Code of Control, page 17
“You know only what you need to know,” she reconfirmed.
“Which is not much,” he said firmly.
“There was never a perfect time for me to tell you,” she said.
“You’re a twin?” he asked, cutting off her words.
“I was.”
Two simple words that blew apart his heart.
****
“I was,” Charlotte began, allowing the emotions to take over and reduce her to a sniveling, blubbering idiot again.
“My God,” was all he would say to her.
“I watched it happen.”
“Y—you…” He seemed unable to comprehend such a thing.
“That’s why I was not going to let anyone stop me from getting my revenge, even you. Why I asked you and Devon to confess your feelings before too late.”
“If you would have told me…”
“Told you what? At six years old I got to witness a psycho, who just happens to be part of my DNA, sever a little girl’s head off with one tremendous blow of a machete, that little girl my twin sister?”
How she could so calmly explain this to him was beyond words. Inside, she was shaking and the anger rising out of control. Outside she was an emotional wreck. She could not be both and survive.
“I can’t imagine…” he tried getting out.
Again Charlotte cut him off. “Can’t imagine having to watch your twin die?”
His head bumped hers accidentally while nodding.
“It changes a person, let me assure you. You and Devon need to straighten out your differences before you can’t.”
“Charlotte…”
“Don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t want your pity. You hate me for betraying you and I have to live with that now.”
“I don’t hate you,” he said softly.
“You do, and I understand the reason.”
“I don’t,” he repeated. “I’m hurt and confused and angry for allowing it to happen, but I can’t hate you—even if I wanted to.”
“I hate myself,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t protect her.”
“You were six years old.”
“So?”
“What were you going to do? Grab his arm; avoid the tragedy, knowing he did what he had to the rest of your family and would likely do to you?”
“Yes.”
“Not possible, Charlotte.”
“I could have tried. I’d been frozen, my fears, my phobias turned me into stone. I could have done something.”
“Can I ask you something?” he probed.
“Go ahead. I’m an open book…now.”
“Is what happened to you why you wanted me so desperately when we first met?”
“I don’t understand the question.”
“You want easy lays with available men because you don’t want to feel again. You don’t want commitment.”
Charlotte’s indrawn breath answered this for her.
Yes. It was the only reason she had one-night stands. She did not want closeness again. She wanted numbness and forgetfulness, but the night she met Nolan all of that went away. He opened her up to the possibility of human compassion by way of sex. And it wasn’t just the sex she craved that night. It was the touch, the tenderness, the gentle honesty between a man and a woman. The alcohol blurred the rest.
For the first time in twenty-four years, from the moment she lay in his arms, she’d felt whole again. She needed this man more than anything and she was losing him—lost him—because she could not get out of her heart the dire need to avenge her family’s murders.
“What was your sister’s name?” he whispered out, throwing her off completely guard.
“Does it matter?”
“It does…to me,” he said softly.
Charlotte’s response slow in coming, the pain was still raw and real inside her heart, closing off her throat.
“Katrina. Her name was Katrina,” she choked out, as the violent tears fell.
Chapter Twenty-two
Nolan never got to finish their startling conversation.
Just as he was about to ask her for more, no lies, no meandering away from full disclosure, he heard a vehicle pull up alongside the building, cutting off his thoughts.
“We have company, dear. Put out your best China.” He was not ready for more pain from a bunch of bastards who smelled like death run over, however.
“I’m sorry, Honey,” she said, her voice sounding angry. “I did not bring the good China along on this trip. I’ll do better next time.”
Two seconds later, an outside door opened, then the lock to the door getting a key shoved into it.
“Ready for round three?” he probed.
“Nope.”
Her indrawn breath reduced the glib humor inside him in mere heartbeats. “Neither am I,” he said.
Before the door opened, she got out, “Nolan?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. For everything.”
“I’m sorry, too, sweetheart.”
Two of the original seven then came into the room, grabbing his and her arms and yanking them to their feet. Nolan swore, Charlotte started trembling.
“Fucking Hell! A little gentler, please,” he blurted, unable to hold back the sentiment.
“Movimieto.”
“Yes, yes, I know. Move or you shoot.”
It was slow movements, still tied to Charlotte, but doable.
One of the men then produced a knife. He shoved it between them, cutting the rope. “Movimieto,” he repeated.
Nolan walked out of the room, hoping not to spook them into actually using their guns. He discovered a table with food in another room. The man still holding Charlotte pushed her toward a chair.
“Comer esto,” he said firmly.
“I am not eating this swill,” she snapped at the man, pointing to what looked like dead Howler monkey.
The man got very angry, shoving her to her knees, yanking her head back by grabbing her hair. Charlotte cried out to the pain, trying to reach for his hands. Her reward was a hard punch to the side of her face.
Nolan’s reward was adrenaline spiking too quickly in his gut again.
“Let her go! We’ll eat,” he interjected.
Before things got ugly and out of his control, he sat down, flinching.
The other man started to laugh, flapping his arms again. “Aves,” he said, drawing the man holding Charlotte into his mirth. Two seconds later, they left, slamming the door.
Nolan heard the lock set.
“My, that went well,” he grumbled.
Charlotte took her time gaining her feet; tears welled in her ears. She rubbed the back of her head where the man had pulled her hair, her palm then set to her face. She was tough. She’d survive, so he wasn’t going to mention the bruise she’d likely get from pressing her luck.
“Come, sit; enjoy this delicious meal our delightful hosts provided us.” He grabbed a piece of meat. He did not care what it was. It was food and he was starving.
Charlotte took up a chair, grabbing a piece, too. She shoved it into her mouth. “Tastes like chicken,” she mumbled; her mouth full of sustenance.
“How would you know?” he teased, trying to make her smile.
Tear-brimmed eyes reached for his. “I can eat chicken. I just don’t like being around them. In fact, I find them quite delicious when starving to death.”
“This is not chicken, Charlotte.”
She raised a hand in his face. “Don’t tell me. I don’t care. I’m hungry.”
They devoured whatever the sacrificed animal was in front of them in breakneck speed.
“Do you think they left?” she asked.
Nolan listened. He heard the distinct sound of an engine starting up then driving away from the building. “They have now.”
“I’m guessing they are going to get into a lot of trouble for forgetting to retie us,” she construed.
Nolan’s smile grew. “Probably. I’m sure Fat Man will cut off their nuts when he finds out.”
“How long are we going to give it?”
“A few minutes.”
“Five at most,” she elaborated.
“Just because you are no longer tied to me does not mean you are in control,” he warned. “I’ll be the judge to when we should leave.”
“By all means Agent Morgan…I am officially stepping down the ladder rungs from this one. You’re in complete control of our destiny from now on.” She reset her hand to her face where the man punched her.
Pity swelled inside him in breakneck speed.
“Damn right I am,” he said rakishly, as her gaze met his.
“Um, about, you know…”
Nolan stopped these words with a raise of his hand. “When we get out of this mess you can tell me all about your horrific childhood. Until then, keep it under lock and key.”
“You’re still mad at me,” she confirmed, glancing away.
“I’m going to be mad at you for a very long time. Let’s be clear on that from the get go. For now, I’ve got better things to occupy my thoughts than anger.”
“Like what?”
“Like…” he grinned. “How that set of keys they forgot to take with them is going to get us out of here.” He pointed to the keys left near the door.
Charlotte was the first to rise from her chair, but Nolan was the first to get his hand onto the keys. “I thought you said I was in control,” he taunted, holding the keys in her face.
Her blue eyes looked up at him. “You are.”
“Then back off and watch a seasoned operative do his thing.”
“Um, your thing?” she said laughingly. “By all means, Agent Morgan, please do your thing.”
He ignored her ploy to get his goat, using one of the keys to take apart the screws holding the lock in place. Who the hell needs a key when you have a resourceful brain? The lock fell apart and the door quickly opened. A cautious peer outside to check for men with guns who hadn’t left the compound, the coast was clear but it was dark again. Damn. They’d lost a full day while trapped inside a back room. They would have to hoof it in the dead of night and he was not looking forward to this with Charlotte in tow.
“Ready?” she asked from directly behind him.
“I was born ready,” he teased.
“That’s my line. You can’t have it.”
“We’ll share it. How’s that sound?”
“Reasonable,” she concurred.
“I’m anything but reasonable at this point.” Checking his sarcasm, he took a small step out the door then stopped to listen. Charlotte reached for his hand, holding on tight. He glanced down at her firm grip.
“What? I’m not losing you out there,” she said.
His chuckle went deep. “And here I thought it was because you wanted to hold my hand.”
“No. You’re still mad at me. Why the hell would I want to hold your hand?”
“I already told you I don’t have the time to be mad at you.”
“Doesn’t mean you’re not mad at me,” she ascertained.
A sidelong glance at her face, he said, “Fine, yes, I’m mad, but I’ll get over it.”
Her eyes met his. “Promise?”
“Charlotte, please? Let’s just get out of this mess. Can we save the therapy session to an estranged relationship for later?”
She opened and closed her mouth in mute horror, and it was the cutest thing he’d ever witnessed. Instinct, little else, had him leaning down and kissing her cheek. At the last possible second, she turned her head and his mouth made contact with her lips. The kiss short and sweet; he drew back, staring at her boldness.
“What? I wanted a real kiss. Sue me.” She did not even try to hide her smile.
Pissed momentarily for the subtle move, he set his mouth to hers again, rammed his tongue deep into her, his hand grabbing the back of her neck, drawing her as close as he could get her. Stupid and foolish and knowing better than to give in to a con, he eased back, licking his lips.
“There. It did not kill you to give me a proper kiss, now did it?” she asked before he could utter a word.
Nolan chuckled. “No. It did not kill me to kiss you.”
“Didn’t think it would,” she reconfirmed.
His body now taut with need, he forced himself away from her. “Can we leave now?”
“Ready when you are,” she said.
“I was born ready, sweetheart.”
“So you say.”
Their eyes met. “Are you going to be like this until we find North American soil?”
“Be like what?”
“Your usual self?”
Charlotte punched him hard on the arm without the broken wrist. “Would you stop stealing my lines?”
“I’ll stop stealing your lines as soon as you give me back my twenty millions dollars.” His arched brow signaled this threat as reasonable, but Charlotte’s gasp was anything short of loud. “What? Did you think I would forget about the money?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I thought you would be a whole lot better at the timing. And it is not your money; it’s the agency’s money.”
“You don’t really know who you are dealing with, do you?” he slipped out, unchecked. At this point, it no longer mattered what she knew. He had enough against her than she could find to use against him in ten lifetimes.
“Excuse me?”
“I am OSHIT, sweetheart. Head, heart and CEO. You screw with me and eventually it will backfire in your face. Didn’t see that one coming did you?” he said smugly.
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. She did not respond in words, seemingly astounded he pulled a fast one on her.
“Perhaps your contact in Belize needs removal. He did not do you any favors by not digging deep enough into my background. I own OSHIT. I created OSHIT. I am OSHIT.”
“You’re a big pile of shit if you think I’m going to believe you, Nolan Morgan.”
“You don’t believe me, Ms. Raven?” His brow furrowed deep. How could she not believe him?
“No. I don’t.”
“Why?”
She shrugged as they worked their way across the clearing near the building, and then into dense undergrowth at a rapid pace. “You’re not that devious.”
Nolan stopped dead in his tracks, facing her. “What does owning a counter-intelligence firm branched off the FBI have anything to do with deception?” Two raised brows stopped this foolish question. “Okay. I should have asked how you can’t believe I created OSHIT instead.”
“I never said you did not create the company.”
“Then what did you say?”
“I can’t believe the money as yours.”
“Remember when I told you my grandparents kept the farm?”
“Yes.”
“They were well known bootleggers in the `30’s.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
He and Charlotte then continued onward, putting distance between them and the building, and a bunch of ass-bastards with guns.
“And that made you rich?” she asked behind his back.
“My brain made me rich. The illegal alcohol kept the pot full until I came into my own.”
“What about Devon?”
“He doesn’t know.”
“How can he not know?”
“Easy.”
She yanked on his hand, slamming on the brakes. “Non-acceptable answer, Mr. Morgan.”
“Okay, Ms. Raven, the acceptable answer is I made certain he never finds out.”
“How is that working out for you? Well?”
He gave her a rakish grin. “Apparently it’s not working that well. He owes a drug cartel money. I’d say he knows about the hidden funds.”
“Or…” she construed.
“Or what?”
“He’s playing them, same as I played you,” she said.
“It’s possible.” It was painful to admit such a fact, but hell, he’d admitted worse to her.
“I’m hoping its probable,” she added.
“Why?”
“I like Devon.”
“Like like, or hot and heavy panty-wetting like?”
“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”
Nolan turned, maneuvered her into his arms, and planted a claiming kiss on her lips. He eased back, enjoying the widening of her eyes and arched brows.
“Good,” he said, “because I did not want to hear any answer from you…or make the stupid move of backing off and letting my brother have you when he doesn’t deserve you.”
“You’re such as ass,” she said firmly.
“You said you liked my ass,” he balked at, his rakish grin playful.
“I said I like you. Your ass needs a hard kick when there’s time.”
“Can you save the sexual beat down for later? We need to get the hell away from here before it gets too late.”
“Ugh, men!”
A half mile later, she re-broke the silence. “Nolan?”
“Yeah?”
“I had sex with your brother.”
“Liar.”
“What? You don’t believe me?” she sputtered.
“Not on your life.” His laughter came out, loud and clear.
“We did. Sweaty, rough…” she taunted.
“Charlotte?”
“Yes, Nolan?”
“Shut the hell up before I punch you.” He was not going to show her how much the words affected him, moving forward again.
They stumbled upon a small village an hour later.
Chapter Twenty-three
Charlotte grabbed Nolan’s arm to hold him back from jumping into something that might get them into a ton of trouble, especially in the dead of night.
“Wait,” she whispered.
He turned and gave her a toothy grin, touching her hand. “It’s fine. They’re locals.”
“You could have said this about those other men, too. I’m sure they were locals.” She was not convinced rushing into the unknown was such a great idea. She did not want to sit back to back with him on another dirt floor either, waiting fate’s hand.
“We’ll take it slow, weigh out our options,” he said.
