Endgame (44 page)

Aaron bet every woman filled out her survey card with a smiley face and exclamation points after bedding Chase. “So get to work. I’d hate to think you were stuck as second best.”

“That’s the point—now sex will be work. Men and women across the country will be clamoring for four to tie it up. Jake is going to be pissed as hell, and I hope he kicks your ass.”

Aaron shifted, warning bells going off in his head. “You said men and women.”

Chase shrugged. “Keeping an open mind. Though I don’t know how, biologically, that will be possible for a guy. I hope they share tips, because I want multiple orgasms, too.”

Satan lied much better than Aaron did, that was for sure. But something told him to dig deeper. “You bi, Sanders? Christ, you and Jake. How sexy would that be?”

Chase blanched. “No.”

“Hold still.” Aaron started filling in Chase’s lips with black pencil, hoping the color would last. “You gonna tell me who is bi?”

Charlotte’s glare had nothing on Chase’s, despite the fact he couldn’t do more than squint fire. “If you talked to your family more and were less of a judgmental prick, you’d know the answer.”

“Ryan? Corey? Not Jake. They’re all married, so bi? No. That leaves…Paul? He’s been nailing anything in a skirt since fifteen.”

“Ever see Paul with a girl?”

“I’m sure I have.” Aaron thought about that. Had he? Ever? No. Paul hadn’t gone to any proms, never brought a girl home. He’d never seen Paul kiss a girl, hold her hand, nothing. He’d seen all of his brothers in one compromising position or another. Never Paul.

“No, you haven’t.” And Chase left it at that.

Aaron froze. His twin was gay? No fucking way.

Aaron took a calming breath, one that let relief flood upward. Paul hadn’t fucked Monica, then. It made more sense, why he’d set Aaron up for a scary deflowering. Paul had no clue she was a freak in bed. Paul had never known what Aaron went through that night.

“Why wouldn’t he talk to me about this?”

“Hello, judgmental prick on the priesthood track? He should just burn himself at the stake to save you time.” Chase huffed out an exasperated breath. “Look, he’s been pissed about this since you were kids and for some reason you started hating him. He figured you found out.”

“When did you become such an entrusted confidante? Jesus, hold still or you’re going to have liner across your jaw.” What hurt the most was that his brother had been faced with a lifestyle that wouldn’t have been easy in their little town, yet Aaron had been too pissed to help him.

Chase stilled but griped, “When your brother got drunk once and cried on my shoulder. I sort of had no choice but to listen to the poor kid. He was in a low place and I was the only sober one.”

“That’s not why I hated him.” For Paul to turn to Chase with this, he had to be lower than low. It pissed Aaron off on so many levels. Paul was his twin, damn it. He’d always been upset they never had the unique twin bond everyone talked about. He’d never shared anything close or special until he met Charlotte. “I should have just kicked his ass when I was a kid and found out the truth. I thought…Jesus.”

Chase arched a brow. “What did you think?”

“Look, I’m not drunk, so I’m not sharing my personal life with you, okay? Just know Paul’s sexual orientation was not what I was pissed about.”

“He said he set you up with some girl, you fucked her, and everything changed after that. Paul was seeing her brother at the time—Brad?”

Of course, Satan couldn’t leave it alone. “Brian.”

Chase shrugged dismissively. “He asked her what happened, and she said you had a fine time.”

“I didn’t.” It made sense, looking back. Brian and Paul were inseparable. Brian talked the kinky talk, but maybe it was all a cover? Who knew? “So that’s why you’ve disliked me all these years you’ve been friends with Jake? Because of Paul?”

“That’s the main reason. You sleeping with Char didn’t help with your asshole status, but I’d kill whomever she slept with, so…”

Aaron finished Chase and put the makeup back in her bag. “You’re not my favorite person, either.”

“Because of what I did to her.” Chase gritted his teeth. “Why am I getting all of the hate for this when Jake was on board every step of the way? She belongs to both of us. Granted, I’m the boss, but I consulted with him. She was
his
collateral damage.”

“Jake’s a hostage and you’re not. It’s not fair to hate a hostage.” Aaron ran gel through his hair and spiked it. “And she’s no longer yours. She’s mine.”

“We’ve discussed the fact she can’t be yours.”

“Whatever.” They could agree to disagree on that front. However, Aaron did feel the need to rebuild the bridge with Chase. Just in case. “But I’m starting to see your side of things.”

“We had no choice. You met John.”

“I know. Doesn’t make me like you more, but after meeting John, I get it. You did what you had to do, to give her a chance to survive. If you hadn’t, she’d have been dead long before now.” Aaron shoved stuff back in the bag. “Thank you, for telling me about Paul and for loving Charlotte enough to make her Danger Girl.”

Chase nodded. The car grew quiet again.

Aaron pulled out his fake glasses and put them on. He broke off the tiny link from one of the key rings in Char’s purse and used pliers, also from her purse, to open it. God, he loved a spy’s purse. So much useful stuff. Then he shoved the link on the edge of his nostril, drew in a breath and used the pliers to tamp it shut, just shy of breaking his skin. Instant fake nose ring. “There. Do I look different enough?”

“The glasses are lame.”

“It works for super heroes. I wear them to travel all the time. The women seem not to like the smart look for some reason. Maybe you need glasses, boss.”

Chase rolled his heavily made up eyes. Damn, the man rocked Goth. “Ready to go claim them?”

Chase grabbed Aaron’s arm as he started to open the door. “You have to keep it together. You don’t know what we’ll find up there, what he’ll make her do. Just know she’ll do what she has to in order to kill him. It won’t change whatever she feels for you. Don’t hate her for it.”

“I get it.” Aaron didn’t want to picture anything that asshole had planned. “I could never hate her.”

Chase nodded but didn’t let go of his arm. “Will you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Take a picture, to show Kate. She’ll never believe I did makeup. I’ll take one of you, too. You’re part of the crew now. Gotta have a photo of your cover for prosperity.”

Part of the crew
… Chase wanted a picture to give his wife when he was about to face death? Satan at his best. “You’re sick.”

Chase’s Adam’s apple bobbed then, and he shot Aaron an uneasy look. “It’s a good luck thing, Aaron. We started it on Kate’s first mission.”

“Did you take a picture of Char?”

“No. She wouldn’t have wanted that, knowing what she knew.”

Aaron wanted her to live, badly, even if he couldn’t have her. “If we take pictures of us, will the luck cover Charlotte?”

“I hope so.”

“Then smile pretty for me, boss.” Aaron snapped the picture with his phone, and then handed it to Chase to complete the ritual. His first mission as a sort of real spy. “You ready to get the rest of our crew?”

Chase nodded, all grim and boss-like again. “Let’s roll.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Charlotte walked down the second floor hall in front of John, waiting for the right moment to spin and overtake him. He had a gun pulled but not pressed anywhere important. The bodyguards were nowhere to be seen, the hallway clear, all the doors closed. Easy to take him if she attacked with swift efficiency. So easy it worried her. So she waited.

“I was surprised to realize you were alive, Abbey.”

“I’m sure you were, Sir. I was surprised you lived, too.”

“I’ve thought of you a lot over the years. Perhaps I was foolhardy to have tried to kill you.”

The anger deep inside her fired up, the freight train humming in her stomach. “My boys saved me.”

John laughed to himself and stabbed the gun into her back. “Your boys will learn their lesson for that. All of them. You know how I love to teach. This is life’s lessons at its best, watching you die.”

Her anger snapped. She whirled and disarmed John, kicking him to the ground, straddling him. The look of shock in his eyes was priceless and worth every milliliter of blood she’d lose fighting her way out. She pointed his gun between his eyes and gave him a slow smile. “Goodbye, John.”

“Shoot me, and you, your actor, die,” John said, his gaze trained over her shoulder. As he said it, someone grabbed her braid, tugged her head back, and a muzzle of a gun pressed under her jaw. She looked up. Another gun was pointed at her forehead, the guard standing at John’s head. She’d known it was too easy.

“Give me the gun, pumpkin.”

As much as she wanted John to die, it was too risky for Jake still. This man would kill him. So hard to hand over the gun, but she did. John took handcuffs from the man behind her and cuffed her hands in front of her. She was good with that, until they cuffed her ankles, too, and attached a chain to the one between her hands. She broke out into a cold sweat and called forth the dragon inside her to keep her sane. Cool and calm.

“Such a naughty girl, Abigail, attacking me like that. As you can see, I planned for this, knowing those men of yours would teach you wretched things. I relish teaching you, too. Reminding you of what you are—weak.”

John admired his handiwork then grabbed her braid and dragged her head down, kissing her hungrily, forcing his tongue between her teeth to claim her mouth. She allowed him access, giving in. The more submissive she played, as if she’d learned her lesson, the better the chance he would make a mistake later.

He broke the kiss and then grabbed her chin, his nails biting into her skin. “Don’t fuck up again, Abigail. Next time you try to hurt me, you’ll pay. Your actor will pay.” He gestured to the man behind her. “I have her. You’ll behave, won’t you, pumpkin?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered, quelling the anger, tamping it down.

John hauled her by her braid to the door in front of them. He opened it and steered her inside. “Here we are. Say hello to your actor.”

She scanned the room and found Jake in the far corner, gagged and tied to a chair, looking fairly healthy and bright-eyed despite the inhospitable treatment. Her knees sagged with relief as Jake’s blue eyes flashed with anger. Oh, he was pissed, his body language telling her that in no uncertain terms should she let this man off easy. God, she loved Jake.

“May I approach him, Sir?”

“This once, yes. I want him to smell how sweet you are before that scent becomes mingled with your blood.”

“Thank you, Sir.” She shuffled over and bent next to his chair, her cuffed hands on his muscular thigh. “I’m so sorry. Jake is fine, with Chase.”

Jake nodded, his eyes blazing still. He understood what she meant—Aaron was safe. He had every right to be pissed at her for dragging Aaron into this. If she knew Jake, he was just as disappointed.

The disappointment got to her, the pressure in her chest intensifying. He had every right to feel that, too. “I’m sorry.”

Eyes a shade lighter than Aaron’s softened, and he shook his head so slightly she would have missed it if she didn’t know him so well.

John snapped his fingers from across the room. Charlotte hesitated and rose, cuffs rattling, letting her fingers squeeze Jake’s thigh one last time.

Ten steps to the foot of the elegant bed where John waited then down to her knees, head bowed. She channeled Abigail around the anger still simmering in her gut, needing to remain submissive to pull this off. Just a few moments more and she’d see her checkmate.

“So here’s a little glimpse of the future for you, my love, and your actor. I want to chain you up by your slender wrists and have my way with you. Do you remember playing at the parties, Abbey? Probably not, you were so drugged. I can’t wait to watch your sober reactions to their hands and mouths all over you, the needles and knives sliding into your skin. They love blood, piercings. So do I.”

He ruffled her hair, smoothing out her braid. “But first, I’d like you to suck my cock, just like the old times. You loved that job, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” He tugged her braid, pain shooting to her scalp. The cool metal of his gun pressed to her temple as a reminder. “Sir,” she added, stomach churning with anger and dread.

“How soon they forget.” He chuckled as he rose, unbuckled his pants. A knock sounded at the door, and he tugged her braid one last time. “Don’t get any ideas, or I’ll kill him.”

John went to the door, and she shoved her hands between her legs, to the top of her boot. She saw the game now, clearly. She’d suck him. When he was entranced with impending orgasm, she’d use her knife to slice through his femoral artery. She would be able to get her knife from her boot in these cuffs, but she wouldn’t be able to attack higher than his thigh. He’d shoot her out of reflex, then fight to stop the bleeding. Jake would live.

Only her knife didn’t want to clear the sheath inside her boot. She struggled, the leather stiff. Damn it, the thing had cleared earlier. Cool and calm was shoved aside by growing panic. John argued with the man at the door, his words unclear but louder.

Whatever she did had to happen during this blowjob. Once he chained her up, it was over. She’d die the way he wanted her to die, in pain, bloody, screaming. That wasn’t an option. She’d slice her own throat before she died that way. She closed her eyes and petitioned to Aaron’s God, praying that she die in a way that wouldn’t destroy Aaron. Please. Just let the knife slide free.

The knife refused to budge—one more reason to tell God to fuck off. Breathing ragged, she switched to the other boot, her hands under her skirt, begging whatever entity that wanted to listen to keep John from seeing movement as she went deeper into her boot, where her longer blade resided. She could stab him in the chest with that, kill him instantly. It was just fucking hard to get to in handcuffs. Her hands froze as the door closed. Fuck.

“Ah, where were we, Abbey.” The bed creaked under his weight. She could smell him—sandalwood. God, she remembered it now, mixed with the scent of blood. Her blood.