“And you can let her go. I don’t have to bring her with me. I’ll leave her here and this can be just you and me.”
“It was never just you and me. You always had to bring some slut into it. Do you think I didn’t watch you? I always watched you. I saw exactly how you looked at her. Like she was a sweet lamb and you were the hungry wolf. Did you think she could save you? Did you think she would save your disgusting soul? Does she know some of the things you’ve done?”
Every word burrowed into him, a time bomb waiting to go off. He glanced over and Penelope turned slightly toward him. The minute she caught sight of him, a tremulous smile curled her lips up.
She needed him and she didn’t even know all the people he’d killed. Oh, she’d likely read his mission reports, but they were cleaned up and sanitized to the point that she couldn’t conceive of the blood on his hands. Yes, he’d done it for his country, but there had always been a part of him that enjoyed his work, enjoyed dealing death to the world’s worst criminals. She would be shocked if she really knew him, if she could see past the placid surface to the killer underneath.
He turned away from her. “She was assigned to me. You should know me better than this, Baz. I have no intention of keeping any female long term. I’m not built that way. As soon as the op is over, I won’t work with her again. She’s not field ready, and I don’t think she ever will be.”
“She can’t understand you. I’m the only one who ever understood you.”
Damon’s stomach rolled. Baz was going to play this out to the end, and all Damon could do was go along. “You were my partner and you betrayed me.”
“You betrayed me, Damon. Over and over again. You’re the reason everything went to hell and don’t ever tell yourself differently. If you’d just….it doesn’t matter.”
“It does. Let me dump her. This should be just you and me.” Play to his ego. Play his game. Get Penelope out of it.
“No. She comes with you or everything’s off. Do you understand? If you show up at the meet spot without her, I’ll kill her. You won’t be able to hide her from me. Maybe I’ll play with her a bit. First, I’ll kill that brother of hers. Does he really think that haircut looks good on him? I should take him out now just for crimes against fashion.”
His blood chilled. He looked to Ian. He’s here, Damon mouthed. He let his eyes find Penelope.
Tag nodded shortly and proved how much he’d changed, how much he understood exactly what Damon was feeling. Most agents would have immediately started looking for Baz, but Ian strode to Penelope, taking her hand and speaking quietly to her. Within seconds, Tag had all of the Cash siblings under cover.
“No, you don’t care about her at all.” Baz’s voice was a silky evil over the line.
Where was the blighter? Damon looked around him. He could be anywhere, likely in one of the buildings surrounding them. “Why don’t you come down here and talk to me? This doesn’t have to be bad between us. Taggart is gone. Just you and me. We’ll talk this out.”
A low chuckle filled his ear. “Talk is all you ever wanted to do. Offer me something better, Damon.”
“We’ll go somewhere private.” He would promise the bastard just about anything to get in the same small space with him. He needed to get him somewhere he couldn’t run from. He needed to even the odds. “We’re close to any number of hotels. Meet me at one.”
“If only I thought you were serious, but I’m not a fool. Enjoy your whore tonight. I’ll be thinking of you. I’ve got to get out of here. I had to kill someone to get a good seat to this show. God, I hate the elderly. But then I pretended it was your girl when I was strangling her to death. Good night, Damon.”
The line went dead, and Damon cursed. He looked around but there was no way to know which building Baz was playing his murderous games in. He hated this feeling. Weak. Stupid. Vulnerable.
There was nothing to do except plan for their next meeting when Baz would again have the upper hand.
He strode to the car. There wasn’t anything he could do here either. Penelope’s home was gone, and he had next to nothing to offer her.
“Damon?” She got out of the car and rushed to him, throwing her arms around him.
He pushed her back. “Get in the car.”
“He’s here, isn’t he?” She didn’t fight him, simply got back into the car that Tag had already turned on, ready to get them all away from here.
Damon knew he should get in the front seat, but she moved over and put her hand out, willing him to come to her. There were tears in her eyes.
Now would be the perfect moment to show her how cold he was, to prove he didn’t really give a damn about her. That he had nothing to offer her. He was cold and dead inside.
Except he wasn’t when it came to her. She’d lost her home and he did have something to give her. He got into the backseat, gathering her close. “Go ahead and cry, love. It’s all right now.”
She wept into his shoulder, moving so she was in his lap as if she couldn’t stand to be even that far from him.
His arms tightened, and he realized Baz might be right. She just might be the death of him.
Chapter Fourteen
Penny looked out over the dungeon and was deeply thankful that she seemed to have found her sea legs. The entire ballroom had been transformed into a massive play area. There were St. Andrew’s Crosses along the walls, areas with spanking benches, and a couple of spots for master riggers to help with suspension play. Several subs had been intricately tied up in Shibari designs and placed on display in the bar area.
A couple of big dungeon monitors stood by the lifts and stairs. The rules were very plain. No intoxicated play. Jake Dean stood by the lifts. Apparently he’d been pressed into security duty. He looked big and slightly mean despite the fact that he was wearing a sunny yellow polo shirt and khaki pants. He’d already tossed two men out, his eyes lit with a certain glee. The rules of the dungeon and play spaces below had been explained in the meet and greet. Two drinks allowed in the bars inside the dungeon. Anyone attempting to get around it would be escorted to the non-play area of the ship.
“Are you all right, darling?” Damon eased up behind her, his hands finding her hips and sliding around her waist. He put his head close to hers, his mouth against her ear. “If you’re sick, this is over.”
She had to fight the urge to groan and roll her eyes. Her Dom was the touchiest thing. Over the last forty-eight hours, he’d found roughly four hundred reasons to end the op. First, he’d worried about her mental state after the fire. He’d held her the whole night, but in the morning claimed she wasn’t rested enough and they would have to cancel. She’d simply hauled her bags down to the car and then gotten her bum spanked for carrying her own luggage.
Then he’d claimed they’d lost her papers. She’d easily found them in his laptop bag.
As the boat had rolled out of Dover, past the glorious white cliffs and pebbled beaches, she’d discovered that being on a massive floating ship didn’t particularly agree with her stomach. At the first sign of nausea, she could have sworn she’d seen Damon jump up and down with joy.
Luckily Charlotte had gotten her some Dramamine, and she’d been perfectly fit for the meet and greet.
“I’m fine, Master.” She put her hands over his. He really was a foolish man. But he seemed to be right about a few things. They didn’t work together well since Damon seemed to find it impossible to think about anything except ways to get her off the boat. “What did you find out about the couple below us?”
Though they’d checked the room for bugs twice already, Damon preferred to whisper in crowded rooms, somehow thinking Baz was everywhere at once. They’d spent the day checking out the ten names Chelsea and Adam had targeted as their best bets to meet Walter Bennett. Six had connections to known Collective companies—although Damon insisted there were likely many more they didn’t know about. One was a reporter who had written a lengthy magazine article about Nature’s Core. Two had recently been in places that hosted Nature’s Core rallies.