Scars: A Killers Novel, Book 5 Read online

  I veer Bella to my room on the main floor and Red heads to the kitchen where he grunts, “I’m doin’ it up special for the Queen tonight. Weenies and beans!”

  I barely get Bella to the threshold of my bedroom when she grits under her breath, “The Queen? He hates me, Cole.”

  I lean in and put my lips close to her ear. “He doesn’t hate you. I swear.”

  She yanks her hand from mine. “That’s hard to believe, but I hate you right now. I need a bed and a damn pain pill so I can get better and get the hell out of here.”

  Chapter 4

  Prison

  Bella

  Bangers and beans.

  I’m sure it’s the worst post-surgical meal—even if it is a step up from Jell-O. I could only stomach a bit.

  Between the pain, the meal, the company, and the setting, I think I’d fare better if I were captured and tortured behind enemy lines.

  I never thought I’d be here—in Cole’s home, his room, his bed. The times he and I were together were the best. I was doing what I loved and had the company of a man I was trying my hardest not to fall in love with. It was all I could do to live in the moment because looking to the future was not an option.

  And this is why.

  I knew his story and how I’d never fit into it beyond our stolen moments between assignments. Doing what we do for a living is complicated enough without a child’s wellbeing at stake. He’s a single father, doing his best to navigate the rocky relationship with Abbott’s mum for the good of their shared daughter, no matter how that child came to be in this world of horrid adults.

  Cole was always upfront and honest about Abbott’s mum. Tabitha Malley is proof Cole Carson isn’t as powerful as he seems. The man whose home I’m currently held hostage in usually has instincts as sharp as an ax. But it turns out he’s a mere mortal like the rest of us, and over seven years ago—long before I was in the picture—he was swindled by a horrible woman. She wanted more than the casual relationship they agreed to and trapped him, purposefully getting pregnant.

  One pin prick in a condom and he was tied to an eighteen-year prison sentence—Tabitha, not Abbott. Only desperate and truly deranged women pull stunts so horrendous.

  Cole explained that no bind he’s ever gotten himself into while working as an operative for the CIA has ever made him feel as claustrophobic as when she announced they would share a child.

  Plain and simple, he didn’t believe the child was his. But once the beauty he helped create entered this world, a paternity test sealed his fate.

  I know this to be fact because before I hopped into the sack with Cole. I was nosy enough to run a full background on him. What can I say? I am an operative at heart—I trust no one until I know for certain I can trust them with my life.

  Cole took responsibility for his daughter, both financially and emotionally. It’s the type of man he is. One thing I know for certain is his love for Abbott. I feel it in my bones every time he speaks of her.

  But he’s cut Tabitha out of his life. The only contact he has with her pertains to their daughter.

  Tonight, when I was nibbling on bangers and beans while propped up in Cole’s big bed, he told me why he now has full custody and how it won’t change … ever.

  Recently, Tabitha found her arse in the hot seat with the law during the time my arse was in its own sling. As a side note, my arse is in hotter water than hers was, legally speaking. But since I’m not guilty, nor did I leave my child home alone while on a drinking binge for over twenty-four hours followed by a DUI, I shall ride my high horse proudly.

  I know for a fact Tabitha Malley is something you’d have to scrape off the bottom of your shoe after a long day of work in the slimiest of regions, but what she did is beyond horrible. When her days are over, I hope she rots in hell for being the worst kind of woman, human, and mum.

  Cole was immediately awarded full custody. Abbott’s mum was charged with child endangerment, driving while under the influence, and a slew of other charges I might remember if my brain weren’t foggy from painkillers.

  If Cole’s reality could be any worse, poor little Abbott isn’t dealing well from having her mum disappear from her life. I’m not sure what six-year-old would, but from Cole’s explanation, his daughter refuses to believe her mum is gone for good. My heart breaks for her. Every child deserves two loving parents.

  So, apparently, that is that.

  Abbott isn’t happy I’m here. Red is clearly less than thrilled with my presence. And Cole thinks I’m going to marry him in a month.

  Which is why I’m in bloody, fucking hell.

  The sun has set over the Carson home. Besides Cole explaining what he’s been living through the last few months, I’ve spent most of the time since we arrived by myself, and I’m thankful for it. But, the door creaks, followed by the floorboards protesting even louder under his feet. I had a feeling this would happen. Cole’s house isn’t small but it’s not Kensington Palace, either. His bed is big and soft and I’m sure he wants to sleep in it despite my being here. My back is to the door, even though it hurts to lie on my side. My goal is to avoid whatever conversation he thinks we’re going to have next.

  But my seclusion from the rest of the house hasn’t hindered the fact I’ve heard everything as clear as if I’d bugged the place.

  Not only are the floors creaky, but the walls are thin as tissue. I’m sure we’d all lose sleep if an ant hosted a gala below the floorboards.

  Listening to Cole interact with his father and daughter has been more painful than taking a bullet to the gut last week. Red has done nothing but grumble about my presence and Abbott has done nothing but talk about her mum—demanding to know when Tabitha will be home, when Tabitha is moving into their new farmhouse, why Cole brought a strange lady home, and when will Cole and Tabitha give her brothers and sisters.

  That’s when Cole threatened to cancel Disney Plus right before I could hear his every stomp followed by the front door slamming so hard, it threatened to rattle the house down.

  Every ugly word was expressed clear as day, drifting through the closed door like it wasn’t even there.

  As if it were a set of bars.

  Bars to a depressing prison cell, which is apropos, since it’s how Cole’s bedroom feels.

  With my eyes shut tight and my breaths steady, I sense him walking around the bed to the adjoining loo. After long minutes of water turning on and off, the toilet flushing, and some other banging around, the bed dips behind me.

  “I know you’re awake.”

  I drag my eyes open and sigh.

  “See?” He crawls in and I can tell he’s taking care by the way he’s moving, as if I’m made of crystal. Cole has never treated me as a breakable piece of china. He knows I can take him down. Or rather, I could before I was recovering from two surgeries. His fingertips drag up the skin of my bare arm like an erotic memory. “You can pretend all you want, sweetness. No one knows how you breathe while you’re sleeping but me. I used to lie awake for hours listening to you.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s romantic or creepy.”

  “Definitely creepy.” His fingers continue tormenting me with promises of what I know they can do. I focus on my pain as if it’s my life’s mission.

  “Do you not have a divan or a cot? If I’m going to get out of here anytime soon, I need my rest and it’s impossible to sleep while you’re knocking around in the loo and taking up my bed space.”

  He’s exasperated—I hear it in his sigh. “I could have ten extra beds and twenty sofas and I still wouldn’t allow you to sleep anywhere but next to me.”

  I pull my arm away. “Then I’ll find another place to lay my head.”

  “Quit being ridiculous and go to sleep. As much as I like having you here, I want you healthy so we can fix your problem.”

  “I appreciate you digging to the pit of hell, but it still won’t keep me here.”

  He yawns. “We’ll see about that. Do you need anything?”

/>   I try not to groan as I roll to my back. “I need a lot of things, Cole. Some clothes would be nice. A phone.”

  He sits up, grabs an extra pillow, and throws back the covers. “Put this under your knees. It’ll take the pressure off your back and abs. And I made a call. You’ll have clothes tomorrow.”

  I exhale and close my eyes because his pillow is like a down-filled miracle. My pain pill is kicking in and my limbs are getting heavy. “I should give you a list of what I need.”

  Leaning on his elbow, he looks down at me. “I know what you need.”

  I open my eyes and glare at him through the shadowed room. “If you try to dress me in red lace while I feel like rubbish that’s been trampled on and thrown to the wolves, I promise you won’t fare well.”

  He does something he’s only done once since I woke up in the hospital when he practically dared me to marry him—he smiles. It’s so genuine, it almost feels like old times. “You know how much I like you in red.”

  I ignore him and my eyelids become heavier. “You’re hopeless. Black would be lovely. And I still need a phone.”

  “You need to rest. And you need to lie low.”

  “You know I’m not stupid enough to jeopardize my position. Get me something. An encrypted line, a sack full of burner phones—something. I have people to keep up with.”

  When he doesn’t answer, I turn to him. His shadowed features are darker than normal, everything that drew me to him in the first place emanates through the dim room.

  “Cole. I know you can get me what I need.”

  His jaw ticks and he narrows his eyes. I know what that means.

  He’ll give me what I want.

  I close my eyes and sigh. “Thank you.”

  I feel the bed move again and for the first time since I’ve known him, he leaves space between us. Not that I expected anything else in my condition, but it still feels odd.

  I start to drift into a wonderful abyss where pain pills are floating clouds and my broken body is deliciously heavy—one with Cole’s soft bed. So much so, he sounds miles away and it doesn’t even make sense when I hear, “Get comfortable, sweetness. I’m keeping you right here.”

  Cole

  “Your asset is a wild card we can’t afford to gamble with. Get him in line or we’ll cut him loose. No skin off my back.”

  I pull my hand down my face and turn to look at the house. My phone started silently blowing up an hour ago. And since I’m harboring an ex-MI6 who’s on the run, I’m more than a little jumpy. I thought things would smooth over once we got home since I live in BFE, but the way my skin crawled the moment my phone started vibrating, it seems I’m no less calm here with Bella in my bed.

  Where she belongs.

  When I got sick of texting, I moved outside to get this taken care of. Now it’s three in the morning and I’m standing in my driveway so I don’t wake the house.

  So far, I don’t think Bella is on anyone’s radar, but that doesn’t mean my gut isn’t stirring.

  One of my assets went dark the week before last. And not dark like normal, where I still know what’s going on. Dark, as in, gone.

  Black.

  Onyx.

  Poof.

  Raji disappeared into a cloud of smoke thicker than the Middle Eastern air in which he lives. I know my people. If they have to take a break, I know when and where to expect them to surface. It’s planned—the way it should be.

  When Raji finally came up for air and let me know his head hadn’t been chopped off, it was just as Bella was being rushed in for her second emergency surgery. Since my mind was on her almost bleeding out, I haven’t had time to grill him on his whereabouts.

  To top it off, Abbott wants no part of any woman who isn’t her dead-beat mother. A mother who not only lost all rights, but has a court order to stay the fuck away from my daughter.

  Not sure if things could be shittier than they are at the moment.

  All sides of my life colliding into something grander than the Big Bang theory has been a shit ton to handle.

  “I said I’ll take care of it. I know my people and he’s back on track. I need one more personal day and I’ll be back in the office.”

  “He’s gone off the rails. If you don’t take care of this by noon today, I will. I’m not taking the heat on this.”

  Nick Peterson is my supervisor. Nick Peterson is also a class-A I’d-like-to-smash-my-fist-in-his-face-daily asshole. He’s made a government career by sitting at his desk and running his mouth. I have no idea whose ass he’s rubbed his nose in to get to where he is, but it wasn’t by making cases. He’s not only difficult to work for, but he’s a miserable person to be around. And since I have to do both on a daily basis, my fist finds itself wanting to make contact with his fucking face on the regular. He’s a liar, he takes credit for others’ work, and he enjoys messing with people and their careers. I’ve never known Nick to take the heat for anything. Every shitshow he creates, he pins on someone else, and in the end, he’s sitting as pretty as a show dog—and not the working-class kind.

  The toy kind.

  Lately, I feel like I’m at the top of Nick’s To Fuck With list and the man is soundly committed to checking shit off quicker than a teenage girl at the mall.

  I swallow every word I want to spew at him and keep my cool because, with Bella in my bed, I don’t need any more attention than necessary. “I trust him and can take care of it from here. You’ll have a detailed report when I get back to the office.”

  “Make sure it happens.”

  “I always do,” I add, trying to keep my tone genuine and soften the stick it up your ass edge of my tongue I’d really like to give him.

  He doesn’t bid me a goodnight or apologize for waking anyone with shit that could’ve been handled during daylight hours.

  I’m not worried about waking Red or Abbott. My daughter can sleep through anything and Red lies on his good ear. My creaky house usually isn’t an issue. I hope Bella’s last pain pill still has some kick behind it because she usually sleeps with one eye open. I’m the same way. It comes from years of watching your six day and night.

  But it’s time Isabella Carson rests easy. She did what she had to do because of what the Queen’s government pinned on her even though there’s no way it’s true. No one knows Bella better than me—other than maybe her own family.

  Her father was one of the best. Her older brothers are still active. Bella’s mom is pure gold and her biggest fan.

  Besides me.

  I need her family on my side. I was in contact with them right after I pulled Bella out of hot water and helped her get out of the country but had to cut off all communication when the British government started poking around the CIA about me.

  It’s time to break the silence and reach across the pond. I need to get in touch with the Donnellys.

  Until then, I need Red and Abbott to cool their shit. They need to get used to Bella being here because I plan to win our bet so she’ll be my wife—and not the fake kind I’ve already contrived. The legal kind, the before-God kind, and the out-in-the-open kind where she can move freely around the world as she pleases, but with me by her side.

  Red and Abbott need to see what I see.

  I have so many missions, I feel like a circus clown juggling running chainsaws. And if shit doesn’t calm down soon, I’m in danger of dropping one and cutting my head off.

  This cannot backfire. I’m no idiot—I know I’ve got one chance. If I fuck this up, I’ll never pin down Isabella Donnelly.

  Chapter 5

  Red

  Bella

  I’ve lived by myself since I graduated from uni, though, living may be a stretch.

  While with Secret Intelligence, I was on the go for months at a time. Living meant bouncing from one seedy hotel to renting a less-than-modern room for a few weeks. Isn’t that what most women dream of?

  As much as I loved the work, I actually hated the rest of it.

  Growing up in a home with pa
rents who doted on me and brothers who loved me—even if the Donnelly way of showing it might seem odd to some—one would think my choice of career and lifestyle would be more miserable than a piss-poor manicure. But I loved the work so much, I overlooked the dingy motels and shady hostels. Let’s be real, despite the lies James Bond films feed the world, we covert agents do not zoom around in private jets and sports cars while wearing haute couture from Harrods.

  If only.

  Slumming it was my life until I started spending my time off with Cole. Actually living together, no matter how much I’ve secretly dreamt of it, was never an option. I worked for the British government and he the U.S.

  And then there was Abbott.

  If all the above made it hard enough to build a lasting relationship, the little girl hopping around like a jumping bean on the floorboards above Cole’s bedroom sealed the deal. Even before I was set up as a traitor, I knew Cole and I would never work. My job was not conducive to being a mum, or even a mum figure, to anyone. Hiding out in the Middle East for a year proved it. The last time I saw Cole—he tried to convince me otherwise.

  He was unsuccessful.

  Then he yelled down the pukka I call home. He was angry and accustomed to getting his way.

  I sent him packing and was left with a heartache that still throbs.

  Abbott wasn’t with him full time then and the child already has a mum who’s off her rocker. She needs a woman in her life day-in and day-out—and not the one who birthed her or the one who’s hiding from the authorities.

  I snuck into the States without Cole knowing because our last visit did not end well. Waking up to him sitting next to me in the hospital was more than a shock to my already-jolted system.

  He knows how I feel and he brought me here anyway. Cole hasn’t changed. He wants what he wants and he’s used to getting it. It makes him the best at what he does, but it also makes him an infuriating man in every other aspect of life.