“I’ll wind up carrying you out of here soon.” I’m only half joking.

“You wish. I outdrank a Russian mob boss once. However—” She smiles. “You should play along. If I’m drunk, my mother will want me to leave. This is my plan.” She slurs her words slightly.

“I think you should stop drinking because you’re lit.”

“Don’t be such a party pooper, Twilight.” She steps forward and grabs yet another drink. “I’m not even buzzed. I’m just feeling the fun.”

“You said ‘feeling the fun’ and you don’t think you’re drunk?”

She rests her head against my chest. “I thought you liked fun?”

“I’d prefer you lucid when I fuck you unconscious.”

Charlie leans back and smirks before the waiter magically returns.

I swear he’s zeroed in on Charlie. As soon as her glass is empty, he happens to reappear. I hold back my growl and glare at him. There’s something about this guy. He rushes to the other side of the room as she gulps the drink. “Wow, these drinks are amazing. Want one?” she asks.

“Were you drinking water shots with the mobster?” I joke, but I’m really curious because she’s hammered.

“This one time, I was dating this guy, even though I don’t really ever date,” she rambles. “I mean, I could date, but I disappear a lot. Apparently, guys don’t really like being number two in a woman’s world. Anyway, he was trying to convince me that he was better at shooting because he grew up hunting. I remember laughing in his face, which of course didn’t bode well for his teeny tiny ego.” She holds up her fingers as if she’s pinching. “Which wasn’t the only thing teeny tiny.” Charlie nudges my side with her elbow. “If you know what I mean.”

She’s fucking adorable. And toasted. I need to get her to the car before she starts really talking.

“Anyway, he didn’t know I’m a, you know . . .” She starts to tilt but I grab her.

“Okay, no more talking.” I grab a water bottle and shove it in her face. “Drink.”

“Bossy prick.”

“Just drink.”

She had about four flutes of champagne, but there’s no way that would make her this drunk this fast.

“Mark,” she murmurs. “I’m sleepy.”

I remove the drink from her hand and sniff, but I can’t tell a difference. However, with her loss of motor skills and the way she’s slurring, this isn’t just champagne. It hits me like a ton of bricks. “You’re drugged. We need to get out of here. Hold on, don’t let go of me.” She wraps her arms around my waist and I start to walk with her.

I look around for that waiter now, but he’s missing. What the fuck did they put in her drink? It could be anything. She could be out for hours or for days. I have no idea which drug they used or how much.

Anger flows through me as I peer at her slumping form. Once I find out who was responsible for drugging her, we’re going to get a lot of answers. Someone’s head is going to roll.

“I’m gonna take a nap,” she slurs.

I stop and turn her so she’s looking at me. “Stay awake, Charlie. You need to stay awake. Okay?”

“Okay, then I can nap.”

“Yes, then you can nap.” I give her a fake smile and pull her tight as we begin to walk. Each time she slips, I fight the urge to haul her in my arms where she’ll be safe, but that would draw too much attention. So I hold her against my side and keep her moving.

Of course, as luck would have it, her mother notices me hauling her drugged CIA daughter.

This is going to be a shit show.

“Mother!” Charlie perks up as she lets go of me. She bumps into a chair as she walks over. “You look ravishing. Did I ever tell you about that time?” She starts to slump a little and I pull her tight against me.

“Charlie,” her mother cuts her off. She says her name but shifts her gaze to me, then back to Charlie. “Darling, you don’t look so well.”

“I’m great!” She giggles.

“Mr. Dixon?” She addresses me with questions in her eyes.

“There was a waiter. He was feeding her drinks. And she’s not feeling well.” I hope she understands.

“Of course, she would drink too much.” She shakes her head with disapproval.

The need to defend her arises. “No, ma’am. Something was added to her drink.”

“Oh!” she says as her hand touches her chest. “Pretty brazen considering where we are, but I’m not surprised. Would you mind helping Charlie return home?”

“I’m not going nowhere,” Charlie slurs. “Mother. I’m fiiiiine.”

“Of course, I’ll watch over her. But we’re not going home.” I look into her mother’s eyes. Priscilla doesn’t move or flinch, but her eyes say she knows there’s more behind my words.

She steps forward, “She’s very important to me.”

“I understand.”

“She has a bag in the trunk. Always. It’ll have everything she needs.”

I nod.

Charlie grips my arm with both hands and I wrap my arm around her. When I inhale, her honey scent filters in. My hand glides up and down her arm as we stand there. I won’t even let go of her for a second. I can’t believe someone drugged her. I was with her the entire time. I’m going to murder someone.

“Don’t worry about me, Mom,” Charlie says in a hushed voice as her eyes start to drift closed. “Keep the coffee on.”

I look at Charlie, and then at Priscilla quickly, and catch her nod. Her code for a mission? Her mother wraps her arm around her waist before she kisses her cheek.

“I love you, Ch—” she stops, looks at me quickly. “Charlie.”

Not another word is said as we head out the door.

Now to get the name of that son of a bitch waiter, cut off his balls, and feed them to him.

We get to the car and she starts to get sick. “I’m sorry,” she says as I hold her hair back. “I’m so tired.”

I keep her body from falling to the ground as she lets it out. “I know, beautiful. Puking is good, get it out.”

Once she’s finished, I scoop her into my arms and load her in the backseat. She can’t even hold herself up. I rush to her car and grab the bag, head back to my car, give the driver our destination, and climb in. Charlie leans against the glass, but I want her closer. As soon as she’s situated in my arms, her eyes close, and we head off.

We’re silent on the drive to Andrews. Charlie sleeps in my lap as I try really hard not to consider all the things she spurs me to feel. I’ve never been so goddamn possessive, or protective. Her being drugged causes me to literally want to go guns blazing and kill everyone who came near her. No one should’ve gotten that close. No one should’ve had an opportunity to slip something in her drink.

So instead, I let my mind wander to my own parents and how they’ve fared with my and Garrett’s choices. My brother is a doctor in Virginia. He had it all and lost it. He had a successful practice, made a ton of money, slept around on his wife, and was the most miserable son of a bitch I knew. His gold-digger wife Michelle caught him banging his nurse and took every penny she could. He packed up, moved to Virginia, and is now dating Annika. She’s fine, but a carbon copy of Michelle—she only wants his damn money. Each time we talk, I wonder, why? Why the hell would he live a life he hates so damn much? We only get one, might as well make it the best we can.