Code of Control (19 page)

“Is Devon a
rouge agent?” she said, stalling the inevitable, groaning internally.

She was such a
bloody damn chicken when it came to admitting failures.

“That’s not
telling me something, that’s asking.”

“Is he?”

Long seconds
ticked away, Charlotte marveling at the slow response to an accusation of his
brother going sour.

“Not sure. And don’t
think I haven’t put thought to the possibility. It was a bit of a shocker to
find out these guys knew him by name, and that he owes them money for what they
call
favors
.”

“What if he is
rouge?”

“Then he is,” he
said firmly, yet his muscles coiled against her back, disclaiming his downplay
to the possibility.

“Will you
confront him?”

“Yes.”

She’d never felt
angry heat out of a man than she did within her next taken breath, heat she did
not want blowing up in her face. Still, she had to tell Nolan the truth to have
any future with him, even if this future short-lived, severing their
partnership into a billion shards of irreparable glass.

“Nolan?”

“Still waiting,”
he warned.

She drew in a
deep breath, held it, and it came out as violent shudders she could not
control. “I’m sorry, but I know why we are in this mess.”

“I knew you
would tell me sooner or later.” There was an identifiable threat in the tone of
his voice. “I was betting on it being
before
they took my twenty mil,
however, and then ran.
OSHIT
is not very forgiving when bad guys steal
our money.”

“No. I’m sure
they’re not,” she mumbled.

“So?” he asked.

Another deep
breath did her no good. In fact, it about ripped apart her chest, the guilt
building well out of her control.

“I’m sorry. You’ll
get your money back. I promise,” she rushed out, closing her eyes.

Nolan’s muscles
retracted, but his tone turned icy. “When?”

Thankfully, he
could not see the tears running down her face.

“Just as soon as
I find my father.”

“He’s here,
isn’t he?”

She nodded,
unable to speak. The guilt strangled her vocal chords, but Nolan certainly felt
the jerky motion. How could he not?

Chapter Twenty-one

She set him up?
How could he have been so fooled, so blinded?

Sex. That’s how.

If he hadn’t given
up his soul to her in a hotel room, brain dead for a few blessed hours, he
would not have been so handicapped to her faults. And damn if she did not have
numerous faults, none of them good, and every one of them about to blow up in
his face.

“Why?” he forced
out of his throat, the bile rising uncontrollably.

“I told you why,
back in Iowa.”

“You have got to
know what this is doing to me.”

“I do.”

“My brother is
corrupt.”

He felt the
shake of her head against his. “I don’t think so. At least not in the way you
think. There must be a reasonable explanation as to why he would owe a drug
cartel money. They are a drug cartel, aren’t they?”

Nolan leaned
back, pressing his head against hers. Charlotte did the same. All of a sudden,
he said, “If I could punch you in the face right now, I would,” unable to hold
it in for much longer. “I owe you one punch.”

Charlotte gasped
then tensed.

“You fucking
lied to me! How did you think I would react?” he warned.

“I know. I lied.
I’m sorry.”

“I took you to
my home…shared my body with you, told you about Carolyn…fuck, Charlotte, what
did I ever do to you to turn on me?”

“I know you’re
angry—”

“You’re damn
right I’m angry. I’m more than angry.”

“And you have
every right to be—”

“Ah, duh.”

“Let me at least
explain the circumstances before you hang me before trial,” she continued.

“Right now,
sweetheart, I’d rather you rot in Hell. You don’t deserve a trial of your
peers.”

Charlotte
released her tears.

“Don’t you dare
cry on me now, either!” His impatience wearing thin, he was using what he could
to hide his frustrations by turning nasty.

“I c—can’t…h—help
it,” she hiccupped out.

“Try,” he threatened,
his muscles coiling again. Hot to cold, lukewarm to ice, it was all there,
breaking apart his insides.

“You h—hate me,”
she sputtered.

“And your point
is?”

She drew in a
ragged breath, sniffling. “Would you stop saying that? I don’t have a point. I
screwed you. I know that.”

He could not
help the brittle laugh from rupturing out of his throat. “And not in a good way.
The
General
is none too thrilled with you right now.”

“Nolan?”

“Dammit,
Charlotte! If I could cover my ears and not hear any more of your lies I would,
but I can’t. Go ahead, tell me what I don’t want to hear. Give it to me
straight.”

“I have nothing
to do with the Cha’rpa cartel,” she began.

“I figured that
one out for myself. That’s Devon’s end of my betrayal, and I’ll deal with him
later.”

“There may not
be a later,” she said.

“There is always
a later.”

Her indrawn
breath coursed through his soul, stomping out the fires inside his gut.

“See? You hate
me.” She shook her head again, Nolan feeling the motion against his head. “I
can’t have you hating me.”

“I don’t see why
not. Lots of folks hate each other. You and I just happen to be tied together
while it’s occurring.”

“How can you
hate me?” She sounded stunned there was even the possibility. “I had nothing to
do with an airplane falling from the sky.”

“Glad to hear.
Would really hate to know innocent folks died for no reason, or my wrist and rib
are broken because of saving your scrawny, lying ass from a fiery death.”

“But I do have
something to do with the phone call to get you here,” she rushed out.

Nolan clamped his
jaw so tight he gained a nasty headache. “What?” he muttered.

“The phone call…”

“I heard you.
Explain, please?”

Good God! Why
was it he could barely breathe?

Charlotte drew
in a ragged breath, as well. “I tracked down my source to Belize. He found what
I think is my father. If so, I had to investigate. I could not predict one of
OSHIT
’s
operatives would get kidnapped, caught in the crossfire, but I pulled a few
favors, and I did not think it would end up like this. Get in, get out, no
questions asked. This was how it was supposed to be. You said so yourself you’d
never let me kill him, oath crap and all that.”

Throughout her
confession, Nolan remained mute. Perhaps he was more astounded than she was that
she’d pulled the wool over his eyes and got away with it.

“Get in, get out
never really happens in our line of work,” he said.

“I know.”

“Then why did
you think it would?”

“I had to try
something.”

“With me in
tow?”

“You were
backup, if need be.”

Nolan’s guts
boiled. “Backup…if need be? Are you stupid or just naïve?”

“I’m not stupid
or naïve. You’re here, aren’t you?”

He yanked on his
binds, hurting the both of them due to his increased fury.

Charlotte yelped
and he growled.

“Dammit! Stop
moving,” she begged.

He yanked again,
her betrayal and involvement getting out of his control. “How could you do this
to me? Why would you wait until now to confess? You had plenty of opportunity.
Fuck! Why couldn’t you just go on with all the lies and we kept our partnership
exactly as it is—one big joke.”

“I could not
handle the guilt anymore, and I don’t consider us a joke.”

Nolan hung his
head, shamed he let his emotions get the better of him. This wasn’t a seasoned
agent’s response. This was the response of a sap. “I can’t even build up the
desire to talk to you right now.” His voice tightened into unrecognizable.

“Nolan, I’m
sorry…”

“Sorry don’t cut
it, Sister.”

“You have to
understand…”

He shut her off swiftly.
“I don’t have to understand a goddamn thing! What I do understand is I’m too
old for this shit. My instincts are shot; my respect for fellow agents just
blew up in my face. Hell, everything about wanting to save the world from
itself is crumbling before my eyes, making me want to puke. And if I wasn’t tied
back to back with you, I’d punish you in the worst possible way, leaving you
here for dead.”

“Just because I
am so close to finding and removing from this world a man who killed four of my
family members?”

“Four?”

“Yes, Nolan,
four!”

“You never said
the number four to me. I would have remembered it if you had.”

“Does it make
you happy a serial killer got away with murdering four of my family members?
Wished he’d sent to the grave five?”

“Go to Hell,” he
muttered rudely.

“I am in Hell!
Can’t you understand that?” she screamed out. “I’ve been in Hell since I was
six years old!”

Nolan dragged in
a slow breath, as did Charlotte, both trying to calm down. He stared off into
space. Sudden movement on the floor caught his eye. He watched an anole gobble
up an insect, then scurry up the wall, licking its face.

Nolan ran his
tongue over his parched lips, begging for moisture that wasn’t there.

“You never said
four,” he gently offered. He could feel her crying again, her shoulders shaking
against his back.

“My mother, my
aunt and great-aunt…and…”

The stall of her
words turned into volcanic, the blood rushing from his limbs in a dizzying pace;
the wait excruciating. He may be furious with her but he did have a soul, a
knee-jerk instinct to protect.

“And?” he
prompted.

“And my twin,
okay? My father murdered my twin sister.”

Nolan did not
bother to hide his shock. “I know nothing about you, do I?” Every syllable
wrenched from his gut tore at his resolve.

“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.