Power Play

by Landish, Lauren

  “Of course, he does. Everyone needs a bit of Carly in their life. Me especially!” We laugh and then Emma says quietly, “Do we sound like schmucks or what? Both of us chasing after guys when they should be chasing us. Pitiful.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “Grade-A schmucks. We just need a bald friend and we could be The Three Schmucks. Or wait, wasn’t it Three Stooges? Whatever, point is, you know anyone willing to shave their head to hang with us?”

  Emma laughs, but after a moment of silence, she whispers, “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t feel like a schmuck. I feel . . . hungry. For him.”

  I grin ruefully, knowing what she means. “I think the word you meant is horny.”

  She snorts instead of laughs, but I think she feels like her word described it better. I know it did for me, even if I don’t want to admit it out loud.

  Hungry. For his attention, for his story, for his truth, for his soul. Okay, and maybe for his cock too. I’m a woman. I have needs. And they’ve been ignored for far too long.

  We banter on about life, the differences between us ever growing but the connection always as if we still see each other every day at school. Emma’s just always been my other half. Ten thousand miles and months apart can’t change that.

  When we hang up with promises of seeing each other soon, I dance around a bit in excitement. One week. NYC and Emma. One I can do without, one I absolutely cannot.

  I yank on my performance clothes and hustle out of the hostel to hit the sidewalks a little early for tourist night. But as I make strides down the street, scanning my surroundings for anything sketchy just to be on the safe side, I see something unexpected.

  Or rather, someone.

  “Hey! Excuse me,” I call out. Several people turn to look at me, but not the one I’m after. I scoot through a couple of people and try again. “Hey!”

  And he turns around. I offer a big smile like we’re old friends, because I guess to me, he kinda feels like one. I’ve got a whole story in my head of what he’s like, who he is, what he means to Kyle.

  He smiles back, stopping to let me catch up.

  “Hello. Do I know you?” he asks, confusion marring his face.

  “No, well, yes. Kind of. I’m Carly, a friend of Kyle’s.”

  His face changes, harder and less open. “Raul, but Kyle’s no friend. Excuse me.”

  He turns to walk away and I call out, “Just wanted to see if you’re okay. I, uh, I saw what happened.”

  He freezes, looking over his shoulder. “Nothing happened. But you said Kyle’s a friend of yours? You should know . . . he doesn’t have friends.” He shakes his head. “He’s dangerous, and you should get away from him while you can.”

  His tone is ominous, like he can see into the future and Kyle’s going to flip out and go postal. Actually, I could maybe see that too with as tightly wound as he is.

  But it’s not his true nature, instead one created through loss, grown with pain and anger, and watered with tears. I don’t think he’s the cornered animal that’ll bite to get away, but he is the lion with a thorn in its paw, sitting alone and licking his wounds.

  It doesn’t have to be that way. I can help him recreate a better future again.

  If only I could find him.

  Kyle

  It’s been days since I walked out of Strega’s.

  I found another coffee shop, but it’s not nearly as good.

  And I miss it.

  The coffee, not Strega, and definitely not Carly.

  The lie doesn’t even slip into my consciousness because my brain laughs at me for even trying to pretend that’s true.

  But I refuse to give in to the urge to go see her. Instead, I’ve spent the past few days focusing on my research, the only thing that can distract me from imagining Carly’s dark hair fisted in my hand as I slip into her.

  It’s harder to get quality intel across the ocean, away from the familiar networks I’ve cultivated in Europe, but it’s doable. And I’ve spent every waking moment and the ones I should’ve been sleeping deep-diving into Nathan Stone’s life.

  I feel like I know everything now. His strengths, weakness, history, and future. Same for his brother and company. I want to know it all.

  There’s no hiding anymore, Nathan. I know what you did and I’m coming for you.

  It won’t bring Anna and our babe back, but I pray it gives them some peace, and in return, a little sliver of peace for myself too. A moment of not feeling guilty, where I can just be a regular Joe.

  Chapter 20

  Nathan

  “We don’t keep secrets,” I start. “No matter what. No secrets, and it’s me and you, always.”

  Caleb’s sitting across the island from me, chugging a protein shake that looks disgusting, green and chunky, and every few sips he shakes it again, like he’s trying to make the fucked-up mess half palatable.

  I turn the stove burner down, slowly stirring my eggs, getting the cheese mixed in just right. Grant wishes we’d let him make us breakfast, but it’s one of the few things I’m good at cooking, so I enjoy this sometimes.

  Things are mostly back to normal after our knock-down fight. What can I say, we’re brothers. We tear shit up, fight, but love each other fiercely.

  Usually, any argument or tussle is left in the moment.

  We’ve even gone straight from exhausted panting when one fight got a little long, straight to the beer-drinking make-up. But this time, I’m gearing up for another round.

  Caleb looks at me like I’ve grown a second head on my shoulder. “Yeah, I know. I feel like you’re building up to something here. What’s up?”

  I remember the first time we made that pact. No secrets, no matter what. It’d been me doing stupid shit that time.

  Sneaking down the hallway, I hold my shoes in my hand, not even risking a tell-tale squeak that’ll get me caught.

  I’m almost home-free, the back door half-open and one bare foot on the cool concrete patio when I hear the small voice. Caleb.

  “Nathan? Where are you going?”

  “Oh, hey. Just out for a minute. I’ll be back soon. Go to bed and I’ll see you in the morning.” I keep my voice down, not wanting to wake up Grant. Even in my teenage wisdom, I knew the real danger wasn’t in waking up Dad but in waking up Grant because he’s the one who doles out actual punishment and lectures me.

  “Where are you going?” he asks again, not letting it go.

  “Out. Don’t say anything and we’ll hang out tomorrow, ‘kay?”

  I’m such a shit, bribing my only brother with hangout time to buy his silence. We both know we’d be hanging out together anyway. It’s me and him against the world, but not tonight. Tonight, I have plans of my own.

  Lacey Ninninger.

  Caleb rolls his eyes in that way only teenagers can manage and throws a two-fingered wave my direction as he heads back to bed.

  Leaving Caleb behind, I finish sneaking out. My plans tonight? Meeting Lacey and the gang on the other side of town.

  They’d asked if I was going to bring Caleb. They’re good like that, better than most friends would be about someone’s sixteen-year-old little brother. It’s not that we’re much older, but sixteen and eighteen feel miles apart. And to be honest, as shitty as it may be and as much as I love him, I just want a night off. No responsibilities, no rules, no anything. Just wild and young and free.

  That freedom had lasted till about five AM, when the cops had pulled up to the field we were parking in, half of us drunk and my hand up Lacey’s school T-shirt. They’d taken all our keys, piled us in the cop cars, and delivered us one by one.

  Thankfully, the cops had told Grant, not Dad, because I was willing to take the lecture and grounding over what would’ve been Dad’s screaming disappointment that I’d been picked up for drinking, trespassing, and lewd acts in public.

  I’d scoffed at the last one. Lacey and I had barely even gotten hands inside clothes when the cops pulled up, but apparently, her straddling me and grindi
ng against my cock were considered lewd when she’s the minister’s daughter.

  We’d still been fully clothed, for fuck’s sake, but it’d stuck, along with the other charges.

  A fine and a promise to do better and I was on my way though. That’s how it was for kids like us.

  Back in the past, I remember Caleb’s anguish.

  “You could’ve just told me you were going out with Lacey and everyone. I would’ve been fine with it. Hell, I would’ve covered for you.”

  “It wasn’t that. I just needed . . .”

  “What?”

  “To get away. From everything and everyone. Dad, Grant, even you. I just needed out for a minute.”

  Caleb thinks for a moment, then nods. “I get it. Tell me when you’re at your limits. I’ve got your back. That’s what brothers do. No secrets, no matter what. Just spit that shit out and we’ll handle it.”

  That’d been the year he caught me in height, and at the time of that conversation, we’d been pretty spot-on even, though we’d go on to grow and pace each other over the next several years until we finally stopped with Caleb just an inch taller.

  But in that moment, it’d been the first time I felt like we were equals, partners, each other’s responsibility, not just me taking care of him.

  “No secrets, no matter what. I’m putting that shit to the test,” I say as warning. “I talked to Emma. You know with all the name and hostess stuff, the setup was just slick, yeah?”

  His eyes narrow. He’s always been more suspicious than I am. I’m a tank. If it’s fucked, I’ll just drive right over that shit and handle it.

  He’s like a drone, in and out so fast and smooth, you never even knew it was there.

  “There’s more,” he says, guessing correctly.

  I plate my eggs and bring them to the island too, but I can’t swallow a bite. My fork clatters on the plate as I set it down, not even trying. “It’s her sister, Claire. She’s FBI.”

  The explosion is instantaneous. Caleb’s drink slams to the counter as he pops off the stool and yells, “What the fuck, Nathan? FBI?” But like a true soldier, he goes into sit-rep mode. “Okay, so business is fine, no worries there. You’ve got it all aboveboard. I’ll go see Jake today, give him a heads up. Probably need to cancel my trip to Bolivia, and you need to quit the shit with Nikolai.”

  He’s rambling, but that one stops him short.

  “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The FBI is snooping around because of Nikolai Fucking Romanov.”

  “Yes and no. It’s Nikolai, but also Anna and Dad,” I explain. “I think they’ve just got a hard-on for me, for the business. But mostly, me.” I sigh, feeling the weight and wishing there were a target I could just take out. Mission set, acquire target, execute, exfil. All that’s left after that is the AAR and the beer.

  This is messy, though, so fucking messy. With business and emotions and family all tied up in one giant mess, it’s damn near a shit sandwich.

  “And Emma, she just told you all this?” he asks, pitching his voice high, feminine and fake. “So Nate-y Wate-y, remember how I lied about my name and my job? Turns out I lied about other shit too. But it’s fine. See, look here at my magical pussy. Everything is fine, just fine.”

  I throw a jab at his shoulder, trying not to laugh even as he pisses me off. What is it about siblings that make you want to kill them even as they amuse you, anyway? “Shut the fuck up. It’s not like that and you damn well know it.”

  He glares at me, silently asking ‘really?’ but then he breaks and chugs more protein drink. “That’s what it looks like from here. My job is to keep you safe, and fucking around with the FBI is a sure-fire way to be not-safe. Get your head out of your ass, man. And what’s up with Dad and Anna? Nikolai I get, but that’s been ages ago. Case closed. Or do they have a new lead?”

  “You’re looking at suspect number one,” I reply tiredly. “They think I’m some Daddy killing, company stealing shit who then killed Anna and her baby because she was asking too many questions. Did you know she was pregnant?”

  Caleb shakes his head, surprised. “No, I never even met her. Just knew the name because she helped Dad. You?”

  I shake my head as well, trying to remember what I can of Anna. “I talked to her once, right after Dad was killed, because she called to give him some report he’d been hounding her about. I called her back to say she didn’t have to worry about it anymore. She was upset about Dad, more than me, actually. Never talked to her before or after, and then she was dead.”

  “Suspicious circumstances?”

  I look off to the side, remembering. “The Italian police called when she died because I was one of the last numbers she’d dialed. But they didn’t seem interested when I told them who I was and what the call had been about. Just thanked me for my cooperation. At the time, I looked into it some to make sure it wasn’t connected to Dad’s murder because it seemed suspicious to me. But I never found anything connecting them, so I dropped it when they deemed her death an unfortunate random act of violence. We’ve got enough on our plates.”

  It sounds callous, but Caleb understands that this is the time for straight talk, and I’m not the world’s savior. “Okay, so go back. What are we going to do about Emma? You broke off all contact, yeah?”

  He says it like that’s obvious. Honestly, it is, but I can’t stand the thought of it.

  “Well, no. I’m turning it around.” I tell him about the double-agent stuff I arranged with her, and Caleb’s eyebrow lifts as he muses the possibilities.

  “You flipped her? You sure about that?”

  “As sure as I can be. She says the feelings are real, not fake, and she got carried away with all the FBI stuff and didn’t know how to get out,” I reply, finally eating some eggs. “She took a real risk telling me what she did.”

  “And you believe her?” Caleb asks. “You know the easiest scam to pull is to get caught, retreat, and then tell a half-truth instead of a whole lie. What about your feelings? For fuck’s sake, please tell me your feelings are that both she and her sister need to disappear.”

  I press my lips together, knowing he won’t like this, but I let him in deeper. “No secrets, no matter what. There’s something there.”

  Three little words, so much meaning, an impact that echoes through the room, through our relationship.

  He runs his hands through his hair, yanking at the strands. He’s embraced the relaxed hair standards of nonmilitary life more than I have, that’s for sure. “Fuck, Nathan. Fuck.” He glares at me, and I take it all, knowing it’s warranted.

  “I pulled everything I could on Emma and her sister. File’s on my desk. Take it and go through it. See if there’s anything I missed. Please.”

  He growls his frustration, but he nods as he grabs his cup and heads back to the office to start digging into everything Emma Daniels and Claire Daniels have ever known, done, or said. He doesn’t want to do it, would rather I wash my hands of the whole thing, but he’s got my back. If it’s important to me, it’s important to him. That’s what brothers do.

  I dump the rest of my eggs in the trash, uneaten. I need something else even more.

  Chapter 21

  Emma

  The loud bang on my door resonates through my apartment, likely disturbing everyone in the whole building. Not Claire’s pattern, but urgent nevertheless.

  I peek through the peephole and see Nathan there, and my hands fly to my lock. I don’t make him wait, too afraid he’ll leave.

  When I open the door, he puts a hand on either side of the frame, caging me inside my own apartment but not entering either.

  “This is not the way to do this, but fuck if anything else has been right. The only way I know how to tell for sure what’s real and what’s fake is to break down every fucking wall between us. It’s the only way.”

  Whoa. Talk about an honest and just . . . out there declaration. It’s so surprising I hesitate. It’s not what I expected, but at the same time, it�
�s what my heart’s been yearning for.

  A chance at redemption.

  I know what he’s asking of me. He’s telling me that I’ll have to go all-in.

  That’s a scary thought under the best of circumstances, and we have probably the worst set of circumstances Hollywood could script between the mindfuck his dad laid on him and then the one I just pulled.

  I’m not much better, suddenly falling inexplicably and deeply for the bad boy who should be strictly off-limits.

  Oh, he may not have a motorcycle and leather jacket, but he is the ultimate in bad boys, the power in his charm and expensive suits as he holds court in the boardroom or whatever it is his business does.

  Everything is against us.

  And still I jump at the opportunity and fling myself off the edge, praying he’ll catch me and that this isn’t some twisted retribution.

  I back away from the door slowly, walking backward to the living room so as not to break eye contact. I make sure I’m in full view from where he stands in the doorway, and I sink to my knees.

  It may not have been something I’ve ever done before, or at least not before that frightening moment at the party.

  But it’s the only thing I can think of to show that I’m at his mercy, open and vulnerable, willing to let him take everything.

  It’s how we started, and now, it’ll be how we start again.

  I feel my lips tilt up in hope. “Nathan, come in.”

  It’ll be the last order I issue.

  He’s on me in six strides, the slam of the door closing still echoing in the room when he grabs a handful of my hair and tilts my head up for a kiss.

  No, not a kiss.

  Though our mouths move against one another, our tongues tangle, and our breaths mingle, this is a possession.

  He is taking me—my breath, my body, my power—in this instant.

  I arch in surrender to his power, trying to get even closer to him as he leans over me.

  But he fights me, moving his hands to grip my face in his palms. His eyes steady on mine, and his truth is painful. “I am so fucking furious at you. I hate you, hate that you lied, hate that I don’t know if you’re still lying, hate that I had to defend myself to my brother, hate that I’m here when everything screams at me to stay away. But here I am. I hate you.”