Chapter 9 #2
“We have a big family,” he said finally. “Multiple branches, plenty of history.”
“Is Levi one of those branches?” I pressed.
Levi exhaled, low. “Amelia—”
“He’s a Dane,” Charlie said. “So are we.”
Heat crawled up the back of my neck. “That’s not an answer, either.”
“It’s the one you’re getting this morning,” he said.
I laughed, short and humorless. “You do realize how that sounds from the outside? Private estate. Private jets. Viper in a tank. A whole brood of ex-military men with the same last name running money through half of Europe. You can see why someone might be concerned.”
“Let me guess,” he said. “Someone in D.C. with access to partial data and a craving for drama.”
“If my sources wanted drama, they’d leak to cable news,” I said. “They came to me because they want clarity.”
Charlie leaned forward, forearms on his knees, all easy amusement gone.
“Then here’s some clarity,” he said. “We operate legal entities in multiple jurisdictions because the work we do spans multiple jurisdictions. We move money quickly because disasters don’t wait for appropriations committees.
We hire men and women with specific skill sets—yes, some of them former Special Forces—because the world is full of people who’d rather kidnap aid workers than send thank-you notes. ”
The room vibrated with the clash.
Levi ran a hand over his jaw. “You two are going to kill each other,” he muttered.
“Stay out of it,” I said.
He snorted. “Not likely.”
Charlie watched the volley with interest. “You two always like this?” he asked. “Feels like I walked into the middle of something.”
“We’re done with the personal questions,” I said.
“Are you?” he asked mildly, gaze flicking to Levi again, then back to me. “Because your source material seems very interested in my last name and his.”
He wasn’t wrong. I hated that.
“I don’t care about your family tree,” I lied. “I care about what you’re building on it.”
“You care about both,” he said. “You’re wondering if the same man who—what was it, Levi, ‘kept America on the up and up’—is now working for people who profit from the shadows he used to clear.”
Our eyes met. He’d hit closer to the mark than I wanted to admit.
“I’m wondering,” I said slowly, “if a man who once refused to compromise his principles suddenly decided his price was a private jet and a black card.”
Levi flinched, just enough for me to feel it.
Charlie’s gaze sharpened. “You really think so little of him?”
“That’s between me and him,” I snapped.
“Everything between you and him is currently sitting on my furniture,” he said. “So, forgive me if I take an interest.”
Levi blew out a breath. “Enough,” he said. “Amelia’s not wrong to ask questions. You’re not wrong to be wary of leaks. But if we’re going to keep talking, we need something besides mutual suspicion on the table.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Access,” he said, turning to me. “That’s what you want.”
“Truth is what I want,” I said. “Access is just the only way to get to it.”
Charlie considered that. Then he nodded once, decision made.
“Fine,” he said. “You can look. Within reason.”
My pulse ticked up. “Define ‘reason.’”
“You stay on the parts of our operation that are already visible,” he said.
“Clinics. Training facilities. Local investments. You talk to who I tell you you can talk to, when I say it’s safe for them and for us.
You don’t publish names of people whose lives you’ll ruin by doing so.
And if you stumble onto something you think is illegal, you come to me before you blast it to the world. ”
“Absolutely not,” I said.
“Then we’re done,” he said, standing.
Levi’s hand closed around my wrist, gentle but firm. “Amelia.”
I looked at him, ready to bite.
His eyes were steady, dark. “You’re not going to get another chance like this,” he said quietly. “Not with them watching you now. You know that.”
He was right. I hated that more than anything.
Charlie watched us, arms folded across his chest. “I’m offering you a spotlight inside the fog,” he said. “Most people get to squint at the edges from outside the fence.”
“You’re offering me managed perception,” I said. “Guided tours and sanitized talking points.”
“I’m offering you more than anyone else has,” he said. “And I’m curious enough about whoever’s feeding you that I’m willing to make the trade.”
There it was—his price.
“You stay out of my sources,” I said. “Non-negotiable. You don’t chase them. You don’t try to scare them quiet.”
“I don’t chase ghosts,” he said. “If they’re real people, though, I can’t promise I won’t protect my own, if they’re lying.”
“If they’re lying, I’ll be the one to say it,” I shot back.
Charlie’s mouth curved. “Now, that I believe.”
Another heartbeat of silence stretched between us.
“Fine,” I said at last. “You give me access, I won’t blindside you for sport. But if you’re lying to me—if this place is what my sources think it is—I will burn it down to the studs and salt the earth after.”
He didn’t flinch.
“That’s the Amelia Emerson I read,” he said. “Welcome to Dominion Hall.”