But it was said with a smile and what seemed to be genuine affection for her sister.
Charlotte squealed a little and clapped her hands. “Makeover!”
Maybe she could use one. And she had a bit of money saved so it would be good to have some new clothes. “All right.”
“And we’ll need some help from my hubby to set the scene, but we can’t let him know we’re using him so Penny, I’m going to need some serious tears.”
She’d held them back all day. It was actually quite easy to let them go. Her tears in the bathroom hadn’t even begun to make a dent in her tension, and she got the feeling that she wouldn’t be sleeping beside Damon tonight, so there would be no one to comfort her in the night.
Or would there? Maybe she needed to see how he liked being manipulated. As far as she knew, he hadn’t moved her things out of his room and she had a keycard.
Charlotte patted her back. “Excellent. You look very dejected. Now, sit over there and look vulnerable. Chelsea, I need you to irritate my husband with a rant about how horrible men are.”
Chelsea brightened. “I can totally do that.”
Charlotte picked up her phone. Her whole demeanor changed and she went from smiling to screaming harpy in a second. “Ian, your friend is a rat bastard. Do you know what he did? Do you know? Were you in on it?”
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.”