Sometimes he wanted to plant his fist in Tag’s face.
He couldn’t love Penelope. He couldn’t. The people he loved died. He followed Tag into the suite and couldn’t help but take in how perfectly the soft, fluffy robe suited Penelope. Soft and sweet as candy.
Penelope’s lips finally curved into an actual smile. “We were right.”
Charlotte was standing beside the bed that dominated the room. “Oh, yes. Look. I think that’s our guy.”
He glanced down at the table where the contents of the kit had been placed. There was a small photo of a man. He was roughly thirty with thick glasses, dark hair, and a ready smile. Damon picked it up and turned it over. There was writing on the back. Walter Bennett.
Their guy. So the reporter was the contact. Or they had more trouble than he’d thought. “What else did you find?”
Charlotte sat down on the sofa, wincing slightly. “Sorry. Ian took a moment before he let me go through the kit. My ass is a little tender.”
Penelope sat down beside her, but there was nothing on her face. She’d shut down the minute Charlotte spoke. She was right back to blank professional. “There was a thumb drive under his flogger.”
Ian picked it up. The flogger was black and looked to be cheap leather. It wasn’t custom made. He’d likely bought it at a toy store. “I wouldn’t use this on anyone.”
Penelope stared at the flogger and when Ian set it down, she picked it up, touching the falls. “It isn’t soft. Why are they so stiff?”
“Because he’s never used it before. It’s strictly ornamental.” Damon jumped on the chance to be her mentor again. “The leather should be treated so it has some flexibility. The one I use on you is actually deerskin. It’s more for the thud than a sting. I’m not sure this would give you either.”
She laid it back down and turned her attention back to Taggart. “Have you tried to open the drive?”
“Password protected,” Charlotte said. “That’s why we need Chelsea. We’re going to have her in your cabin while we talk to our reporter.”
There was a knock on the door and Chelsea entered. She was dressed in her security uniform. “What’s up? This is my sleep time so it better be good. I get to share a cabin with eight other chicks. I want to kill myself. Oh, and nice move, sis. It was quite the distraction.”
Charlotte grinned. “You know me. I like to give a good show.”
Taggart chuckled as he passed Chelsea the thumb drive. “There are cameras everywhere on this ship. When Damon rifled through the target’s cabin, he wasn’t on camera, but they would have caught him breaking into the room. So we gave them something better to watch.”
“Security is a bunch of peeping tom perverts,” Chelsea complained. “I swear, they must test these guys for voyeurism before they hire them. There aren’t cameras in the cabins, but they’re all over the balconies. When I needed to turn their attention away from Damon, big sis and Satan here just went at it on the balcony. No one noticed when Damon slipped into a room that wasn’t his own.”
“You better destroy that tape,” Ian said. “Well, after you make a copy and give it to me.”
Chelsea rolled her eyes, took the drive, and slipped out after Damon handed her the keycard to their cabin.
He had zero doubt she would break the code in no time at all. If only he could make her break Penelope’s code so she would make sense to him.
He stared her way, but she didn’t spare him a glance.
This was why he didn’t have girlfriends. He didn’t understand women at all. She’d been comfortable in D/s. She’d opened up more in the last week than he’d seen her in the years he’d known her. When they had been on that stage, she’d been hot and ready for anything. Now she thought she could make him feel guilty?
He just wished he knew what he was supposed to feel guilty about because he was feeling bloody bad about everything now. Perhaps she’d been acting, playing along so he wouldn’t leave her behind.
That was stupid.
“Hello? Knight? You with us?” Taggart sat down beside his wife.
“Of course.” He was losing it. Focus on the job. If Penelope no longer wanted him, he would just have to deal with it. Perhaps she was telling him the truth. She’d seen the real him and she no longer fooled herself that she could care for him.
It was better. Really it was.
He forced his brain away from her.
The sound of a keycard engaging made him turn just in time to see Jesse Murdoch begin to head inside.
“And you’re sure it’s here?” a female voice asked.
“I saw her run away with it. She stole the bag and I followed her here,” Jesse replied. “This is my floor so I have the key. That’s when I called security and then talked to you.”
“I just want the bag and then I need to get back to my boyfriend. I don’t get why security needed to talk to him. I don’t want to involve security. My not-so-brilliant boyfriend will keep it with him from now on,” Candice complained as she started into the short hallway.
She stopped when she saw the group around the table.
Damon stood up.
“What’s this?” She tried to turn but Simon was right behind her. “Fuck.”
Simon caught her, putting a hand over her mouth. “Don’t scream. I don’t want to have to gag you, but you should know that we have everything we need to ensure this talk is very uncomfortable for you.”
She’d been wearing an ill-fitting corset in the dungeon. She’d changed somewhere along the way and now looked extremely young and somewhat fragile in jeans and a T-shirt covered by a cardie. Her eyes were wide with terror. He had to figure out who she was really working for.
“My name is Damon Knight. I’m with SIS. Can you nod if you know what that is?”
She nodded. She was a reporter. She should understand how her country’s intelligence worked, but he was often surprised at some people’s stupidity.
“If my colleague removes his hand, will you scream?”
Her head shook. Either she was an excellent actress or she was scared. Either way, he thought there was a chance she would keep her head about her.
“If you do scream, he’s going to tie you up and keep you that way until we sort this out. Simon, let her go.” There was no reason to be uncivilized if he didn’t have to.
Her hands were shaking as Simon took a step back. “You’re MI6? Really? You’re a real bloody double 0?”
“Yes, though I’m afraid you’ll have to take my word on it since we don’t carry badges.”
“We don’t need no stinking badges,” Taggart said with a smile.
“How do I know if I should talk to you then?” She might have gone to a posh university, but her accent gave her away. She’d been raised in the country.
And she was cautious. He couldn’t blame her. “Because I’ll very likely torture you if you don’t.” He could be uncivilized when it was called for.
Tears started rolling down her cheeks. Penelope sighed and stood up. “Come here. He’s not going to torture you. He just likes to have everyone afraid of him. Come sit down and we can get this sorted out. It’s obvious you’re not in league with terrorists.”
“It’s not obvious to me.” Did Penelope think she would wear a sign?
Candice Jones practically tackled Penelope in her haste to get away from him. He was just charming all the ladies this evening. He had to admit, conducting an interview in his leathers was a new experience.
“Is he really with the government?” Candice turned to Penelope as though she’d figured out she was the only person in the room who hadn’t recently killed someone.
“Yes. I am as well. Can you tell me how you know Walter Bennett?”
Candice’s jaw practically locked.