by Lexi Blake
Like he was going to allow that to happen.
The trouble was his charm wasn’t working. She seemed to see right through it. There had been a moment down in the dungeon when he’d been sure she’d seen right through him, past all his defenses, right down to the fact that he was still a lonely boy who’d been left to fend for himself.
It was pathetic.
“The common rooms are just ahead,” he explained.
“I’m sure they’re lovely. Everything is lovely, Damon.” Her eyes glowed with pleasure, and he wondered how difficult it had been for her in that tiny town house where everything had been utilitarian and drab. Even her bedroom had been spartan, with just a bed and a dresser and a well-organized bookshelf. He’d gone with the clean-up team himself because he’d wanted to see where she lived. Yet again, Penelope Cash proved elusive because he was sure that tiny dull room wasn’t who this woman was on the inside.
And he’d been right because she delighted in the theater of his home. She’d looked around the dungeon with wonder, and he’d wished they were here for different reasons. He’d love to chase her through the garden, catch her, drag her to the soft earth and hear her gasp when he penetrated her.
The woman might just drive him mad.
They were interrupted by raucous laughter coming from a large living area.
“Come along,” Damon said, his tone still serious. He’d been meticulously polite, showing her his building and explaining how it worked. There was a whole floor of offices and a large conference room where they would all meet tomorrow to go over the particulars of the mission. The second and third floors were part of the club, including privacy rooms for members who preferred to play without eyes upon them. The time they had spent together had been awkward, with none of the seemingly easy intimacy from before.
He wanted that back so badly, and he couldn’t even fool himself in to thinking it was all about the operation. He’d enjoyed the day with her.
Then Baz had shown up and it had all gone to hell. He showed her into the guest lounge where Tag and his crew were gathered. “Good evening, everyone. I’d like you to meet the last member of our crew. This is…”
“Pen? Good god. He didn’t tell me your name, just said he’d found someone who would work.” Simon Weston stood up, his handsome face smiling with obvious shock.
And Penelope—shy, retiring Penelope—squealed like a schoolgirl and flew across the room, practically jumping into the bugger’s arms. “Simon, it’s so good to see you!”
He chuckled and pulled her up into a bear hug. “You, too, love. I’m so sorry I left like I did. I didn’t even say good-bye.”
“So you know each other then?” It was an understatement. They obviously knew each other. Perhaps quite well. The idea of Simon bloody Weston getting his overly aristocratic hands on Penelope made him want to shred the bugger. He and Simon had worked together for two years, though Damon never spent a lot of time with him. Simon had worked undercover most of his career, using his society connections to move easily in the business and social worlds.
Penelope turned but kept her arm around Simon’s waist. “When he worked for SIS, we were paired for a few cases. I translated for him.”
“She was fantastic. An amazing code breaker. I was working with the Agency on a terror cell in Malaysia. Pen here didn’t even speak the bloody language, but she cracked the code in forty-eight hours.” The bastard kept his arm around her shoulder, winking down at her.
Penelope’s smile nearly lit up the room. It was good she was happy with someone. “It was a fairly simple code.”
Damon had worked with her a few times as well. He knew how competent she was, but he’d also been smart enough to stay away from her. She’d been engaged at first and then she’d had trouble and then…well, then he’d been almost dead.
The truth was he likely never would have approached her because he knew how dangerous his life could be. And he knew how much she would need from a man. Commitment. Tenderness. Things he wasn’t sure he could give her.
“She helped out when I worked at United One Fund, too.” Simon looked down at her affectionately. “She’s being humble. Don’t believe her. She’s fabulous.”
Damon had worked that particular op as well. Simon had been undercover for a suspected arms dealer who was running a charity as a front for his illegal activities. Now that he thought about it, Nigel had assigned Penny to work on the man’s code, which she’d discovered was buried in letters from potential donors. Simon had fucked up the op, and he’d hired on with Ian.
Simon hugged her again, pulling her up so her toes didn’t touch the ground. “It is so good to see you.”
“You can unhand her now. She can stand perfectly fine on her own.” Damon’s tone held a bite of ice.
Simon eased her to the floor, still chuckling. “And of course I know her, Knight. I made it a point to get to know the girl who made the best biscuits and cakes. I remember she made you a cake. Chocolate, I believe. It was delicious. You wouldn’t know. You didn’t even try a bite.”
He’d hoped no one had noticed. He was allergic to gluten. That sounded stupid. It was just another bloody weakness. Naturally Simon lasered in on it. Damon was pretty sure the man blamed him for the reprimand that led to Simon leaving SIS.
“It’s fine. Not everyone likes cake.” Penelope smiled brightly, obviously trying to defuse the situation. She turned to the rest of the room. “Hello again, Mr. Taggart.”
“God, that makes me sound old. Call me Ian or bastard or son of a bitch. I answer to them all.” Taggart was sitting in a big wingback chair looking like a king on a throne, and there was a naked woman with strawberry blonde hair at his feet. So that was Charlotte’s punishment. He waited to see how Penelope would take it. None of the others in the room seemed even vaguely distracted by the fact that their boss’s wife wasn’t clothed, but Penelope wasn’t used to the lifestyle.
“Hello.” She nodded and smiled, but he could sense the shock in her.
Charlotte grinned up at her. “Hey. How’s it going? Sorry about the way-too-much-of-me part. I mouthed off and this was how Ian chose to punish me.”
“Yeah, because you’re so not an exhibitionist, baby.” Taggart petted his wife’s hair and suddenly didn’t look like he wanted to murder everyone around him.
The only other female in the room walked with a slight limp. Chelsea Dennis was dressed in jeans and a turtleneck, despite the fact that it wasn’t exactly chilly. She gave Penelope a tight-lipped smile. “Hello. I’m the non-exhibitionist of the family. That’s my sister, Charlotte. Only Satan calls her Charlie. I’m here to work tech. I’m Chelsea, by the way. And yes, I know. I’m Chelsea in Chelsea. Jesse already made the joke about forty times.”
“I think it’s funny,” Jesse Murdoch, the newest member of McKay-Taggart, said. He was a younger man with sandy blond hair and a ready smile. “Simon finally got into Chelsea, too. He’s been trying really hard for months to get into Chelsea.”
Simon reached out, his hand coming up to slam the side of Jesse’s head, but the younger man was quite fast. He rolled off the couch and was on his feet before the smack caught him.
“I’m so used to that by now.” He reached out, offering her a big hand. “Jesse Murdoch. I’m pure muscle. Like all muscle. How are you doing today?”
He was practically a bloody infant.
“Why don’t you kill him?” Damon asked Simon. He was a bit sick of men touching his sub. Oh, she might be fighting him at the moment, but she was under his roof and his command.
“Ian won’t let me,” Simon replied.
“He’s amusing,” Taggart allowed. “But if he doesn’t stop hitting on another man’s sub, I’m going to throw his ass to the dogs. Mind your manners, PTSD.”
There was a reason he got on with Tag.
Jesse Murdoch smiled down at her, looking impossibly young. “She’s not wearing a collar, boss. And don’t mind the nickname. My PTSD is way better. I haven’t tried to kill
anyone in like a year.”
Murdoch was a stray Tag had picked up. He’d been in the military and gotten his arse captured in the Middle East. His unit had been executed one by one and even after he’d been rescued, there had been rumors that he’d turned. Damon didn’t believe it, but he also didn’t want the puppy making eyes at Penelope.
Taggart glared Jesse’s way. “She’s off limits. She’s Damon’s cover and everyone is going to respect that including you, Weston. I don’t care what relationship you had with the girl before. She’s his for the duration of the op. The minute I find one of you fuckers poaching, I’ll let Damon have you, and he’s not as forgiving as Sean. I told you that story and this one will not end the same way.”
Murdoch held his hands up. “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“I certainly can. I can also viciously murder him and bury the body,” Damon muttered.
“Damon!” Penelope said, frowning his way.
Tag laughed. “Oh, shit, man. They’re serious when they say your name with just the right amount of indignation. American accent. British accent. It’s all the same pissed-off wife.”
Penelope flushed. It was his turn to smooth over the situation. And how better to diffuse an awkward situation than by bringing up bad news?
“Did you explain that Baz is back?”
Charlotte’s head came off her husband’s lap. “I am going to kill that fucker. I’m going to tear his balls off with my bare hands, and then I’ll shove them down his throat.”
Tag put a hand on her hair, gently moving her back down. “You’re so sexy when you’re violent. Down, Charlie. Down. We have to figure out why the fuckwad’s here. Jake! Stop watching your progeny make poop and get your ass in here.”
Jake Dean walked in, holding his tablet and frowning his boss’s way. “He’s not pooping. He’s sleeping, and you’re going to wake him up. Hush.”
“Nah,” a feminine voice said from the tablet. “I’m pretty sure he’s doing both, babe. He smells so bad.”
Jake’s face turned tender as he looked down at the screen. “I wish I was there.”
A sarcastic male voice took over. “God, Jake, I don’t know if you do. I swear since he started on solids, I’ve smelled things I never thought existed. Hey, tell Big Tag that I’m sending him those files as soon as I change Tristan.”
“About time,” Tag yelled toward the tablet. “I’ve been waiting for days.”
A loud, healthy cry came from the tablet and Jake frowned. “Now you’ve done it. Bye. I love you guys.” He flicked off the tablet. “Give Adam a break. He’s going into the office every day and he’s had very little sleep.”
Tag shook his head. “He should have thought about that before he decided to have a kid. Now, since you’ve been MIA all afternoon, you missed the news that our special friend is back.”
Jake looked over at Damon. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
It was time to get settled in because it was going to be a long night. Now that Penelope was here and everyone had an adequate amount of sleep, it was time to start going over the operation and all the shit that went with it. Jesse and Jake were taking positions as crew members and would be leaving to join the boat soon. Simon and Chelsea would work on the boat as well, but wouldn’t join the ship until it docked in Dover.
“I’m afraid not.” He took the seat across from Taggart, another big wingback near the fireplace. Tag looked perfectly happy with a sub at his feet, and the image curled a nasty wedge of jealousy in Damon’s gut. It never had before, but he hated the fact that Penelope was settling in beside Simon on the couch. She was his, damn it. Even if he only had her for the duration of the op, she was bloody well his. “Penelope?”
She looked over at him. “Yes?”
“Your place is here.” He gestured to his lap. “I told you we begin your training now. Come along.”
“You want me to sit in your lap?”
He wished they didn’t have to do this in front of everyone, but he wasn’t about to back down. There was a reason to begin now. It would be easier to get her used to him now than it would be to get on the ship and expect her to fall in with him. And, damn it, he wanted her close to him and away from Weston. He wanted her curled up in his lap, naked, but he’d take what he could get. “Yes. When we’re on board and together, I expect you to be connected to me in some way. You’ll spend the next week watching Ian and Charlotte. We need to look as comfortable as they do.”
She stood, but he could see the trepidation on her face. He waited patiently as everyone resettled. Jake took her former place next to Simon. Chelsea settled in on one of the barstools, but there was no way to mistake where her eyes went. She was looking between Simon and Penelope as though trying to figure out exactly what was going on. If he needed an ally to keep those two apart, he likely had one in her. Jesse got another beer from the fridge and took the last seat, propping his booted feet up on the table in front of him.
Bloody American barbarians.
But he forgot about all of it as a sweet English rose settled herself on his lap. His cock sprang to attention the second he caught her scent. She bit her bottom lip and wriggled around, her soft ass moving and settling in and making him want to fuck so badly, he thought he might just carry her away and have it done with. Once he’d screwed her a couple of times, he’d be able to think clearly. He’d be able to think about something other than her.
It was only because she’d denied him. Surely that was it. He so rarely didn’t get a woman he wanted, and she was proving a bit elusive.
Stupid bastard. He didn’t just want her. He could attempt to lie to himself but deep down, he knew the truth. He liked her. He wanted her to like him back.
And his cock definitely wanted her to change her mind about the whole no-real-sex thing. His cock was coming up with a hundred different ways to defeat that line of thinking.
She finally settled down, though her back was ramrod straight and she couldn’t possibly be comfortable.
He shifted, forcing her to move, bringing her in closer contact so her head drifted to his shoulder and her legs didn’t dangle off his knees. He brought her fully across his lap, her only option for balance being relaxation and him.
“So let me explain what’s going on with Baz.” He began to speak as Penelope finally let her body go limp in his. He cuddled her close as he explained the situation and everything that needed to happen. About halfway through the conversation, he noticed her even breathing and the way her head was deadweight on his shoulder.
She’d fallen asleep, resting in his arms.
He still had a shot and he was going to take it.
* * * *
Some field agent she was turning out to be. She’d fallen asleep on her partner’s lap and had to be awakened for supper. Damon had been smiling down at her as he kissed her nose and brought her out of a perfectly pleasant dream.
She’d been curled up on him, practically drooling on his shirt. She’d started out very awkward and feeling completely ridiculous, and somewhere along the way the deep sound of his voice and the strength of his arms around her had made her feel safe and warm and she’d just kind of completely fallen asleep.
She was fairly certain she’d blushed all the way through the supper he’d had catered in. He’d ordered her to sit by him, and he’d served her throughout the meal. He’d poured her wine and made sure she had everything she’d wanted. Ian had treated his wife in a similar fashion, though she’d been sitting in his lap the whole time. It had been so weird at first and then it had seemed oddly normal.
It made her wonder what it would feel like to sit in Damon’s lap and let him feed her.
Now she stood in front of the lift trying to process the words he was saying.
“We’re on the sixth floor. We can walk up the stairs if you like, but the lift lets out straight in front of my rooms.”
Yes and that was a problem. “Your rooms?”
A short sigh puffed from his mouth. “Penelo
pe, you knew you would have to sleep with me. It’s best to get it out of the way.”
She took a step back. “I told you I don’t think it’s a good idea to have sex.”
“Good god, do you really think I’m going to jump on you? I’m not going to rape you, Penelope. We have to share a room on the boat. Are you planning on making me sleep on the floor?”
Because he would never, ever allow her to do so. The man didn’t like her walking next to the street when he was around. He wouldn’t allow her to sleep on the floor. If she was stubborn about the sleeping arrangements, it would cost him and not her, and she didn’t think that was a manipulation on his part. She was starting to figure out which parts of him belonged to Damon and which were the agent who refused to fail at a mission.
“No.” She was going to have to do it. She was going to have to lie in bed next to him and pretend she didn’t want to go any further with him.
Because she really did.
Despite what she’d said earlier, seeing him among his friends had shown her a different side to the man. Though he still held himself apart, it was so easy to see that he wanted to belong. Maybe no one else could tell since his expression almost never changed, but there was a way he held himself that let her know when he was feeling out of sorts, apart. She knew because she felt that way most of the time.
Or she could just be fooling herself again.
The lift doors opened, and he gestured her inside. Of course he would. He knew how to play the gentleman, but she wasn’t used to it. He entered behind her and the doors closed.
“What are your thoughts on the possible weapon?” He pressed the button for six.
She might have fallen asleep during the discussion, but at least she’d read the materials. She might not say anything that hadn’t already been said, but she did have some thoughts.
“I’m worried it’s sarin.” Sarin gas was a nerve agent. “This group might be attempting to mimic the 1995 Tokyo subway attacks that killed thirteen people. The cult that organized the attack used very basic means of diffusion. They wouldn’t need to smuggle in more than the gas. It might be difficult to get that on board the boat. They would need quite a bit of it. I know it’s lethal, but it dissipates quickly. And why would they need a certain individual? Why not just send the bloke through as a tourist and mail the gas? It could be done.”
