Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  It’s not a long walk to the beach, well, if you define beach as sand, I’m there already. Low sand dunes, covered in sparse grass, lead down toward the brilliant blue sea, sparkling in the harsh sunlight. As I make my way across the sand, lizards scuttle out of my way, and I cast a wary look around for snakes, not yet familiar with the wildlife in these parts. Perhaps I should have found out any possible venomous ones to look out for, before venturing out alone? Hmm, that probably would have been a good idea, but my one thought had been to escape, to put some distance between myself and the man who seems to have got me tied up in knots. Where has this jealousy come from? As he put it so bluntly, the way he wants to live his life has absolutely nothing to do with me.

  I walk on, having the urge to reach the water without really knowing why. Maybe the vast blue openness will help clear my mind. But I quickly realise I came on impulse and am not equipped for an outing; being so fair I’ll quickly burn under the blazing hot morning sun, already I can feel the heat attacking my skin. Oh, bugger it, I’m still determined to reach my goal.

  A five-minute trudge through the shifting sand and I’m there, the shimmering water just in front of me, a cool breeze blowing across the water taking some of the harshness out of the sun’s rays. Kneeling on the baking ground, grateful for the denim of my jeans protecting my knees, I put my head in my hands. Fuck, I’m so mixed up.

  I’d been so excited to be sent on my first assignment, even though it wasn’t the normal sort of case Grade A takes on, but still one sanctioned by my employers, and one for which I was getting paid. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ben expected a report of some sort from Sean, assessing my ability to work in the field, and what the fuck could he tell him? Lifting my head I gaze ahead, entranced by the waves approaching and receding, the only sound I hear coming from the murmur of water moving over the sand. Looking right, then left, I appreciate how lonely this place is. Then I remember.

  Oh shit! I’ve left my gun and phone in my handbag back at the house, and it dawns on me like a plank of wood hitting me round the head just how stupid I am. This isn’t Margate; this is Amahad, the country where Sean was kidnapped and shot only a few short months ago. How the hell could he report I’d make a good agent? I can’t look after myself, so how on earth could I be expected to protect anyone else?

  It’s his fault that I’m in such a tizz. Why couldn’t I have been sent as support for Ryan, Harry, or one of the other men? I’m sure I’d have my head screwed on better if I was working with somebody else. Sean’s been affecting me one way or another for God knows how long, and the recent revelations about him have my head in such a muddle I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. And that fantasy that made me come so hard last night? What the fuck was that all about? And then his outburst this morning. Of course, he’s right. It’s not my place to criticise him; we’re work partners, nothing else. I’m not in a relationship with him, and I never will be. And, unless I pull my socks up, I won’t have a job after this either.

  The sun’s beating down on my head, I need to get back. But before I can pull myself to my feet a shadow falls over me. I didn’t hear anyone approach. Rolling to my right to give myself space, I curl my body around and leap up, my hands held in a defensive stance, ready to fight, and then relax when I recognise the person who’s crept up on me.

  “Sean? How did you know where I was?”

  He opens, then hands me, a large beach umbrella and a bottle of water. “The Palace Guards don’t miss much, Nessa. They told me where you’d gone.” Nodding toward the sunshade, he adds, “Sit yourself under that, you’re going to burn if you stay out here much longer.” Then he points out, as he examines my face, “You’ve already caught the sun.”

  Shit! That’s really going to improve my complexion. “Shall we head back now?” I try to keep my voice even.

  “No, I need to talk to you.” Putting his long legs under him with an almost inaudible groan, he sits beside me in the shade. Of necessity, so the umbrella can shade both of us, closer than I would like. Or perhaps, not close enough.

  Feeling I need to get my side in first, I’m the first to speak, “Sean, I’m sorry…”

  His finger comes over my lips. “No need to apologise, Nessa.” Taking his hand away but not before I get the scent of the sandalwood soap he must have used, he looks away from me, out over the blue sea. “This is so fucked up, babe. Look, it’s obvious you think you’ve got feelings for me. That you think you fancy me.” As I gasp and go to protest, he touches his hand to my mouth again, “No, let me finish.” At my nod, he moves his hand and turns his head again. “I’m not the man for you, sweetheart, and deep down you know that.”

  At my indignant squawk of rebuttal, he again stops me from remonstrating and denying any attraction to him, this time by putting his hand in the air. “Be honest, Nessa. You were jealous this morning. While that’s flattering, this isn’t the right place or time, and I’m not the right person.” His hands do that characteristic swipe through his hair. “And this situation? I’ve no idea how it’s going to end. Nessa, you’re a beautiful woman, but what you are looking for isn’t what I’m able to give. You need a nice guy who’ll do the relationship thing.”

  Remembering my thoughts of last night, he doesn’t have a clue what I’m after. “Sean, I don’t…”

  “Please, Nessa, be honest.” He points his hand toward me, and then back at himself, “Us― working together is a bad idea. I thought that when Ben suggested it, but he seemed to see some merit in the notion.”

  I draw in a sharp breath, and suddenly I’m worried, for my future. He’s put it so plainly. Have I cocked up that much? “Are you going to send me back?” My words come out as a whisper.

  “What? No! What the fuck gave you that idea?” He’s surprised I even considered it. “We’ve just got to keep things professional, sweetheart. No more discussions about BDSM for a start. Look, I won’t deny if you offered me something, babe, I’d take it, you’re a lovely girl, and you could easily tempt me. But I wouldn’t be giving you anything back; I just can’t. I don’t do relationships, and you wouldn’t want a quick fling.”

  I might, just to be with you, even if it was only the once. Mentally, I slap myself. However attractive he is, however much he appeals to me, and however much I’d like to be subjected to the expertise that must come from his experience, he’s right. A one night stand isn’t who I am or what I’m after. If I ever wanted to go there again, I’d like the pretence something might turn into a relationship even if it didn’t work out.

  He doesn’t say anything more, and I don’t trust myself to open my mouth. For a while we sit in silence, staring at the waves approaching and receding until I recognise it’s time to pull myself together and put my professional hat back on.

  “So, what’s next?” I say, brightly, as if we hadn’t just been skirting around the subject of having sex, “We plough through the files?”

  “Already done that,” his voice trails off, and when I glance at him, his eyes have tightened as though he’s in pain. He stares out at the sea, before turning back to me. “I know who Mollie’s mother is, Nessa.”

  Something about his reaction tells me exactly who it is. “It’s her, isn’t it? The one who returned your wallet.” I’d put money on it being the one I’d have given anything for it not to be. The picture that had him so entranced.

  “Yes.” After his simple confirmation, for the moment, he doesn’t offer any more.

  I sit quietly, realising the implications, already having read the signs. This woman means more to him than any of the others. This one he remembered. He liked her. So, what will happen when he finds her? And if he’s so close to locating her, does this mean our time here is nearly over? Even if we can’t have anything together, it means something to me that I’ve had this opportunity to be partnered with him. I doubt he’d volunteer to work with me again.

  “She’s trouble, Nessa.” His voice, coming out of the blue, startles me. “She was kicked out of Am
ahad when she was caught cheating at the casino.”

  My mouth drops open; that wasn’t what I’d expected. “Oh shit, Sean. What did she do?”

  “Hand mucking.” At my quizzical look, he continues, “Hiding the better cards to replace them for poorer cards later in the game. She’s an expert at it, apparently.”

  A card shark? “Was she prosecuted?”

  Sean gives a quick shake of his head, “No. Apparently, they didn’t want the bother or the fuss, so she was deported from the country.”

  “Do you know where she went? Or where she is now?” Perhaps it’s not going to be so easy to find her. After having accepted our time together was nearing an end, my mind does an abrupt about turn at the thought I might have longer with Sean. Will I survive it? Right at this moment, I don’t know if I wouldn’t prefer to have this case wrapped up and concluded so I can go back to admiring him from afar.

  Idly running his hand through the sand, he gives me more details, “Not yet. Cara’s trying to track her down. She wasn’t using her real name, she acts under a number of aliases, and Cara’s already come across several. The police want to question her under several different false names in several countries across Europe. For fraud and robbery.”

  Fuck. That doesn’t sound good. “Are you certain it’s her?”

  Sean turns his attention to the sea again, and says, softly, “Four months ago, she booked into a private clinic where she delivered a baby. It’s her, Nessa; it’s her. And she’s a wanted criminal.”

  “Is Interpol looking for her?”

  “According to Cara, not yet. Cara’s joined the dots, but the authorities haven’t; they’re still looking for different women.”

  I’m amazed that Cara’s got so far so fast and, again, I find myself in awe of her skills. “How does Cara do it?”

  “She’s a bit like you in that respect. She researches patterns which others miss. Of course, she’s not one hundred percent sure, but it’s highly likely that as Mollie’s mother is a felon, she could very well have crossed some people that perhaps she shouldn’t have crossed. And that’s why she’s in trouble and left her daughter with me.”

  I put my arm round him, and pat him on the back in an imitation of the man hug I’ve seen my male colleagues give to each other. Just a gesture of support. Then I get to my feet, “Come on then, I suppose the next step is finding her.”

  As he stands I notice him favouring his right leg, and I grimace, suddenly full of remorse that my hasty exit has caused him to walk over the loose sand; obviously not beneficial considering his injury. One more thing for me to feel guilty about. But it would make it worse if I mentioned it, intuitively knowing he doesn’t want people to draw attention to his weakness. I stay quiet as I watch him put on his aviator sunglasses, my eyes greedily soaking in his model handsome features. My gaze lingers a little too long, and he wraps his arm around me, hugging me close. A brotherly hug.

  “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you’re looking for, Nessa,” he says, softly.

  I shrug, taking one last glance out over the gleaming water, thoughts of yesterday evening’s conversation going through my head, as well as my late night fantasy. I might have to give up my dreams of being the one to make Sean settle down, but when one door closes, why not open another? My voice decisive, I ask, “When we’re home, will you take me to Club Tiacapan?”

  By the tensing of his muscles, I know my request has surprised him. He turns me around to face him, and his hand gently caresses my face. It takes all my willpower not to lean into his touch. “I can’t be your Dom, Nessa. I can’t be the one to introduce you to the lifestyle. I’ve already told you I can’t offer you what you want.”

  Giving a short laugh I respond, “I’m not in the market for a Dom, Sean. I’ll be looking for a sub.”

  Chapter 14

  Sean

  She’ll be looking for a sub? Fuck, I didn’t see that coming. It takes everything I’ve got not to laugh out loud. A few seconds ago, I wouldn’t have believed anything could distract me from the issue of finding the missing mother of my child, but that statement stopped all other thoughts dead in their tracks. She thinks she’s a Domme?

  Unbidden an image comes into my mind of her slim, lithe figure strapped into a leather corset, her red hair falling down her back, thigh length black boots wrapping her slender legs, and wielding a whip. Her cheeks reddening with effort, freckles standing out as she lashes an unknown sub. Well, fuck me if that image doesn’t turn me on.

  I might have refrained from chuckling aloud, but I can’t stop a wide grin spreading across my face as I watch her striding ahead. I’m struggling to keep up, the loose sand playing havoc with my bad leg, weak muscles unable to compensate on the uneven ground. But my mind is racing ahead. If she’s a Domme, I’ll be very, very surprised. What the fuck could have given her that idea? I think back to our conversation the night before, re-running it in my head, but for the life of me, I can’t think what I might have said that could have left her with that impression.

  We’re still not quite back to the compound when I admit defeat and give it up. But heck, if she wants to give it a try, who am I to argue? Nessa a Domme. Now I do bark a laugh as we enter the palace gates, making her turn and toss me a strange look. But I shake my head to discourage any questions and wave my hand in the direction of the quarters which the palace has assigned to us.

  Having given up on breakfast, by the time we get back to the house I’m more than ready for something to eat, so as Nessa goes into the living area to catch up with the information we currently have about Danielle Smith, I go into the kitchen and throw together a quick snack. Taking a plate, I place it down beside her on the couch with strict instructions she’s to clear her plate. I wait, unmoving until she starts eating. She needs to eat.

  I smile to myself as she cleans it up, chewing and swallowing almost automatically as she continues to read, her face frowning every now and again as she clicks back and forth through the information Cara’s provided as though double checking the thought processes the Sheikha had followed. It’s about half an hour later when her face lights with excitement, and a little exclamation catches my attention. “What’s got you so animated?”

  She’s bouncing with excitement, “I’ve got an idea. Cara’s not the only one who can work with behaviour patterns,” she breaks off, looking down, obviously having something to ask. “Do you think it would be possible for me to pick her brain?”

  “Ha!” I laugh, “Is that a euphemism for getting her to hack into systems that you can’t?” I adore the way her cheeks redden all the bloody time. We’ll never be able to send her undercover.

  “Busted,” she laughs self-consciously, “But I could be onto something.”

  “Want to share?”

  She hesitates, “I’d rather I check it out first.”

  Now this is the Nessa I know, back home she’d always want to be one hundred percent sure of her facts before sending any operative on what could be a wild goose chase. This is what she should be doing, solving a puzzle, not toting a gun in her handbag. She should play to her strengths and someone ought to explain that to her. Wondering once again why Ben indulged her desire to be out in the field, I extract my phone from my pocket and dial a number; it gets me straight through to Cara’s office, and as luck would have it, she has some free time this afternoon. Having arranged the appointment, I ensure Nessa is provided with a guard-come-guide, and I’m left alone.

  Taking the opportunity to check in with Mum, I place the call to hear Mollie screaming in the background. The sound pulls at something inside me, and I wish I wasn’t three thousand miles away. But at the reassurance it’s perfectly normal and probably the beginnings of teething, my mind’s put at rest. And Mum tells me she’s stocked up with Calpol—a child-friendly painkiller, apparently—and a soothing gel, I know she couldn’t be in better hands. Especially when she adds that I’m not to worry when I apologise for taking advantage of her caring nature. Apparently, my s
ituation has provided her with some ideas for a future plot. I just hope she gives it a happy ending.

  Hmm. Wondering whether I’ll see something about how Mollie came to me featured in one of the soaps at some point and not too sure how I feel about that, I end the call with a smile on my face. Then I try to analyse why I’m wishing I was there to comfort my daughter, when only days before the sound of a crying child would have me running for the hills. It must be the knowledge that she’s mine. Mine to care for, mine to comfort, and mine to keep safe. Well fuck me, I would never have expected to feel this way.

  But at least I know she’s in good hands, and being well looked after by her caring and efficient grandmother. It gets me thinking about Danielle, and what she must have got herself into to make her so desperate as to give up her child. That’s, of course, presuming she wanted her in the first place. But then why put herself through nine months of pregnancy if she was only going to give her up? And, if that was always her intention, why wait until the baby was four months old before doing so? No, there had to be something which forced her into this position. Nothing else makes sense. And thief, liar, cheater, or not. I’ve got to find her.

  It’s late afternoon before Nessa returns, and from the satisfied look on her face as she enters the house, I know that her hunch must have paid off. But though I ask her, she refuses to give me any details, offering only the explanation that Cara is still following through on something and hopefully we’ll get an update later. Knowing Cara as I do, she’s probably working on her algorithms to hack into yet another system. I’ll have to apologise and thank Nijad and Kadar when I see them; I know they try to restrict her more nefarious activities which, at one time, was all but an addiction for her. I do know, however, Cara herself, will be delighted with this opportunity to flex her mental muscles again.