Endgame

by Mia Downing

  Chase texted a few times. She ignored those, too.

  But she did text Jake as they waited for the plane to take off. Did you know the truth?

  The only hope she could cling to was that he didn’t know all of it. That Chase shut him out, too, because if he knew John was still alive… Insanity was only a stone’s throw away, despite Aaron there, at her side, holding on to her for dear life in a psychological sense.

  Jake didn’t text back, which pissed her off. Jake lived for texting.

  “Put the phone away, baby. It’s time.”

  She powered down, slid her phone into her purse, and took his hand. “I’m glad you came,” she said softly and kissed the backs of his tanned fingers.

  He grinned. “I told you I’m a good traveler, not only to the South Pole.”

  She rolled her eyes but loved him even more. He’d make some woman very, very happy someday. She just wished it could be her. “Is that all you think about?”

  The dirty boy grin widened. “Yep. Now go to sleep, Ma’am. The next time I ravish you, it will be in your bedroom with fun toys. I want you rested.”

  She smiled, shook her head, but closed her eyes. How could she argue with him?

  The plane landed in D.C. on time, the temperature colder than early winter deserved. Winter was a cruel mistress, dumping more snow before Christmas than the D.C. area had ever seen. Charlotte glanced out her side window at the flakes of snow falling, twirling in the breeze, exciting those who loved Christmas with the threat of a white one. She hated Christmas more than ever.

  She shifted in her seat and adjusted the waistband of her pants again, so it wouldn’t hit her navel piercing. Who knew the fucking thing would hurt so much?

  Aaron noticed and whispered in her ear, “When your belly ring heals, can we attach a chain to it and a few clamps? Tug them all? I bet you’d scream.”

  “Pervert,” she whispered back, though the idea made her smile just a little.

  He laughed but kept his voice low. “Now that I have your attention, it’s anger management time.”

  “Fuck anger management,” she ground out, flinching, feeling like a boulder ready to teeter off a cliff, one too heavy for him to catch. As they had flown closer and closer to D.C., her anger sparked, germinated, and blossomed into this frightful thing that made her tremble. She hated Chase again, almost more than she hated John.

  “We need Chase alive. He knows where John is. And if he doesn’t, we can use Chase to get to him. He has the connections you need. Jake comes with Chase. We won’t get Jake’s help unless you make nice. Who do you want dead more? Chase for being an asshole or John for taking everything?”

  Her insides went cold, hard, and mean. “I want John dead.”

  “I know, baby. So we use Chase.”

  “Okay.” But she didn’t like that option one bit, because if they were using Chase, he wasn’t dead. If she were to be rational, she would admit she wanted Chase to say he was sorry. To know why he’d done this to her, made her become something so cold and cruel only a crazy man like Aaron could bear to love her. But above all, she wanted to love Chase again, and know he was proud of her.

  Aaron shifted in his seat so his mouth was closer to her ear. “So this is what I propose. I can’t make you kneel and be submissive in an airport. They frown on that. So when you feel the need to kill Chase, you kiss me. Got it?”

  “And that will help…how?”

  “I can’t make you blow me—there are laws. So if you’re kissing me, you’re too busy to kill Chase.”

  It made sense in a weird, Aaron way, and kissing him in front of Chase would piss off the devil, since she wasn’t supposed to have let Aaron into her panties in the first place. “Fine.”

  “Mr. Gold? Ms. Davenport?” the airline attendant asked in a crisp, English accent.

  “Yes,” they said at the same time, answering for their aliases.

  “We need you to leave the plane first. Please.”

  Aaron glanced at Charlotte. She shrugged, but something she didn’t want to label as fear clenched her chest tight and made her palms sweat. Chase would be waiting, not wanting her to make a scene, ready to take her by force if he had to. Her stomach churned with trepidation that it had come to this. She would play out her endgame as his pawn, under his thumb, would die the way he wanted her to die. It never bothered her before, but now…

  They grabbed their carry-ons and left, Aaron the gracious one with the thanks and hand shaking. Cold, hard, and mean didn’t shake hands, and that’s what she was searching for, somewhere. It had to be there still. Aaron grabbed her cold, clammy hand, and up the long ramp, they trudged.

  As predicted, Chase loomed at the end, hands in his pockets, in a suit and long coat. His dark hair was short—no need for a cut yet. All black except his crisp, white shirt, every inch the boss despite it being Saturday. His expression was guarded, unemotional, and that stung. Chase no longer trusted her, either.

  “Jesus,” Aaron whispered. “The devil has come to collect his errant demon children.”

  Her gaze connected with cold, deep brown eyes, ones she’d gazed into with such open love and adoration. Stupid fool. The pain and anger welled up, freezing her in her tracks. He raised a brow as he took in her appearance, probably noting she’d gone blonde and blue-eyed again, a look she’d avoided at all costs since doomsday. The alias she’d chosen had a blonde and blue-eyed option, so her paperwork was complete.

  “Let’s go. The car’s waiting,” Chase said, his voice all boss, the mask he wore emotionless as he waited for her to do his bidding, as if nothing had changed.

  She wanted Chase to feel something, show something. Needed it badly. Charlotte held out the purple braid in her fingers, waiting for his eyes to acknowledge her insolence. Chase knew well what she wanted in life. He would know what this meant. Brown, emotionless eyes widened and darkened with anger as they took in the braid in her fingers. Good.

  She flipped the braid of purple over her shoulder, turned her head slightly, and pointed to the diamond nose stud. Chase’s brows flew up, and his gaze flicked to Aaron, questioning. Yeah, ask him what happened, as if you don’t know what this means.

  She grew braver, like an insolent teen, and pulled up her shirt to reveal her stomach. These things were childish, and he’d never hurt like she did. But when he glared full-strength fire and brimstone at her belly ring, she felt a little vindicated.

  “He’s glaring,” Aaron whispered. “I don’t like this.”

  “He’s taking stock of my insolence.”

  “Maybe you picked a bad time to start whacking the hornets’ nest with a stick,” he muttered.

  “He hasn’t seen whacking yet, love. You wait.” Charlotte smoothed her shirt, turned, shoved Aaron against the wall. She ignored Aaron’s protests as she cocked her head at Chase.

  “Don’t,” Chase warned, pissed as hell.

  “Watch me.” She slowly rose on her toes and kissed Aaron, hard, with lust and tongue, a kiss that proclaimed she had indeed let him into her panties and she’d fuck him here, just to piss off Chase.

  She let Aaron up for air, finally, panting with need, Chase fuming out of the corner of her eye.

  “Really angry, are you?” Aaron asked. “I know I said to kiss me when you wanted to kill him. I’m starting to think that wasn’t a sane choice, because the hornets’ nest has busted open.”

  “You done?” Chase snapped from the top of the ramp. “I think you’ve made your point effectively and childishly.”

  “Anger management has been taken a whole new direction,” she informed him sweetly as she closed the distance. She stopped in front of him, wishing for once he wasn’t so gorgeous, tall and lean, and didn’t smell like comfort. “If you didn’t guess, this is my resignation. I’m doing this on my own. I won’t follow orders from motherfucker number three.”

  “Shit, Char, no, that’s not what we discussed,” Aaron growled low in her ear. But she didn’t care. She couldn’t work with Chase.


  “You should be paddled and locked in a room. Alone.” Chase raised a brow at Aaron’s attempt at peacekeeping as he slid an arm around her waist. “There’s a reason for everything. Even anger management. And you can’t quit, remember?”

  She tilted her chin up. “If you’re dead, I won’t have to follow your orders, will I?”

  “Mile away, Charlotte.” He’d been a sniper in the service, and his threat was he could pick them all off from that distance.

  Charlotte gave a nasty laugh. “I’m faster. More lethal. You saw to that, didn’t you? Made me cold and soulless, like you, so you could use me in the end. And I thought you were the good cop. Now, I realize you were just the more patient one.”

  Something in Chase’s cold eyes flickered. Changed. For a moment, Charlotte hoped he would say he was sorry, that she was wrong about him, and he still loved her. He’d say he believed in her, every step of the way, and she could believe in him, too.

  “You want John dead?” Chase asked, his firm jaw clenching. “That’s still your endgame, right?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin higher, taking a firmer grip on her anger, fighting for control. “But I don’t want anything to do with you. We’re done.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that, not when I can give you the support you need. Trust me; you’re going to need it.”

  There was a warning in his voice, one she knew too well from the past. It set her on edge, balanced between anger and fear. He knew something huge. “Why.”

  “John has surfaced. He has Jake.”

  Aaron gasped beside her. Her world reeled, and she closed her eyes to center herself. In that second, she felt nothing, because all emotion had run from her bones, her limbs, her mind. Even Aaron’s hand on her waist was lost to sensation. Endgame was in full play. John had Jake, her passed pawn. She was screwed, so dead, and Aaron would be hurt because of her mistakes, past and present.

  “This is your fault,” she ground out at Chase, shoving the numbness aside, needing someone to blame. Fuck Chase. The anger fired up, deep in her gut, and she felt that familiar freight train feeling there, just beneath the surface, ready to launch down the rails.

  “Always looking for someone to blame, someone to kill, aren’t you, sweetheart? So quick to scream fuck you. You so sure this is my entire fault? Can you tell your pretty boyfriend that with a straight face? You know as well as I what John wants, and it’s not me. It’s you, sweetheart. All you. Don’t make Jake pay.”

  Truth, all of it, and she hated Chase even more. Her world flashed red with uncontrolled rage. Aaron tightened his grip on her waist as she growled and lunged, going for Chase’s throat.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  We need Chase. We need Chase. We need Chase.

  It became a mantra for Charlotte the moment the TSA slapped handcuffs on her for attacking Chase at the end of the boarding ramp. Chase flashed his credentials, vouched for her sanity and employment with him, vouched for Aaron’s sanity, despite the fact that he was the one who kept her from getting her hands fully around Chase’s throat. If she had, he’d be dead. Just one snap, that’s all it would have taken. Now, she was going to the car in handcuffs, and Chase could deal with her later.

  “What happened to kissing me when you got angry?” Aaron asked from her right side. Chase was on her left, his coat draped over her handcuffed hands in front of her. TSA led the way and followed behind. If it were anyone else, she could take them, despite the handcuffs. Chase had too much training, and the smug looks he kept casting her didn’t help with her mood.

  “It’s his fault.” It wasn’t, but she couldn’t admit it to Aaron yet. Shame made her fume even harder.

  Aaron leaned over and whispered, very quietly, “If you kill Chase, we can’t rescue Jake.”

  Sanity surfaced enough to change the mantra.

  We need Chase, to find Jake.

  She looked up at the devil incarnate on her left. Fucking gorgeous, heartless bastard. “You have proof?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “And?”

  Chase glanced back at their chaperones, then down at her. “We’re going to a party later. Jake will be there.”

  “What kind of party.” She was sane enough to understand why John would expect them to show up at a party. Tons of collateral damage. His turf, her death on his terms. It was perfect for him.

  “The kind John likes. We have an invitation. He’ll send an address right before we leave.”

  Shit. John liked BDSM dungeon parties, ones that would find her submissive on the end of Chase’s very dominant collar and chain combination. “I’m not going to a party with you. Period.”

  “You will. Period.” His tone reminded her of when Jake was in control, during anger management times, and she squelched the need to give in, to submit to him. That’s what they wanted, for her to submit and be their killing machine. “You’ll do whatever I say, to save Jake. That’s an order.”

  Jake. If Chase knew… She had to know how deep Jake was in this, though every cell in her body fought it. Someone besides Aaron had to be on her side. Chase had screwed Jake over, too.

  She stopped in her tracks, the TSA agent stepping on the heel of her shoe. “Did Jake know what you know? All of it?”

  Chase stopped and hesitated just long enough for her to realize Jake knew enough. Pain sliced through the numbness, grabbed her stomach, and squeezed. She would have thrown up right then if she had anything in it. She doubled over, breathing around misery. Fool. Stupid, stupid fool. “Oh, God.”

  Aaron, her new favorite, grabbed her shoulders with one hand, rubbed her back with the other. “Baby, you okay?”

  “No, I’m a stupid, gullible, blind fool, falling in love with two men who said they had my back, who made me believe I was their world and invincible and strong.” She struggled upright. Chase had seen enough of her weakness. She forced herself to stand toe to toe with Chase and wished she had a free hand to shove in his brick-hard chest. “Fuck you. You are motherfucker number three, Jake is four. Go yourself. I’m done.”

  “Ma’am!” the TSA agent said. “You need to calm down.”

  She took a step back, against Aaron, but he stiffened. “You have to go.” His hands tightened on her shoulders, and she shrugged him away. “You have to do this for me.”

  “You want John,” Chase reminded. He grabbed her elbow and turned her roughly. “Walk. You’re drawing attention.”

  She walked, fuming, yanking her elbow from Chase’s hand.

  “We’ll get through this, baby.” Aaron’s hand settled on the small of her back. “I’ll have your back. You and I, we can do this. But we need them. Don’t let Jake die because Chase is an asshole.”

  “Fuck off, Aaron,” Chase rumbled from her other side. “Jake’s just as much of an asshole, but she owes him, so she better suck it up and do her job.”

  She did owe Jake for saving her, for giving her a week of Aaron before she died tonight. She focused on Aaron’s hand, caressing her back because if she didn’t focus there, she’d succumb to the driving pain in her gut. It hurt so much.

  They reached the black SUV, the air outside crisp, the snowflakes gone, snow piled up against the curbs. Their luggage waited for them as well.

  “Aaron, open the back door, then start loading your bags into the rear.” Chase wasn’t making a request. Aaron did as he was told.

  Chase reached into the truck for something and then returned to hold her as the TSA agent unlocked the handcuffs. He shot her a glare of warning before he left, the other agents falling into step.

  She started to make a comment when Chase slipped a hand around her waist, deftly yanked down the waistband of her pants at her side beneath her long coat. No. She struggled, and he held her still, his arm like a vise on her belly, right above that fucking piercing, the pain almost blinding. Chase, who had always held her so gently, twisted her arm behind her back. His breath was hot on her cheek, his scent cloying. “Don’t fight me.”

 
; “No,” she whispered, tensing as he reached into his pocket. She had expected force, but it didn’t make the vortex of fear swirling inside her any less painful to bear.

  “Be still.” He stabbed, the needle piercing that inch of skin he’d exposed at her waistband, the fluid burning as he injected.

  “No.”

  Chase gave a low laugh and smoothed her shirt over her pants again. “You know better, Char. Act like a child and you get punished. I own you. You have a job to do, and in a few hours, you’ll thank me for reminding you. You’ll wake up clear headed and remember what the game is all about. That’s anger management at its best.”

  There was no point in going ballistic. This was what Jake liked to call spy juice. A little something the lab whipped up for the good guys. It took you down fast and then laced the recipient with something that numbed all emotions when they woke. She had probably had five minutes or so. Long enough to get some answers.

  But the world titled, spun, and her legs started to turn to jelly. Way, way too fast. Aaron paused in picking up the last bag, his brows furrowing with questions.

  She grabbed his shirt to stay up, and his confused face appeared in front of her. Shimmering, swirling Aaron.

  “Baby? You okay?”

  “No.” That fucker had never jacked her up with enough to take her down this quickly when they used it in training. She was going down fast, now. Really fast.

  A swirling bastard Chase kissed her cheek and smiled at her. Smug bastard. “Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

  “Kill you.” The words were beginning to slur. She fought harder. Jabbed a finger into bastard’s hard chest. “Motherfucker. Three.” Three came out really slurred.

  “I know.” He sounded sorry. Fuck him, sounding sorry. He propped her against the car to keep her upright.

  “Jesus, did you have to do this?” Aaron. She couldn’t see him, because he swirled faster.

  “Get her in the back,” bastard ordered, like he ruled the free world.