A couple of stewards walked through the narrow hallways, shoulder to shoulder, interrupting whatever Penelope might have said.

“Did you just see that? What the hell?” the taller of the two asked.

“I have no idea, man. I’m keeping my eyes closed until this cruise is done. These people are freaks.” He flushed when he realized they weren’t alone. “Evening, sir.”

Damon nodded and allowed them to move by and then he saw what they were complaining about.

Ian Taggart had the big Aussie gagged, his hands behind his back and his shirt off. Charlotte walked next to him, a crop in her hand.

“Bad sub. You are a bad, bad sub and there will be punishment. You never talk to your mistress that way.” She slapped his ass with the crop.

Carter’s head came up, and he looked Charlotte’s way. He seemed to be trying to talk around the bright red ball gag that was strapped to his mouth. He struggled, moving his shoulders hard and to the right, trying to buck Taggart off him.

“You need some help with that one, Tag?” It was a good excuse to end the painful conversation with Penelope. He hurried down the hall, but noticed Carter’s head was back up.

He made some incomprehensible sounds.

Charlotte leaned over. “We’ll get it off you as soon as we make it to the cabin. It’s going to be okay, Mr. Carter. And besides, I’m having fun playing the mistress.”

She lightly tapped his rear with the crop.

“Don’t get used to it. You’re going to be the one taking the crop tonight, Mrs. Taggart. Get his other side, Knight. He’s a heavy son of a bitch.” Taggart hauled him back up.

Damon moved to Carter’s right, but he seemed to cooperate a bit more. His feet didn’t drag now and he stood straight, walking along.

Penelope moved to get the door to their cabin open. She held it while they managed to get Carter inside.

“This is what the world is like in my dreams,” Tag said with a smile on his face. “An all D/s world where it’s perfectly normal for an almost seven-foot dude to get his ass cropped by a Domme. Wouldn’t everything just be better this way?”

Charlotte shut and locked the door. “I’m sure it would be better for you, babe. I, on the other hand, like wearing clothes from time to time. Don’t laugh. You know I do. And if you had your way, we’d all just run around naked.”

Damon did see a couple of flaws in Tag’s plan, though Penelope always being naked and available for him was a tempting idea. But they had bigger things to deal with than Tag’s dream world.

Of course, he likely wouldn’t see her naked again.

Carter slumped to the couch.

“Damon? Can I talk to you?” Penelope caught up to him.

He wanted to avoid “the talk.” She seemed ready to finally give him the chat where she told him never to touch her again. Thank god he had a job to do.

“Later. It has to wait.” He turned his attention back to their guest.

It was time to lay his cards on the table and figure out if he had a winning hand. He looked down at Carter, though not far. Even sitting the man was as tall as a lot of men standing.

He stood in front of the Aussie, crossing his arms over his chest as he began. “My name is Damon Knight. I work for British intelligence, SIS or MI6, if you prefer. I would like to take that gag out of your mouth so we can have a pleasant chat.”

“Damon, please do keep it friendly.” Penelope put a hand on his arm, the first time she’d willingly touched him since the dungeon. She looked right up at him. “I don’t think he’s the bad guy.”

He hated the fact that she could manipulate him, but it didn’t matter. It was exactly that—a fact and there was nothing he seemed to be able to do about it. “Why do you think that, love?”

He would soften, listen to her, very likely give in to her just to keep her looking at him.

“I shoved a needle in his neck, and he seemed horrified that he hit me.”

Anger flared through his system at the thought. “He hit you?”

Carter outweighed Penelope by a good seven stone. He could likely crush her without even thinking about it. What had she been thinking going after the man? She should never have been in that position. She’d been forced to kill and then to attack a man three times her size.

He couldn’t do anything to the man she’d killed, but he could deal with this bastard.

Carter shook his head and he nodded Penelope’s way.

Penelope put a restraining hand on Damon’s shoulder. “Damon, I had just attacked him. He can be forgiven for lashing out a bit.”

Damon didn’t have to forgive him. He didn’t even want to. He wanted to pull the big bloke’s head off with his bare hands.

“He kind of freaked when he realized she was a chick,” Charlotte explained. She held the keys to the cuffs in her hands. “It was weird. He tried to help her up. I think Pen’s right and he’s a big old softie under all those muscles.”

Carter grunted in obvious disagreement.

“He’s got a Special Air Service Regiment tat on his forearm. I seriously doubt he’s a softie.” Taggart inspected his left arm. “Unless it’s just decorative.”

Carter grunted again, his eyes flaring.

“I think that means no,” Charlotte said.

“Can we at least talk to him, Damon?” When had Penelope started to smile at him again? She was looking at him with an amused expression on her face, the one that he’d mistaken for affection before.

It looked like he would have to forgo thrashing the bloke. Penelope seemed to have taken to the bugger like he was an overgrown house pet. “I’m going to remove the ball gag. If you shout out, I’ll have to replace it.”

Gingerly, he released the gag and pulled the rubber ball from Carter’s mouth. Charlotte was right there with a towel, wiping off the guy’s chin.

“Hey, I know what that feels like,” she explained. “And hopefully I didn’t really hurt you too much with the crop.”

Carter moved his jaw, stretching it out a bit. “Not at all, though I have to say I’d prefer to be on the other end of that crop when it comes to a pretty bird like you, sweetheart.” He turned to Penelope, his face serious. “Did I hurt you?”

Fuck. He really did seem upset. He was giving Penelope soulful eyes. His mouth turned down.

Penelope shook her head. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. How about you? I’m so sorry I had to use that needle on you, but you didn’t seem like you wanted to stop and have a chat.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt, luv.” He gave her a smile that changed his face from slightly scary to something resembling handsome. Despite the big scar he had running along his left cheek, the Aussie wasn’t hard on the eyes. A woman like Penelope might like him.

Oh, there was going to be none of that. He might have to deal with the fact that he’d lost her, but he wasn’t going to watch her flirt with someone else. “All right, Romeo, if you’re done flirting, perhaps we can get on with it.”

Carter turned distinctly predatory the minute he focused on Damon. “Listen up, you pommie bastard. You’ve got a few roos loose in the top paddock if you think I’m giving you anything.”

God save him from Aussies. It was bad enough to be surrounded by Americans. “You think I’m crazy? Mate, I’m not the one working for a terrorist. Are you angry with the crown? Is that why you want to help Nature’s Core hit London?”

“What are you talking about, you fuckwit?” Carter shook his head. “You think Walt is a terrorist?”

At least he wasn’t denying he had a connection to Bennett. “I think Walter Bennett stole something very important, and he means to sell it and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process.”

“Bite my arse.” Carter sat back.

“Oh, Ian. I like him. Can we keep him?” Charlotte asked, obviously amused.

It was nice someone found the situation humorous.

“Absolutely not. I don’t think he’s housebroken, baby,” Taggart shot back.

“You’re former SASR? I assume you aren’t current.” He would have to go about this a different way. He needed the man’s cooperation. Unfortunately, the room was really small. He required a bit more space to really get his torture on. And then there was the fact that Penelope would likely object if he started pulling the man’s fingernails out one by one. So he had to appeal to his reasonable side. If he had one.

“I got out three years ago,” Carter said. “I was in the service for almost twelve years. Took an IED in Afghanistan. Apparently having a skull that’s more metal than bone means I can’t serve anymore. I wasn’t ever much good at anything else.”

“You a mercenary?” Taggart asked, his voice serious for once.

Carter frowned at the word. “Nah. I’m a bodyguard. I cop the bullets. End of the day, I’m just dumb muscle. And I sure as shit don’t hire out to terrorists. Tell MI6 to get better intel.” He shrugged against the cuffs holding his hands behind his back. “And what bloody right do you have to hold me? I’m a private citizen.”

“In the post 9/11 era, that doesn’t mean a thing if you’ve got the wrong connections and you know it. We have places we can take you, Carter. Places you don’t want to go.” Places that would take far too long, but he couldn’t come out and say that.

“Damon, that seems a bit rude. Mr. Carter, we really are trying to help,” Penelope said. “We only know what Candice has told us. The intelligence we’ve heard leads us to believe that Mr. Bennett is attempting to smuggle something dangerous into the country. I find it hard to believe a decorated officer such as yourself would help him.”

They’d been able to find out a lot about their captive in the short time between when they picked him up and when they’d made it to the boat. Brody Carter had been highly decorated, his service record unblemished. His career had been cut short by his injury. He’d been working private security for the last couple of years. They’d asked the questions to see if he would lie.