Scars: A Killers Novel, Book 5

by Brynne Asher

  Our lips are inches apart when I lower my voice. “I’m not worried about people, sweetness. I’m only worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Not quite,” I rebuke. “But you’ll get there and you’ll do it under my thumb. It’ll be interesting but there’s no other choice.”

  Her eyes fall and her exhale fans my skin.

  “See? Even you know. The sooner we quit arguing, the sooner we can move forward.”

  She opens her eyes. These have to be the most honest and productive words we’ve exchanged so far. “It doesn’t mean I have to like it. As soon as I’m well enough to travel, I’ll be gone.”

  “You wouldn’t have to be gone if you told me why you’re here. You underestimate my desk job, Bella. I have contacts who have friends who have cousins who have step-siblings in dark places. The CIA logo might be on my business card, but that doesn’t mean I don’t wade around shit here in the U.S. when I have to. I just don’t do it on the record.”

  She hikes a brow. “Good on me. I’d be disappointed in myself for hooking up with a rule-follower.”

  I reach up and swipe a piece of hair out of her face. She doesn’t flinch at my touch, but her eyes flare. “I’ll make you a deal—you give me one month. If your name isn’t cleared in the next thirty days, I’ll personally stuff you in a crate and ship you back to Pakistan.”

  Her comment bounces back. “And if you do the impossible?”

  “When I do the impossible,” I correct, “you do what I want.”

  “I refuse to stop working, Cole.”

  I shake my head. “I’m done asking you to quit. It’s in your blood. I’ve learned that and will respect it. I swear I will. There are many ways for you to work that don’t include you living in Pakistan.”

  “Name your wager.”

  I pause, allowing the stagnant hospital air to hang between us and get a good look at her. Her blue eyes I’ll never get enough of. Her fair skin that I can’t wait to taste again. And her sheer, utter strength I feel, even now, though her body is broken and weak.

  I never want to forget this moment.

  It’s why, when I say the words, I know I’ll go to the ends of the earth to make them happen, despite every molecule in the universe working against us.

  “You’ll marry me.”

  Her quick intake of air is enough for me to know how she feels about my wager. I want to lean in and kiss her. Bury my hand in her messy long hair and my cock in her pussy—absolutely the sweetest I’ve ever had. It makes my insides do things it’s never done for anyone else.

  And I look forward to having it again. Soon.

  She loses a hint of her attitude. “I’ve answered that question too many times, Cole Carson.”

  I shrug. “Which is why I didn’t ask this time. Today, I’m demanding it. I clear your name—you marry me. We’ll figure out the rest after the fact. I’m not fucking around with details anymore.”

  She pulls in a big breath and I can tell she’s almost due for a pain pill. I see it in her eyes but I can also see her mulling over my offer. Which is why I don’t give her a chance to accept or reject it. She’s too proud to admit she needs my help.

  She’s also too scared to admit she wants me as much as I want her.

  “Bella.”

  Her eyes meet mine and they’re stormy with indecision.

  I choose for her. “It’s a deal. Get ready, sweetness. It’s game on.”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Oh, yeah.

  Game.

  Fucking.

  On.

  Chapter 3

  The Moment

  Bella

  “Do I look like I’m in the mood to babysit your fresh-out-of-the-box operative? This is not the case to toss your newb into the fire. I get why we need to partner on this, but I’m not going to be the bodyguard for your MI6 princess.”

  I look at the tall, dark, handsome, yet broody beast of a man standing opposite me in the briefing room. “Would someone please inform the foolish American my CV speaks for itself?”

  Cole Carson … his name alone sounds like an Old West character or a teeny bopper groomed by Disney to become the next pop-music sensation. He’s wearing trousers and a crisp, white linen button-down, rolled at the forearms. He’s got at least six or seven inches on me and I stand flat-footed at five-nine. But unlike my slight frame, he’s broad and looks like he could smash boulders with his ape hands and thick, veined arms. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’d been on holiday, lounging on the beaches of the Mediterranean for the last month. He’s clearly going for the wandering tourist and friendly bloke look.

  I grew up around covert agents. My family’s love affair with British Intelligence started with my grandfather. Then my father followed in his loafers. My older brothers—who put me through hell but also taught me hand-to-hand combat—are currently deep under and have been for some years now. My family was only moderately surprised when I announced my ambitions at the ripe age of eighteen. I’m not sure what else I would have done. I’m a Donnelly—this work pumps through my veins.

  I turn to the man who’s bloody scowled since our introduction. It’s time I put him in his place—we have a case to focus on. “For your information, I’m not new, nor do I need a nanny. I have two completed cases tucked in my garter. They need a lovey-dovey couple on this and I fit half that bill. I know my part and will play it well—I’ll garner all the attention so you can play the superhero. You can go ahead and thank me in advance for making you look good.”

  He narrows his eyes. “I don’t need anyone to make me look good, but I do need a partner who won’t crack under pressure and one I can count on to have my back. I highly doubt you’re that person.”

  “Well then, I’ll take that as a compliment as to how skilled I am. If I can fool a cocky bastard into thinking I’m not a threat, our target will have no clue.”

  His square jaw hardens as my words sink in. I’ve never let anyone fuck with me and the arse standing across the room will not be the first. I take a step and offer him my hand. “Carson, a pleasure, I’m sure.”

  Carrying out our little chat as though there isn’t an army surrounding us, he finally gives in. Shaking his head once, he moves, his hand swallowing mine as if he’s the whale and I’m the helpless guppy. He holds tight but I stand my ground, as I always do.

  He raises one thick, arched brow. “This will be interesting. What should I call you while I’m playing babysitter?”

  I tip my head. “Since we’re supposed to be lovers, I suppose you should call me Bella.”

  His hand squeezes mine tightly, no doubt trying to prove some idiotic point that he’s superior because he was born with a cock. “Fine. Do me a favor and don’t get me killed … Bella.”

  “Bella.”

  I look over from where I’ve been staring out the window. We’ve driven through the city and sat in a load of traffic. I forgot how the western world can get so congested. Now, the lush, green countryside rushes by and vines snake their way up tree trunks, strangling them—which is fittingly symbolic. I’m feeling sympathetic to those trees right now and bring my hand up to my own neck, forcing myself to breathe as my figurative noose tightens.

  I met Cole Carson when I was so green I might as well have been a female leprechaun, fit to live in the thick forests we’re driving through. It seems like a lifetime ago. So much has shifted since that day.

  He’s changed. I’ve changed. But our circumstances have changed more than anything. Our situations were barely compatible to begin with, but now the thought of being together seems utterly impossible, which is why his wager is as crazy as the man who’s basically taken me hostage. And the shitty thing about it is, I have no other options right now.

  Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place—though my place happens to be between an alpha male and being falsely accused of treachery. My situation is as stinky as dirty-donkey balls.

  I ignore
him and ask, “Are you taking me to the countryside to put me out of my misery and dump my body? Because I might not argue at this point—if you hit another bump in the road, my stitches may pop.”

  “You might be begging for that by the time the day’s over,” he mutters. “I need to tell you something.”

  I don’t take my eyes off the forest racing by. “I’m clearly here, Cole. If you have something to say, spit it out. As much as I want to, I’m too sore to jump from a moving vehicle today.”

  He sighs. “Lucky me, since I know you’d actually do it.”

  I turn to study his profile and can’t help but reminisce about the many times we’ve been like this—while working or stealing time between assignments. We knew our time together would end and we’d have to go our separate ways. Most of those times we never knew when we’d see the other again. It would make those moments electric with energy, deep with desperation. Not like we are now. I might talk a big game but I feel like complete rubbish. I have no idea when I’ll be strong enough to leave the States undetected, but it needs to be soon—much sooner than a month.

  I change my mind. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I don’t need to know any more than necessary for the few days I’m here.”

  “Days?” The word snaps me like a whip. “Sweetness, you agreed to a month.”

  I hardly agreed to a thing. I couldn’t. His deal brought back too many memories. Plus, he didn’t ask me to marry him. He informed me—a trait in Cole Carson that usually pisses me off, but at that moment it did something completely different. I don’t scare easily, but sitting on my hospital bed surrounded by the man I might want but with whom I know it will never work because of life circumstances … it cut deep.

  Looking back at him, I decide it’s time to stand strong and do what I planned when my private plane touched down in the US of A—take charge of my life and get shit done on my own. “I did not. You’re the one who came up with that horrendous deal. And, for your information, I don’t need your help clearing my name. I can bloody well do it on my own. I was on the path before I had to step in and save Jarvis.”

  He shakes his head. “A wager’s a wager. And I never lose. I’m remedying what should have been done years ago.”

  “You know what you can do with your wager,” I mutter.

  “I’m trying to do you a favor and explain some things, baby. Some shit went down and I had to make some changes since the last time we were together.” He steals a glance before looking back to the road and flips the signal to turn.

  “Fine. Tell me. I don’t know what could be so important that I need to know now. It’s not like we didn’t just spend a long week together in the hospital.”

  He shakes his head as he slows for an upcoming turn onto a narrow drive and drags a hand down his face. He’s frustrated, and since I know for a fact Cole manages international crises on a daily basis, this is not good. “It’s a long story and I wanted to fill you in before we get to the house.”

  “House?”

  “Like I said, things have changed.”

  I’ve never spent time with Cole in the States, never been to his home, or met his family. It was my choice. I knew our real lives would mix like oil and water, and there was that other little tidbit that I knew I was guarding my heart.

  But now I wonder if he slipped me an extra pain pill because I realize this doesn’t seem right. “Where are we?”

  He doesn’t answer, but creeps around one more bend when an old farmhouse appears.

  My eyes widen. “I thought you had a condo in Alexandria?”

  He says nothing and flips off the ignition, gets out, and rounds the car in a wink. He opens my door and holds out a hand. “Let’s do this.”

  That hits me in the gut. Those three little words might as well be Cole Carson’s tagline. If he’s said them once, he’s said them a million times. He’d say it on assignment or when we were alone in bed.

  Or in the shower.

  Or even once in the back of a cargo van.

  Then there was that one time at a gala in Berlin.

  Shit. I need to put that out of my mind.

  I pull in a breath as I carefully release my safety belt. Cole is pulling me to my feet, when the front door to the weathered house bursts open on its rusty hinges.

  Cole doesn’t let go of my hand and his other arm comes around to steady my weight when we turn to the noise.

  That’s when I see her.

  I gasp.

  “Damn you, Cole,” I bite under my breath and my eyes shoot to his. “You have some bloody nerve. I never thought you’d bring me here if she was with you. There’s no way I’d have agreed to this.”

  “I know. It’s why I didn’t tell you.” His arm around my waist tightens. “It’ll be fine.”

  It won’t be fine. I’m suddenly grateful for my pain killers because I cannot imagine how my insides would feel right now from them twisting in my gut.

  I look back to the house, to her. Pictures haven’t done her justice over the years because she’s even more beautiful in the flesh. Seeing her for the first time is too much and I reach out to grip Cole’s shirt. He instantly returns my squeeze.

  I can’t tear my eyes away and decide I’d rather take another bullet than walk into what’s waiting for me.

  Because she does not look happy.

  Cole

  This is the moment.

  The one I’ve been dreading and craving. For years, I’ve tried to convince Bella this would be okay. How it might be bumpy at first but I’d make sure to smooth it over in the end. And I would’ve been able to pull it off had I brought Bella into my life here years ago. Back when I merely had regular drama.

  Back before that drama grew into a shitstorm.

  The storm started five months ago—the worst of it parked on top of me and not budging. Life’s timing has never been on my side.

  But then again, my actions in the past haven’t helped much, either. This is one more reminder how fuckups keep coming back to slap me in the face.

  She doesn’t run to me, doesn’t call for me, and definitely doesn’t crack a smile. I’ve tried to explain over the last few days how I’m bringing a friend home. She asked me a million questions, as she always does, but none of them were about my friend.

  They were all about her mom.

  “Abbott.” The moment I call for her, Bella rips her hand away from me and tries to push from my side. My hand on her hip flexes, keeping her close because I’m done with her putting space between us—the tangible and figurative distance I’ve come to despise. I hold her tight and call for my daughter. “Come here. I want you to meet Bella.”

  Abbott leans into Red and shakes her head, her long dark curls swaying around her shoulders and arms.

  “You’ve kept a lot from me,” Bella mutters under her breath. “Don’t think you’re not going to pay for this later when we can speak privately.”

  I push her toward the house and lean in to whisper, “Abbott is with me all the time—I have full custody now. That’s not changing—ever. And because I can’t manage her on my own with work, Red moved in with me. I’ll explain the rest later.”

  I let go of her waist and collect her hand, pulling her forward. We come to a stop at the bottom of the porch where my daughter’s dark, leery eyes haven’t moved from the woman at my side.

  “Well, here she is,” Red growls.

  I instantly narrow my eyes on my father. He was told to be on his best behavior, at least to be a good example for Abbott. I don’t need to deal with him on top of everything else right now. “Bella, this is my dad, you can call him Red. Everyone does, including me.” I let go of Bella’s hand and move to my daughter, swinging her up into my arms and planting a kiss on the side of her head. “And this is my Abbott.”

  Bella might be tough as nails but one thing she’s not is rude. “Abbott. You’re more of a beauty in person than any picture your father has shared. It’s lovely to meet you. You, as well, Red.”

 
Abbott wraps her arms around my neck tighter than she normally does. “She talks funny.”

  I pull her to keep her from choking me. “Bella is British. She’s from England. I explained yesterday and showed you on the map how far it is from Virginia.”

  “I’m English,” Bella corrects me the way she’s done from the day we met. “I’m from England, so I’m English.”

  Abbott goes on like Bella isn’t standing here in front of us. “She still talks funny.”

  “It’s okay,” Bella excuses Abbott. “I suppose I do sound funny.”

  Red pipes in, “My granddaughter is used to redneck speak.”

  I sigh even though it’s the truth since Red is helping raise her.

  “Let’s get Bella into the house. She needs to get off her feet.” I set Abbott down and she turns for the front door, her hair flying after her as she runs away. Despite my attempts to prepare her for this moment, she’s just as pissy as I expected.

  “Well, this is going to be loads of fun,” Bella mumbles.

  I shake my head. The bullet didn’t seem to nick her sarcasm. It’s as strong as ever.

  “She’ll come around.” I hold my hand out to help her up the stairs. She takes it, which means she must need a pain pill.

  “Give me a couple of days and I’ll be out of everyone’s hair,” Bella says.

  “Good to hear,” Red belts. “Cole told me this could be a permanent thing.”

  “I’ve had about enough of you.” I glare at Red as I get Bella through the door. If I didn’t know better, I’d think she was casing the place to break into later. I should know, I’ve done it a thousand times—at times with her by my side. Those days were the best—way better than today. “I’ll get your bag after we get you settled. You can wear my T-shirts and sweats until I can get you some clothes.”