Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries)

by Lexi Blake

  “She seems to like to smell things, boss.” Adam looked up. “She’s been smelling the jacket you keep in your office. She’s nosy, too. She’s looked through all your drawers. She also called out for pizza. She doesn’t act like a woman who’s terribly worried about being shot at.”

  “Because she’s used to it.” He wondered just how many times something like this had happened to her. What had the last five years really been like? If she was telling the truth and she’d walked away from both the syndicate and screwed Eli Nelson, then her every moment had to be a delicate balance of working to stay alive. The Russians alone would be hell to stay clear of, not to mention someone with Nelson’s talents.

  Absently, he reached over and grabbed a donut. It had been a nasty day. He needed it. He watched the monitor on Adam’s computer. Charlie was sitting at his desk, her legs curled into her chest as she dropped her head back and closed her eyes. He could see the long line of her throat and how it sloped gracefully toward the curve of her breasts. Though the camera was black and white, he knew how perfect her skin was, the only thing marring it being the scars, and yet he’d always paid such attention to them. He’d kissed her scars over and over, tracing them with his tongue as though they were a roadmap to the woman and he could learn her through touch and taste.

  He bit into the donut and nearly sighed. Lemon. He fucking loved lemon. Tart. Sweet. Tangy. Just like Charlie.

  “Hey, I brought you some coffee. Do you want me to clear these out, Ian?” Grace held a mug of coffee in her hands and gestured to the boxes of donuts.

  “Hey, I’ve only had one,” Adam said, jumping up, his hands reaching straight for the lemons, the little fucker.

  Ian batted him away. “Mine.”

  “Dude, there are like thirty donuts left.”

  “Anything else, but the lemons are mine.” How long had it been since he indulged in something as simple as a lemon-filled donut? Forever. He took a sip of the coffee Grace had handed him and his eyes closed in pleasure. “Oh, that is so good. Did you change coffee brands?”

  Grace had the oddest look on her face as she stared up at him. “No, after what Charlotte said earlier, I thought I would try something new. I made it three times stronger than I normally would.”

  Adam shuddered. “It tastes like motor oil.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Adam. It tastes like heaven.” Yeah, he would have Grace teach his new sub how to make his coffee. Because he was still totally doing that. Charlie had made him deeply aware that he needed an outlet. Just because she remembered he liked lemon donuts and how he wanted his coffee didn’t make up for the whole screwing him over thing.

  “You know what would take the motor oil taste out of my mouth?” Adam asked. “Lemon.”

  “Fuck you. Buy your own lemon donuts.”

  Grace sighed. “Also Derek Brighton is here. I put him in Alex’s office. Yours was full.”

  He picked up what was left of the box and walked out. “Alex. Your office. Now.”

  “Awesome,” he heard Adam say as he walked out. “I hate it when he stops using verbs. If I get scurvy it’s his fault for hogging the lemons.”

  Alex caught up to him. “The bullet is a .30 caliber. It doesn’t tell us much. Probably from a sniper rifle. Simon and Jesse are working on trajectory. They’re pretty sure the shooter was roughly seven or eight stories up and to the northwest. There are two hotels that might work. Sorry. We can’t be more specific without bringing out some equipment that would tip off the cops.”

  “I would bet you’re going to find that the rifle used was a Dragunov. It’s what the Denisovitch syndicate uses. They believe in supporting Mother Russia. They also tend to work clean. Tell Simon to try to figure out what room he was in, but I would bet my life they won’t find a damn thing. Our shooter’s gone.” He took another bite of his donut. It was the only fucking thing that had gone right all day. “Shit. She needs to leave.”

  “Or we need to protect her,” Alex suggested.

  “Or we need to let them take her out and then all my problems would be solved.” He said the words and knew he would never fucking let it happen.

  “Ian,” Alex sighed.

  He was deeply grateful to be able to push through Alex’s door. He didn’t want to get into it with Alex. Ever since Alex and Eve had reconnected, Alex had been all about his freaking feelings and shit. Now Alex expected him to have feelings, too. Come to think of it, that was Charlie’s fault. All bad things were Charlie’s fault.

  All good things came from lemon cream.

  “Derek, good to see you.” Ian greeted the big cop who paced across the floor of Alex’s office.

  Derek Brighton had been on Ian’s Green Beret team. Ian kept up with all his former team mates, but he’d always been close with Derek. When Ian and Alex had looked for a city to start a business in, it had been Derek who advised them to move to Texas. Derek was their liaison with the DPD, and they needed him far more often than Ian would like.

  “I would love to say the same, but I’m more inclined to ask why the fuck I have two investigators downstairs who firmly believe that a possible terrorist attack was nothing more than a car backfiring.”

  And Derek was smarter than the average cop. Still. He had to give it a shot. He finished off his donut and took a nice swig of coffee. “Oh, that? Yeah, I was down there. Some asshole needs to get his exhaust checked. Freaked the hell out of the tourists.”

  Derek frowned. “Really? Just the tourists? Because I’ve been doing this for longer than the beat cops and I managed to notice that the shop across the street has CCTV and one of them is pointed this way. Guess what I saw?”

  Mother flying fucker. He was going to crucify someone. “No idea.”

  “I saw you, big guy. I saw you figure out what was going to happen about two seconds before it did. What did you see? Glint off the window? Somehow I’m thinking that didn’t come from a fucking exhaust problem, Tag.”

  He was screwed. Or maybe not. Brighton was a reasonable man. “Why aren’t the cops swarming me right now?”

  “Because the last thing this city needs is a terrorist threat,” Brighton said, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

  “I don’t think it’s a terrorist threat,” Alex said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “So who did Ian piss off? Is the CIA finally moving past burning him to actually killing him?” Derek asked.

  “I didn’t get burned.” Television was going to be the death of the intelligence officer. “I walked away.”

  He had gotten burned. Just not by the Agency. Charlie had burned the holy fuck out of him. She’d burned so hot he couldn’t help but get singed.

  “We have it under control,” Alex said.

  “I need more than a reassurance.” Derek was unmoved, his square jaw tightening. “I need to know what’s going on. Were they gunning for Ian? Will they try again?”

  This should be the point at which he would turn Charlie over to the DPD and let them deal with her. She would be out of his hair. He wouldn’t have to see her again. She was right in his office and all he had to do was walk Derek down the hall and explain that she was very likely on several Most Wanted lists. He grabbed another donut. He was going to have to hit the gym.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Derek asked.

  “He’s thinking.” Alex knew him really well. “He’s plotting some shit out in his head, and I have to really, really hope that he does the right fucking thing here.”

  Well, he knew what Alex wanted. He sighed. He wasn’t going to be rushed. Fuck, that tasted good. The combination of tart and sweet and the bitter of the excellent coffee was practically perfect.

  Of course, if he gave her up, she would be taken into custody and very likely dead in the next twenty-four hours, and not in the “come back in five years” kind of way.

  That was bad, how? He could let her go and find his dream sub—a hot little sub who never questioned him and cooked better than Sean and deeply enjoyed anal. He didn’t k
now if Charlie liked anal. She probably would if he did it. He was really fucking good at it. But he wasn’t going to do it.

  Eli Nelson would be happy if she died. Well, Nelson would be happy if he believed Charlie’s bullshit story about screwing him over. Could he totally discount it? He didn’t want to ever make Nelson happy. Therefore he couldn’t turn Charlie in.

  Decision made.

  “Eli Nelson is gunning for me.”

  Alex let loose a long breath of relief. “I was worried you wouldn’t tell the truth.”

  Ian shrugged. “I’m practically George fucking Washington. I cannot tell a lie.”

  Derek’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, sure. Am I looking at a sniper running around Dallas?”

  Likely not. At least that he could be honest about. “You know how the pros are. They take their shot and then they dive deep. The last thing they want is a city on the edge. I’ll be on guard, and Simon and Adam are already working on figuring out who Nelson hired. We’ll take care of it. All you do if you bring the force into it is cause yourself and the city a mega shit ton of problems. Oh, and if you want the national media focused on every little problem the DPD has, you could call this a random sniper attack. It’s not. It’s about me, and that means it’s going to end up being classified. Save yourself and the city a whole lot of trouble. It was a car backfiring.”

  Derek cursed under his breath. “Fine. But I fucking swear I will have your guts if you’re lying to me and there’s another attack. My ass is on the line here, Tag.”

  “So is mine and I can protect it better if we keep this quiet.”

  Derek nodded and started for the door. “I’ll leave it be for now. I’m informing my CO.” Derek often slipped into military lingo. “But he’ll be okay with it. By the way, who’s the girl?”

  “The girl?” Damn it. He didn’t need Derek looking into her.

  “The female you protected,” Derek prompted.

  Alex snorted a little. “Ian took a new sub.”

  That motherfucker. Ian forced a grin on his face. “Hot little thing. Though I worry she might get scared off. You know, after today. She’ll probably be gone tomorrow. You know how women can be. One little attempted murder and they’re on to the next guy.”

  Alex shook his head. “Nah, she’s made of sterner stuff than that. You should meet her, Derek. She’ll be at Sanctum tonight.”

  “All right,” Derek said. “I’ll look forward to seeing her tonight. I’m alone so watching the big guy get taken down by a sub might make my day worthwhile.”

  Alex had fucked him hard. Ian scrambled. He never fucking scrambled. “I decided to take a couple of full-time subs. She’s just the first. I’m auditioning, if you know what I mean.”

  Derek studied him for a moment. “I do. I’m a little lonely, too. I don’t think I could handle two, though. Maybe just one. Hell, maybe you’re right. Maybe I should just start taking applications. I’ve avoided it because I know Amanda would apply. Fuck, man, couldn’t you keep out the subs I have to work with? See you tonight.”

  Amanda was the brat bitch of Sanctum. Ian was pretty sure she was nasty to all the other subs, but no one had asked him to take care of her, so he was leaving it alone. Sometimes the subs needed to work out their own problems.

  He wondered how Charlie would handle Amanda’s brand of mean girl. That might be fun to see.

  Derek strode out the door, and Ian turned on his best friend the minute it slammed shut. “You’re a bastard.”

  Alex just smiled. “My parents are still happily married.”

  “You know what I mean. What the hell was that?”

  “That was about giving you a chance despite yourself. You’re not thinking about this. You need to take two fucking minutes. Your wife came back from the dead.”

  “No, according to everything I know she came back from St. Augustine.” He didn’t need this shit. Now he had to take her to Sanctum tonight. He had to dress her up in fet wear and walk beside her and pretend to be her Master. That was Alex’s fault.

  Alex ran a hand across his head, obviously frustrated. “She saved me, man. She brought me back together with Eve. Why would she do that? She walked in front of a bullet. I would be dead. That bullet was headed straight for my damn heart. Give me one reason why she would do that beyond the fact that she loves you and she’s trying to make her way back to you.”

  He couldn’t even consider that. “Or you’re pissed at me.”

  Alex’s eyes rolled. “Why would I be pissed at you?”

  He didn’t have a really good answer for that. He actually treated Alex like gold. Alex was his brother the way Sean was his brother. One by DNA and history, the other by sacrifice and blood. “It doesn’t matter now. You’ve set me on a path. I have to take her to Sanctum tonight. The place will probably blow up.”

  “I’ll call Ryan and put some security protocols into place.”

  Security protocols wouldn’t save Charlie. God only knew how many bullets would be flying her way.

  Because she isn’t on the move. Because she’s staying here for you. She took the bullet meant for Alex for you. Why didn’t she kill you before? It would have been more expedient. Why come back now?

  His inner voice sucked ass. And was a little naïve.

  He set down his coffee and walked to the window. Alex’s office was next to his. They shared a spectacular view of the city. Was Charlie standing next door, looking out at the same set of buildings? Was there really only a wall separating them?

  “Hey, I would love to know where your head’s at, man.” Alex stepped up. “You should know I was joking about why we stayed. We couldn’t leave you. I know you’re going to think it’s stupid and it would make you vomit, but I would never leave you alone to deal with this. You might not want my advice, but I’ve watched you mourn her for five years. You loved that woman. I know she betrayed you and if your final decision is to let her go, then I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t come near you again. But I think you need her. You either need to give it another shot or you need closure, and you can’t get that if you don’t talk to her. You might not give a shit that I’m here, but I am here if you need me. Eve is here if you need her. Sean is here. I know you think you’re alone, but you have a whole family around you.”

  He was definitely going to vomit. And he felt oddly secure.

  Would he have this weird family around him if he’d stayed in the Agency? He doubted it. He would have drifted further and further from them. He would have been forced to hide so much of his life from them that being around them would hold no meaning.

  If he’d spent the last five years in the CIA, would he even know his brothers anymore? Or would Sean and Alex have drifted away, their lives meaningless to his plots? He knew himself. He didn’t lie. He’d enjoyed the plots, loved pitting himself against others in a deadly little game. He’d gotten a rush off it. He’d been a little obsessed with it.

  Until he’d found something he was more obsessed with. Charlotte. Charlie.

  Had she saved him from a life that held absolutely nothing but the game? He would never admit it but he loved Grace. She had rapidly become the heart of his little family. Grace and Sean and Carys. His niece. He liked the way she looked at him, with a little bit of wonder. There was nothing but pure love in his niece’s eyes, and it had cleansed him in a way.

  Would he have held Carys in his hands if Charlie hadn’t found her way into his life?

  Likely not. She probably wouldn’t exist because he would never have started McKay-Taggart and Sean would never have met Grace.

  He didn’t like the feeling that he owed Charlie anything at all. It wasn’t like she meant to keep him from a family-less life.

  “Do you want another donut?” Alex stared out, not looking at him. His hand was out, a sugary bit of confection sitting there.

  He took the fucking bait. “I don’t want to talk.”

  “Cool.” Alex nodded. “We can just stand.”

  Ian stood with his best frien
d.

  Maybe he wasn’t so alone.

  * * * *

  Charlie let the chair twist to the left and then the right. It was a big leather chair, solid and well built, like the man it belonged to.

  Was it brutally pathetic of her that it had been worth it to be nearly murdered because she’d been in his arms for a few seconds? She hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t reacted herself. She’d just trusted him.

  Was he about to toss her out again? Her phone rang. She looked at the incoming number before answering. “What’s up, Chelsea?”

  “Okay, it’s official. Yuri Zhukov’s in town. He’s traveling under a Polish passport, but I found the fucker.” Her sister sounded almost chipper, like finding out a highly paid Russian assassin had found them was a thing to celebrate. God, she was so tired. So fucking tired.

  So at least she knew who was taking shots at her. “I’m glad you found him, but you were a little late.”

  There was a pause on the line. “What happened? Fuck. The shooting downtown that turned out to be a car backfiring? That was about you?”

  So that’s how Ian had played it. She’d wondered exactly how he was going to keep the cops out of it. “It wasn’t a car. I’m pretty sure it was Zhukov, but Ian took care of it.”

  “How did he take care of it?”

  “He threw his body over mine and then handled the cops.” Which was a really good idea because if he hadn’t, there was every likelihood that her face would have gotten into the system and the minute that happened, she would have more than Zhukov on her ass.

  “We need to move,” Chelsea said.

  Yes. That was the protocol. The minute they even had a hint that someone from the syndicate knew where they were, they left town. Sometimes they left the whole damn country. But she’d known the minute she’d started the St. Augustine op that she wouldn’t be leaving again. She would fix the problem and get her husband back or the fuckers could take her down. She was done. That didn’t mean Chelsea had to be. “I want you to go. Head to the islands for a while. You like it there.”