Defenseless (7 page)

“As do you.” He smirks knowingly. Bastard. “Hello, my gorgeous sister. Kill anyone today?”

“Only you in my dreams,” I snicker playfully.

If looks could kill, Dominic would’ve never lived past his eighth birthday. He chose not to follow into the family business. Instead, he’s in politics, the equivalent to killing people to our father. He wanted to make a difference, a real one, he said. I believe he knew he couldn’t hack it in the CIA, which is unfounded, but it helps me tolerate his choices.

Dominic laughs and leans in to place a kiss on my cheek. “You owe me.”

“Put it on my tab.”

“Come,” Mother calls our attention. “Charisma, I expect you to behave like the antiquities dealer you are. None of your bullstuff tonight.”

“Shit, Mother. The word you’re looking for is shit.”

“Watch your mouth!” she chastises me. “And where is your date? I told you not to show up to this party alone.”

“I left him at the morgue.”

“You’re going to send me to my grave.”

It’s so easy. However, I earned myself some more zings.

Our mother gives us both a look, turns, and heads into the ballroom, which is the indicator that we should follow. Like the good, obedient children we are, we do. Dominic and I smirk at each other while we play the part we’ve been groomed for. Being socialites hasn’t always been easy, but together we created games to make it fun.

“Ten bucks each time someone tells you that you look like Dad.” I try to get him to bite. I’ll make at least a grand if he takes it.

“Five,” he counter offers. “And five each time someone tells you that you should really eat more.”

“Done.”

No one will ever say that to me. They don’t think women can ever be too skinny. If anything, they’ll tell me I should really start seeing their personal trainer, whom they’re probably screwing on the side.

“Be ready to pay up, sister.”

We enter through the double doors, and now I’m in awe. The décor is more lavish than anything she’s ever done. Crystal is everywhere. The lighting is low but catches every facet of glass in the space; the room sparkles. The tablecloths are burnt orange. It’s a far cry from her usual white and black style.

“Holy shit,” Dominic mutters.

“Did she hire a new party planner?”

“Or maybe she had a lobotomy and we didn’t know?”

“Would explain it,” I say before our mother spins and levels us both a death glare. “Nose goes,” I say with my finger on mine.

“Brat.”

“Loser.”

I love my brother. He accepts me for who I am, makes me smile, and keeps me human. With him, I never have to pretend. He stalks off toward the devil incarnate as I grab a flute of champagne off a passing tray.

“Keep these coming,” I say to the waiter. He nods with a knowing look on his face. Yup, it’s going to be an alcohol-required kind of night.

My natural instinct is to scan the room. It’s habit, and it truly comforts me. I gain a sense of control when I know the enemy is lurking. I see a few family friends and our nosy neighbor who attends everything so she can build her case that we’re into something illegal. I love that my mother indulges it, almost provoking her to try it.

“Charlie!” Kristy squeaks as she rushes toward me. “It’s been forever. How are you?”

Kristy Tubb is my childhood friend. Her father Dean was an agent for twenty years and my father’s handler. Naturally, they pushed us to be friends, and it was a blessing we got along. We grew up having only each other to talk to. Our “family vacations” were always spent together in some remote place with nothing to do. We had to entertain ourselves with made-up worlds and games. Kristy suspects I’m truly a spy, but I’ll never trust anyone outside the CIA.

“You!” I smile. “You look amazing!”

She scoffs. “Hello! Look at you! I mean, do you eat?” My face falls. I’m not telling him about that one. She doesn’t count. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight. Is Dom here?”

I chuckle. “I think your ship sailed, my friend.” I loop my arm in hers as we walk toward the bar. Where, of course, my brother happens to be talking to someone.

“Not until I get one sailing trip in,” she jokes. “I’ll never lose hope on him.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. She’s a mess. You’d think after twenty years, she’d move on. But instead, she just keeps trying. “Look who I found, Dom.”

“If it isn’t Kristy Tiny Tubb.” Dominic slips into politician mode. I watch as his body tenses, but he uses the nickname that drives her insane. “Been a while. You look great.”

She nods and then downs her champagne. “It’s been a long time, and I really hate that you still call me that. I’m not so tiny anymore.”

His eyes peruse her for far longer than I’m comfortable watching. “I’ll let you two catch up,” I say a little too loudly. “Come find me when the deejay shows up!”

“Not a chance in hell Priscilla hired a deejay.” Kristy giggles.

“But I might have.” I tip my glass with a grin.

I saunter off to find that waiter with the drinks. I’ll need to keep a full glass if I’m expected to stay for any period of time. Of course, Mom spots me before the nice man can refill me.

She gives me that mom stare that pins me to the floor. If I could read minds, I’m sure that look would say,
Move and I’ll kill you. Don’t test me, Charisma.
So, like a good daughter, I stay put.

“There you are, Charlie.” This woman. She actually sounds as if she happened to stumble upon me. Maybe she really is in the agency.

“Yes, here I am. Just standing here hoping that my new best friend makes his rounds.”

“His?”

I lean in. “I like the waiter.”

“Anyway,” she decides not to play along. “I want you to meet someone.”

Oh, this can’t be good.

“Mr. Dixon, this is my daughter, Charlie Erickson.”

My mother steps to the side, and sure enough, Mark fucking Dixon is standing before me.

W
hat the actual fuck?

How in the hell did he find me? This makes no sense. I haven’t talked to him in two weeks while I’ve been working on my own things. I didn’t tell him I’d be at my father’s gala. I didn’t tell anyone. This is completely unacceptable. Stalker much?

My entire body is tense as my mother beams at us both. She has no clue that we know each other. My blood is boiling. He shouldn’t be here. This is
my family
. He’s gone one-step too far, but at the same time a thrill rushes through me. No one has ever gone through the trouble of trying to find me. In the past, any man I dated brushed it off. There was no hunt, no excitement, just a nod and a kiss on the cheek. However, Mark’ll never know that I find this a little exhilarating—he’ll only see fire.

He steps forward with a grin. “Nice to see you, Charlie.” He extends his hand and waits for me to stop trying to kill him in my mind.

“Same to you, Mr. Dick—” I pause, “—son.” I tip my flute filled with my courage. “How absolutely lovely it is to see you.”

My mother’s eyes blaze. “Charlie!” She takes the glass from me. “How many of those have you had?” Her words come through gritted teeth.

Shit.

“Just one.” I try to grab it back, but she places it on the table.

“Well, Mr. Dixon has made a rather large donation to your father’s education fund. I know how much this charity means to you, as well,” she says with a pointed stare. In other words,
You care more than you’ll ever admit or I’m cutting you out of the will and selling the shoes.

“Thank you so much for being such a thoughtful man,” I say, laced in a sugary sweet voice dripping in venom.

My mother turns her attention, and I use my finger and make the gesture of slicing my neck. Mark gives a loud laugh, drawing her back to us. “I’m glad it makes you happy,” he says.

“Do you two know each other?”

Oh, this might actually be good. Priscilla isn’t to be toyed with. She makes me look like a daydream. I stand there with a smile as she waits for Mark to answer.

“Charlie and I have a mutual friend. We’ve met before. I manage a security firm and our paths have crossed with work.”

Instead of becoming the slightest bit skeptical, she beams. It’s as if light glows from around her. “So, you work for the government?”

Mark chuckles. “No, ma’am. I’m a former SEAL who runs a private security firm. So I make a lot more money and get better toys.”

“He’s also a giant pain in the ass.”

“Charlie!” she reprimands. “I think he sounds like a wonderful man.”

“Well, Charlie brings out the best in me.” He grins as she falls under his charms. “I enjoy spending any time I can with your daughter.”

I can see the thoughts churning in her head: a man, wanting to talk to her daughter. “Oh, how perfect.” She turns to me. “Charlie, you can show Mr. Dixon around and escort him for the night since you didn’t bring a date.”

Zing number three.

“I’m sure Mark would much rather mingle.”

“Actually,” Mark chimes in, “I would love to spend the evening as your fill-in date.” He grins like the Cheshire cat.

“That won’t be—”

“A problem,” my mother finishes my sentence. She saunters off with a little more pep in her step, leaving me with Mark.

“Why are you here?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“Because you want me here.” Mark’s green eyes glimmer. I take a second to study him from my hostile stance. Could he be any hotter? The black tuxedo looks as though it were cut specifically for him. His broad shoulders are wide as he fills every inch of this space we’re in. His hair is swept back but still has that almost messy look. The tux cuts his waist, giving him a large and powerful appearance. As I make my way back to his face the amusement is plain as day.

“Admit it,” he goads me.

I lean in close, inhaling his salt and fresh air scent. “Never.”

He chuckles while he pulls me against his chest. “One day, princess. One day.”

Mark steps back, but his hand stays on my back. It feels . . . natural. As though we’ve been casually touching our entire lives. Anyone who knows me is aware I don’t like my personal space invaded. Even my mother respects that. Mark, though, doesn’t seem to notice or care. We walk toward the bar, where Kristy is still vying for Dominic’s attention. My brother lifts his gaze to me, and his eyes practically fall out of their sockets.

“Mark Dixon, this is my brother Dominic Erickson.”

I swipe a flute off the bar and drain half of it.

“Representative Erickson, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Dom doesn’t miss a beat. “Seems I’m more popular than I knew.” He gives a short laugh. “Are you a reporter, Mr. Dixon?”

“Far from it.”

Dominic’s brow rises. “Good to know. How is it you know my sister?”

“Stop talking like an idiot.” I slap Dom’s chest to get him to loosen up. As soon as he thinks there’s press or someone watching, he slips into being a tool.

He pinches the underside of my arm and I squeak. “Oww! Asshole.”

“It’s called proper English. God forbid I sound intelligent. Now, where did you guys meet?”

“Mark and I met over a year ago, through a mutual friend,” I explain.

Dominic studies me. “It’s the first I’ve heard his name.”

I cock my head to the side and refrain from sticking my tongue out at him. He makes me behave like a child. “You don’t know everything.”

“Obviously, I didn’t know you had friends,” Dominic jokes.

“I’m her friend.” Kristy smiles, her hand extended to Mark. “Kristy Tubb, Charlie’s oldest friend.” She leans in conspiratorially. “Which means I have the most dirt.”

“Really?” Mark smiles.

“Oh, yeah. Don’t you know the best friend is the first place you go?”

He laughs. “Good to know.”

I drain the remnants of my glass, and try to get every last drop. I would lick the glass if it were socially acceptable. I need to search for someone with a tray—preferably with hard liquor.

Mark smiles and then glides his hand to my shoulder. He tugs me against his side. “Seems you need another drink, huh?”

“Excuse us, please,” I say. Dominic gives me a questioning look while Kristy looks as if she’s ready to start shopping for bridesmaid dresses.

I’ve never been seen in public with a man. I don’t do personal touching, yet here Mark is, breaking all my rules. It damn well needs to stop.

My feet travel quickly, but I hear him behind me. We exit the ballroom, but then I turn abruptly and let out a heavy breath. “Why are you here?”

Mark stands with his hands in his pockets, unaffected by my anger. “Since you probably know my social life I felt it was only fair that I have a bit of a leg up, too.”

“You think this is a damn game?”

“No.” He removes his hands and steps forward. “I think you don’t know how to have a partner. I also haven’t heard from you in two weeks, after several phone calls. All I got was a damn e-mail saying you’d be in touch. We were followed by someone, or did you forget that? I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I don’t need your protection.”

His eyes bore into me. “The hell you don’t.”

This guy must have the biggest balls in Virginia. I’ve never met a man so cocky and full of himself. Then, on the other hand, he’s sweet and thoughtful. He confuses me, and I don’t like it. I need to get a grip. There’s been a lot on my mind from having the case taken away, and the loss of my father still weighs on me.