Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries) (47 page)

Nigel nodded shortly, his hand touching a folder on his desk. “Your report was almost word for word the same as Agent Knight’s.”

“It’s the truth.” Well, the truth as she more or less knew it.

“Miss Cash, are you aware of what was on the thumb drive Jacob Dean handed over to the CIA? We were told that you gave it to him. According to his report, you took the drive off Knight and brought it to him.” Nigel’s eyes narrowed.

This was where things got sketchy. Once everything had gone to hell, Jacob had opted to improvise. The moment he’d seen her, he’d caught her in his arms and told her what they were doing. Damon was coming in with the police at his back. There might not be time to change the drives. She’d looked over his shoulder and several men in suits had been watching them. She’d nodded and pretended to put something in Jake’s hands. He’d turned and introduced her to the bloody director of the CIA, who only cared about one thing—that thumb drive and the information he thought was on it. Unfortunately, she wasn’t sure how much Nigel knew. “Well, I obviously didn’t have time to boot up a computer and check it out. I simply did what I was told.”

No lies there.

“It was the complete works of some American author named Steve Berry. He writes thrillers about a former secret agent who saves the world on a regular basis. There was a note. It basically said this is what happens when the wrong people get the right information.”

She winced a little. They could have been a bit more subtle. “That doesn’t seem right.”

A smile suddenly broke over Nigel’s face. “Oh, I think it seems exactly right.” He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “If anyone asks, I gave you a stern talking to. You’re terrified and properly chastened.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Absolutely, sir.”

He frowned a bit. “My agents aren’t soldiers, Miss Cash. They aren’t simply around to follow orders. Oh, I know the higher-ups would love to believe so, but the people who run the world, well, most of them don’t have to live in it. It’s a sad fact of our lives. Whatever Damon did out there, I’ll back him because it was for the best. There is some knowledge that should never see the light of day, that shouldn’t be trusted to any government no matter how friendly. For now, the story is that Bennett was trying to sell something he didn’t actually have. The records have all been changed and even Agro is going along with it. They don’t want the bad publicity any more than we do. As far as anyone knows, Basil Champion was Walter Bennett and the matter is closed. I identified Bennett’s body myself. The Germans and the Americans both believe Bennett is dead. Mr. Smith and I have decided to keep our mouths shut about anything we know or suspect we know. Do you have any idea where the real Bennett is?”

Somewhere in Australia, last she’d heard. Brody had called in to let them know Bennett was safe and they were both looking for new jobs. Ian Taggart had immediately groaned and said something about more strays.

“I think we don’t have to worry about him anymore. I believe Mr. Taggart has a plan on how to keep him in the fold, so to speak.” She leaned forward. “Is it true that Candice was killed in a car accident?”

The German police reports stated that she’d attempted to evade them and driven recklessly, plowing the van into an oncoming vehicle. Though she’d turned out to be a traitor, Penny still regretted her death.

“Yes, I’m afraid that’s true as well. Her boyfriend has been brought in for questioning in relation to the incident. I don’t think we have to worry about him. The chap urinated on himself.” Nigel shuddered a bit. “On to happier things—how is Damon recovering?”

He was a bear, her Master. He was cranky and crabby and gloriously alive. “He’s doing well.” She forced a smile on her face. “He should be ready to work again very soon.”

It was the one thing about her future she didn’t like to think about.

“As to that, Mr. Knight’s health is exactly why I called you in,” Nigel said. “I told you I wanted a report on his fitness for duty. You haven’t sent it yet.”

Because she didn’t want to. Because she wanted him safe. Because she couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. And yet, she couldn’t betray him. “I will have it on your desk in the morning.”

“And what will it say?”

She took a deep breath. She’d made her decision about this a long time ago. “That Agent Knight is ready for fieldwork.”

“Oh, darling, that is such a lie,” a familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned and Damon stood in the doorway, looking gorgeous and polished in his tailored suit. He didn’t look like a man who had almost died. He looked every inch the seductive, deadly agent. “Damon?”

His lips curled up. “I followed you, love. I couldn’t let you do this alone. And as for her report to you, Nigel, she’s going to tell you the truth.”

Nigel smiled slightly. “And what is that?”

“I’m utterly unfit for service, sir. My lungs were damaged, my heart as well. I shouldn’t ever run past a moderate jog, and I tend to lose consciousness when my heart rate gets too high. The lucky thing is I’m perfectly fit in bed.”

“Damon!” He didn’t have to mention that.

“Well, you seem ready to send me into the field, but you treat me like an invalid when we’re in bed together. She’s held me off for days.” He sank into the seat beside her. “It has to stop. It’s all madness.”

Nigel didn’t bother to cover his laugh. “Well, should I get a desk ready for you?”

Damon shuddered. “Absolutely not. I’ll have my resignation to you as soon as possible. Nigel, I can’t thank you enough. You’ve been damn good to me over the years. I intend to give you a slight discount on my services in the future. I’m opening the London office of McKay-Taggart.”

That was news to her. “I thought he wanted you in New York.”

“I told him to bite my arse,” Damon said with an arrogant grin. “It was London or I’d compete against him. He made the right call, although he’s tough when he’s bargaining. We already have our first two employees. I hope you can translate Australian.”

Brody and Walter. It looked like Walt was going to work his second life to its fullest. She smiled. “I think I can manage it.”

He was quitting. He would never be completely safe, but if he was running the office, he could mitigate the risks. Tears sparked in her eyes.

He was hers.

“Nige? Could we have a minute alone?” Damon asked.

Her boss rolled his eyes but stood. “I suppose so. I’m losing Penelope, as well, I suspect. Good luck to you both. And I’ll expect a twenty-percent discount, damn it. Contractors.”

The door closed behind him.

“I’m not giving him more than fifteen,” Damon said. “I love you, Penelope.”

He said it all the time now. He didn’t hesitate. Neither did she. “I love you, too. Oh, Damon, do you think you can be happy?”

He took her hand in his, warmth spreading across her skin. “Do you know I’ve almost died twice?”

Oh, she would never forget that. “Yes.”

“What they say is true. Your life passes before you, except the second time, it wasn’t the life I’d lived that passed in front of me. It was the one I could have. It was a life with you. I saw what we could have, Penelope. We could have a home and children and a right brilliant old age. We could have love. I want that life. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything.”

He got to one knee and she gasped. She’d expected him to ask her to live with him. She’d known he would want her to take his collar.

She hadn’t expected this.

He pulled out a ring. “This is all I have left of my mum. My granddad gave it to me before he died. I used to hide it in my socks. Even at boarding school, I kept it close. I was so afraid of losing it.” He pressed it into her palm. “It’s yours. Even if you tell me no, it’s yours. This ring belonged to the only other woman who ever loved me, and I want to give it to you.”

Translation.
Will you marry me?

“Oh, yes.” She threw her arms around him. “Yes, Damon. That ring is mine.”

And he was hers.

She kissed her man.

Damon’s hands tightened and suddenly she was on Nigel’s desk.

“Damon, what are you doing? Damon, you can’t do that here.” The entirety of SIS was outside the door. Nigel could walk back in at any time.

His eyes heated up and he spread her legs, making a place for himself. She could already feel his cock hardening against her. “When are you going to learn? Don’t tell me what I can’t do.”

He proceeded to show her that he could.

* * * *

Dallas, TX

Two nights later

Simon Weston poured himself a Scotch and looked over at his cousins, thinking about the question J.T. had just asked. How had his trip gone? Well, he’d finally gotten his hands on Chelsea, and she’d pushed him away again.

And then he’d looked like a complete idiot for drinking drugged tea. He was so glad they’d caught that crazed-idiot Candice and arrested her. She could report on the current state of the British prison system. “My stay was perfectly pleasant, thank you.”

He wasn’t about to tell them how he’d fucked up again. He blamed Chelsea. He’d been watching her the whole time or he might have noticed his drink had been roofied. Even as the drugs had taken effect, he’d reached out to her.

And she’d ignored him. Again.

J.T. Malone rolled his dark eyes and took a swig of beer. Simon only kept it in his fridge for his cousins’ visits, which were occurring more and more often, but then he’d expected to see them since he was living so close. “I talked to Aunt Maura. She said you barely stopped by. Were you doing the spy shit?”

“It’s not shit, asshole.” Michael reached out and swatted his twin. “Just because you’re happy behind a damn desk doesn’t mean the rest of us are.”

His cousins fought as often now as they did when they were all kids. He would get sent to Texas during long school holidays. His parents were lovely people, but he’d really enjoyed the freedom he’d found on his uncle’s ranch. His uncle ran Malone Oil, one of the wealthiest companies in the world, but no one would accuse David Malone or his sons of being aristocratic. No one treated him like royalty on the ranch. There was no pressure on him to bring glory to the family name there. A break from the pressure of being one of the Duke of Norsley’s heirs had been a good reason to come see his cousins.

The other being that he genuinely enjoyed their company. They were more his brothers than his own brother. Clive never even knew he did the “spy stuff,” much less complained about it.

“I’m in private security now.” He went to the big floor to ceiling windows that showed a spectacular view of Dallas. In the distance, the lights from Reunion Tower blinked like a giant Christmas ornament.

“You work for Ian Taggart,” Michael said, walking up behind him. “I might be a SEAL, but we all know who Tag is. And we know he works for the Agency.”

Tag might work for them from time to time, but he always stayed true to himself. It was why Simon followed him. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was to answer to his own conscience always.

What had Shakespeare said?
Every subject’s duty is the king’s, but every subject’s soul is his own.

That summed up the utter shit a soldier went through. He was done being a good soldier, a good son, a good agent. Being good had gotten him nowhere.

“Well, I only work for Tag. How about you? I heard the Agency is sniffing around you.” Tag had told him. Michael was a SEAL and a highly decorated one at that. He was smart, and there was a darkness about him that spoke of deadly grace. He was the opposite of his sunny other half. J.T. was an open book, every emotion out there worn on his sleeve. Michael’s waters ran deep.

Simon was worried for his cousin. He was worried about what would happen if the Agency got their hooks in him.

J.T. frowned fiercely. “What the hell? You’re not joining the fucking Agency. My brother is not becoming some damn CIA agent. You’re supposed to get tired of playing soldier and come the hell home.”

Michael gritted his teeth. Simon was fairly certain this wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument. “Big brother, keep your damn nose out of my business.”

Yes, that was what he needed to complete his evening. He needed a Malone brothers smack down. “You two keep it down or you can head back to Fort Worth. I’m not in the mood to play referee. Why the hell did you come all the way out here anyway?”

J.T. put his boots on the coffee table. “We wanted to see if you nabbed that nerd you were after. You were in Europe with her. We thought you might take the chance to make your move.”

He wished he’d never told his cousins about Chelsea. Too much Scotch. He should quit while he was ahead. “She’s not a nerd.”

Michael shrugged. “Hey, nerds can be hot.”

She wasn’t hot around him. She was cold as ice. Except every now and then he saw it in her eyes. He saw her longing. She wanted a Master and he wanted to take care of her.

“I work with her. Nothing more.” The bell chimed just in time to save him from a conversation he’d rather not have. “I’ll be right back.”

He’d ordered Chinese earlier—before his cousins had arrived. They were like locust. He would be lucky to get a noodle or two. He reached for his wallet as he opened the door.

Chelsea stood there, glancing nervously down the hallway. “Simon, I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”

He was dumbstruck. She avoided him like the plague and now she showed up on his doorstep looking like sin on two legs. She was wearing tight jeans and a V-neck sweater that showed off her breasts. “Why?”

She bit her bottom lip, sending his hormones into overdrive. “Because someone’s trying to kill me.”

He opened the door, letting her in and wondering if he’d ever let her leave again.

Simon, Chelsea, and the whole McKay-Taggart team returns August 19, 2014 with
A View to a Thrill
.

Author’s Note

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