Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,49
belly. “Never doubt it, snake.”
God, how the fuck had she ever fallen for this guy? The memory of his hands on her body, his crunchy hair, his sloppy tongue in her ear as he grunted over her body like an ape… She nearly gagged.
“Come on, baby. I’m just playing.” Travis’ gaze traveled down her body, stopping to rest at her crotch. “You still want it. I can tell by those tight jeans you wore for me.”
“Don’t touch me, Travis. I mean it.”
“Nah, I don’t think you do.” He shoved his hand between her thighs, pinching her crotch through the jeans. “That’s a good little slut. Just like—what the fuck, bitch?”
Travis recoiled, his clothes soaked in Charley’s gin and tonic.
“I told you not to touch me, asshole. Do it again, and I’ll do something more… permanent.” This time, she glared at his crotch, making sure he got the message loud and clear. Then, calling out to Rudy, “I need another drink, Uncle Rudy. And Travis needs a towel.”
Her uncle returned a few minutes later with fresh drinks and a kitchen towel. He took one look at Travis, sulking at the far end of the couch in a soaked shirt, and laughed. “I see the reunion is going well.”
“Smashing. What’s on the agenda tonight?” Charley asked, forcing a smile. She wasn’t interested in reunions or laughs over a few drinks. She’d bailed on the rest of girls’ night with Sasha, turned off her phone during a perfectly delicious text volley with Dorian on the cab ride up, and endured the filthy, unwanted advances of her sleazy ex. The least Rudy could do was get to the fucking point.
“A new assignment, possibly. But believe me when I say there’s no room for error here.” He sipped his martini so delicately it looked like a kiss. Over the rim, he exchanged a glance with Travis that Charley couldn’t decipher. “We need to be certain you can handle it. We have… concerns.”
“What about Bones and the guys?” she asked, wondering when the fuck Rudy and Travis had become a ‘we.’
Where was the rest of the crew?
“This is more of a… side project.” Rudy and his pet snake shared another cryptic glance. “We’re counting on your discretion.”
Charley nodded, forcing herself not to push. She knew better than to challenge Rudy or go behind his back to the others, but this kind of secrecy was bad news. The fresh churn in her gut went well beyond her usual attack of conscience; something about this gig was off.
“Are you interested in the details?” Rudy asked.
What I’m interested in, you son of a bitch, is dumping this drink in your face, setting you on fire, and shooting your charred corpse out of a cannon over the East River.
“Of course,” she said brightly, setting her drink on the coffee table. “What’s the job?”
Travis retrieved an envelope from the back of his waistband and handed it over. “Shindig upstate on Friday night. You’re an attorney attending at the behest of your client.”
The envelope was still warm from his body heat. Charley tried not to grimace as she thumbed through the contents: a satellite map of a sprawling estate in Annandale-on-Hudson, a ticket to the event, and a few details about her temporary identity.
“What am I bidding on?” she asked.
“No bids,” Travis said. “This one’s a fundraiser for some kiddie art charity. A thousand bucks a head too. You’d think they were trying to adopt those fucking rug rats.”
“You shelled out a grand for this?” Charley raised her eyebrows at her uncle. “Must be a pretty sure thing.”
Rudy sprayed her with his machine-gun laugh. “Not a cent. That ticket is Travis’ handiwork.”
A forgery. Great. Let’s hope they’re not checking these against the guest list.
“According to our sources,” Rudy said, “the estate is one of only a handful of private residences in the hamlet. It’s allegedly furnished with rare artifacts and art dating back to ancient times.”
“The guy also collects vintage cars,” Travis said.
“Sounds like you’ve got this one locked down.” Charley stuffed the paperwork back into the envelope and tossed it onto the coffee table, retrieving her drink. “What do you need me for?”
“An inside look,” Rudy said. From a leather folio, he pulled out a stack of surveillance photos and a detailed floor plan of the house. “We’ve got a good handle on the external points of entry,” he said, pointing out the red Xs marked around the perimeter, “but we don’t know the precise security situation, or how many people