The Last Stand of Charlotte Dodd: Fun, Action Chick Lit Spy Saga

by Holly Kerr

  “Doesn’t have to be awkward if you need to ask Charlie the same.” Pippa grins. “I’ve been wondering that myself, now that she’s a married woman and all. What about it, Lottie?”

  I fidget with the placemat, bending the plastic corner. “We’ve talked about it.”

  “Nothing is going to happen if you only just talk about it.”

  “It’s a big decision. I’d have to give up…things.”

  “Everything?” Pippa demands.

  I sigh. “It kind of feels like that. But then I look at you.” I glance at Tenley. “And you’re still doing it all.”

  “But Lucy is nine. I’m not sure what I would have done if this all happened when she was still a baby. That probably doesn’t help you.”

  “Yes, but you wouldn’t have been trying to date dodgy Englishmen when Lucy was a babe, and that’s what brought you to us,” Pippa points out. She raises her glass. “To Colin Darcy.”

  Tenley laughs awkwardly. I notice that while she doesn’t mind talking about her beginnings with the Agency, she rarely brings up the MI-6 agent and their one memorable date. “True. You don’t have to give up everything, Charlie. Sure, you might have to take some time away from being a field agent, but there are tons of things you can do from the inside.” Tenley holds up her hand as the waitress goes by. “I think I need another one of these.” She drains her martini in a healthy mouthful.

  We order another round as I contemplate life not being a field agent.

  There’d be less danger, less coming home with painful bruises. No more being chased, getting shot at, having to fend off two-hundred-pound men looking for revenge. No more—

  Excitement.

  My biggest fear about retiring from the field is that I’ll be bored. I’ve never been one for office work. “I don’t know if I could give it up,” I say quietly, keeping my gaze on the corner of the placemat.

  “I think it’d be worse giving up this,” Pippa retorts as the waitress delivers our fresh drinks.

  “It’s worth it, though,” Tenley promises. “You’d have a baby. A little Ham.”

  “All done up in ties and cufflinks.” Pippa laughs. “You’ve got to tell me—does the Boss Man loosen up in the bedroom?”

  My cheeks redden. “I’m not telling you anything.”

  “If you don’t, I’ll hold you down and tell you all the dirty tricks Declan and I get up to.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  “Aye, but—”

  “Did we miss our chance?” A voice interrupts Pippa’s retort. In unison, our gazes look up at the four men hovering behind Pippa.

  I noticed them move into our alcove a few minutes ago, but didn’t say anything because they weren’t bothering us. Now, however, they’ve invaded our personal space.

  Four well-dressed businessmen out for a relaxing round of drinks after work shouldn’t be a problem. We’ll just tell them to be on their way. But as I open my mouth to give them the cold shoulder, Pippa beats me to it.

  “And what would that chance be for?” She slings her arm around the back of her chair and gives them a smile.

  It wouldn’t be my method of giving the cold shoulder, but maybe she has a plan.

  “To buy you lovely ladies a drink.” Tall, blond and almost too good-looking takes the lead. His white smile drifts around the table, locking on Tenley.

  Pippa laughs. “It’s been a long while since I’ve been called lovely. Or a lady, mind you that.”

  Another one steps up, this one just as natty in a suit and tie, but with a sly expression on his narrow, fox-like face. “The accent. It’s…sexy,” he finishes with a leer.

  “Sexy, you say? I’ll be sure to tell my ancestors. They’ll surely appreciate being called sexy.” She turns back to the table. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, boyos, we’ve got some things to discuss.”

  “Boyos!” The lead chuckles and pulls out the empty chair beside me. “You ladies don’t need boys tonight. I’m here offering you men.” He smiles broadly at me as he sits down.

  “He sat down.” Pippa’s voice is dry as she looks at me.

  I nod my head solemnly. “He did.”

  “I didn’t hear you issue any invitation.”

  “Because there was no invitation issued. Not by me.”

  “Nor by me,” Tenley adds.

  The lead spreads out in the chair, resting an elbow on the back of mine. “What’s the matter? You don’t want me to sit with you? Or my friends to buy you drinks?”

  The other three men move closer so that one is beside each of us, effectively blocking us off from each other, as well as our easy escape. Our little alcove is still empty.

  “We have our own drinks, thank you very much,” I say, hunching my shoulders to avoid his touch.

  “You’re just a little thing, aren’t you?” The man at my shoulder leans down close enough for me to smell the Scotch on his breath. “Adorable.”

  Pippa laughs. “Oh, she’s adorable, she is.” She meets my gaze. No words are needed.

  Tenley obviously sees the mental telepathy happening between us. “I think you boyos should leave us to our chat,” she suggests in a polite but firm voice.

  “We’re no boys.” The lead’s voice is as firm as Tenley’s. “Now. Let’s get us all another round of drinks.”

  Tenley lifts her eyebrow. “I think we’re outnumbered.”

  Pippa smirks. “It doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Some people are just beautifully wrapped boxes of shit.”

  LightUpTheSoul

  “You look so lonely back in the corner like this.” The lead smiles with his teeth, but not his eyes. He puts a hand on my thigh. “So cute.”

  He put his hand on me.

  If I was a normal woman, I’d be running out of the bar. But since I’m me, I just want to remove his hand.

  From his body, preferably.

  “Oh, we’re never lonely, are we girls?” Pippa’s voice is tight and clipped and anyone who knew her would be moving far away, as fast as possible. “But I am concerned about the numbers here. What exactly is your end game here, with the drinks you’re proposing? Just to make it clear.”

  The lead gives us a wolfish smile. “I’ll make it crystal. We’ll buy you drinks. Then we’ll leave—together—and see where the evening leads us.”

  Pippa frowns, holding up her fingers like she’s counting. “There’s four of you and only three of us. That’s not very clear.”

  The guy behind her chair leans over and I notice him taking a good, hard look at her chest. “We like to share.”

  Pippa laughs and throws her head so that the back of her head smacks him in the nose. He rears back with a cry. “Sorry about that.”

  Before the lead guy can react, I slide out of my seat and onto his lap. He’s still wearing his jacket with a cashmere scarf hanging around his neck.

  “Oh, hey, there.” He grins.

  “Do you think they’re feckin’ joking?” Pippa asks.

  “Oh, I don’t think they are.” With a smile, I touch his scarf. “This is so soft. Cashmere?”

  “Of course.” He raises a hand to adjust it.

  I grab both ends and a quick move of my hands has the scarf wrapped around his neck, trapping his hand.

  “What the—?”

  Rising up on my knees, I jab punch the one behind me straight into his pelvis bone, an inch above where it would really hurt. He gives a high-pitch squeal of fear. “That’s me joking. Want me to try lower?”

  He backs away so fast that he stumbles over a table at the same time as I elbow the lead in the face. Again. And again. His head jerks back but he can’t go anywhere because I’m still holding the scarf around his neck. His lip is cut and bleeding.

  I smile only when I notice his expression is suitably terrified. Then I lean into him, and bring my mouth close to his ear.

  “Never, ever, put your hand on a woman unless she asks you to.” I rear back. “Do you und
erstand?”

  “I—so sorry,” he says, his breath coming in gasps. “Very sorry.”

  “You should be. And you will be even sorrier if I ever find out you pulled a stunt like this again. Because next time,” I pat his hand, still trapped by his ear. “I won’t just tie up your hand. I’ll cut it off. And I’ll feed it to her.” I nod at Pippa, who has one on the floor seated by her chair, his head secured in a headlock. “Because they eat those types of things in Ireland.”

  “Oh, we bloody well do not,” she cries.

  At that moment, the waitress comes around the corner. Her eyes widen as she takes in the scene. “We’re good here,” Tenley calls, standing up, with her booted foot on the chest of the fourth. But the waitress backs away, her hand at her throat. “Dammit.”

  “These boyos are just leaving anyway,” Pippa says. “Aren’t you now?” She releases her hold as I crawl off the lead’s lap, not letting go of the scarf until I’m on my feet.

  “You’re insane,” he says, jumping up so quickly he knocks the chair over.

  “No, we’re women who don’t take shit from men like you,” Tenley corrects. “Get used to it.”

  They shout for the police as they race for the door.

  “Bloody hell,” Pippa grouses. “Did you leave a mark?”

  I nod as Tenley throws money onto the table. “My elbow caught his lip. Blood.”

  “Dammit.”

  “I agree. We’ve got to go.” I snatch up my coat and head for the main room of the bar. But the way is blocked by a large group surrounding the men, several of which are on their phones.

  “Them?” A voice shouts.

  “They’re insane!” The lead pervert cries, his voice still high with fear.

  “You’re not going anywhere until the police come.” A man barrels through the crowd towards us. I suspect he’s the manager or at least someone with authority.

  “Back door?” Pippa hisses between her teeth.

  Tenley shakes her head. “There isn’t one.”

  “No bathroom windows either,” I say.

  “This place isn’t up to fire code,” Pippa complains. “We can fight our way through.”

  “That might not be the best idea,” Tenley says.

  “Too late anyway.” I catch sight of the uniformed officers at the door and my heart sinks. Ham is going to be furious.

  And then I see Ham.

  With Declan right behind him.

  “Shite,” Pippa murmurs.

  Chapter Twelve

  “When love is real, it doesn’t lie, cheat, pretend, or keep secrets.”

  Unknown

  It takes Ham and Declan four minutes to get us out of the bar and they do it without uttering a single word to us. Ham locks his gaze with mine only once with a raised eyebrow and I shrug. Then he goes to the police officer who is attempting to calm the men down.

  I have no idea what he says, but the police are soon nodding. “We’ll take care of this,” Ham says to the lead guy, who holds a napkin to his bleeding lip.

  “Who the hell are you?” he splutters.

  “Special investigative service,” Declan says.

  “What’s that even supposed to mean?”

  Ham motions us forward and grips me by the arm. “Let’s get you out of here,” he says loudly. Declan takes Tenley and Pippa.

  Just as we’re free of the crowd, I notice the waitress standing off to the side. “Be careful of guys like that,” Tenley says to her. “And learn to defend yourself.”

  “Don’t take their shite,” Pippa adds, as Declan shushes her.

  “Don’t shush me!”

  “I don’t want to have to bail you out of jail,” he hisses.

  “How did we get out of that?” The cold air makes me gasp and Ham lets go of my arm so I can pull on my jacket.

  “Exactly.” Tenley tries to stop in the middle of the sidewalk, but Declan frog-marches her along. “How did you know we were there? And how did you know to come then?”

  “We monitor 9-1-1 calls,” Ham says like that’s an everyday occurrence. “When I was notified there was a disturbance involving three women in a nearby bar, I surmised it was you and came as quickly as I could.”

  One glance at Pippa and Tenley shows I forgot to mention that fact in the training. “It could have been someone else,” I mutter.

  “But it was you. Do I want to know why the three of you were fighting in a pub?”

  “They put their hands on us,” Tenley says angrily. “They’re lucky they got out of there in one piece.”

  Declan frowns. “What do you mean, they put their hands on you?” He stops walking and now it’s Pippa who tugs him along.

  “I can handle myself,” she says. “But usually it doesn’t cause quite the ruckus. This all made me a bit peckish, you know. Anyone up for a stop at Chipotle? I quite like their burritos.”

  Ham takes my hand. “I’m glad you’re all right,” he says quietly. “This time there’ll be no lecture.”

  ~

  Mister meets us with a squeak of a meow when Ham and I finally make it home, and I scoop him up.

  “Did you at least have fun with Tenley and Pippa tonight?” he asks, toeing off his shoes at the door. He stretches out a hand for my coat before taking off his own. “Before you almost got arrested, of course.”

  “Do you think they really would have arrested us?” I ask, handing him my jacket before kicking off my shoes. “We were defending ourselves from unwanted attention.”

  “Yes, but I’ve no doubt that your defending yourself would have been a little more extreme than the average woman.”

  “Maybe.” I follow him into the kitchen just in time to hear his heavy sigh as he opens the fridge. “What happened?”

  “Other than I had to pick you up at a crime scene?” He takes out the container of cranberry juice, opens the freezer to pull out the vodka.

  I watch him fix himself a drink. “It wasn’t a crime scene. There was no blood. Not much anyway.”

  “Did you hurt them? I didn’t check.”

  Now it’s my turn to sigh. “I elbowed him in the face a few times and punched another one about an inch up from his package.” I touch Ham’s abdomen, below his belt. “They’ll survive.”

  “I’ve no doubt. But Charlotte,” He pauses under a serious cloud. “You do have to be careful, you more than the others. Your training…” He trails off with a chuckle. “You can be a very dangerous woman.”

  “Not to you,” I say coyly.

  “The police are still talking about the incident at the theatres last week.”

  “I forgot about that.”

  “They haven’t.” He takes a sip of his drink and pauses with the glass still touching his lips. “I’m sorry, I didn’t make one for you.”

  “It’s okay.” I take a bottle of beer out of the fridge. Ham gentlemanly opens it for me. “What’s wrong?” Not only did he not complain about stopping at Chipotle, but he’s also drinking at the end of the day, and my ever-polite husband forgot to serve me first. Something is up.

  “Let’s sit down.” Without waiting for me, he heads for the living room.

  I tag along with a worried frown, Mister scampering at my heels like I’m about to play. “Now I’m worried.”

  “Don’t be. It was a long day.”

  I sink onto the leather couch and tuck my legs under me. “Have you heard anything about Bryton?”

  Ham shakes his head. “He’s disappeared. We tracked him to where Evangelist last had him, but two days ago, the signal stopped transmitting.”

  My throat suddenly dries up and I have to swallow before I can speak. “Meaning?”

  “He’s still alive,” Ham assures me. “I would have heard if he’d been killed.”

  “How?”

  “It’s better not to know. I’m convinced he got away, but I have no idea how or where he is.”

  “But that should be a good thing, right? Better than Evangelist still having him.” He doesn’t answer. “It fe
els strange talking about him with you.”

  “It shouldn’t.” He sips his drink. “I take it memories have come back?”

  “I remember things. Feelings.” I set the bottle on the table beside me, only to pick it back up and take a mouthful. Anything to prolong having this conversation. “I have feelings for him. Had.” I correct quickly. “I had feelings for him.”

  “I know. At least, I suspected. You never confirmed it.”

  “I guess I’ve never been one for talking about things like that.”

  He smiles wryly. “Makes two of us.”

  “But that doesn’t mean anything for us. When we find him, nothing will change.”

  Ham draws me close. “I know, Charlotte.”

  We sit together in the dark, the only light coming from the kitchen. The living room feels empty, filled with nothing more than the couch, a matching chair and flat-screen television. I rarely use the room, preferring the cozy comfort of the kitchen, or curling up beside Ham in bed to watch TV.

  “I’d like to put up a tree,” Ham says, which makes me wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about the room. “A Christmas tree.”

  “Well, I didn’t think you meant a palm tree,” I joke. “I like Christmas trees.”

  “This will be our first Christmas together.”

  I snuggle closer to him, resting my bottle on his leg. “I know. But what about the other years? Before.”

  My head bobs on his chest as he takes a deep breath. “We were together for four years. You lost seven years of your memory, but we were only together for four. In that time, we never spent a Christmas together.”

  I sit up and stare at him. “Really? Never?”

  “You were on missions; Maldives, Ecuador, Peru, and Athens.”

  “At least I was warm.”

  “You got into a bit of hot water in Ecuador. Literally. There was an incident with the target in a hot tub.”

  I push away the usual sense of loss when I discover something I should remember. “Ew, really? I have to go look that up.”

  “I wouldn’t.”