The Dirty Series 2(32)

“What the hell do you two expect me to do about that?”

“Pay it,” Charlie answers, his tone direct and matter-of-fact.

“I don’t have ten thousand dollars.” I’m having trouble keeping my voice steady. I desperately want to project an air of confidence to this asshole and somehow convince him to get the hell away from us. This entire thing seems so absurd. What was Adam thinking?

“She doesn’t need to be part of this,” Adam bursts out. “I can do whatever it is you need her to do.”

Charlie laughs cruelly. “We’ve discussed this. It won’t be nearly as successful unless your sister here—,” he pauses to look me up and down, eyes lingering on the buttons of my top, “—does exactly what we tell her to do.”

“Just leave her out of this.” Adam’s voice is shaking.

Charlie clicks his tongue. “It’s a bit late for that now. Keep in mind, Adam, that it could be worse. We could have just taken her for payment.” Charlie’s eyes haven’t left my breasts.

“You sick bastard—,” Adam starts to say, and he takes one step toward Charlie.

That’s as far as he gets.

Charlie’s movement is so fast, so calculated, that Adam doesn’t have time to flinch. Fist meets face with a sickening crunch, and before I know it, Adam has dropped to the floor, clutching at his nose. “Fuck,” he spits. There’s blood, a cut—Jesus Christ. I drop to my knees next to him, my heart in my throat.

“I’m not generally a violent man,” Charlie continues, as if nothing has happened. “But we have some terms and conditions.”

“We?” I choke out as Adam groans, twisting his body away from Charlie.

Charlie grins at me, then shakes his head as if he’s saving the surprise for later. “It’s not important for you to know the names of my associates. The important thing is—,” he says, and every muscle in my body tenses as he reaches behind him. Does he have a gun? Time seems to slow as Charlie’s hand disappears behind his back. It reemerges...holding a phone. “The important thing is that you realize what’s at stake.”

“I think we get it.” My voice trembles now despite my best efforts to remain calm. I want this man out of Adam’s apartment.

“Listen, Angelica, I can tell you’re angry.”

I bite back a caustic reply, instead turning my attention back to Adam. His hands are pressed to his face, but blood is seeping out from around his fingers.

“I don’t know what your people are into—.”

Charlie holds up his hands. “Now’s not the time to go into detail about our organization. Your brother offered to resolve this himself, but it will be far easier for you to complete the assignment.”

I don’t know what the fuck Charlie is alluding to, but the more he talks, the more I’m certain that my only option is agreeing to whatever it is that he wants. My brother writhing on the floor is proof of that.

“What assignment?”

Charlie smiles like I’ve made the right choice. “You’ll complete a little side project for us, and we’ll leave your brother unharmed.” He looks down at Adam and chuckles. “Well, mostly unharmed. But remember, if you call the police, the deal is off. You tell anyone about what you’re doing, the deal is off.”

“Fine.”

“Ah, ah,” he says, holding up one finger, and suddenly he’s in my face, his breath hot on my skin. “One wrong move, and the deal is off. You don’t want your brother to face the consequences of your failure, do you?”

What can I possibly say?

“No.”

“Of course not,” Charlie says congenially, reaching down and patting my shoulder. It takes every ounce of my self-control not to flinch away from his touch.

Then Charlie looks down at the watch on his wrist. “I’d better be going,” he says, and moves toward the door. Adam jerks toward me as he steps around us, but Charlie doesn’t land a kick. He pauses once more before he leaves. “I’ll send the instructions on Monday.” The door swings open, closes behind him, and then he’s gone.

I’m left alone with my bleeding younger brother, his life, once again, in my hands.





Chapter Two





Jett



I’ve got to get that wretched woman out of my head.

One week back in New York City, and the time I wasted on Emerald Winslow still makes my shoulders tense and my cheeks flush with a sickening heat.

My fingers clench around the stylus I’m using to mark up some contracts on the brand new tablet I had Stuart pick up for me this morning. I wiped the old one clean before I left London and threw it into a box of Emerald’s things. I don’t give a damn if it gets broken on the way to wherever her sorry ass is now.