“Sex, of course. It’s really the only language men understand.”

That was what she was afraid of. “I’m not very good at sex. I don’t have much experience.”

Charlotte frowned her way. “You’re going to be one of those women, aren’t you?”

“Here comes the speech,” Chelsea said under her breath.

“One of those women?” Penny wasn’t sure what that meant.

Charlotte crossed her arms under her breasts, leaning forward. “The kind who spends all their time worrying about what they’re not. ‘I’m not sexy. I’m not pretty. I’m not worthy.’ When you do talk about what you are, it’s negative things like ‘I’m fat’ or ‘I have cellulite.’”

She felt herself flush. Yes, she might be guilty of some of that, but it wasn’t the whole story. “That’s not true. I think I’m smart and nice.”

Charlotte shook her head as though Penny had just proven her point. “Only because people tell you that. Do you really believe it? Deep down inside? Or do you keep trying to prove it over and over again? Do you let people take advantage of you because you think the only thing you have going for you is that you’re nice?”

It wasn’t true. Except it sort of was. She spent a lot of time trying to prove how nice she was. And she spent absolutely no time being nice to herself. That needed to change. She needed to take a real inventory of herself. “I like my eyes. I think they’re pretty.”

“Yes, they are.” When Charlotte Taggart smiled, she could light up a room.

“All the guys think you’ve got a nice ass.” Chelsea leaned on the bar and gave her a reserved smile. “I listen in on everyone. It’s for research.”

“They like my bum?” She’d always thought it was way too big.

Chelsea giggled a little, her face softening. She was quite pretty when she relaxed. “Yes, I believe Jesse said, in his always intensely literate way, ‘Dayum, that’s a juicy ass.’ But y’all say arse. Why do you do that? It’s not very sexy.”

Maybe the word wasn’t sexy, but apparently her arse was.

“You aren’t going to win your man by worrying about cellulite,” Charlotte explained. She turned a pointed look to her sister. “Or by treating him like he has the plague.”

“He’s not mine,” Chelsea said quickly.

“Only because you act like a jerk.” Charlotte pushed one of the shot glasses Penny’s way. “She’s got a huge thing for Simon and he totally wants her too. They’ve circled each other for months and months and they’re both irritable because no one’s getting laid. Do you want that? Wait, was Damon good in bed? I mean he could be horrible and he could make you feel like shit and then it’s a good thing that he dumped you.”

“Oh, no, he’s very good. And he made me feel good.” Her confidence was rising with every word Charlotte said. “We were good together.”

They had been. He wasn’t closed down with her in bed. When he’d smiled, there had been actual emotion in him. She was sure of it. He was always so controlled, except for today. He’d lost it and it hadn’t been all because of Baz. His anger was cold, controlled, but his fear came out in screaming fits and every single one of them had been directed her way.

She knocked back the drink. She didn’t drink much because it didn’t seem ladylike and she’d wanted to be seen as a nice girl when she was growing up. She’d gotten used to being in control all the time. She’d had to be when her parents were alive.

It burned down her throat, and she practically coughed it up. Both Dennis sisters laughed and Chelsea patted her back. “It’s an acquired taste.”

But their friendship wasn’t. It was easy and simple and she hadn’t fit in with another group of women in a very long time. She was always worried about doing or saying the wrong thing, but the Dennis sisters were showing her there wasn’t a wrong thing to say.

“I will take another.” It was her time now. It was finally her time to figure out who she wanted to be, and she was very certain that one of the things she wanted to be was happy, and that couldn’t happen without Damon Knight.

“Can you be brave, Penny?” Charlotte asked, sliding her another shot. “I know it sounds silly, but you’re going to have to play a part you’re not used to playing. If you want to break through Damon’s walls, you’re going to have to seduce him and manipulate him and bring him to his knees. You’re going to have to change the attitude. In the end, it can’t be a part you’re playing. It has to be you. You have to fight and fight dirty.”

If Damon had his way, she would be safe and he would upend both US and British intelligence and likely get himself killed in the process. He’d always been brave. He’d been through hell and he still was capable of caring about her.

Was she willing to let that go because she didn’t like her body? Damon liked her body. If he was her lover, wasn’t his opinion of whether she was sexy the only one that really mattered?

“Yes. I can be brave.” She’d been nervous about being naked, but it seemed very silly now. She’d been willing to put her life in Damon’s hands. Why would showing a bit of skin really bother her?

Chelsea put her head in her hand. “Oh, no. Do you know what she’s about to do to you?”

But it was said with a smile and what seemed to be genuine affection for her sister.

Charlotte squealed a little and clapped her hands. “Makeover!”

Maybe she could use one. And she had a bit of money saved so it would be good to have some new clothes. “All right.”

“And we’ll need some help from my hubby to set the scene, but we can’t let him know we’re using him so Penny, I’m going to need some serious tears.”

She’d held them back all day. It was actually quite easy to let them go. Her tears in the bathroom hadn’t even begun to make a dent in her tension, and she got the feeling that she wouldn’t be sleeping beside Damon tonight, so there would be no one to comfort her in the night.

Or would there? Maybe she needed to see how he liked being manipulated. As far as she knew, he hadn’t moved her things out of his room and she had a keycard.

Charlotte patted her back. “Excellent. You look very dejected. Now, sit over there and look vulnerable. Chelsea, I need you to irritate my husband with a rant about how horrible men are.”

Chelsea brightened. “I can totally do that.”

Charlotte picked up her phone. Her whole demeanor changed and she went from smiling to screaming harpy in a second. “Ian, your friend is a rat bastard. Do you know what he did? Do you know? Were you in on it?”

Penny could practically hear Ian Taggart quaking in his overly large boots.

Chelsea reached over and covered Penny’s hand with hers. “It’ll be okay. One way or another. You’ll be fine. Damon’s being silly. We’re not going to let you die.”

Funny, she hadn’t even thought about the fact that someone wanted to kill her. Love really might cost her everything, but she was willing to take the risk.

* * *

“Dude, did you seriously dump her in front of everyone?” Jesse Murdoch frowned his way.

Damon still had a headache from the debacle of the morning. It was after supper now, a supper he’d avoided because he hadn’t wanted to be in the same room, looking at her sad, gorgeous blue eyes and fighting the need to pull her into his lap. He didn’t want to watch Ian feed Charlotte when his chance to do the same with Penelope was gone.

The last thing he needed was Ian Taggart’s crew following him about and gossiping. He should have stayed up in his rooms, but then he had to deal with Penelope’s things, her clothes hanging next to his, her makeup and frilly feminine things crowding his bathroom.

He looked over at the puppy of the group. The one who had hit on Penelope the first night.

“It’s really none of your business.” He watched the kettle as though that would make the water boil faster. Given his current stage of rage, it might.

Tag showed up in the kitchen, leaning his big body against the door. “That, PTSD, is what we call a dick move in the States.”

Yes, he should have gone up to his apartments and locked everyone out. He just wasn’t sure he could look at that bed again and remember just how much he’d lost. He wasn’t sure how he was going to sleep in it. He needed to move her into one of the guest rooms. Fuck. He needed to figure out how to be able to look into those sky-blue eyes of hers without wanting to apologize and beg her to take him back.

Because that would be dangerous.

“I don’t need your input either, Tag.” He grabbed the box of tea and set the bag in his cup. He would rather start in on the Scotch, but he didn’t trust himself not to get drunk and crawl into her bed again.

Of course, that might solve many problems. Penelope had gotten her sidearm, a Glock 17 that he’d made her prove she could use. If he climbed into her bed, she would likely shoot him. Case closed. Everyone would be happier.

“Too bad because you’re definitely going to get my input.” Taggart strode into the room. “PTSD, go and finish packing. You have to fly to the Netherlands tomorrow and learn how to make beds and shit. Tell Jake your car is leaving at six.”

Jesse and Jake were joining the Royale when it docked in Amsterdam. Chelsea and Simon would travel with the two couples to Dover and board with the new crew there. Cruise ships picked up new members all the time and in multiple ports. Yet another avenue they had to deal with.

Jesse frowned. “I don’t know about this, boss. Why do I have to be the guy who cleans up cabins while Chelsea works security?”

Taggart’s eyes rolled. “Because she’s the computer guru. You got some skills in there you haven’t told me about? Trust me, buddy, if the job was walking the decks and knocking heads together, you would be my guy. I need Chelsea to get control of all those security cameras. I need you to search the cabins of the people I tell you to.”