She wanted to believe it was the latter. She wanted to believe it so badly, she almost got into the car that pulled up next to her, its tinted windows and nondescript coloring marking it as government-issued.
But she knew her father too well. John Finch was all about the bottom line, and the bottom line included every member of organized crime he could get put behind bars. The only reason he’d admit that there was an informant in the first place was because Aiden knew and had taken steps to cut off his contact. “How long has he known?”
“I can’t be sure…”
Which was an answer in and of itself. Aiden was a planner. Despite some astronomical differences of opinion, he loved the hell out of his siblings. Someone like Dmitri Romanov wouldn’t hesitate to make an informant disappear—permanently. But to do that to a sibling? Aiden would hesitate. He would gather information, and he would plan, and when he moved, it would be to shut down the threat without harming his sibling.
In this case, the threat was Charlie’s father.
She swayed on her feet, feeling sick to her stomach. “Did he threaten me?” She couldn’t wrap her head around it. He was ruthless, yes, but the man who’d taken her to bed and told her that he wanted a real relationship was not oneto coldly use her for his own gain. Except…her own father had allowed her to walk into danger because it served his purposes. He might not have liked it, but he hadn’t given her any warning, because he didn’t trust her.
Because the bottom line mattered more.
If her dad would do that, why wouldn’t Aiden? They’d known each other only a couple weeks, after all. Her instincts told her that he’d never hurt her, but she’d already established that her instincts couldn’t be trusted.
Her dad hesitated long enough that she knew he was considering lying to her. “Not directly. But he threw your relationship—if you can call it that—in my face and threatened untoward things if I didn’t do what he said.”
Untoward things.For her dad, that could mean anything from murdering her to dating her. She sighed, suddenly so tired that she could barely form words. “What did he want from you?”
“That’s not important.”
Traffic had the car in front of her veering away from the curb and back into the stream of cars in the road.Good riddance.“It’s important tome.”
Her dad cursed, his legendary patience having apparently run dry. “He wanted me to be at a dock in New York at a specified time and date. It’s obviously a trap, and I’m not in the business of jumping when mob bosses tell me to jump.”
A dock at a specific time and date—likely when he’d orchestrated for Romanov and the Eldridges to be in the midst of a gunfight. Despite everything, she almost smiled. That was really smart of Aiden. If the two enemies didn’t kill each other off, the FBI would be there to clean up the mess.
But getting them there in the first place was the problem.Her father wasn’t the type to respond to anonymous tips without a whole bucketful of doubt. He’d be so busy looking for the trap, he might miss the opportunity to see justice done once and for all.
“You should go. His tip is solid.”
“You’re just saying that because he said it. The only reason you believe him is because you’re sleeping with him.”
She jerked back and almost ran into a man walking past. The stranger gave her a dirty look and kept walking, but she barely paid him any attention. “Do you really think that little of me?” Sure, she’d gotten carried away with Aiden, but she was also an adult and in possession of most of her common sense. He might try to tell her the sky was pink, but that didn’t mean she’d believe him, no questions asked.
That her father thought she was so foolish—so easily swayed—stung more than she wanted to admit. But then, she shouldn’t be surprised. It was just more of the same, after all. Bitterness clawed its way up her throat and emerged from her mouth. “When your daughter is a dirty cop, all her decisions are subject to criticism.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.” She’d seen it time and time again, every time he’d looked at her for the last two years. She was sotiredof it. If John Finch had a family, it was the FBI. Not Charlie. “Good-bye, Dad. Please don’t try to send anyone for me again.” She hung up before he could say something to make the emotional bleeding worse.
A car pulled up next to her, and the back door opened. She cursed. “Tell my dad…” Charlie trailed off as she registered the gun pointed at her. Distantly, she heard running and yelling, but there was no way whoever was on her protection detail would reach her in time.
Mae smiled, her dark lipstick stark against her pale face. “Get in the car, bitch.”
Charlie weighed her odds, but even at this hour, there were other people on the street. She’d get someone killed if she tried to run—Mae didn’t seem the type to spare innocent bystanders if she thought she could shoot Charlie in the back. And she was too far away for Charlie to rush her without getting shot at least twice, maybe three times, depending on how fast Mae could pull the trigger.
“This isn’t going to get you what you want.”
“Maybe what I want is you—dead.” Mae motioned with her free hand. “Either get in the car or I’ll put two in your chest right here. Your choice.”
Rule number one in any hostile scenario was to never get into the car and be transported to a secondary location. Charlie didn’t have that option. Mae would definitely be true to her word, and she liked her chances of escaping better if she could lull the other woman into underestimating her.
She lifted her hands slowly. “No need to shoot me. I’m coming with you.”
She was almost to the car when Mae’s smile widened. “You may be, but I’m not a fan of your men.” She grabbed Charlie’s arm and hauled her into the backseat as she pulled the trigger. Charlie twisted around and caught a glimpse of Liam lying on the ground, blood leaking from his chest. Then the car shot away from the curb.
Oh my God, what have I done?
