Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(108)

Ian waited. His timing had to be perfect. Too soon and there would be too many men around. Too late and he would miss the boat. Literally.

Sean yawned a little, watching the workers scurrying around the tourists. “You seem happier today. Is that because we’re going to get to kill Nelson or do you have other reasons? You seemed determined to sleep in this morning.”

Yep, this was his life now. This was why real Agency men didn’t bring their brothers out into the field. So they didn’t have to have relationship talks in the middle of an op. “I took your advice. Let’s leave it at that.”

But Sean didn’t. A grin spread across his brother’s face. “Are you kidding me? You finally listened? Shit. I owe Adam some cash. I said you would stay stubborn to the end. Hey, big brother, you want to spot me a couple hundred?”

He was so not paying for his brother’s bad habit of betting on his love life. He had a love life. The thought of putting the words love and life together didn’t make him want to vomit. Though he would never say that out loud. Yeah, he bet Sean would have lost a bundle if he’d bet on that.

He was saved from having to reply by Damon’s voice coming over the transmitter in his ear. “All right, mates. So it’s almost time. From what I can tell, he only has a small dedicated security team with him, but you can bet the crew on board that yacht is likely trained as well. We’ve vetted them as much as we can. They all look like loyal Loa Mali citizens. We think he’s got roughly three women with him right now. We have no names on them. Remember your cover. You have to convince this man that you’re reporters who have a meeting to interview the king about his upcoming appearance at the United Nations next month.”

Baz’s voice came through next. “Your man Adam says he’s managed to break into the king’s secretary’s system so when he looks at the calendar, it will tell him he’s scheduled to pick you up here.”

With the liquor. Nice.

“Do you boys have your credentials? Now don’t tell me you got all lazy and left them in the car. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the nice folks who stayed up all night making sure your cover looks good.” The question came out on a lazy drawl, but Ian was pretty sure Ten thought this was his op.

He was about to find out otherwise.

“I have them,” Ian replied. They had gone to a whole lot of trouble to dummy up very respectable-looking credentials. He was supposed to be some reporter named Brian Klein from Newsweek. Sean was his photographer. It was an elaborate plan, the kind agencies like the CIA and MI6 loved to come up with. Ian would swear that most operatives really needed to be writing fiction. They could be so damn overdramatic. He and Sean were supposed to infiltrate the king of Loa Mali’s yacht under the guise of reporters getting a scoop and figure out if Kash knew anything without telling him what they were up to.

It was a stupid plan and it very likely wouldn’t work. Simplicity was really the way to go here. He needed to get the king’s attention. The king wasn’t known for liking reporters. But Ian knew what the man did like.

“So where’s our stowaway?” Sean asked. He’d wholeheartedly agreed to the change of plans, and Simon was up at the fort to make sure no one decided to run down in time to mess things up.

Ian couldn’t help but grin a little as he looked down the beach. Charlie had hopped into their Jeep after the rest had headed up to the fort. She’d kept her head down as they drove a couple of miles down Palolem Road. Now she made her way to them wearing exactly what Ian had asked her to wear. He’d had the bikini delivered along with her other clothes before they left the US. Thank god for personal shoppers. His breath nearly caught as he looked at her. Despite the bikini, she looked innocent, damn near angelic with all that hair and her soft eyes. She didn’t look at him as she approached, merely wandered down to the beach as if she didn’t have a care in the world. She could be so obedient when she wanted to be. “Here she comes. Do you think she’ll do?”

“Ian, we have trouble,” Damon said, his voice rising with urgency. “It looks like your girl got away from the nest. Good god. I think she’s trying to get your attention, mate. This could be very bad. I don’t think you spank her often enough.”

Oh, she had every bit of his attention. His wife. His sub. His. Just his. Fuck, he was in love with her and it felt damn good. It felt so f*cking good to just let go of all the shit between them. They weren’t exactly starting over again. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want to let go of a minute with her, even the bad stuff. The bad stuff was still theirs. But they did have a clean slate.

She walked toward him wearing a ridiculously small white bikini that showed off her every luscious curve. The beach was full of lovely women, many much more slender and fashionable than his baby, but she reeked of sex to him. Charlie walked with the confidence of a woman who was comfortable in her own skin, and that had every man with eyes following her with their stares.

Sean shook his head a little. “Damn. Yes, I believe she’ll do the job. What is wrong with you? You said she was wearing a bathing suit, not pasties and a thong. If I caught Grace wearing that little clothing outside a club, I would slap her ass red.”

When had his brother become such a prude?

“I’m not worried.” He winked at her as she started to walk by them. Her strawberry blonde hair caught the light as it swung down her back. She was never cutting that hair if he had a say. It nearly reached her ass. It was perfect for holding onto and controlling her during sex. He was getting a hard-on just watching that juicy ass sway as she strolled along. “They can look all they like. I’m confident I can kill anyone who touches her.”