Penny could practically hear Ian Taggart quaking in his overly large boots.

Chelsea reached over and covered Penny’s hand with hers. “It’ll be okay. One way or another. You’ll be fine. Damon’s being silly. We’re not going to let you die.”

Funny, she hadn’t even thought about the fact that someone wanted to kill her. Love really might cost her everything, but she was willing to take the risk.

* * *

“Dude, did you seriously dump her in front of everyone?” Jesse Murdoch frowned his way.

Damon still had a headache from the debacle of the morning. It was after supper now, a supper he’d avoided because he hadn’t wanted to be in the same room, looking at her sad, gorgeous blue eyes and fighting the need to pull her into his lap. He didn’t want to watch Ian feed Charlotte when his chance to do the same with Penelope was gone.

The last thing he needed was Ian Taggart’s crew following him about and gossiping. He should have stayed up in his rooms, but then he had to deal with Penelope’s things, her clothes hanging next to his, her makeup and frilly feminine things crowding his bathroom.

He looked over at the puppy of the group. The one who had hit on Penelope the first night.

“It’s really none of your business.” He watched the kettle as though that would make the water boil faster. Given his current stage of rage, it might.

Tag showed up in the kitchen, leaning his big body against the door. “That, PTSD, is what we call a dick move in the States.”

Yes, he should have gone up to his apartments and locked everyone out. He just wasn’t sure he could look at that bed again and remember just how much he’d lost. He wasn’t sure how he was going to sleep in it. He needed to move her into one of the guest rooms. Fuck. He needed to figure out how to be able to look into those sky-blue eyes of hers without wanting to apologize and beg her to take him back.

Because that would be dangerous.

“I don’t need your input either, Tag.” He grabbed the box of tea and set the bag in his cup. He would rather start in on the Scotch, but he didn’t trust himself not to get drunk and crawl into her bed again.

Of course, that might solve many problems. Penelope had gotten her sidearm, a Glock 17 that he’d made her prove she could use. If he climbed into her bed, she would likely shoot him. Case closed. Everyone would be happier.

“Too bad because you’re definitely going to get my input.” Taggart strode into the room. “PTSD, go and finish packing. You have to fly to the Netherlands tomorrow and learn how to make beds and shit. Tell Jake your car is leaving at six.”

Jesse and Jake were joining the Royale when it docked in Amsterdam. Chelsea and Simon would travel with the two couples to Dover and board with the new crew there. Cruise ships picked up new members all the time and in multiple ports. Yet another avenue they had to deal with.

Jesse frowned. “I don’t know about this, boss. Why do I have to be the guy who cleans up cabins while Chelsea works security?”

Taggart’s eyes rolled. “Because she’s the computer guru. You got some skills in there you haven’t told me about? Trust me, buddy, if the job was walking the decks and knocking heads together, you would be my guy. I need Chelsea to get control of all those security cameras. I need you to search the cabins of the people I tell you to.”

Jesse sighed. “Fine. I just want to know when I’m going to get to do something besides clean up and follow after Simon. I’m not complaining.”

“Yes, you are.”

Jesse didn’t have a comeback for that. He shrugged and moved to the door. “Fine. I’ll go and watch videos about how to make animals out of towels. That’s part of my damn training, Tag. I have to make towel animals.”

Tag stopped him at the door. “Jesse, one of these days one of my idiot operatives will inevitably get himself killed because he was too busy texting his wife to deal with the bad guys. I promise you his slot.”

Jesse’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Tag slapped his shoulder. “Good things come to those who wait and don’t get led around by their dicks. Go.”

Jesse trotted off.

It was always interesting to watch Tag deal with his men. Damon never knew what to say. He could manipulate a man a thousand different ways, but Tag had real relationships with them. Crass and argumentative relationships, but friendships all the same.

“Here’s hoping he doesn’t have an incident while he’s gone. I wish I could have gotten him a place with Jake or Simon,” Tag admitted.

If there was a problem with the team, Damon wanted to know. “Why does he need a partner?”

“More like a guardian angel.” Tag sighed. “He really does have PTSD. I joke about it, but we’ve had a couple of close calls. Put Jesse in the right place with the right pressures and he can go a little wild. Things got bloody the last time it happened. Simon took care of it, but it’s why I have him cleaning rooms. I don’t think he’s going to knife the vacuum cleaner. And hey, maybe the towel animals will be like therapy.”

“If we need to pull him out…” Damon began.

Tag held up a hand. “He’ll be fine. Just watch him if things get violent. He forgets where he is. The good news is, I’m keeping him with me in Dallas. You would get to hire your own team if you came on with me. That New York job’s looking better and better, isn’t it?”

“I’m not leaving fieldwork.” Fuck, after today it was really all he had.

“You’re a stubborn bastard. And I kind of hate your ass right now because I’m supposed to talk to you.” Taggart turned the slightest shade of green.

Damon frowned. They had spent the entire bloody afternoon in the conference room going over every minute detail of the operation since Jesse and Jake were leaving in the morning. It was his last chance to speak openly with them. It had been brutal torture because Penelope had been sitting there the entire time, trying to avoid eye contact with him. “Why? I thought I was clear. Is Chelsea having problems with the files?”

Chelsea and Adam were investigating the names of the passengers on the Royale and any possible connections to either The Collective or Nature’s Core. They were supposed to build dossiers on roughly twenty potential suspects. Jake Dean was taking those twenty people and compiling their itineraries for the trip, including all their shore excursions where they might possibly meet up with the man they were attempting to smuggle back into England.

And now Charlotte was down in the dungeon with Penelope going over all the equipment and familiarizing her with protocols.

When they got on the ship, he would be alone with Penelope for days and days, in a tiny cabin where there was one bed and not a bit of privacy.

Tag walked to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of beer. “No. That’s going fine. Trust me, Raging Bitch knows how to break apart someone’s life in a few keystrokes. I’m talking about Penelope. You do understand what’s happening down in the dungeon, right?”

Charlotte was showing Penelope a few hints and tricks. She was going to teach her how to present herself. God, his cock tightened at the thought. “Does Charlotte not appreciate her duties?”

He couldn’t imagine Charlotte not taking a liking to Penelope. Charlotte was a kind woman, but if for some reason she didn’t like Penelope, he would have to find someone else. He wouldn’t leave her with someone who didn’t care about her.

This was exactly why he should find a way to get rid of Penelope. He couldn’t think straight around her and he needed to fucking think straight.

“Dude, right now those women are downstairs discussing the best way to castrate you. I had to convince her I wasn’t the one who told you to dump Penny. My wife is pissed.” Tag shivered a little. “When I left her, Charlie was plotting, man. Things go bad when Charlie plots. And she told me I should come up here and talk to you.”

Damon shook his head. “About what?”

After a long swig of beer, Tag coughed a little. “Feelings and shit.”

What the hell? “You’re kidding, right?”

“Dude, women do that shit all the time and when you marry one, they expect you to do it too. But we’re not going to. We’re going to say we did and then we’re going to drink some beer and see what’s on TV. Because we don’t talk about shit. We shoot people. That’s how we show our feelings. Well, I’m going to drink beer and you’re going to sip your tea.”

Yes, he was definitely going for the Scotch. He reached to the back of the cupboard. After this, he was going to be a loner. No partners. No lovers. No friends. He didn’t understand any of it. Not really.

And he didn’t want to talk. “I feel angry. That’s how I feel.”

He took a long swig. Why had he said that?

Tag shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Choke it down, man. Push it back. You’re good. You don’t have to do this.”

But maybe Charlotte was right. Another drink of Scotch and it burned nicely in his belly. “I have feelings for the girl.”

He’d never seen Tag go pale. “Should I call Adam and Alex? They will get on a speakerphone and you three can cry to each other and maybe have a sing-along or something.”

He gave Tag his middle finger. “Fuck you. I did what was right. It was right for her. It was right for me.” The last part was a lie, but one he needed. Maybe if he said it enough, he could make it true.

“It was a dick move.”

“What was I supposed to do? Tell her the truth?”

“You could have started with that. It might have been better than telling her she’s fat and shit.”

Damon felt his whole body stiffen. “I didn’t say that.”

Tag waved that explanation off. “It doesn’t matter. When you sleep with a chick and then dump her the next day, she’s coming to one conclusion. She’s fat. They are really concerned with weight. I don’t get it. She’s hot. Once Charlie’s done with her, she’ll have every Dom here panting after her. Don’t worry about it.”

“She’s quite lovely. I certainly didn’t dump her because I don’t want her, but I can’t bloody well tell her that. And you’re a good one to talk to me about this. Tell her the truth? Did you tell Charlotte the truth when she came back for you? You’re a hypocrite.”

Tag pointed an accusatory finger his way. “No. You do not get to play that card with me. You call me after Penny’s lied to you and betrayed you, blown up your career and pretended to be dead for five years. Then you can whine to me about your love life. You should have told her why you don’t want her in the field with you. Because she’s fuck-all good in bed and you don’t want to lose the best pussy you’ve ever had.”

Tag had weird ways of communicating, but Damon got the point. “I don’t love her.”

A vomiting sound came out of Tag’s mouth. “I didn’t say that.”

But that’s what he was talking about in his brutish way. “I feel some responsibility for her. And Baz’s hatred for me has already cost one young lady her life. I can’t do it again.”

He wasn’t going to admit more than that to anyone.

“Why does he hate you?” Tag leaned against the counter, his blue eyes becoming very serious.

“I don’t know. I suppose it’s because I outshone him.” Baz had always been competitive, and he’d resented the fact that Damon was the senior agent.

“Did you and Baz ever share women?”

Where was that coming from? “That’s a bit private, mate.”

“Nothing’s private right now. He’s brought you into this and it’s personal. Knowing why he’s coming after you will help us catch him. He’s not thinking with his head either. He’s running on emotion. I watched the video Chelsea captured from the CCTVs before she dumped it. The one at the station. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was taunting you.”

Taunting more than just him. “He had some nasty things to say about both of us. It was why I sent her away.”

He hadn’t just been trying to protect her feelings. He was trying to save her life. If he really was honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted her to see how damaged he was. Hadn’t wanted her to see him struggle. He wanted her to see him as a heroic, strong operative, not the aging, wasted piece of shit he’d become.

“I find it interesting that he left you alive, too. He hates you, but he couldn’t pull the double tap on you. He’s been trained well enough to know to take out both fucking lungs or to go for a head shot.”

He hated how cold he got when he thought about that day. He was supposed to be over that. He was alive. He wasn’t supposed to be stuck in that horrible moment when he’d realized nothing he’d done had really made a difference. He’d been stuck there all this time. Except for the moments he’d spent with her. He hadn’t been thinking about how useless he was then. He’d been thinking about how hot he could make her, how she came apart in his arms. He’d been thinking about how right it had felt. “I believe he intends to do the job properly this time around.”