His jaw firmed. “Yes, they didn’t mind holding that over our heads. Might I ask why you didn’t come directly to us?”
“I consider myself to be American.” She was her mother’s daughter, and her mother was from California. She’d always wanted to go home, but had settled her daughters on the East Coast in an attempt to hide from their father. He’d still found them.
“You were born in Moscow.”
“But I was happy here. My mother was American. I gave up my Russian citizenship, or I would if I could actually show my face at a government office. I send bits and pieces along to the Agency from time to time and they dispense it as they see fit. But Ian has nothing to do with that. He’s spent the last couple of years working strictly for himself.”
Baz’s eyes narrowed. “Not only for himself. He’s still in good with the Agency. He wouldn’t have been able to do all that work in England without having a few good contacts. Damon is high on him.”
She wasn’t sure she trusted Damon Knight. “He didn’t seem real high on Ian back at Alex’s. He seemed pretty pissed when Ian had a gun on him.”
“Ian only got the drop on him because Simon was following us. Bloody bastard. Otherwise you would be on your way out of the country.” He sat up, straightening his shirt. “Aren’t you tired of running?”
That was a dumb question. “Of course I’m tired.”
Baz sent a little look behind him, glancing into the kitchen. A laugh boomed from the neatly appointed room. At least Ian found something amusing. The British agent turned back, leaning in. “What if you didn’t have to run anymore? What if you could settle down with all the money you’ve made and find a place where a woman of your talents could, shall we say, excel?”
“What are you trying to say?” If he was going to make an offer, she would rather he just came out and said it. Because the truth was she was tired. The thought of running again made her violently ill, but if she managed to get out of this situation, she would have to do it. She would have to take Chelsea and hide somewhere, and then they would hide somewhere else, and so on and so on until they were caught and killed or managed to make it to old age. She’d made her play for Ian and she’d lost, and she had no real idea what she should do next.
“I’m trying to say that you could do well for yourself. We’re not all like the Agency. Not all organizations will use you and dump you. Some organizations would do much to be able to properly use all your talents.”
Did MI6 want to torture her or hire her?
Should she listen to a proposal?
“I can’t settle down. Not really. I thought I might be able to, but they found me really fast.” It had been a calculated risk, allowing Adam to run traces on her identity, but she hoped her uncle had relaxed his stance. It had been years and the syndicate tended to focus on business. But she’d had no luck. Her uncle was eager to kill her, and she suspected it was because Nelson had double crossed her. Of course, she’d done the same to him, so she couldn’t cry that she was innocent.
“There are always solutions to problems. Sometimes it just takes a willingness to get one’s hands dirty.” Baz set his empty bottle down on the table. “We all know the Agency doesn’t like to get blood on its hands. It would rather farm out that work to its friends. They won’t help you. They’ll deny that you’ve ever helped them.”
She’d always known that. “I didn’t expect them to give me a job recommendation.”
He shook his head. “You’re not thinking big enough. The world is changing, and women like you can make a place for yourself.”
“I think Charlie doesn’t know her place at all.” Ian was standing in the doorway, his broad frame dominating the space. “I asked you to go to bed.”
“You told me to go to bed,” she corrected. “I thought I should find out if I was going to be catching a plane tomorrow.”
He frowned, shaking his head as though she’d said something a little crazy. “No. I’ve worked something out with Damon. I told you I would.”
Damon Knight good-naturedly shoved his way past Ian, joining his partner on the couch. Unlike Baz, he had a glass of Scotch. “You’re going to give me everything you have. I mean every single hard drive you own.”
“What?”
Ian’s face was a stony mask. “You’re getting out of the business.”
She let the words settle over her because they didn’t make a lick of sense for a few moments. “You made this decision?”
“Yes.”
The arrogance of the man astounded her. She stood, unwilling to sit while he loomed over her. “I won’t do it.”
She would rather go with Knight back to England and take her chances there. At least Chelsea would have some protection.
He stepped up, invading her space. “You fucking well will. Adam is going to your place to get the computers tonight.”
“You can’t do that.” She clenched her fists, angry tears in her eyes. What the hell was he thinking? How could he do this to her? To Chelsea? “We need that information.”
It was their protection, a wall against the world. It was the only thing they had.
“No, you don’t. You’re out of the business from now on. The money you stole or made from selling information is going to be divided between MI6 and the Agency, and it goes straight into their anti-terrorism budgets.”
“What?” It came out as an angry screech. She couldn’t run without money. She couldn’t hide. Panic threatened to overtake her.
Ian’s hand came out, gripping her arm. He looked over at the Brit crew. “We’ll take this discussion to the bedroom. Chelsea is in one of the upstairs rooms. Alex and Eve are bedding down in the dungeon. You two can fight over the last bedroom. Don’t hurt each other, though. It’s got something called a daybed that won’t actually fit either one of you. The other one can take the couch. I don’t give a shit.”
He started hauling her out of the living room.
“Ian, this is not happening.” She wasn’t going to allow him to take every bit of protection she had.
“It is. If you’re worried that Adam could get hurt by your security system, you should know he’s already disabled it. He’ll move the money in the morning, after the Agency has signed off on the deal.”