Damn it. Chelsea got to her feet. “You know how to treat a lady, Tag.”
He frowned. “How the hell does everyone know my name? Come on.”
She really didn’t have much of a choice. She had to go wherever they were taking Simon. She stepped in front of Fake Ian, who also seemed to be named Tag. Which posed another couple of questions.
“Do you know my brother-in-law?”
Weird Clone Tag pointed toward the back entrance of the silent motel. If there was anyone in those rooms, she couldn’t tell. “I don’t know anyone, ma’am. Left down that hall.”
She turned where he told her to, her feet against the cold concrete. “You seem to know me.”
“I only know and only care that you’re my target. You have information my boss wants, and he’s willing to do just about anything to get it.”
“So you’re what a hired thug looks like.” She was really sick of people bullying her. It looked like The Collective had a rival. She wished like hell Al hadn’t thought of her when offloading his final confession. Didn’t he have other friends he could have gotten into a situation where multiple criminal enterprises wanted to take them down?
The man behind her chuckled. “I like to think I’m prettier than your normal thug. If you want to look at someone ugly, there’s my brother right there. Theo, where’s the boss?”
Chelsea shook her head as Tag number two stepped out of the shadows.
“He’s here.” The man named Theo, who fit right into the Ian Taggart look-alike convention, nodded toward the back lot. A limo pulled up on the street. “You know the boss. He’s always got to make a damn entrance.”
“I’m not getting in that limo.” Whoever was in that freaking limo was bad news. She just had to wait a few minutes. They’d said Simon’s employer was coming for him. Adam must have gotten that text and the troops were on their way. And then she would have to deal with the nightmare reality that apparently there were three Ians in the world. Four if you counted Sean, who looked an awful lot like the rest of them. But she would take a hundred Ians if they were just the real one because the real one, for all his assholiness, wouldn’t let Simon and Jesse get killed, and he wouldn’t let her get into that limo.
She looked around and the giant chunk of granite Fake Tag had called Bear was dumping Simon’s body in the trunk of an SUV. “No. He comes with me.”
She started toward the black vehicle. She would pull him out herself. A meaty arm went around her waist.
Chelsea kicked and thrashed, but it didn’t matter. The even faker Tag had her and he wasn’t letting her go.
“I’m putting in for combat duty. This one’s already shot at me once. Now I think she’s trying to deball me.”
“She can’t take what you don’t have, brother. And you’re going to catch hell for not even being able to sneak up on a nerd.”
“She’s kind of a cute nerd. Hey, if I admit you’re hot, will you stop trying to take my head off?”
She brought her elbow back and aimed straight for the asshole’s head.
“Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea. I thought we were friends.” A man stepped out of the limo, his lean body encased in jeans and a white western shirt. His boots hit the concrete and he sighed as he looked her over, shaking that handsome head of his. He was a sun-kissed god of a man, with brown and gold hair and a Southern accent that likely had every woman who heard it melting at his feet.
But he was so not her friend.
She stopped fighting the man who held her and stared at her real enemy. Maybe not an enemy so much as a man who held her life in the palm of his hand and who could rendition her someplace nasty with a single phone call. “Tennessee Smith.”
And just like that, her day took a nosedive. It looked like there was a place worse than Hell and it was called the CIA.
* * * *
“You sure you don’t want anything?” Ten sat back as he finally gave the driver the go-ahead. It looked like his team of superhot assholes had finished up in record time. “I could have Hutch stop and get you some breakfast. He doesn’t mind. I think he’s enjoying playing the limo driver. He’s more used to driving Humvees, if you know what I mean. He swears he can get this thing through a drive-through line, but I’m not so sure.”
The two SUVs the team had been in were already gone, and she wondered how soon she would see Simon again. Maybe never, but it was obvious Ten was going to use him to gain her cooperation.
“I don’t want anything from you except explanations.” And clothes. She felt ridiculously vulnerable sitting there in a big stretch limo wearing PJs that had definitely seen better days. She didn’t even have her bug-out bag. No ID. No weapons. No cash. Nothing at all. She was completely at the mercy of the Agency, and she was fairly certain they had none.
“I’m sure you do, but I can give you so much more.” Ten sat up, and his head turned as a big SUV drove around the corner and motored into the motel parking lot with screeching brakes. There was a shit-eating grin on his face as he settled back against the plush leather seat.
Ian. That was his oversized, environment-killing machine, and he’d probably just moved heaven and earth to find Simon and Jesse, and all he would get for his trouble was an empty motel.
“Can you text him and let him know his people are alive?” She wondered if Charlotte was in that car.
Ten’s eyebrow rose. “After I just worked my ass off to cover up any piece of evidence that I was ever there? Not just no, darlin’, but hell, no. Besides, I have to admit, I kind of like the idea of the big guy chasing his tail for once. He’s done it to me, and I always say turnabout is fair play.”
Chelsea was fairly certain Ten never played fair. “Who the hell are those men?”
“They’re my men. It’s a new project I put together. They’re a team I use from time to time when I need to move quickly and cleanly. This is one of our first ops. I think it went well. What do you think, Hutch?”
“I think you owe us all a kegger, boss.” Hutch turned the wheel with the cool efficiency of an expert and got them on the freeway. “Though you’re going to have some questions. How did that British guy know Tag’s name? I heard him and the target there both mention his name. Are we compromised?”
Ten just smiled that laid-back, nothing’s-wrong-here-ma’am smile of his. “Nah. It was inevitable. I’d hoped for a little more time, but something came up.”