Love and Let Die (7 page)

Charlotte Denisovitch was a problem. She’d proven to be too clever for Nelson’s satisfaction. He’d tried to have her killed three times now, but she’d proven elusive. He’d lost three good men to her skills. He couldn’t afford to look weak. His men tended to look down on any weakness.

“I will send them all then. I wouldn’t want my dear niece to think that I’ve forgotten her.” Mikhail leaned forward, his elbows on the concrete wall that kept them from falling in. “I had the same intelligence. I sent a few to America yesterday. It’s good to know we can trust each other.”

It was good that, for once, telling the truth got him somewhere. He was more enamored of lying out his ass. “I would never give you anything less.”

Denisovitch tipped his head. “It is good to have friends. Perhaps we should help each other out again.”

Yes. Yes. Yes. This was what he’d really come all this way for. A way to get rid of all of his problems. He schooled his expression to a polite blank. “What do you mean?”

Denosivitch laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “I mean you have a problem and so do I. Our problems are very likely screwing each other as we speak. It should be easy to take them out, no?”

So easy. Now Denisovitch could deal with this shit and he could get back to his real score—India and that fuckwad royal from nowhere Loa Mali. “Taggart has been an issue for a while, but if you kill him, the rest of that team will come after you.”

Denisovitch snapped his fingers and the stoic-looking goon in a suit stepped forward, a file in his hand. “This is an issue I have already thought about. Will this do?”

Nelson took the folder and quickly flipped through it. Sean Taggart. Alexander McKay. Liam O’Donnell. Jacob Dean. Adam Miles. Eve St. James. “What about the Brit? He hired a Brit a couple of months back.”

“Do you really think he’s loyal?”

The bastard had been MI6 and given up his place to follow Taggart. Sure as fuck he would be loyal. Taggart commanded nothing if not a crazed sense of loyalty from his men. It had been that way during his Army years. Luckily the CIA discouraged loyalty to anyone but the Agency. “I think it’s safe to say he could cause trouble. Kill him, too. Accidents would be best but assassinations are fine.”

Denisovitch pointed to the picture of Eve St. James, who had recently changed her name back to McKay. “You really think the woman is a threat?”

He couldn’t let the man back out now. “Don’t underestimate the women. Didn’t your brother make that mistake?”

Denisovitch grimaced as though he’d smelled something rotten. “I told my brother not to marry that American whore. When she ran off, I told him to let the cow’s children go, but he had to punish her. All right then, I’ll kill the woman, too.”

“Grace Taggart,” Nelson said. “Don’t forget about Sean’s wife and child. It’s always best to take out the entire line. After all, your brother killed his disloyal wife only to be killed by a disloyal daughter.”

Nelson had unfinished business with Grace and Sean. Oh, he wished he could see Sean’s face when his wife and baby were gone and he realized he was next. That would be a lovely day, but he had better things to do. He would just have to imagine it.

“All right. But Charlotte is first. She will die and then her sister and then the rest will follow shortly after. I insist on this.”

If the fucker didn’t get Ian and Sean first, there would be a war on his hands. But then again, a war with the syndicate would keep Taggart occupied and allow Nelson to work freely. Not such a bad thing.

Nelson held out a hand. “I’ll leave it all to you then.”

“I will take these people down. Anyone who is involved with Charlotte and her sister will die. This I will swear when I pray today.”

The Russian started talking about vengeance and God, but Nelson stared out into the city. Off in the distance were the high spires of the Church of the Spilled Blood. Nelson stared at them.

It was fitting since he was going to make Taggart bleed.

* * * *

Ian came awake to the smell of bacon frying. And promptly wanted to vomit. Oh, he joked about vomiting a lot, but today was the real thing. His stomach rolled and rumbled and threatened to blow.

How much fucking Scotch had he gone through last night? Enough to have had the craziest dream. Charlie had come back. She’d walked right up to his house and dropped to her knees and sucked his cock in that enthusiastic, crazy-hot way of hers.

And she’d had strawberry blonde hair and new scars.

And she’d punched him in the face.

He reached up and felt his nose. Yep. No dream.

“You might as well wake up. The sooner you give in, the quicker you can move through the hangover, brother.”

Sean. This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare. He forced his eyes open and sure enough, his brother was sitting across from him, one leg negligently crossed over the other. The sun was streaming in through one of his bedroom windows. It must have been courtesy of Sean because he never opened those blackout drapes. He liked it dark, but the sun shone in and practically gave his younger brother a halo. “What the fuck are you doing here? Come to think of it, how did you get in?”

Everyone was getting through his security these days.

“You let me in, Ian. I showed up at the gates. You buzzed me in after making me promise I was the pizza man.”

It was worse than he thought. “I did not.”

Sean nodded, his eyes wide and an amused grin flashing on his face. “Oh, yes, you did. You got the munchies somewhere around midnight. It’s all right, man. You were very controlled and perfectly manly when you threatened to shoot me if I put anchovies on your pizza.”

His stomach rolled at the thought, but he made sure his face was perfectly clear. “All right, I’ll rephrase the question. Why are you here?”

“Because your wife said you needed me.”

He was going to kill her. He was going to wrap his hands around her pretty throat and squeeze. Except the minute he had the vision of killing his back-from-the-dead wife, she was suddenly naked and he wasn’t thinking about throttling her anymore. Maybe he could fuck her to death. That would be a better way to go.

“I was surprised to get that particular call,” Sean continued. “Since I wasn’t aware you had a wife.”

“I don’t.” He needed to get up. He needed to take a shower and get moving. He couldn’t lie around in bed. He had to figure out if Charlie was lying about Eli Nelson. She was too smart to completely fabricate a story, so he was sure there was a kernel of truth somewhere in it. It was his job to pull the truth from the bullshit, to beat her at her own game this time.

“She seemed really clear about it.” Sean leaned forward. “There’s water and ibuprofen on the bedside table. What’s with the Guns N’ Roses overload? Seriously, you listened to that song three hundred times last night. I wanted to blow my own ears off after an hour.”

He really hated her. How could she have brought Sean into this? “I like Axl Rose. Something about the hair just does it for me.”

He downed the pills. If anyone else had been sitting across from him, he wouldn’t have taken them. He would have assumed they were poison meant to horrifically liquefy his insides. Hell, he rarely drank a drink he didn’t pour himself, but he trusted Sean. Even though Sean rarely talked to him anymore. Come to think of it, this was the closest he’d been to Sean in a year.

He trusted his team—Alex and Eve and Li and Jake, and even that fucker Adam. He trusted Grace and Serena and Avery because they loved his brothers, but that was the extent of it. He hadn’t known Simon long enough, and he trusted Jesse as far as he could throw the little fucker.

Charlie was proof positive that he couldn’t trust anyone outside his circle.

“Come on, man. I’ve never seen you the way you were last night.”

He sent his brother a questioning look. “Did I behave in some way I shouldn’t have?”

Sean ran a frustrated hand through his hair and sat back. “No. You sat. You drank. You yelled at me when I tried to turn off the music. You were utterly stoic and refused to talk about anything except your pizza. Which I’m honestly surprised you managed to keep down. I had to make that crust from scratch, you know. If you’re going to force me to cook in the middle of the night, let’s talk about stocking your kitchen. I had to call Alex in with supplies. How do you survive on Fruity Pebbles and days-old Chinese food?”

He ate at the office more often than not. Grace smuggled whatever Sean had cooked the night before into the fridge at the office and everyone knew that if they took that food, Ian would murder them.

God, his life had become a pathetic circle of sleeping, eating at his desk, and forcing himself to work out. He’d been sleepwalking through life for years because of that woman. It had to stop. If her showing up on his doorstep had taught him one thing, it was that it was time to let her go.

“I need to take a sub. That’s my problem. I need someone to take care of the everyday shit and then I’ll be okay. I’ll tell Ryan I’m taking applications.” That would do it. He’d been a pussy about his own needs for years. He needed a full-time submissive who would take care of the house, deal with the inanities of life, make sure he was fed, and see to his sexual needs. In exchange, he would offer financial support and his own unique brand of discipline.

Yes, that was what he should do. Maybe he would take two subs. He had a lot of needs.

Sean’s eyes had gone wide again. “I think that would be a mistake.”

“I would think you would be thrilled. I rely on Grace far too much.”

Sean sighed a little, the same way he would when he was younger and admitting something he’d done wrong. “Grace loves you. She doesn’t mind. And I make extra. I know you think she’s risking my wrath, but I’ve always known she was feeding you. As mad as I’ve been at you, you’ve always been my brother. I won’t let you starve. God knows you didn’t let me.”

Their shared childhood sat between them. Their father had left them high and dry, and their mother had needed someone to tell her what to do. Ian had been forced to take over. He’d had to get a job and bring in money while he finished high school and made sure Sean had what he needed. There had been plenty of times during those years when there wasn’t enough food, and Ian had made sure Sean went to bed full to the detriment of his own stomach. He’d had to do it. Sean was younger. Sean had needed him. He’d known that from the moment Sean had been born. “That doesn’t matter now.”

“You have no idea how that attitude bugs me, but I’ll let it go. I’m glad you let Grace help. Kris won’t take Grace’s head off. I worry about what she’ll do if you start auditioning subs. You have a wife. They tend to get pissy about other women taking their place.”

“She’s not my wife.” He’d forgotten briefly that Sean had already met Charlie. They had worked together in Florida. “And her name isn’t Kris.”

Sean’s blue eyes rolled. “I know. Sorry. Charlotte. I wish everyone would just stick to one name. I’ve been out of the game too long to remember everyone’s fake names. My sous chef is named Hans. I don’t know his last name. I don’t need to. It’s just Hans. One name per person, please.”

His head was pounding. Hangovers sucked ass. “Good for you and Hans. I hope you’ll be very happy together.”

“Yeah, well, the point is you won’t be happy when Charlotte starts beheading the subs at Sanctum. She seems like a nice woman, but there’s a crazy bitch in there, too.”

He’d seen the crazy bitch in her from the first moment. It had been right there in those crystal blue eyes. Yeah, that was kind of why he’d loved her. Wanted her. Wanted to fuck her. That was all. “She’ll be gone soon.”

Once she realized he wouldn’t give her what she wanted, she would move on and he could forget her again.

Except he’d never managed to forget her in the first place.

“Does she know that? Because I don’t think she got the memo,” Sean said. “Look, why don’t you tell me the story from the beginning? Where did you meet her?”

He had no intention of rehashing old history. Something was wrong. It played around in his mind. He was missing something important. “She was at a club. I fucked her. She wouldn’t go away. Then she died. Story over.”

“God, you’re obnoxious. You married the woman. There has to be more.”

What the hell was he missing? “I’m not joining your pussy-whipped men’s therapy group, Sean.”

Sean shot him the finger. “It’s called a poker club, asshole, and we wouldn’t have you.”

The bacon. That was the problem. He got still, forcing himself to really listen. Someone was cooking, and it sure as hell wasn’t Sean. “Did you bring Hans with you?”

Sean waved that idea off. “Nah, that’s Alex.”

Motherfucker. He rose to his feet, his head only threatening to crack wide open. A man couldn’t simply drink himself to death quietly around here. No. His friends had to show up to watch the show. “He’s supposed to be on his honeymoon.”

Alex’s big body was suddenly in the doorway. “Eve and I canceled. This is so much more important.”

God, Alex was going to kill him. He really was going to vomit. “I don’t need anyone to hold my fucking hand.”

“Oh, no. You misunderstand. I wasn’t talking about being here for you emotionally. I know you would never let me do that. I was talking about how much fun it’s going to be to watch you deal with Kris…Charlotte. Eve and I agreed watching this shit go down is going to be way better than Hawaii.”

Now he sent his best friend his happy middle finger. “Fuck you, Alex.”

“Come on, man. You were always there for me. You have woman troubles. You can lean on me.”

“You make it sound like I’m menstruating, Alex.”

Sean nodded. “That would explain the mood swings, and so very much of my childhood.”

He sent his brother a look that should have had him running. “I don’t have mood swings. I just hate everything. See, that’s what they mean by even tempered.”

Alex just chuckled. “I think Eve would disagree, but it’s good to see last night didn’t change you. I worried your beloved would come back from the dead and you would be a changed man, all hearts and flowers.”