Endgame

by Mia Downing

  “There’s a bench in it, too. And the tile looked very safe. Non-slippery.”

  “Are you trying to talk me into shower sex? Because you colored your hair, and I colored mine. Isn’t wet hair bad?” And he was still scared shitless about hurting her.

  “Kill joy.”

  “Before we leave?” he offered. What the hell, he was an international spy’s boyfriend and partner. He should live a little more dangerously. Shower sex was a good place to start.

  “There’s a big tub. I’d like a bath.” She kissed lower, on his neck, then she unbuttoned his shirt, her tongue dancing downward. So weird to watch her blonde head disappear down his body, across his stomach, her fingers working at the button on his jeans, his cock already working on hard. He kicked out of his pants, and then his underwear,

  “Will you pretend you’re a mermaid and you want to seduce me, the stranded pirate?” That thought wasn’t helping his control, especially since his cock had found its way into her mouth.

  “I don’t sing,” she warned as she stood. She took his hand and tugged him toward the bathroom. “So don’t expect a siren.”

  He didn’t expect anything from Charlotte, and that surprised him. But then, she was almost a mythical creature herself, a dragon, mermaid, and ninja all rolled into one, with a suicidal death mission. And just like the fool pirate, he’d fallen hard for the mythical beast. “Deal.”

  ****

  Bath sex turned out to be exciting as hell, and blonde Charlotte made quite the mermaid. After a long soak, a quick nap, and dinner, Charlotte dressed to leave, holstered her gun at the small of her back and covered it with a black jacket. She kissed him goodbye and explained she was meeting the other agent in his room across town. Chase would be pissed if she brought him. She’d call afterward.

  Aaron thought she was full of shit.

  So as soon as Charlotte left, Aaron grabbed her old phone off the desk and fired it up. He scrolled, found what he hoped was the right number because God forbid anyone put a real name in a phone. Especially his spy girlfriend partner.

  It was answered on the second ring. “Charlotte.”

  “If you treated your employees better, they wouldn’t feel the need to flee to foreign countries. Starting with a greeting on the phone.”

  “Aaron.” Chase’s voice was full of surprise. “Is she okay?”

  “I guess. But I have a few questions.”

  “Okay.”

  She’d left in black clothes. Aaron figured he’d need the same. He cradled the phone between his ear and his shoulder and began pulling on black jeans. “When is that other agent arriving?”

  “You don’t need to know. She has her orders.”

  “Humor me? Please? You think I wanted to call you?”

  Chase sighed. “Later tonight. She has her orders to move tomorrow.”

  Aaron prided himself at getting very good at reading his Danger Girl, because he knew she wasn’t telling the truth from square one. A sixth sense told him not to trust her as far as he could throw her, which was the length of the bed. “And how do I get a gun?”

  “You don’t need a gun. She told me you were going to stay safe and sound in the hotel. Go watch some porn. Put it on the hotel charge, my treat.”

  Safe, my ass. He buttoned his jeans and grabbed a black shirt. “Yeah, well, she’s moving on this tonight. Alone. So I suggest you tell me where to get a gun and where to go.”

  “Fuck.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Aaron buttoned the shirt, his heart racing a mile a minute. “So are you going to fill me in? Because I’m all you got.”

  “What’s her plan?”

  “She has lots and lots of questions for her old boss. That’s all she would tell me.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Limited vocabulary for a bright guy, Chase.”

  Chase ignored him and tapped away at a keyboard, the distinct click, click, tap of the keys annoying as hell. “Did she bring her laptop?”

  “Yeah. I have her password to it, too.”

  “Give me your email, and I’ll email you what you need—directions, codes. You can handle a gun, right?”

  Thank God for spy camp. “Jake can vouch for me.”

  “Don’t let her kill him, whatever you do. And you need to sit down.”

  Aaron froze, the laptop half-open on the table in the hotel room. Chase sounded worried, and he knew the man well enough to know he didn’t do worried. “Sit? Why?”

  “Because I never told her the truth. You need to know what she’s going to learn, because when the shit hits the fan, Charlotte is going to come out good and pissed.”

  Aaron sat on the edge of the bed and fought the churning in his stomach. “She doesn’t need enemies with you for a friend, does she?”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  ****

  Charlotte skirted Albert Reese’s mansion, grateful for the overcast night sky hiding the full moon. How strange for everything to be…the same. After five years. He drove the same car—newer model. Same house, same furniture. Same security guard—Franco. Same security system that she helped install. Probably the same codes if she knew him.

  She looked at her watch. If everything remained the same, she had exactly one hour to get in and get what she needed before the flavor of Friday showed up at the country home. Albert Reese liked expensive call girls. She knew because she’d scheduled them.

  She crept around to the side door and picked the lock, then used the code to disable the security system. She looked at her watch. Fifty-one minutes before the whore arrived. Plenty of time.

  Down the hall to the study, second door on the right. She prayed the door wouldn’t squeak. It didn’t. The fire was lit in the fireplace, the room dim. Reese sat in the armchair by the fire, scotch in hand. He looked older, his hair white, gray eyes cloudy from too much drink, his stomach larger.

  Charlotte raised the gun. The hell with interrogation. She was just going to pop him and go. She didn’t need to know why or how. But she did want him to look her in the eye when she killed him. He owed her that. Her family that.

  She was changing the endgame.

  “Good evening, Albert.”

  Reese looked at her then. She expected shock, confusion, or dismay. What she got was a smile and a tip of his glass in salute. “Welcome home, Abigail. I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Charlotte blinked and stared at the older gentleman in the leather armchair, his face more wrinkled in the firelight. He still had the ability to make her knees weak with fear, even after all of this time. “What do you mean, waiting for me?”

  “I knew you were in England. It was just a matter of time.”

  Charlotte swallowed the bile, because somehow, she’d fucked up. She had no clue how, though, especially with Chase’s support.

  He laughed softly. “You’re probably wondering how, what. Why, even.”

  “You could say that.”

  His greasy gaze slid up and down her body, giving her the shivers. “You look well, despite the surgeries. You were a prettier girl before.”

  Her fingers clenched on the grip of the gun. “You destroyed that girl.”

  “Oh, we tried. It’s obvious we failed.” He gestured to the desk behind him and the tray holding a decanter and glasses. “Scotch?”

  “I’m here to kill you, not drink.”

  He chuckled. “I think you’ll wait on the killing. I’m going to let you ask me some questions, Abbey. Have a drink, a seat. You’re going to need both.”

  She shifted but didn’t sit in the chair across from him that he waved toward. “Just spill.”

  “Always impatient.” He sipped his drink and crossed his legs at the ankle, looking way too comfortable, considering she was aiming a gun at his head. “So what if I give you three questions, just for the fun of it. You ask, I’ll tell, and we’ll see how close you get to the truth from those three questions.”

  “I don’t think you�
�re in any position to play games.” But the crawling sensation up her skin told her otherwise. She held the gun, but he had control. It scared her witless, her palms damp under her gloves.

  “No? You’re dying for answers, or you would have just killed me by now. But you haven’t, so you’ll play.”

  He was right, damn him. She wanted to know. If he pissed her off, she could just end the game with a bullet to his brain. Get her answers somewhere else. “Why did you try to kill me?”

  “I didn’t give the orders, and you know why the hit was put on you.” She opened her mouth to protest, and he shook his head in warning. “You wasted that one. Think carefully, Abbey. What do you really want to know?”

  He was right—she’d chucked that question away. But now she knew an important piece. If he didn’t give the orders, then who? Why? Albert Reese was the man with the connections. The man in charge. Wasn’t he?

  Not if he was sitting here, unarmed, with only Franco and an adequate security system. If he were in charge for this long, he’d have more power after five years. He’d need more security. Why hadn’t that bothered her before? Because she was too smug that nothing had changed. There was someone higher up. Or many higher ups.

  “Who was your boss?”

  He cocked his head, thinking. He gave her a slow smile. “Was or is?”

  Past, present… Her gut told her to stick to the past. “Was.”

  “Smart girl. You’re starting to use your head.” He sipped his drink, savoring the liquid in his mouth. “But do you want the truth?”

  Fear clenched in her belly, because something told her she didn’t want the truth. Wasn’t that why she was here, though? Risking everything? “Yes.”

  “John was my boss.”

  “No.” The room seemed to tilt just a bit, and she struggled to keep her knees from buckling. Albert Reese was an evil man. No way could John be more evil. But Jake’s request for the surveillance tape came back to haunt her, the tape she’d destroyed. God, no.

  “Oh, yes. That’s who they wanted when they set you up as an informant. John, not me. I was small chips.”

  She swayed just a little, her knees weak. If she had given Jake what he needed, she wouldn’t be here today. Her baby would have lived. Her life had already been ruined then, but she’d been too stupid and in love to see it.

  The coldness in her heart settled again, numbing her. Last question, then she’d put the gun to Reese’s head and he’d sing like he’d never sung before. “Who is your boss now?”

  “This answer is one you’re going to find very amusing, Abbey. You sure you don’t want that drink? That seat? You’re going to need it.”

  What could be worse than learning her husband was evil? “Tell me or I blow your fucking head off.”

  He laughed, purely maniacal. “I don’t think Chase Sanders will approve of that. Do you?”

  ****

  Aaron, dressed in all black, pulled the car he’d borrowed off on the edge of the road into some bushes. He thought borrowed, because he still couldn’t believe he’d hotwired it. Himself. And knocked out a drunken bum in an alley, all to find his spy girlfriend and keep her from going apeshit with a pistol.

  His head was still reeling after his conversation with Chase. That man was definitely a much better enemy than a friend. Frenemy—wasn’t that the term? If Charlotte shot Chase dead, St. Peter would look the other way at the pearly gates when it came time to tally up Charlotte’s sins. Hell, he’d give her a batt of cotton candy for a job well done.

  Aaron grabbed the pistol he’d gotten from the locker in the train station and shoved it down the waistband of his black pants. He yanked the black hat over his head, got out of the borrowed car, and followed the path Chase said he’d find through the woods.

  After about five minutes, he resurfaced at the back lawn of a mansion, all stone and formal. The side door was unlocked so he slipped in, noting Charlotte had disarmed the security system. Down the hall, second room on the right. He listened—silent inside. He opened the door.

  “You are dead,” Charlotte whispered and lifted the gun to aim at Reese’s grayed temple.

  “Don’t do it!” Aaron yelled.

  She didn’t turn, but her spine stiffened, her shoulders tight. The older guy in the chair didn’t even twitch. Probably didn’t dare. “Why the fuck are you here?”

  “To keep you from making a poor career choice.”

  Her laugh was bitter. “I find it life-affirming. Fuck the career, because Sanders is next.”

  Already in line for the cotton candy, his Danger Girl. “You need to listen to Reese. All of it. You’re killing the wrong guy.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I called Chase.”

  She turned to stare, one that went straight through him and yanked at his soul. It took every ounce of courage he had to stand there, under that cold, assessing gaze. This woman in black was not his lover or his girlfriend or his partner. This was the assassin, and she was determining how much longer he had to live.

  “Are you on their side?” It was implied that she’d kill him if he said yes.

  “No, I’m here for you. Only you.” He shoved his gun back down the front of his pants and raised his hands in surrender.

  “Christ on a motorbike.” She stared at his crotch, her blue eyes round and turning livid. “Did you just shove a loaded gun down your pants with the safety off?”

  “Yes? No? We did it on the set.”

  “Not real guns, idiot.” She reached into her pocket and tossed him a small case. “Put the safety on and put it in your pocket. Jesus, you’d think I didn’t teach you better than that.”

  He had no clue how to feel about being dressed down in front of a very evil man by Danger Girl. But he stood with his hands in the air, just in case. He was no fool.

  “Still have the same boyfriend, do you?” Reese inquired.

  “I’m Seth Gold,” Aaron offered, with a polite wave.

  “Don’t tell the hostage who you are.” She pointed the gun at Reese, though. “So, back to me killing you.”

  “Don’t do it,” Aaron ordered.

  “Shut. Up.”

  “I’m on your side, baby. You want to kill this guy? Chase? Go ahead. But listen first. Don’t be impulsive.”

  “Fine.” But she didn’t move from Reese’s side. Instead, she pressed the gun to his temple. “So here are the rules. I ask, you answer, and I kill you when I’m done. You don’t answer, and I see how many bullets you can hold without passing out. Or dying.”

  Reese swallowed hard. Loud. The only other sound was the ticking clock on the mantle. “Sounds fair, but I think I’ll only hold one bullet in my temple without passing out. Or dying.”

  “Smart ass.” She took a step away, the gun in hand pointed at his head. “Talk.”

  Reese’s gaze darted from her gun to her face, back to her gun. “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Start with John. I don’t believe he was in charge.”

  “Oh, he was in charge. He ran everything. I did the dirty work, the phone calls, and the arrangements, clearing the way with my political connections. I sold or traded arms and technology, sex, and drugs. Whatever worked, and John made the decisions. The big ones. What we sold, traded, to whom, how, where. Who would die, who would live.”

  “He was a university professor.”

  “So? You can’t teach the youth political science and run an empire? You were a big help, organizing my life and then carrying the information back to your lover. You were our courier. Back and forth. We exchanged items in your briefcase, your purse. I never had to be seen with him in public. How stupid were you not to know?”

  “Indeed.” But she aimed the gun at his chest, her eyes so cold Aaron shuddered. “How stupid am I now?”

  “No need to get pissy.” But Reese’s eyes stayed glued on the .45.

  “Stick to the facts, Reese.” She took a step closer. “What changed?”

  “You. He saw you one
afternoon, with him.” Reese gestured to Aaron with his chin. “Thought you were fucking him.”

  Aaron shrugged. It had to have been Jake.

  “Caught you the next afternoon with Sanders. That pissed John off, you running with those two blokes. He’d seen Sanders at a party once and figured you were fucking him then. Or did you fuck them both? At the same time?”

  She shot. Reese screamed. Aaron stared with sick fascination, because he realized she meant business. Jesus, all those threats in California, and she really would have killed him. It looked like the bullet hit Reese’s leg, maybe his calf. He’d live, but Aaron suddenly realized that spy camp had been a game for him. He had known the consequences but had treated it all like a movie role. This was all real for Charlotte.

  “Stop screaming.” Charlotte rolled her eyes, feeling so much calmer after skimming that fat bastard’s leg with a bullet. Seriously, the man was such a baby. She’d taken worse and had run miles to safety after. “It grazed your calf. If you die from that, you deserve it. Don’t fuck with my boys. Stick to the facts.”

  “Thought you were going to kill Sanders?” Reese asked through the gasps of pain. He ran his hands down his leg, checking out the damage. Pansy.

  “I’ll deal with Sanders. You can’t talk smack.” Charlotte stepped forward and pressed the gun to Reese’s temple again. The man shut his mouth immediately, biting back the scream. “So how long did it take you to realize I was funneling information?”

  “We discovered the truth that Wednesday morning.”

  “How stupid were you? I was an informant for a year.” Reese had the grace to look sheepish, because yeah, he should have guessed. She’d met with Jake and Chase in different locations to avoid suspicion, handing off the information needed.

  Reese shrugged. “You were good, I guess. Because he didn’t know until the last minute.”

  “So if you didn’t order the hit on me, who did?” John wouldn’t have wanted her dead. He loved her, despite being evil.

  “Didn’t you listen, you stupid bitch? John made the orders—who died, who lived. You didn’t make the live column.”