“Also, here are the details of your meeting tomorrow,” Malcolm slid an envelope his way. It was plain with no writing on it, but he knew who it was from.
Eli Nelson. Another problem he had to deal with. He owed the man. But Nelson had taken his cut, and now he was back for more.
Still, he had connections. He wouldn’t have gotten the Lachlan Bates deal without him. Nelson had a real shot at helping him get into the Middle East. Africa was small potatoes compared to the Middle East. And he would dearly love to serve both sides of the inevitable Pakistani-Indian conflict. Nelson was working hard to make that little war happen.
It was worth giving him a cut. To a point.
He opened the instructions and sighed. “Do you have any idea what this shit is about?”
Malcolm shrugged. “I just take notes, boss.”
There wouldn’t be a second note, no ability to request an explanation for this very strange request. He would either follow it or he wouldn’t.
And that rankled, too. Nelson had simply given him his start, his new identity. He’d made it possible to cast off the old one like a snake shedding his skin. When he thought about his old life, it was with a sort of despairing nausea. The things he had done to please his disgusting family, to fit in, to try to show who he was. Nelson had taught him it was all right to follow his instincts, to take care of himself and let the others rot.
Oh, sometimes he missed them. Well, he missed one of them, but that life was dead. He’d eradicated it, and it couldn’t touch him now.
And perhaps Nelson had taught him all too well. Sometimes the best solution to a problem was getting rid of it all together.
After he had what he wanted.
“Of course, I’ll do as he asks. After all, he’s my mentor.” He didn’t bother to mention that he’d murdered his last mentor.
Malcolm was his liaison with Nelson. It seemed best to keep their meetings to a minimum so they weren’t connected. Malcolm had no connections. His cover was so deep Molina would be surprised if Malcolm remembered what his original name had been.
“Should I send Monica in, sir?” Malcolm got up and went to the door.
Sweet, dumb Monica. She thought he was going to marry her. She was good for hiding files and had a remarkably flexible jaw. She could take care of his problem. “Yes.”
Malcolm left and Molina found his cane. It was time to perform again.
Chapter Twelve
Liam watched her. He’d expected a bit more excitement, but Avery was shut down and had been for hours. She’d been waiting for him outside her office building, not inside as he’d planned. He wanted to get a lay of the land, but she’d been standing outside, her face a pale white, her hands on her purse. She’d followed him to the Tube, sat beside him through dinner, but she hadn’t really engaged.
It was getting to him. Was she that worried about the evening ahead?
“We could just go home,” he said. The last thing he wanted to do was push her and potentially lose her, and it was for reasons that went far beyond the op. He wanted her to enjoy this part of his life. He was finally realizing just how much he needed it. He’d always thought of it as fun before, but now he wanted the responsibility. He wanted the deep ties that came with D/s.
She frowned up at him, her eyes blinking as though she was trying to process what he’d said. “What?”
Or she just hadn’t been listening. “I said we could just go home. You seem to have changed your mind.”
She seemed to have changed period. Her smile all evening long had been forced, her conversation stilted. She was always so present when she was with him, and now she seemed to be in another place entirely. She shook her head, her eyes going back to the building across the street. “No. I’m fine. I’m looking forward to it.”
“I’ve promised to spank you for disobedience. You’re really looking forward to that?” She’d shut down after the threat. Had he really misjudged her? Was she really that worried about an erotic spanking?
A hint of a real smile finally lit her face. “Well, it is a little unfair, you see. I had to work. I don’t know that I like being punished for working, but that’s not really what it’s about, is it? It’s play, like you said. It’s just a fun game to spark our imaginations. Lee, I’m not afraid of you.”
She should be. She would run away if she knew half of the things he’d done under the excuse of protecting people. “Then tell me what’s wrong.”
He’d been afraid to ask up to this point. He’d been a pussy pansy-ass who wasn’t doing his job which was to protect her and comfort her. He might never have had a permanent sub before, but even he knew that was his primary function as a Dom. But he’d been afraid of the answer so he’d let her brood.