A Dom Is Forever (2 page)

“Yes,” Liam replied, his voice equally low. “Avery Charles. She works for Molina. She became his personal assistant six months ago.”

She was his primary target for the moment. It had been easy to gather data on Molina. He was a public figure. Within minutes of confirming that Thomas Molina, philanthropist, was somehow involved with the rogue CIA agent his firm had been tracking for months, he’d had a full dossier on the man. Molina was considered a bit odd. He’d been injured as a teenager in a riding accident. He’d had several spinal surgeries and had been left with legs that never functioned properly again. He disappeared for many years, living a life of seclusion after his parents had passed away.

He was now in sole control of a huge multi-national company, but preferred to spend his time on a charity operation called United One Fund.

It had been easy to find Molina. His personal assistant had taken more digging.

“Do we know if she has any ties to Black?” Somehow Ian managed to make the question sound like a threat. “Sorry. Nelson. We should call the devil by his real name. Does she have any ties to Eli Nelson?”

That was the big question of the day. What was seemingly sweet Avery Charles, who had never had so much as a parking ticket, doing working for a man who did indeed have ties to Eli Nelson, rogue CIA agent? “I doubt it. If I had to place a bet, I would bank money on the fact that she’s just the personal assistant of one of the world’s leading philanthropists. She’s got a do-gooder vibe I can feel from here. It makes me a little nauseous.”

It made him a little horny, but there was no way he was telling Ian that. And no way to explain it because she just wasn’t his type. No way. No how. Well, she wasn’t his type now. He’d given up on soft, voluptuous women for a reason. They fucked with a man’s mental capacities. Nope. She wasn’t his type now. It was just that he hadn’t gotten laid in a while. That was the only explanation.

“Alex is looking into Molina. He’s running financials on those charities of his.” Ian frowned as he looked around. “I don’t like it.”

Ian Taggart didn’t like charities? There was a surprise since the man was practically a charity in and of himself. Liam knew he was alive today based on the man’s sense of charity. “From the press surrounding him, he’s practically a saint.”

Ian smiled, though on him it was more a predatory baring of teeth. “I don’t believe in saints. Sinners. Now, I can believe that.” He sighed as he looked back in the atrium. Avery was ordering a sandwich and a cup of coffee. “Have Adam and Jake moved in?”

Ian’s eyes shifted around the big room, constantly seeking a threat.

They weren’t carrying. He felt a little naked without a gun. It was too dangerous in such a public place, and they weren’t exactly here in a formal capacity. That was his fault. Everyone on the team had tried to talk him out of coming back to Europe, but it had been years. He’d changed. Perhaps it was past time to face his demons and honor his brother’s memory.

After he’d taken down Eli Nelson.

“They moved into her building last week. We were oh so lucky that her neighbor decided to leave town for a while and was forced to sublet the place.” Liam kept his eyes on Avery as she paid seven pounds fifty. She smiled at the bloke in front of her. How did the woman smile like that, bright and open after everything that had happened to her? She smiled as though she’d come through that crucible and could still have a full heart in her body.

Of course, it could all be an act.

“I think you’ll find Adam and Jake are paying enough to well compensate the lady,” Ian explained. His body went on alert, shoulders squaring. “Who the fuck is that? I thought you said she didn’t have a boyfriend.”

Liam felt his eyes narrow as Avery greeted the tall blond man. He was obviously British. It was all there in the cool cut of his suit and the deeply pretentious way the bugger air kissed her cheeks. He had to bend over because Avery was short. She was short and curvy, and the Brit bastard was looking down her shirt.

“I haven’t seen him before,” Liam said. A solid week of following her around and he hadn’t once seen her even look at a man who wasn’t carved of marble and brought back to London from some far-off place during the days of British Imperialism. The only man he’d seen her with was her boss. She would wheel him around St. James’s Park twice a week, settling a blanket around his unsteady legs before making the jaunt. Molina could walk with the aid of a cane, but the millionaire used a wheelchair on those walks of theirs.

Ian was already taking pictures with his phone. It had been adapted for Ian’s own use. High resolution, super focus. Any picture Ian took was immediately forwarded to headquarters for a little turn through Adam’s facial recognition software. They would have the bugger’s name and life story within minutes.

Why the hell did he want to kick the blond bloke’s ass? Days of watching Avery Charles and going over and over her tragic story had made him protective. She’d been through a lot. And the young Liam, the Liam he’d been before he’d lost his brother, would have been all over her.

Still, it was a bad idea to get protective of a woman who just might be involved in international terrorism.

She sat down at one of the long tables, blond bastard following her. He curled his tall body into the seat across from her as she began talking animatedly. He reached out, cradling her hand in his, but she almost immediately pulled away, grabbing her coffee mug.

No sex there. No intimacy. She was awkward, unsure about his physical affection.

“He’s not the boyfriend.” Ian almost certainly saw what he saw. Ian was a master at reading body language. Likely because he was an actual Master. And that was why Liam wanted Ian to see her in person.

“What’s your take on her?” Liam asked.

Ian had been watching her for two hours, since she’d gotten off the Tube at
Holborn
. Liam had been following her path for days, and she took the same trains without fail. She left the offices at
Charing
Cross and bought a bottle of water. Switched from
Bakerloo
to the
Picadilly
Line and got off at
Holborn
. From there it should have been a quick walk up New Oxford to Bloomsbury and the museum, but Avery seemed to always find a way to stroll and look at whatever minutiae caught her eye. And she often had a camera. One day she’d spent twenty minutes taking pictures of tulips in street boxes.

It was maddening. Boring. Dull as dishwater. And he’d started to wonder if she was seeing a world he didn’t see.

Ian leaned back, taking out the museum map he’d bought and pretending to study it. “I think she’s intriguing. Given what I know about her background, I would have expected someone a little more broken than she appears to be.”

Yes. That was the problem. Most women who had lost what Avery had lost would bear the marks like scars. It would be there in their eyes, but Avery’s were a clear, crystal blue. “It has been ten years since the accident.”

“That kind of pain never goes away.” Ian’s lips formed a grim line, and his eyes closed momentarily. When he opened them again, his face was a careful blank. “She lost her husband and her baby in an accident. She nearly lost the use of her legs. It might have been ten years since the accident, but I assure you, she feels it every day. Or maybe not. Maybe she’s not capable of love. I’ve met people who weren’t.”

“She works for a charity,” Liam pointed out. He didn’t like the cold way Ian was talking. Ian hadn’t been the one watching her day in and day out. Ian hadn’t been the one to see how she stopped and talked to people on the street and how she’d helped a lost kid. She’d hugged him and held his hand while everyone else just walked on by as though it wasn’t their problem.

Ian shrugged. “I worked for a vegetarian restaurant once while I was undercover. Didn’t mean I didn’t find animals awfully tasty. She’s getting a good paycheck from Molina. He’s paying for her apartment. Are you sure she’s not fucking him?”

“She goes home every night and she goes alone. Unless she’s fucking him at the office, I sincerely doubt it.” She wasn’t the type. Was she?

“I just find it odd that Molina could afford anyone and he picks her.” Ian folded his map. “Come on. Until we’re ready to send someone in, we need to keep our distance. Let’s get back to the club. Eve should be in town by now. Her flight was coming in this morning. And I want to see if Adam figured out who the blond guy is.”

Ian started to walk away. It was like the big bastard to think Liam would just follow along. But he did, because they needed to clear something up. Liam kept his mouth shut as they walked out the Russell Street entrance and into the light of day.

“What do you mean ‘someone,’ Ian?”

Ian never broke stride. “’Some’ as in being an undetermined or unspecified one. ‘One’ as in determining the specified some.”

Bastard
. “You’re talking like you haven’t decided who’s going in after the girl.”

“Adam and Jake are doing the neighbor thing.”

“Yeah, and that’s not going to get us anywhere. She’s not going to invite her neighbors to come to lunch at her office or to sleep at her place.”

“Adam and Jake are pretty damn good at breaking in.” Ian turned toward the Tube station. “Ask Serena. She’d love to tell you that story. We’re lucky they married her and she didn’t sue the holy fuck out of us. Seriously, it’s one of the only good things that came out of that op. They got a collar around her throat and a ring on her finger. Presto, lawsuit disappears. And people say
BDSM
isn’t good for a man.”

None of which answered the question. “Don’t you try to replace me. This is my op. I found the connection between Nelson and Molina. This is mine.”

Ian stopped. A long moment passed. “I don’t know that you’re right for this girl. We might only get one shot to put someone in her bed, and she’s just not your type.”

“It’s my op. I’ll handle it.” He wasn’t sending someone else in. “Besides, who the hell else are you going to get to play the boyfriend role? Adam and Jake are off the market. Sean quit. Are you planning to romance the girl?”

Ian frowned again. “Alex asked about it.”

Motherfucker
. “No. You can’t be serious. Eve…what about Eve?”

Alex and Eve were divorced and had been for years, but there was no doubt in Liam’s mind that Eve still loved her husband. Ex. Even he couldn’t keep it straight. Alex had been a bloody monk since the divorce.

“Alex is trying to move on, and that includes taking one for the team. You’re right. We’re low on males who don’t mind a little play with their work.” Ian growled a little, his frustration evident. “Damn it, I don’t want to do shit like this. I don’t like having to fuck for information.”

No one with half a tablespoon of morality did, but sometimes it was necessary. Eli Nelson was a danger to everyone on Liam’s team. If Liam’s instincts were correct, he might be a danger to everyone in the world. Nelson had already attempted to sell state secrets to China. Balanced against all the danger, hurting Avery Charles’s feminine heart was the lesser of two evils. “But this case is different. This is Nelson, and we won’t get anywhere if we try to play by the rules. He wouldn’t hesitate to fuck anything he had to in order to get the information he needs. We can’t either. There’s too much at stake.”

Ian settled the baseball cap he was wearing over his head, pulling out the Oyster card he’d bought earlier. Liam found his own. The little card was the gateway to the Tube and the easiest way to get anywhere in London. “I left the Agency because I didn’t like the man it was turning me into, but I’ll admit that I need to get Nelson. I need it. Until I see that man six feet under, I won’t be able to rest. He nearly killed my brother, and he used my team to sell this country out. The Agency hasn’t done shit to bring him in, so I’ll do it myself. Which is precisely why I’ll handle the girl. Send me her file. I’ll make contact tomorrow.”

He reached out and grabbed Ian’s arm. “No, you won’t. It’s my bloody fucking op, and I’ll take the girl.”

Ian’s eyes went positively arctic as he looked at the hand on his sleeve. “Watch it. Your Irish is up.”

Fuck all.
Liam took a long breath and forced himself back into his bland Midwestern accent. He’d perfected it over the years because it was better camouflage than his real accent. For the first several years he’d worked at McKay-Taggart Security, only Alex and Ian had known his real voice. He needed to pull it together. “Sorry. It’s hard being surrounded by it.”

“Yes. A damn good reason for you to be at home.”

Liam had heard this argument about a million times. “I understand the way this city works better than anyone on the team, and I still have underground contacts. My op, Ian. And my mark.”

Ian’s voice got low, his mouth firming to a stubborn line. “Just see that the reason you’re staying is the op and not the girl. What I didn’t say before, but you’ve almost certainly picked up on, is the fact that she seems amazingly innocent and is very likely to be submissive. You know the signs. She’s been painstakingly polite and she defers to everyone. When the museum docent talked to her, her eyes slid right to the floor. She’s a sub and a sweet one at that. A dangerous combo for men like us. I’m not stupid, Li. The reason you hang out with club subs is that they’re hard core and just looking for some fun. That woman in there is not looking for a good time. She’s serious, and this can only end one of two ways. One, she’s dirty and you’ll feel like shit because you’ll send her to jail or a grave. Two, she’s clean as a whistle and you break her heart because if she’s as innocent as she looks, she’ll have to fall for you in order for you to get into her bed. And you’ll feel like shit. You’ve worked backup for years. Are you really ready to take the lead?”

He’d been a pussy for years, hiding behind his teammates and letting them take all the real risks. Sure he’d gotten shot at on occasion, but running the op meant taking responsibility for the health and safety of everyone involved, and that included Avery Charles if she was an innocent bystander.

“I’m ready.”