Code of Control (8 page)

Charlotte
shuddered. “What about them?” turning her eyes away.

“Going to tuck
your tail between your legs and hide from your extreme phobias?”

“I don’t have extreme
ph—”

His arched brow had
reached his hairline, stalling this lie.

“Fine, I have a tiny
phobia about chickens. Sue me.”

“Tiny?” he
asked, his dimples sinking in.

“Okay. Huge.
Happy now? They do say confession is good for the soul.”

Nolan stood
tall. He held out his hand toward her. “Come with me.”

Charlotte
refused to take it, Nolan lowering his arm. Yet, her curiosity urged her onward
with only words. “Where to?”

“Outside.”

She instantly
balked, taking a firm step backward. “You are not forcing me into a chicken
coop, Nolan Morgan.”

His grin
widened. “I’m not going to make you touch any chickens, Charlotte.”

“Good,” she said
loudly.

“I’m going to
force you into facing the rest of your phobias.”

“My what?”

“Your phobias,”
he repeated.

“I don’t have
any—”

Again, his brow
touched his hairline.

“Dammit,
Charlotte. I know everything there is to know about you. Don’t try to hide things
from me. The sooner you open up about your fears, the better for our
partnership.”

She took offense
to this. “What about you? I don’t know a damn thing about you. You could have
told me you’re a twin. You could have said a lot of things to me last night.
Instead, you hid like a coward behind a locked door, avoiding contact with me.
If anyone has a phobia…”

“Done ranting?”
he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Done…
what
?”
she sputtered. “I don’t—”

“You sound like
an old woman right now,” he interrupted.

“That’s funny.
You sound like an ass.”

“Braying?”

She shook her
head. “No. Pompous, presumptuous, egotistical, arrogant…”

He was in her
face within seconds; his arms wrapped around her, holding tight. “Care to
finish this while I’m holding you in this way?”

“Demented,
chauvinistic, desperate…” she said softly, hiding her grin.

“Desperate?” His
chuckle loud, his head drew back to stare at her face. “I am assuredly not
desperate, Ms. Raven.”

“Yes, you are…desperate
enough to hold what you can’t have for the next two weeks.”

His brow lifted
higher than before. “Can’t Charlotte? I do believe you are mistaken on that.”

She glanced
away, enjoying his arms around her. He was everything she wanted in a man,
everything she needed, and everything she could not have. “Fine, what you don’t
want…even if handed to you on a silver platter,” she adlibbed. “And last night
could have confirmed this to you.”

His frown came
back swift. “I never said I don’t want you.”

“You don’t want
me in your bedroom, contradictive to what your body language is telling me
right now. That’s saying to me you’d rather I was anywhere else but here.”

Nolan’s smile
grew, his lowered lids hiding his possible feelings about her. “I can’t help holding
you when you’re near me,” he said, rakishly. “You smell good, like roses in
bloom.”

Charlotte felt
the bulge in his pants pressing against her inner thigh. “You can’t help it?”

“Yes, Charlotte,
I can’t help wanting you. I said it to you before and I’ll say it to you again,
I want to make love to you, knowing how great it was when he did, but until you
can trust me I’ll have to abstain as best I can.”

“I trust you,”
she said. “Trust should not be the issue here.”

He did not look
convinced of this lie.

“I do,” she
repeated.

“Your mouth says
one thing, your eyes another,” he warned.

“I can’t help it
my eyes don’t match my words. It’s a hereditary defect, that’s all.”

“If anyone knows
hereditary defects, it’s me, sweetheart.” His head jerked to the closed bedroom
door.

“You’re not
defective,” she disagreed.

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“By coming with
me outside. We’ll face your fears head on, no holds barred.”

Charlotte slowly
removed her body from his arms. “I—I can’t.” When he did not interrupt, she
added, “It’s too soon,” once again staring at his face.

“It’s never too
soon to face your worst nightmare then go on from there.”

Her head whipped
toward his. “H—how…?” she sputtered.

He raised his
hand, stopping the argument. He then lowered his hand, open palm up. “Trust me.
I know what is stopping you, why it has all these years, and exactly what to do
about it so we can move on from there. I need you on my side. Until you conquer
this, I can’t, in all good faith, allow you in the field. You’ll be stuck with
desk duty, hating me for hiring you—just plain out hating me, most likely using
my head for target practice.”

She cautiously
placed her hand into his, her heartbeat jumping a few bars. How could he
possibly know what her worst nightmare was when she wasn’t exactly certain
herself? He then bent down, his mouth near her ear, drawing gooseflesh to her
arms. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he promised.

What choice did
she have? Step back from all of this, run for the hills, or face her fears and
get on with her life?

“Promise?” she
probed.

Nolan looked
deep into her eyes, making her believe anything was possible if allowed the
control. “I will stake my life on this promise,” he said.

“You’ll have to
stake your life on it, if I let you go through with this. This is torture. You
do know this, right?”

“I know.” His
soft smile proved it.

“If anything
happens to me…”

“Nothing will
happen to you that you don’t want happening. You will be in control. I’ll be with
you every step of the way to make certain of the outcome.”

“What if the
outcome is more nightmares?” She would not be able to stomach more if it
happened.

“I guess we’ll
cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Charlotte’s
breath lodged, her knees growing weak. In all good faith, she was not about to
tell him she had a phobia of bridges, too. Everything about her was due to one
very tragic night in her life, a night she could not shake.

Chapter Nine

Two hours later,
Charlotte was cussing him out like there was no tomorrow.

“I hate you!”
she screamed.

Nolan lay on his
stomach, holding the rope. “I know. You’ve informed the entire world just how
much you hate me.”

“You ass! When I
get out of this…”

“I’m hoping this
will be soon, sweetheart. My arms are getting tired.”

“Don’t you dare
fucking let go of this rope!”

“Wouldn’t dream
of it,” he said, hiding his smile again. She couldn’t see it, but guilty
conscience certainly could.

“What the hell
are you doing?” Devon asked, scaring the crap out of Nolan, his hands slacking
on the grip to the rope. He’d never heard his brother’s approach, Charlotte
cussing him out again for dropping her a foot or two. Okay, maybe three feet.
It was hard to tell from this distance.

“Did you just
fucking lower me?” she screamed up at him.

Devon peered
over the side, looking down the hole. “She’ll never get out of there,” he said
nonchalantly.

“The point is
for her to try to work through this,” Nolan smarted, bringing the rope up one
more foot. He’d been doing this every ten minutes, hoping she’d climb without
his help. So far, all he dealt with was a lot of anger directed at him, his
family jewels threatened, and his life on the line if he did not get her out of
there within five seconds.

That was
forty-five minutes ago. When one as terrified as she was, track of time no
longer exists. The phobia takes over, producing anger and dissertation. He was
trying to get her to conquer this, doing it boot-camp style.

“Pushing this a
little too far?” Devon asked, shoving half a banana into his mouth, food Nolan
paid for and Devon constantly ate.

“Not far
enough,” Nolan grumbled, inching the rope upward again.

“Devon? Is that
you?” Charlotte yelled.

Devon looked
down the hole. “In the flesh. Need some help?”

“Get me out of
this!” she screamed. “And kill your brother for me before I get up there. I’ll
maim the corpse into smaller pieces. That should suffice…for now.”

Devon stepped
away from the hole, laughing. “This is not how a man works his way into getting
laid by a hot babe, bro.”

“I don’t plan on
getting laid, Devon. I plan to have a willing partner who can trust me without
pause. So far, she’s got a huge hang-up about trust.”

“By dropping her
down a mineshaft at the end of a rope any trust issue is going to change for
the better?”

Nolan turned his
head. His brother had no clue. “No. By making her face her fears it is going to
change her attitude for the better,” he said, getting the expected raised brow.

“You’re one twisted
bastard. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Daily,” Nolan muttered,
his attention reverting to the hole. He could just make out the top of her
head. She’d made progress in the last five minutes.

One hour later, Charlotte
was outside the shaft, standing on solid ground, filthy and covered in cobwebs.
She balled her right fist, drew her arm back and punched him square in the eye.
Nolan took the beating, knowing he’d deserved it. But damn, she had one hell of
a right hook.

“I fucking hate
you!” she screamed in his face.

The added upper
cuff to his jaw two seconds later he did not expect, Nolan stumbling backward,
unprepared for the impact. She then stomped her way to the farmhouse, her
clothing covered in sweat, dirt, and a few hundred years of coal dust.

“I fucking hate
him!” she yelled at no one in particular, although Devon was holding the back
door open for her, allowing the venom-spitting viper entrance before she burst
into flames.

Upon seeing him
walk their way, Devon closed the door in his face and turned his back on him.
“I’d hate him, too,” his brother agreed, “if in your shoes.”

In horror, Nolan
watched his twin put his arm around Charlotte, guiding her toward the kitchen,
a quick glance over his shoulder, a selective move that warned he’d won this
round without ever stepping foot into the ring.

“Do you know
what he…” she started. Charlotte’s voice then trailed off as his twin moved her
along the hallway toward the bedroom. Two seconds later, she stopped dead in
her tracks, whipped around, stared at him, Nolan now standing in the kitchen
with an ice pack to his face. She turned her back on him, slamming the bathroom
door shut, ignoring Devon’s comfort and guide to the bedroom.

Nolan sat down at
his kitchen table, holding the ice pack to his swelling eye.

“I say you
deserve the shiner, but I wouldn’t want you dropping me down a mineshaft for
speaking my mind.”

“She’ll get over
it,” he muttered.

“Ah, but will
you?” Devon said cryptically.

Nolan raised his
head. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You and she…”
His head jerked to the closed bathroom door. “She’s pretty miffed. I doubt
she’ll let you do to her what you already did.”

“Would you get
off your high horse and stop the sex inquiry?”

“Why?”

“It’s pissing me
off,” he muttered.

“You’re only
pissed because I’m right…and you’re wrong, as usual.”

“Wrong about
what, might I ask?”

“Dropping a
beautiful woman down a hole just to force her into facing her fears was as
dumbass a move as you could make, even for you.”

“It wasn’t
dumb,” Nolan protested.

“No?”

“No. What I did
was necessary.”

Devon reached
for a beer, grabbing two cans instead of one. “Fine, don’t call it a dumbass
move. Call it fucking brilliant, because you not only paved the way for my expertise,
I’m going to jaunt down that road a very happy man.” He then started toward the
bathroom, Charlotte still inside, most likely taking a shower.

Nolan could hear
the water running, the old pipes creaking. He would not put it past Devon to
waltz into there while Charlotte taking her shower, get the heat, but gain the
goods in the end.

“Don’t you dare
work your way into this,” he warned his twin, his smarting jaw clenched, pain
shooting through his head.

“Work my
what
?”
Devon asked, halting mid-stride. “My way?” He turned and they faced each other
like raging bulls.

“Don’t you dare come
here thinking you can take another woman away from me. This isn’t high school,
Dev. Besides, it did not work the last time you tried, and it won’t work to
your favor this time.”

“I did not
take—” His head turned to the sound of the water shutting off.

In the interim, Nolan
stood and slammed his fist on the table. “Yes, you did!” His face tight, he
avoided eye contact for as long as he could, the anguish of his memories still
raw.

“She came to me
freely. Same as this one will, if you keep up a bitter attitude that all women God
created evil and intent only on shooting you in the back. Charlotte is not
Charity, Nolan.”

“But she is my
partner, so leave her be,” he forced out.

“Then act like
she’s your partner, goddammit. Stop blaming others for your mistakes. I should not
have to be the one to remind you of this.”

“I’m not bla—”

Nolan stopped
dead in his tracks, Charlotte’s eyes suddenly glued on him. She was standing in
the doorway, her head wrapped in a towel, another around her body and neither
man had even heard or noticed her entrance.

He cleared his
throat, lowering a one-eyed gaze, since his left eye was swollen shut in spite of
the ice.

“I’m not a toy, Nolan,”
she warned hotly. “Didn’t you hear me clear enough when I told you this?”

He groaned as the
agony in his face increased. “I never said you were.”

“I won’t be
bullied into easing your conscience about what you did to me. No sane person
pushes someone down a hole and then says ‘trust me’. Claustrophobia is not
something to take lightly, asshole.”

Devon cleared
his throat, holding back a grin. When Nolan glared at him any potential for
amusement collapsed, tenfold.

“And I won’t be
shared by two men who can’t hide their hatred for each other,” she said.

Devon looked at Nolan,
shrugging his shoulders. They did not hate each other. Their opinions clashed,
nothing more. All twins had this affliction.

“I know about
men like you,” she challenged both.

Nolan was too
startled to respond. Men like him? What the hell kind of man did she see him as
being?

“One twin pisses
me off, the other takes up the slack. Seen it before, done it before.” She stepped
into the kitchen, grabbed the second can of beer out of Devon’s hand, and then
stormed toward the back porch, slamming the door in her wake; her words loud
and clear through the screen. “And I bloody hell won’t do it again!”

She must have
forgotten she was wearing only a bath towel, but Nolan could not get it out of
his head, his pulse quickening.

“That went
well,” Devon said, foolishly poking the bear with a cattle prod. “Did I at all
say I was going to share her with you?”

Nolan growled at
his twin then headed out after her. He had to make amends for his earlier poor
choice. Yes, dropping her down the mineshaft to get her over fear of buried
alive was a dumbass move, but Charlotte survived the ordeal—even got out
without too much help. He’d do it again if needed. The real test would come
tomorrow, putting any potential partnership on the line. Tomorrow she would
have to shoot him. He wasn’t at all looking forward to it.

He stepped
outside, looking for a woman worthy of a prized fighter title. His jaw hurt
like hell, her balled knuckles still felt against bone and flesh, his eye
socket in utter agony. He found her sitting at the end of the porch, beer can
in hand, head turned away from him.

“Leave me alone,
Nolan,” she said, never turning around to see who it was.

“How did you even
know it was me? I could have been Devon.”

“I smelled you,”
she said waspishly.

His soft chuckle
never reached her ears.

“Smelled me?” He
sniffed his armpits. Yes, he did need a shower, but from ten feet away she
could actually smell him?

“Your shit
stinks…even if you don’t think it does.”

“Oh, yeah? Well,
your shit stinks like high hell, Ms. Raven. Don’t call the kettle black…”

Charlotte
whipped her face toward his, glared, and then turned back to stare off into the
night sky. She took a sip of the beer as he moved forward, sitting next to her
without permission.

“Why did you do
it?” she asked him, seemingly forcing her gaze up and away from his. He could
see she was doing everything in her power not to let down her guard.

“Drop you down
there?”

She shook her
head. This time, she turned and stared at him. “No. Why did you hire me? You
don’t trust me to trust you, so this is not going to work. It’s a waste of our time
to think we can ever be partners.”

He set his hand
on her lower arm, Charlotte flinching.

“Ah, come on.
You can’t hate me this much, do you?” When she did not respond, he continued.
“I don’t do anything that is a waste of my time.”

“I’m sitting on
your porch in a bloody bath towel. You don’t care that my clothes were tossed
into your room by your brother, and consequentially non-retrievable at this
point. I can’t stop shaking from what you did to me today…”

He put his arm
around her, drawing her close. The trembling he felt under his arm made him feel
horrible. Still, he’d do it again. A destructive path was a challenging path,
easily overcome if in the right setting, and he’d wanted her to overcome at
least one of her fears before the end of two weeks.

“I’m sorry, for
what it’s worth,” he began.

Charlotte did not
pull out of the offered comfort. She eventually leaned into him, accepting his
arm around her.

“I never thought
it would get to me,” she said softly.

“The dark?”

She shook her
head. “No, the fear. I was much tougher than this, until, you know…”

He drew back,
staring at her profile. There was definite moisture pooling in the corners of
her eyes.

“When did it start?”
he probed, knowing this was a huge step toward progress between them.

Charlotte
shrugged, taking another swig of beer.

“It’s probably in
your records. All I have to do is read them again,” he said.

“I know,” she
muttered, almost inaudible.

“It’s not going
to go away, no matter what you or I try to do to each other. Guilt is too
strong of an emotion to work past on first try.”