When most people pictured hell, they envisioned raging infernos and a leather-skinned devil with horns, maybe a few floating souls screaming in agony. To Charlie, it was the pungent odor of perfumed incense and the cold massage table that had seen umpteen naked people that day alone…and having a stranger touch her.
Ten minutes ago, she’d told the masochist masseur he’d better take his wandering hands and hide, and that’s exactly what he did. And the only regret Charlie had was not having threatened him sooner.
“I still can’t believe you nearly made Sven cry,” Tina complained—again, as they waited outside the spa for the valet to bring around the truck.
“He got too hands-y.” Charlie purposefully didn’t apologize.
“He’s trained in the art of relaxation. It’s his job to get hands-y,” Tina said snottily.
“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t relaxation.”
“For the love of God, you could’ve tried not acting like a torture victim for at least one of our treatments! Don’t they have spas in that backwoods town of yours?”
“Sure. The bathroom in my one-bedroom apartment.”
“Your apartment?” Tina flicked her long hair over her shoulder. “Things aren’t going well with Mr. Tall, Tatted, and Terrifying? I mean, you’re marrying the guy and you’re still holding on to your own dumpy little place? Doesn’t exactly sound like happily ever after.”
“We like our own spaces. Nothing wrong with that,” Charlie grumbled.
“Yes, there is something wrong, little cousin. Marriage means making sacrifices to be with the other person, sometimes even if you have to do things that may be uncomfortable—like sharing a living space.”
“And you know this how, exactly?” Charlie snapped. After a whole day of being poked, prodded, and buffed to within an inch of her sanity, she still hadn’t gotten a chance to grill Tina about Sinful Delights. Her cousin’s interrogation talents, however, were starting to outshine Stone’s. “If you have something to say, Tina, get it all out in the open. You never wasted pleasantries on me before, so why start now?”
Tina whirled around way too fast for a woman in six-inch heels. “Why did you really come back? Because this whole I’m-getting-married-and-I-wanted-to-show-my-fiancé-my-hometown act sounds like freaking hooey.”
“What person above the age of eight says ‘hooey’?”
What person who can be found in a bloody sex club?
“I do! When I see of a load of it staring me right in the face!”
“It’s not hooey staring you in the face, Ti, it’s the truth,” Charlie lied easily. “And may I remind you, I wasn’t the one who sought out a little reunion? I kept my distance when Vince and I got to town for a reason. I sure as hell didn’t invite myself to brunch, or come up with this wonderful bonding excursion.”
“But you came,” Tina huffed.
“Like Arturo would’ve accepted anything else.”
Even though Tina saw Arturo with Daddy Vision, her cousin wasn’t stupid. No one went up against Arturo Franconi and came out unscathed.
When the valet showed up with the rental, Tina gave the pickup a disgusted eye-roll and dramatically climbed into the passenger seat.
Charlie had barely managed a right-hand turn out of the spa parking lot when Tina opened her mouth again. “I may not have run with the smart kids in school like you, but I didn’t need a genius GPA to know you hated Miami. You hated living with us. You hated everything about our life here.”
“I hated that I wasn’t able to live with my mother,” Charlie said bluntly.
Tina went quiet. Charlie didn’t mention her mother often. Or ever. And she hadn’t meant to do so now, either, but the constant nagging was starting to get to her, and she’d slipped.
There’d been no father growing up—just her and her mom—putting their mark on the world. Yeah, she’d hated Miami. It took away the only person who’d ever given a damn—or more accurately, who didn’t have an ulterior motive for giving a damn.
Tina sure hadn’t liked her home being invaded by the brainy British kid, and when Charlie’s talents with a computer became obvious, Arturo’s lavish attention only gave her cousin more reason to dislike her. It hadn’t mattered that it had been focused on what Charlie could do for him.
And then there was Brock. Until Charlie had been given this assignment, she’d thought befriending the estranged son of her uncle’s right-hand man at a local Internet café had been a happy coincidence.
Wrong—once again, used.
“I didn’t fit in here, Ti.” Charlie admitted, trying to ignore the slight tightening in her chest. “Arturo—”
“Is no angel. I get it.” At Charlie’s surprised glance, Tina rolled her eyes. “Seriously, just because I keep up to date on all the latest fashion doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain. I know Daddy’s not the typical soccer-coach father. He looks for opportunities in everything he does—and everyone he meets. Just remember, when he first took you into our home, you were eight years old.”
“I know how old I was. What’s your point?”
“My point is, smart or not, the only thing an eight-year-old is good for is increasing your grocery bill.”
Charlie hadn’t thought about it quite like that. Arturo hadn’t been required to take her into his home. She wasn’t any blood relation to him, after all. But just because he hadn’t packed her bags and sent her into the foster care system didn’t mean he’d sprouted angel wings.
Charlie tried steering the topic away from herself just as she directed the truck onto the main road leading off the spa grounds. “You said at brunch that you’re running your own business. How’s that going?”
Tina shot her a glare. “Look. We spent the day together like Daddy wanted, but don’t insult my intelligence by pretending you actually care.”
The car in front of them slammed on its brakes, and Charlie swerved, narrowly missing attaching the truck to their bumper. Miami traffic sucked around the clock. There was no way to avoid it. But traffic during a burgeoning rush hour? With cars, construction, and basic bad driving, the ride home went from inhumanely long to nearly fatally long, because by the sixth heavy-breathed sigh from the passenger seat, Charlie had just about snapped.
“Feel free to hop out and hoof it back to the house if you think you can get there any faster,” Charlie gritted through her teeth.
“At this rate, I could. If you don’t move it along, I’m going to miss Whitney’s engagement party.”
“Whitney. As in Whitney Holiday?” Charlie snuck her cousin a glance. “Isn’t she already married?”
“This is her fourth engagement, if you must know, but it doesn’t make the celebration any less special.”
“Yeah, it kind of does. ‘Congratulations on finding that one special someone…for the fourth time.’ See? It doesn’t have that same ring to it.”
Tina scowled. “And where did you have your engagement party…in your place of employment?”
Charlie grinned, saying the first thing that came to mind that she knew would get under Tina’s skin. “You can’t go wrong with beer and trail mix.”
Her cousin’s nose wrinkled, her look of disgust making Charlie chuckle. “Ugh. I honestly don’t know what happened with you. I mean, Daddy tried so damn hard to bring you up right, and you threw your life away for drunkards grabbing your ass and cleaning crushed peanuts off a dirty floor.”
Maybe so, if by “right” she meant his trying to convince her to break the law and make him even richer than he already was. Oh yeah, and keep him out of jail.
Charlie forced a tight smile. “And yet I much prefer that to subjecting myself to what we did for the last six hours.”
“You could’ve stayed with your ruffian fiancé. Heck, I wouldn’t currently be stuck in this horrific traffic if you had. I’m never going to get ready and make it to the party in enough time to be fashionably late.”
“Unless you’re Moses, you would’ve been stuck in the very same traffic. You’re the one who said the only spa worth going to was the one in Shady Oaks.”
“And if you’d ever been to the one near the house, you’d realize there was no other option. But considering you probably treat your hair with Kool-Aid and buff your nails with a chainsaw, I wouldn’t expect you to know the difference.”
“Then don’t complain about the traffic!”
Tina muttered under her breath, folding her arms across her chest like an insolent child. Drumming her newly manicured nails on the steering wheel, Charlie caught sight of a flipped tractor trailer a dozen car-lengths ahead. After that, the road cleared—somewhat. Thirty minutes later, they passed the accident, but rush hour descended with a vengeance.
Charlie ignored Tina’s irritated huffs and snorts, and switched lanes to avoid a slowing minivan. Mid lane-change, her gaze snagged on a bright blue sedan doing the same, three cars back. When she drifted to the far right to avoid a disabled car, the blue sedan did the same. Again.
Instincts blaring, Charlie took the first right with no warning.
“What the hell?” Tina dropped her hand onto the dash. “Where did you get your license? A Cracker Jack box?”
Charlie ignored Tina’s tantrum as she watched the blue car make the same sharp right turn. Keeping the truck steady, her eyes flickered to the rearview mirror. Dark tinted windows made it nearly impossible to identify either of the two men inside the car, and, not much of a surprise to Charlie, it didn’t have a license plate.
“Hang on a sec,” Charlie warned Tina just before she made an unexpected left. She held her breath and counted—five seconds. Ten. At nearly thirty, Charlie let out a shaky sigh and mentally scolded herself for her paranoia. After three intersections, her heart rate almost returned. After the fourth, a squeal of tires pulled her attention to their rear.
Blue Bird was back.
“Bloody hell.” Charlie reached for her phone, but her fingers had barely touched it when Tina snatched it.
“No! No freaking way are you going to text and drive. You can’t stay on the road as it is!” Tina held it out of reach.
“Give me the phone, Tina.”
Tina dangled it from her fingers and dropped it on the floor. “Whoops.”
Charlie let out a growl. “Give me my phone and then snap into your seat belt.”
Looking smug, Tina brought her leg down with a loud crunch. “Try and use it now. And why do you care if I’m wearing my seat belt? With the way you’re driving, I could be strapped into a harness like a freaking astronaut and still get injured. You are not my keeper, Charlotte Ann Sparks,” Tina snapped, getting back on her high horse. “I don’t know what you think you can accomplish by coming back home, but it’s not to get me to—”
The blue sedan nearly latched itself onto the truck’s bumper. Charlie stepped on the gas, and Tina’s head whipped back onto her headrest.
“Are you freaking insane?” Tina screeched.
“Shut up and get your bloody seat belt on…now!”
Tina finally listened. Behind them, the car rumbled as it attempted to pull alongside them. Rafe had forced her to watch enough training videos to recognize the move: it gave the car’s passenger free rein to empty a round of bullets into the truck—and the truck’s driver.
Charlie frog-hopped between cars, keeping the blue vehicle in her line of sight at all times—and behind them. Its passenger window dropped, and an arm emerged, holding something silver in its hand.
“Charlie!” Tina squeaked—but she wasn’t staring at the gun taking aim. Up ahead, a parked delivery truck sat in their lane, ramp down in mid-delivery.
“Hold on.” Charlie yanked the truck to the right, through two lanes of traffic, earning her a middle finger from a pissed-off cabbie.
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” Tina clutched the oh-shit handle above the seat.
Traffic lights went from green to yellow, and the car behind them blew each one, hurtling through the intersections. She turned, they turned. She stepped heavily on the gas, and they sped up too.
“You’re going too fast.” Tina now sounded concerned. “Jesus, Charlie, that’s a red light! Stop!”
“Can’t.” She floored it, almost closing her eyes as she burst through. Horns honked, and people shouted, but she didn’t care…especially when the car behind them did the same.
Charlie summoned every evasive-driving lesson the guys had ever given her and put it into effect, except her goal wasn’t to put their pursuers out of commission. What Charlie wanted was to get away without killing anyone, but the blue sedan didn’t seem to have the same philosophy. They nearly collided with a homeless man, making his cart of belongings fly into the air and scatter.
Tina turned in her seat, looking behind them. “Is that car chasing us?”
It was Charlie’s turn to roll her eyes. “Gee. What do you know. I hadn’t noticed.”
“Well, pull over and find out what they want before they run us off the road and kill us!”
Charlie shot her cousin an annoyed glare. “They’re fucking chasing us in the middle of the city and nearly ran over a homeless man to keep up. Do you really think they’re the type of guys I want to pull over for?”
“Well, they must be your friends, so why the hell not?” Tina yelled.
A metallic ping bounced off the truck and the passenger-side mirror shattered.
“What was that?” Tina asked.
“I’m pretty sure it was a bullet.” Charlie’s heart leapt to her throat.
Tina’s head whipped in her direction. “Your friends shoot at you?”
Charlie’s restraint, or what was left of it, snapped. “Your father’s a bloody mob boss and you think those guys back there are because of me? What delusional world have you been living in, Tina?”
“I’ve never been shot at until you came back to town! I knew you should’ve stayed gone.”
“For the last time, these are not my bloody friends!” Her eyes shifted left and right, looking for their next-best option.
Ping, another shot, this one somewhere near the truck bed. Either their tail wasn’t aiming directly into the cab of the SUV, or they were lousy shots. Screaming, Tina clutched her expensive purse to her chest like it was an armored vest.
“Do you have a cell phone in your purse?” Charlie asked.
“You want to make a phone call while driving for our lives?”
“Phone, Tina.”
Tina shuffled through her bag before pulling out the jewel-encrusted case. “Got it.”
“Dial the number I tell you,”
Another ping smacked the truck, this one snapping off Charlie’s side mirror and making an all-too-close zing near her left ear. Tina screamed and ducked, dropping the damn phone, and braced her hands on the dash.
Bloody. Fucking. Hell.
“All right boys”—Charlie gritted her teeth—“enough is enough. Hold on.”
The truck’s tires squealed as she turned in a sharp right. Charlie sped up, eyes narrowed in concentration at the two Dumpsters lining each side of the alley-like road. “Please fit. Please fit. Please bloody fit.”
Metal screeched against metal as they squeezed through. The left Dumpster caught on the back bumper, tugging it off-kilter enough that their friends were forced into a shrieking stop.
Tina nervously glanced over her shoulder. “They’re gone?”
“For now.” Charlie used her only remaining mirror to make sure their admirers stayed behind as she directed the truck toward the freeway. Tina, atypically silent—and pale—still clutched her purse like it was her lifeline.
“Well, that was fun.” Charlie sighed, releasing the tension she’d been holding since leaving the spa.
Tina turned in her seat, mouth agape. “You’re crazy. You’re even crazier now than you were before you left.”
Charlie kept her mouth closed as she tried to decipher how to continue. This hadn’t exactly been part of the plan of keeping a low profile with the family. The sun set as they approached her uncle’s neighborhood, and by the time Charlie pulled up in front of the house, Tina was already sliding out.
“Tina.” Charlie bent over the seat to catch her cousin’s eye. “Can I trust you to—”
“Keep my mouth shut?” Tina rolled her eyes. “Please, like I want people to know what happened. I won’t tell Daddy either, but you need to stay the hell away. Forget whatever it is that brought you back into our lives and slip out of them as easily as you did before. It shouldn’t be difficult for you. After all, you seem pretty good at it.”