A View to a Thrill (Masters and Mercenaries Book 7) (36 page)

Charlotte’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know what you want.”

Frustration welled. “I do. I just don’t want the same thing you want so you think I’m wrong.”

“I know you’re wrong.”

She sighed, so tired. “I don’t care. Unless you’re going to continue to drug me, I’ll find a way to leave. You can’t keep me here.”

The glass knocked against the tray table, and Charlotte’s hands made fists in her lap. “I’m so sick of this. Do you understand what a fucking brat you are?”

She understood that quite well. “Yep. Which begs the question of why you won’t let me go.”

“Because I love you. Because you’re my sister, but I’ll be honest, I’m getting really sick of how weak you are.”

Weak? A surge of red-hot anger flowed through her. “You think I’m weak? I’m the one who had to take all the beatings, all the pain, so the beautiful Charlotte Denisovitch could stay daddy’s little princess.”

“Yeah, such a princess. He loved me so much, Chels. He wanted me to become his assassin because he thought having a pretty teenage girl killing his enemies was amusing. Yes, I was so happy to be his favorite. I did it. I killed people for him to save you. I did things you can’t imagine for you, and you’re the little shit who wasn’t grateful for any of it.”

Charlotte wanted to do this now? Oh, she could do it. This was a long time coming. “I lost my fucking legs for you. I ache every single day because I was the whipping girl.”

“No. You lost them because you’re too weak to fix them.” Charlotte’s pretty face was red with anger. “Yes, something horrible happened, but you’re the one who refused to recover.”

“I was a girl. What did you expect from me? I managed to walk again.” Battered, that was how she felt. Charlotte’s anger was beating against her like a damn hurricane.

“But you wouldn’t do the work it took to be really strong.”

How little she remembered. “You’re so good at rewriting history. Do you honestly believe he would have taken me to a therapist?”

Charlotte leaned forward. “I would have. I would have risked everything to make sure you got what you needed. I would have done whatever it took, but you retreated. You were too scared. And after I did what I had to do to take that monster out, you still wouldn’t do anything about it.”

“We were on the run. What did you want me to do?” They often hadn’t known where they would be in the next hour, much less had a life that allowed for scheduled appointments.

“I wanted you to fight for yourself.”

The accusation cut deep. “I’ve fought for myself my whole damn life.”

“No, you’ve accepted what you were given. You’ve waited for the universe to crap all over you because you got dealt a shitty hand. You’ve let him win. He wasn’t the only thing in your life, but you let him win.”

She had to shake her head as the unfairness of Charlotte’s words hit home. “How can you say that?”

A little of Charlotte’s anger seemed to flee as she sighed and continued on. “Because I’ve watched you. You would rather just sit in that fucking chair and have a half-life because you’re so damn scared. You think being The Broker made you powerful? It was like playing a video game for you. Those people weren’t real. Those hacker friends of yours would have sold you out in a heartbeat.”

“Al didn’t.” At least she’d had one person to depend on.

“Fine, great. You had one friend and you mostly ignored him until you needed something from him.”

The words pierced her. Like a video game? Had she really been that person? She’d shuffled the players around, sending real information or false leads depending on who had pissed her off that day. Sure the people she’d dealt with had been the bad people of the world, but their actions had affected the innocent and she’d been the shadow behind it all.

She’d started because they’d needed information to be safe, to hide from the syndicate. She’d continued because they’d needed money, but even after they had plenty, she’d reveled in it. She’d gotten addicted to being the all-powerful Oz of the Internet.

But when she drew back the curtain, there was only a broken little girl who’d never cared enough to put herself back together.

Had she let one person, one monster ruin her life even from the grave? Had she become nothing but a shadow?

You could be so much more.
Simon’s words whispered through her brain.

Could she?

“Why did he hate me?”

Charlotte stopped, her mouth dropping open. “Are you talking about our father?”

Chelsea nodded. It still hurt. He’d been a terrible human being and she could remember his face as he’d beaten her. Hatred. Pure hate. In his own perverse way, he’d loved Charlotte, but there had been nothing but hate for Chelsea.

Tears dripped from Charlotte’s eyes.

“You have to tell her now.” Ian stood up. He’d been sitting behind them and Chelsea hadn’t noticed. Great. Satan had witnessed her humiliation. He likely thought she was weak, too. “If you don’t, I will.”

Tell her? “What?”

Charlotte’s face was pale as she turned back to Chelsea. “He wasn’t your father, sweetie. Adam caught it. He was making sure all records of the two of us were erased.”

What was she talking about? “I did that.”

“Not the new ones. You had blood tests on your last checkup.”

The one Charlotte had dragged her to. The doctor had tried to set up PT on her legs, had advised her yoga classes would help her mobility, had said any number of helpful things that Chelsea ignored because she knew the truth. They wouldn’t get better. “Yes, I remember.”

“Adam has a file on all of us. Including everything he could find out about our parents. I have Dad’s blood type. You don’t. You don’t have Mom’s either.” Charlotte sat back. “I found out a couple of months ago.”

Her father wasn’t her father? “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I took it a step further. I think I found your dad. Mom had a professor teaching her Russian. He was at a university in Moscow. He was killed the day Mom left. I think he was trying to meet her. I think they were trying to run together. She got out. He didn’t.”

Her father wasn’t her father. Her father had been some no-name teacher who’d been dumb enough to fall for a mobster’s wife. Her father had been the dumbass who thought he could run with her.

Her father might have loved her.

Ian held a file in his hand. “This is what we’ve dug up on him. He did have your blood type. Vladimir Denisovitch hated you because you were a symbol of your mother’s betrayal. At some point, he put it all together and when he found her again, he took it out on you.”

She took the file and opened it. There was a picture of a smiling young man. He was accepting a small medal. She could still read Russian with ease. Pavel Yokin was accepting first prize in a poetry writing contest for students. Then another about his first book being published. He’d been a gentle man, a man of letters. He’d written poetry. She could read it. She could learn about him.

“And you’ve kept this from me?” She looked up to see Charlotte crying.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Chelsea, my father killed yours.”

“Vladimir killed lots of people.”

Charlotte reached out, but then pulled back as though she knew Chelsea wouldn’t want to be touched. “Do you remember the day he came back for us? He tried to leave you. I didn’t understand. I didn’t even realize he’d killed Mom. I just knew I was being separated from you. I begged him. He would have walked away from you then and there. You would have been scared, but someone would have taken you in, someone who wouldn’t have brutalized you. This is my fault.”

She could have been spared. She would have mourned her mother and sister, but she likely would have found a decent life.

A life without Charlotte.

She’d spent so much time dreaming of some other existence. Now that she knew that life could have been hers, she knew bitterness should have been welling up inside her. She should have been left behind and given a chance.

To grow up without Charlotte? To send her into the hell without anyone to hold on to?

She turned away and looked out at the night. It was dark, but the clouds turned everything to silver.

You could be so much more.

What would she give to spare herself pain? Would she send Charlotte off on her own? Would she give up her sister?

Would she give up those moments with Simon for a life free of pain?

God, she was an idiot. No one got a life free of pain. No one. She’d been dealt a shitty hand and decided to not even bother to play the game. She’d hidden and let herself be made small by a man who wasn’t worth anything. She’d decided to merely accept survival.

You could be so much more.

If she changed. If she accepted that the past wasn’t something that defined her. If she decided who she wanted to be. The man who she’d called father had told her she was weak and useless and she’d believed him.

She glanced back down and there was a list of her true father’s books. The first caught her eye.
Dare to Dream.

She’d stopped dreaming a long time ago because it seemed naïve. But she’d just realized something. Naïve people were strong. Naïve people changed the world because they actively believed they could. There was strength in that. Power in that. Her mother had fought. Her father had died. Both had been brave. Her sister hadn’t given up. Not once. Not ever.

Why were they less meaningful than Vladimir Denisovitch?

She’d chosen this.

And she could choose again.

She stood up because there was one thing she could give her sister here and now. She could give her some freaking peace.

“Chelsea?” Charlotte asked as she moved past her toward her big brother-in-law who she’d fought with from the moment they’d met.

Ian. Big dumbass who acted like he couldn’t care less and did everything he could for the people around him. Even the ones he didn’t like. She’d thought she and Ian were alike. Both cynical and sarcastic, but Ian had a heart and she’d tried to kill hers long before.

“Thank you.”

Ian’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“For being good to my sister and to me. Thank you, Ian.” She walked right up and put her arms around him.

“What the hell do I do, Charlie?” Ian asked, his arms at his side.

“You hug her back, asshole. She used your name and everything. You hug her. Now.”

Very slowly his arms came up and enveloped her in what had to be the most awkward hug of her life. “Okay, but if she kills me it’s your fault.”

Chelsea felt Charlotte move in behind her. “She’s not going to kill you. She’s forgiving me.”

Well, at least her sister knew her, but she was wrong about one thing. “There’s nothing to forgive on your side, Charlotte. I’m just trying to make it up to you.”

“Couldn’t you bake cookies or something?” Ian asked.

“No.” She was horrible at baking. And cooking. And most everything at this point, but it was time for her to try. And it was past time for her to admit some things to her sister. “I did blame you, Charlotte, and that wasn’t fair. Forgive me.”

She felt Charlotte rest her head on her shoulder. “Always. Forgive me for being selfish and taking you with me.”

She’d just been a girl. She couldn’t have known. Chelsea had been a girl, too, and maybe it was time for both of them to forgive the children they’d been. “I wouldn’t change it. Do you understand what I’m saying? I’ve spent a lifetime wondering about what I would be if only a few things had been different, but I know something now. I wouldn’t. I would leave it all the same with one exception. Me. I would change me.”

She could still change her. She could be more. So much more.

“I love you,” Charlotte said.

“I love you, too.”

“I’m still being hugged and I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ian complained.

Her brother-in-law was always going to be an asshole. And she wouldn’t change that either. She broke away, letting him off the hook.

She turned and looked up at her sister. “I don’t know what to do about Simon. I love him, but I have to leave him. I have to leave all of you. I made a deal with Ten. He’s going to make sure Simon doesn’t face any charges.”

Ian snorted. “I already did that. Ten? Like I need fucking Ten to fix that problem. The new guy was on it. Mitchell Bradford. Nastiest lawyer in Texas. He’s been trying to get into Sanctum. I’ve turned the fucker down three times because I don’t need his money, but I do like having him in my back pocket. Life is about timing. It wasn’t time for him to play at Sanctum until I needed a massive favor from him. Now we’re all happy, including Simon in there who everyone including the DA now agrees was merely defending himself. I might have had to work a little dark magic on that one. Don’t tell Derek.”

Charlotte’s eyes got round. “Shit. Tell me you didn’t.”

“Mitch worked a deal, but she was the holdout. It’s not forever. It’s one year and I can’t kick her out.” Ian shuddered a little. “Maybe Derek won’t notice his ex-wife is suddenly in the dungeon.”

“Not a chance,” Charlotte said. “But we do what we have to. So see, Simon is fine. You don’t need Ten.”

It had all been for nothing. Absolutely nothing. Simon hadn’t needed her to protect him. He hadn’t needed her at all.

“Chelsea, are you all right?” Charlotte asked.

She shook her head. “I took the job with Ten to save Simon. I did it all for him, and there’s no way he’ll believe me.”

“He will if you keep telling him. You just can’t give up.”

She had to completely change her thinking. Could she even get out of her promises to Ten? Should she? None of it mattered if she couldn’t get Simon to believe her.

Ian sent his wife a grimace. “You’re about to plot. I can’t listen to this. It’s against the guy code. I’m going to join Simon.”

“We have to go to Venice,” she said quickly. They did have a job to do after all. She needed to get out from under The Collective’s threat no matter what happened between her and Simon.

“Well, of course you knew. You simply didn’t bother to tell me. We already figured that out.” Simon stood in the doorway to the cockpit, his eyes as cold as ice. He shook his head dismissively and turned his attention to Ian. “We touch down in Toronto in an hour. We’ll rest and refuel there. Adam says all the records will be changed by the time we take off again. If Derek and Karina don’t fool them, then records will show five people matching our description disembarked in Toronto and this Malone Oil jet suddenly belongs to a Canadian game show host. Apparently he’s a friend of Adam’s. Where does Adam come up with this shite?”