“You’re treating her like one,” Simon said. “You hide behind her. You let her take the rap for the things you do and you don’t tell her everything, do you? Because you’re smarter than she is. You know better. She’s just a woman, but you’re something more. No one can touch you. Not really. You let whoever gave you those scars win. You let him turn you into a monster.”

Her sister slapped Simon right across his handsome face, but the Brit didn’t move an inch. “Go away. I am not telling you again.”

“And I’m not leaving you alone. I think I kind of like your sister and I owe my boss the world, so I’ll protect his woman when he can’t. Tell her the truth. Tell her about your connections to Nelson. You didn’t stop talking to him, did you?”

Betrayal bit through Charlie as Chelsea went stark white.

And said nothing.

Simon smiled, but it was a humorless thing. “It made sense. Once I started looking into The Broker, I knew it was you and not Charlotte. Charlotte did stupid shit like stopping terrorist plots and giving a million dollars to animal shelters. That was what you wanted her to think the ‘business’ was about.”

“The fucking poodles weren’t going to protect us,” Chelsea bit back.

“So you contacted Nelson because he knew the business and you wanted in. Tell me, did you contact him as Charlotte?”

“Chelsea?” She waited for her sister to tell her it wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. She couldn’t have been working with Nelson.

A long moment passed. “He didn’t want to talk to me. He always had a thing for Charlotte. She never saw it. If she hadn’t fallen for that Neanderthal, Nelson would have protected us. He had power.”

“What have you done?” At least she knew what kind of evidence Ian would find on her.

Chelsea stepped back. “I was just asking questions. Charlotte, I think he’s bigger than he seems. I think he’s connected to some very important people. I’ve started to see patterns that don’t make sense to me, and they come back to him. If I could get something on him, if I could make him work for us again, we could maybe figure out what’s happening and then we would be in such power.”

Her sister had gotten in far deeper than Charlie had ever imagined and she’d dragged her along. Everything she’d sacrificed was meaningless because her sister had just ensured she could never be redeemed in Ian’s eyes. And she’d placed them in a situation where Charlie couldn’t start a new life.

“You’re a lot like your father,” Simon said.

Chelsea stopped, her body going still. “I am nothing like him.”

“You ruined your sister’s life over power and money. I would say you inherited a lot from him. Did you think about taking over the syndicate yourself?”

“I am nothing like him.” Chelsea said it in an almost disbelieving voice. She turned and walked away.

And Simon stayed.

“I thought you were watching over her.” Charlie wanted to be alone, to let the hollowness sink in. Ian was lost. He would believe what he wanted to believe. He would believe whatever would allow him to go back into his comfortable shell and never come out again. Chelsea was lost, too. Charlie had done it to her. This was her fault. She should have insisted that her sister go to school, but she’d been so alone.

“She doesn’t need watching over. I thought for a minute she did, but that one will always take care of herself. You, on the other hand, you need a keeper, love.” Simon walked to the cupboard and pulled out a pot, filling it with water and placing it on the stove to heat. “Ian should be here, but he needs a minute or two.”

“I think that’s over, Simon.” Everything was over.

“Not at all. A man doesn’t nearly kill another man over a woman he doesn’t love.”

“What about a woman who betrayed him?”

“He’s being quite the drama queen about that. I watched him last night. Oh, he looked very calm and professional, but he was desperate to get you out of that situation with MI6. If he wanted to pay you back, you would be in Europe on your way to Egypt or the UAE right now. He wants you. You just have to make sure he doesn’t forget it.”

“I think I’ve tried everything.”

“How about simply staying?” Simon asked. “How about just giving him time? Just sit here and look pretty and vulnerable and don’t spout shit at him. I assure you he’ll come to the proper conclusions.”

“And what are those?”

“That you’re not capable of sleeping with the same men who broke your sister. You’re beyond that, love. You’re whole in a way she isn’t. I stayed up late last night looking over all your records. Yes, you took money from some corrupt bastards, but you also spread it out to women’s groups and child protection agencies. You’re a warrior, Charlotte. You’re a protector. You’re everything he needs in a partner.”

She shook her head. “I betrayed him. Chelsea’s right. He can’t forgive me.”

“Then he’s an idiot and you move on. You did what you had to do to protect your sister. She was your responsibility.”

“Yeah, I seem to have fucked that up, too.”

“No. She’s the one who chose her path. She should have followed your example. She’s…a very interesting woman, but at the end of the day, she’s been broken and it’s made her cold. You didn’t do that. Forgive yourself and move on. Forgive yourself for Ian, too, and you might have a shot at making it work.” Simon stood up, brushing his dress shirt back to an unwrinkled state. “You did your penance. I’m working on mine. Let’s have a cup of tea, shall we? Tea fixes almost everything, my mother used to say. A bullet tends to fix the rest.”

He went about preparing tea, but Charlie just stared out the window. Nothing was going to fix this, and she wasn’t sure what to do about it.

She looked out at the yard that could have been hers and wished she’d made different choices.

Chapter Twelve

Ian stared at the evidence in front of him, a series of e-mails from his lovely bride to Eli Nelson. He’d read over them three times since they had gotten into the office. There wasn’t anything in those e-mails that truly damned her. They were written in a somewhat flat, intellectual tone with none of Charlie’s sweet flirty nature in them. They were the correspondence of one professional to another.

Simon set his cup down on the conference room table. “My question is how did these assassins know your lovely wife would be in town now? Unless they’ve been here watching for her. Even then, I’m not sure how Denisovitch could be certain. She didn’t fly into Dallas.”

“No,” Adam replied, taking the seat next to Jake. “She drove, and I couldn’t find her face on any of the traffic cameras between here and Florida. If I can’t find her, I doubt they could. Someone had to have very good intelligence. He wouldn’t send so many men in without a relative certainty of where the target was.”

Unless the target had been talking to her former lover. Unless she wasn’t really the target. That red laser line hadn’t shown up on Charlie’s chest. It had shown up on his. Was Eli Nelson using her to take him out? He knew damn well Charlie didn’t like to do her own assassinations.

So why did she take out the man last night? Think for a second. It would have been easy for her to do nothing and let it all play out. Maybe he gets you. Maybe you get him. She didn’t allow that to happen.

Sometimes his dick was too logical.

“The man we caught is Zhukov. I confirmed it with the Agency and with known intelligence we have on him,” Jake said.

Adam placed a file on the desk. “I busted into the feed at immigration at DFW and ran some facial recognition software and found the two we had to bury last night. I think I slipped a disc trying to toss the nail gun victim into the ground, by the way. I’m filing for workers’ comp. I found at least two other known assassins who came into town in the last twenty-four hours. Do you think they got a group rate tourist fare?”

Fuck and double fuck. Why had he even gotten up this morning? “Did the Agency take Zhukov?”

He hadn’t waited around. He’d come straight to the office after his shower. He hadn’t done more than glance Charlie’s way since then, though he wanted to. His eyes kept straying to Phoebe’s office where she was sitting quietly. She hadn’t asked him again. She’d simply followed him, her arms and legs moving but not in their graceful fashion. She’d been like a marionette, and he was the one pulling her strings.

God, she was killing him. He wasn’t sure how much he could take.

“Yeah,” Alex said, his face grim. “After a long discussion with the Brits, a man named Ten took him. Is that some sort of weird CIA name? Like Mr. Black?”

Ian felt the tiniest smile curl his lips up. He was glad he’d gotten Charlie out of there because Ten would have been all over her. Then he would have strangled his second man of the day. And he considered Ten a friend. “No, Ten doesn’t play those games. He’s what the Agency likes to call a maverick. Tennessee Smith. Southern born and bred. He’s a good guy.”

If Ian even knew what that meant anymore.

“He’s a flirtatious asshole,” Alex shot back.

Eve grinned. “Hey, sometimes a girl needs to know she still has it. Of course, he wasn’t attractive or anything.”

Liar. Ten was six foot four, two hundred twenty pounds of pure muscle. He was known for being able to get a woman to tell him anything. If Ian had been the hardass, then Ten had been the lover. He gave new meaning to the term “close cover.”

There was a knock on the door, and Grace poked her head in. “I have two things. First, some flowers came for you. Yellow roses. Really pretty. No card.”