Love and Let Die (Masters and Mercenaries #5)(14)

It was over. He was too stubborn, too brutally slavish to his own code of conduct. He’d broken his rules for her once, but he wouldn’t again.

Maybe it was time to move on.

And then she heard it. A familiar wail of guitars and drums and Axl Rose’s voice blaring from inside the house.

One single memory flared to life. Ian spreading her wide and taking her for the first time, his face so serious as he worked over her. She’d held on to him for dear life, and when he was done, she’d known that she’d been caught in her own trap. She’d lain in his arms, this one song echoing from the club below.

Sweet love of mine

He had forgotten nothing if he was listening to that song. Not a single moment. All these years had passed and he was still listening to their song the same damn way she did, as though it could connect them across the distances.

It was so not over.

“Chelsea, I will murder you horribly if you harm a hair on his head.” She was the only one allowed to do that.

A low huff came over the line. “Way to talk to your baby sister.”

Her baby sister had become a shark with six rows of teeth, perfectly capable of ruining a man’s life without ever leaving her keyboard. “He’s my husband. He might be a dipshit, but he’s mine, and I will protect him so don’t think you can manipulate this situation. We’re not leaving. If that means I have to deal with a few assassins, then bring them on. Find Nelson for me. I need a full report on everything we have on him.”

Because she was planning a little meeting for her new team. An unnatural optimism came over her. Her first plan hadn’t gone gangbusters, but there was always another plan. The one she had in mind was absolutely certain to make her husband stand up and notice.

And potentially throttle her, but, hey, a girl had to take a few chances in life.

“I have to go. Get that report ready. I’ve got a meeting in the morning.” She caught a glimpse of Ian through his curtains as she hung up on her sister. He had a bottle in his hand. Damn it. He was going to make a long night of it.

He probably needed backup. Charlie was in the mood to confess.

She dialed Sean Taggart and was happy when he immediately answered.

“Kris? Is this you? Because we need to talk. What the f*ck is going on? Do you know what Adam is claiming?”

She was so glad she’d kept the number she’d given him. Typically she tossed a phone after an op, but she’d kept her Florida line. It made things easier. She was pretty sure she knew what Adam was telling everyone. “Hello, Little Tag. We definitely need to talk, but tonight Big Tag needs you more than me. He’s getting drunk off his ass because his wife just returned from the dead. You should probably get over here. Oh, and tell Grace I said hi. She looked really beautiful tonight.”

“What?” Sean’s voice shouted over the line.

Family counseling might be in their future. Maybe Eve had an opening. “Yeah, Ian might not have told you about me, brother, but I would make a bet that Adam is hunting down all the facts even as we speak. But seriously, he needs you tonight. As for tomorrow, tell the team I’ll see them bright and early. I have intel on Eli Nelson. I’ll need a conference room and a copy machine. Don’t worry, I know where they keep those.”

She could practically hear Sean’s frustration over the line. “Kris, you need to explain this to me right f*cking now.”

“No time. And the name’s not Kris. It’s Charlotte. Charlotte Taggart and I need to get my beauty rest because I’m going to have to run McKay-Taggart in the morning. Ian’s going to be too drunk and Alex is on his honeymoon. Talk to you soon.”

She hung up on her brother-in-law and turned the phone off just as it started ringing again.

Charlie began the long walk to her car thinking about how nice it was that Texas was a community property state. It was about time she laid claim to her half.





Chapter Three

Eli Nelson looked out over the Neva River. There was a fine mist over the water this early in the morning, but then Nelson had discovered that Saint Petersburg, Russia, stayed in a damn near perpetual gloom. Oh, they tried to brighten things up with red flowers and perfect green spaces, but Russia was just dark and dank most of the time no matter how much elegance the former czars shoved onto every street.

The sun was still hidden behind the never-ending clouds. There was a phrase he’d heard once about the hope for summer in Russia. The year was nine months of optimism and expectation followed by three months of disappointment.

Fuck, he hated Russia. One day he was going to have a little mansion on his own private f*cking island where the days were hot and the nights were filled with some serious *—and by serious he meant some dumb bitch who was less than half his age and didn’t know better.

He felt it the minute Denisovitch walked up behind him. The Hermitage was across the river, and there was already a long line of tourists waiting though it wouldn’t open for hours. The Naval Museum was at his back. He was caught in the middle of tourist hell, and that was the only way he would meet with this snake. The Russian mob might rule, but they preferred to do their dirty work in the dark.

Mikhail Denisovitch stepped up to the wall, leaning forward in his immaculate suit as though the fog and mist couldn’t touch him. Of course, he hadn’t come alone. Nelson let his eyes drift back to the little park overlooking the Neva. It was lovely, with bright red begonias and those damn white and green park benches. But they were all empty as though even the intrepid tourists knew that the two men currently occupying the gravel inlaid paths were not something to be messed with. Denisovitch never went anywhere without his enforcer, a big scarred man who didn’t really try to hide the fact that he was packing. He was an overgrown ape someone had stuffed into a suit, and he wasn’t smart enough to hide the bulge his gun made. Or perhaps that was at Mikhail’s request. Perhaps Mikhail wanted everyone around him to know that he was protected. It was a lesson Nelson was sure he’d learned from his brother.