so hopeful.
“No, but we can go into the lobby. People will probably think I want to fuck you senseless after that love scene. Poor guy. I bet you had a hard-on for days.”
“No.” He leaned and whispered, so softly, “She’s a scary bitch.”
Charlotte closed her eyes on his words. It was so easy to forget he had a past when he was horny as hell with her, so bold and brave. But at times, she would touch him or look at him, and he’d flinch. Maybe that past was a good thing, because he sure as hell took the time to make sure she enjoyed every second in bed with him.
That’s why it was so hard to shut him down in the lobby when he cornered her about the future. He’d been so earnest, so sweet and handsome, wanting more time, more of her. No one wanted more of Charlotte, and if they did, it wouldn’t matter. She had a job to do and the government owned her ass. A future with Aaron wasn’t an option for so many reasons.
But if she had options…did she wish she could be his bodyguard full time? She didn’t know. Aaron full time would be terrifying. She’d be hot and horny all day. People would become complacent around her and not fear her scowl. She might actually get a little dog with clothes, and not kill it when it yipped. She’d be…happy.
Happy terrified her the most.
The film finished, and Aaron rose, relieved. “See why I needed spy camp?” he whispered against her neck as she hugged him in congratulations.
“If I were a horse professional, I’m sure I’d be just as appalled at the film you just finished.” She had to admit, Aaron on horseback was more appealing than Aaron drifting dirt in a sedan as he escaped the bad guys, but she knew little about horses and way too much about spies.
“Appalled? That bad?”
“Wrong word. I’m sorry.” She was saddened that her spy camp would make him even better for the next film. Even more sad that this film was proof she could never be his. “It’s going to be a block buster, love. This is the stuff normal people thrive on. I’ll blow you for being callous, okay?”
“Not in the limo, please.” He looked queasy at the thought, since Jake would be driving.
She laughed. “No worries. I feel the same way. It’s Jake’s thing, not mine.”
“And what’s your thing?”
Endgames. Motherfuckers. Training. Life demanded she be honest, even if she would leave him tomorrow, to continue her quest. He deserved honest. “For tonight, you.”
His face lit up then, and there was nothing dirty about this grin. It was all boyish, overjoyed Aaron. “Then you’ll tell Chase to go fuck himself and stay. You don’t need to go to New York. Tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
She touched her fingers to his lips, loving the softness under the tips, knowing how gentle yet fierce his kisses could be. “No.”
“No? Chase lied to you, set you up, and is using you as bait for some dumbass thing that could get you hurt in the long run. You’re going to stay for that nonsense?” The steel that formed behind his blue eyes reminded her of Jake’s anger. “You need to tell me why, then.”
“Why? We won’t work. You’re an actor. I’m a…you know. You live here. I live there. And actually, I live in Europe most of the time. You’re a punk. You’re judgmental.”
He growled and tugged her down the aisle, toward the bottom of the theater where people couldn’t overhear. “The truth, Char. Give me the truth.”
“Later.”
“Now. I won’t move until you tell me. Childish, I know. But so be it.”
She sighed, not wanting to do this here, but he was giving her little choice. “Because this mission—” She hated living, so much. “It’s suicide, Aaron. This is what I’ve been training for. I’m going to kill this man, and he’s going to kill me. I’m going to die, and I went into this knowing it was eventual suicide. I can’t guard you if I’m dead.”
She should have just slapped his face. The color drained from his golden skin, and the pain in his eyes grabbed her heart and twisted. He took a step away and stared, as if she had been beamed down by aliens, green and naked. He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, suddenly speechless. He’d never been speechless before.
She channeled the cold, hard, and mean, looked him directly in the eye, and said softly, “Do you understand now?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” he finally choked out.
“Don’t ask me again.” She grabbed his hand and led him out of the building, to the waiting limo, steering him to pause for a picture when they were called. He smiled a thousand-watt smile, his hand at the small of her back, every inch the gentleman, the attentive lover. All Aaron James.
But something inside her curled up into a tiny ball as she watched him, that smile never reaching his eyes, his touch on her back now cold and impersonal. Her truth had just killed something sweet and special inside of Aaron Anderson, the man she loved. And that’s what she got for living.
Chapter Sixteen
Aaron sat, stunned in the limo, listening to Charlotte forget she was angry with Jake and tell him all about the film, as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb on his little world. That fucker, Chase, was sending her to die. Just like that, for whatever happened on doomsday, or whatever the fuck she called it. This had to be Chase’s fault, somehow, because the man made Satan look like a cuddle bunny. Jake was just the middle man.
He didn’t believe her, though. This wasn’t the dark ages. A woman didn’t need to go kick ass, take names, and give her life for it. She wasn’t Joan of Arc. She was Danger Girl, and she had two men who were supposed to love her and keep her from dying. Assholes. So much for trusting the ones you love.
“What the fuck, Char,” he fina
lly said when they arrived home. She was sitting on the edge of his bed, her hair still pinned up, the sides tumbling down in these crazy, sweet curls he wanted to tug. “You can’t drop a bomb like that on me in public.”
“I warned you to stop. You pressed on.” She assessed him coldly, as if he were a choice of pencil or pen to write with on a grocery list. “And telling the truth did shut you up finally.”
“Do you really have no heart?”
“Yes. They took my heart and trounced it soundly five years ago. So instead of sitting here making plans to keep house with me, thank your lucky stars you got almost a week of sex camp and spy camp out of me. I tried to be nice. I told you no. But you don’t get no. So there’s the truth, lover boy. I can’t give you what I don’t have. I don’t have a future.”
“You don’t have to die. That’s…pessimistic.”
“Pessimistic?” She laughed. “The glass isn’t half full here. It’s empty. I know what I’m up against. This is the mouse taking down the giant, even with Chase’s support. So when Jake told me to live, I finally did. I used every delectable inch of you, and now I’m done.”
He fought the ache brewing. She didn’t mean it. He knew she felt something for him. “What about New York.”
“What about it?” She hesitated just a nanosecond, her hand in mid-air as she removed pins from her curls. Something in her expression changed, flitted, and he realized she had no intention of going to New York. Somehow, she was bolting, but it didn’t seem like her to run. The Charlotte he knew would run at the problem head on, in a different direction.
“You’re not going to New York with me.” His mind flew, trying to head her off at the pass, so to speak. She wasn’t dying on his watch. “You’re going to see if your cover is blown, aren’t you. You’re not going to sit here and wait.”
“Aaron—”
“Good. Let’s go, Char. I’m sick of L.A., and I don’t have anything contractual left on this film. I’ve done it. I don’t need to be on the sound stage for part two until after the first of the year. Let’s go see what the riff raff knows.”
She held her hand to her neck, her fingers splayed on her pale skin, eyes wide and horrified. “I can’t take you.”
“Sure, you can. I have training. It will be like overnight spy camp. We’ll be partners.”
She snorted and shook her head, as if to clear it. “You don’t have jack shit for training or brains.”
“I’m smarter than I am hot.”
“And your blood is still red,” she snapped. “When it bleeds out all over, Jake will kick my ass.”
“You’ll be dead, so what does it matter?”
She closed her eyes, and her expression lost the cold and hard aspect, the lines softening with sadness. “You make me regret being truthful.”
Well, he regretted her ever meeting Chase. “Why would Satan do this to you?”
“Satan?” Her eyes flew open.
“Chase.”
She rose, slowly set the handful of pins on the dresser and faced him. “It was my decision, Aaron. Not his. He just provided me a way to get what I wanted. A job, training. Access to information. Yes, they went behind my back to start this, but I fully intend to end it. My way, though. Not theirs.”
Aaron just hated the guy more. Fuck him, with his smelly shirts and endgame party plan. “You going to tell me why?”
“No. Just let me go, okay? Treat this like camp, like I suggested. We kiss, part, and you’ll think of me wistfully when you bed your next girlfriend.”
Fuck that. He kicked off his shoes and put them in the closet. He wanted a shot or two of whiskey to numb the horror. But that’s what chicken shits did, and she was right. He’d be strung out on coke and dead in two years, not ten. That couldn’t be his crutch any longer. This sucked, and he’d face it, save himself, and find a way to save her, too. She didn’t need to die. “When do you leave?”
“What?”
He decided to play stupid. “Leave? Depart? Or do I need to ask Jake? I’m assuming they’re sending you elsewhere.”
He got the trifecta of pissed—a glare, pursed lips, and the pointed finger. “Don’t talk to Jake about any of this.”
“Oh-ho, he doesn’t know, does he?” Aaron studied her body language. Back ramrod stiff, shoulders tense, hand on her cocked hip. Nope, Jake didn’t know diddly.
“He knows.” But she wouldn’t meet his gaze as she traced the pattern of her tattoo on her wrist.
“You’re going out alone. Won’t you get in a shitload of trouble for that?”
“Yes,” she muttered, turning. “Unzip me.”
He skimmed his hands down her back. “Why won’t you take Jake?”
“Because I’ve asked them to move on this for years, and they won’t. Jake will shut me down immediately and tell Chase.”
“Okay.” He slid her zipper down, taking a moment to think. No way was she going anywhere near death alone. He had been told before he could sell ice to Eskimos. Time to see if he could. “You need back up for this. Someone who’s a great liar with acting skills. Someone who can sort of handle a gun and look tough while you take the names and kick the asses.”
She whirled around, hand holding her dress up, eyes wide. “You’re not coming.”
“Yes, I am. Take me or I’ll tell Jake.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Hell, yes, I would.”
Her eyes couldn’t get any wider. She clenched her fist around the bodice of her dress, her teeth grinding. “So. Fucking. Dead.”
“Really? I dared you before. Here I still am.”
Something wavered in her eyes, and though she fought it, the power shifted, ever so slightly. He felt it. He had the upper hand, and the way she dropped her eyes told him there was no way she was killing him. He was going on a trip, he’d ensure she didn’t have to die, and he was going to make senseless love to her before they left. Didn’t get any better than that.
“Fucking punk.” Charlotte stared at Aaron. Someone should have beaten the shit out of him when he was a kid, before he learned how to manipulate people. He knew what buttons to push and how to get exactly what he wanted, damn him.
She studied him as he removed his shirt, button by button, revealing that hard chest she loved so much. Maybe taking him wouldn’t be so bad. It would buy her precious time. The plan Chase had devised so far was to stay overnight in D.C., then leave as a team for New York Friday afternoon.
If they left for London on an overnight flight Thursday, she’d have eight hours of lead-time before Chase burned her—froze her assets, scared her contacts, and put her aliases on a no-fly list. If she made it to England, she was home free. She had money hidden, associates to help her if she called in favors. She just had to get there.
If she took Aaron, she’d have to change her plans so he’d be safe. He could stay in the hotel, and she could give him something to do…laptop stuff. Make him feel important. She wasn’t taking him down with her.
She sighed, one big heave that left her breathless and dizzy.
“I promise I’ll behave,” he whispered, now gloriously naked. He leaned in to caress her cheek with his knuckle in that way that always gave her shivers. Gently, he removed her hand from her bodice and let her dress slide to pool at her feet so she stood only in panties and her gun. She removed the holster and set it on his dresser.
The promise that lingered in his eyes had nothing to do with behaving. It was one that dialogued directly with her lust. “You have a better chance of capturing a unicorn.”
“If you take me, I’ll let you give me blowjobs, Ma’am.”
“Aaron, no.” But she was melting, especially when his hand slipped to her breast, and he dipped his head to nuzzle her neck. “You need to let Jake guard you.”
He changed to a grumpy frown, ever the bad boy, working all of the angles. “You promised me you’d help with the Anderson contest. We’re way behind, and I want to beat those bastards.” He teased her nipples. “Don’t you wan
t four orgasms, Ma’am?”
Yes, damn him, she did, but she couldn’t think about that, not now. Not when she was about to knock down the dominoes Chase had put in place, had asked her to wait to tumble.
Damn this man of hers. If she wanted her endgame, she’d have to take Aaron. She didn’t see a way around it. Yet.
“If I bring you, you have to listen. No matter what. I can’t take you if I can’t trust you.”
“I’ll listen. I’ll try to behave.” He frowned. “How about I agree to operate within your best interests?”
“I think I’d have a better chance surviving alone. You need to listen or else.”
He sighed. “Okay.”
She ran her hands through his hair as he bent to suck her nipples, twirling his tongue around them in that naughty way of his. “You’re sure you don’t have to go to Manhattan?”
“Don’t need to.” He relinquished sucking and looked up, almost breathless and eager, and not for sex. “You’re taking me, then?”
“I’ll regret this, but yes.”
He gave her the most breathtaking smile, one that grabbed her heart and made her very glad she said yes. “Where are we going?”
“England. I’m going to talk to a very bad man about my past.”
“Will you have to die for it?”
“Hopefully not.” But that only meant she was closer. So much closer.
“Good. Because I’ll want a blowjob for not telling Jake and another blowjob when we land for being good on the plane. We’ll negotiate the return trip in England.”
“Cheeky,” she breathed as his lips drew in her nipple again. “Is this what our adventure will be about? How many international blowjobs you’ll get?”
“Oh, no.” He blew hot air across her aching peak, sending a shiver of gooseflesh across her breast. “This will be about how many orgasms I can give you. The blowjobs will help keep me from coming so you get your four.”
