looked at her—but Charley didn’t care. Wasn’t that what you did for someone you loved? Looked out for them? Saved them when they didn’t have the strength to save themselves?
From the corner of her eye, she caught Rudy rummaging beneath the sink for the dish soap and a rag. She had a dishwasher, but Rudy turned on the faucet and soaped up the plate anyway, humming an old Italian lullaby her father used to sing.
The melody made Charley’s heart ache.
A few minutes later, Rudy cleared his throat, and she finally looked up and met his gaze. He stood in the archway between the kitchen and dining room, watching her with unchecked disdain, clutching the dishrag as it dripped water onto the tile floor. A lone rose petal peeked out from beneath his shoe, red as blood.
She felt broken inside, unable to move.
When Rudy spoke, she flinched again, and the asshole smiled, eminently pleased with himself.
“Two weeks, Charlotte. Three at the absolute max. If we have to revisit this topic again, you and your mother’s pretty little bastard will find out what it truly means to hurt. Understood?”
She nodded.
“I didn’t quite hear that,” he said.
“Yeah.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Yes. I understand, Uncle Rudy. Two weeks, three tops. You got it.”
“Good. Now clean up the rest of this mess before your sister gets home from Darcy’s.” He flung the dirty dishrag across the room, hitting her square in the face.
By the time it slid down into her lap, Rudy and the gun were gone.
Chapter Six
Sasha’s bathroom was closer, and Charley barely made it inside before her stomach convulsed, emptying its meager contents into the toilet for the second time that morning. Even when she had nothing left, she still heaved, her tears unstoppable, her body trembling with fear and shame.
Unable to face herself in the mirror, she stripped out of her robe and pajamas and stepped into the shower, using an entire bottle of exfoliating bath gel to scrub Rudy’s touch from her skin.
In the quiet fury of her work, she considered her options.
Even if she wanted to let the robbery play out, there was no way Rudy’s scheme would work. She’d bought herself a few more weeks, but that was just a stalling tactic. Luring Dorian and his brothers out of the house for a weekend trip together? With her? Without arousing suspicion? Not happening. It wasn’t just the FierceConnect acquisition either; Charley wasn’t exactly versed in supernatural politics, but after last night, she was pretty sure a war was brewing, and the Redthornes were right smack in the middle of it.
She could grab the passports, pack their bags, use the credit card to get out of the country with Sasha for good. The thought had crossed her mind before, but… No. Rudy controlled the credit card and would easily track her movements. She had a few hundred in cash hidden in a false-bottomed cookie jar, but how far would that get them? Buffalo? Toronto, if they were lucky?
She could turn herself in, cop a plea deal, try to take down Rudy and the whole crew in one fell swoop. But that wasn’t a sure thing, either. Warrants took time, and time meant risking Sasha’s safety. Rudy had been watching her, tracking her work schedule and social plans—he’d made that clear over breakfast. Charley had no doubt that if her uncle sensed the heat closing in, Sasha would be dead before the cops even kicked down his door.
Charley leaned her forehead against the tile and closed her eyes. Her mind spun in circles, searching for every possible loophole, but in the end, she only had one play left.
The truth.
She was in way too deep, and Rudy was quickly unraveling, growing more impatient every day.
Maybe she didn’t need the fantasy version of a dark, deadly hero—a vampire in tarnished armor, charging in to slaughter her foes and save the day. But she did need help. Without it, she couldn’t protect Sasha or prevent the robbery.
Which meant Charley had to confess, once and for all. To look into the eyes of the man she was falling for—the vampire she was falling for—and admit she’d been plotting the heist of his entire art estate.
He might call the cops, which would be bad.
He might tell his brothers, which would be worse.
He might even kill her. He was a vampire, after all—the king—and she’d betrayed his trust. Last night, she’d caught a glimpse of his primal fury—a fury unleashed