Page 11 of To Catch A Rogue
Her blood ran cold.
"Charlie!" She strode toward him, snatching at his sleeve. "Whereis the job?"
"Russia."
"Are you insane?" He had to be. The Crimson Court wasn't the Echelon. It had been considered uncouth among the Echelon to slit a thrall's throat even in the days before the revolution; the Blood had no such compunctions.
If you weren't Blood, you were a tool.
And if you weren't useful, you were prey.
"No," she whispered, her fingers curling in his sleeve as if she could somehow shackle him. "Promise me you won't leave these shores."
He pried her fingers loose.
"The Duke of Malloryn thinks no one's coming to rescue him, Lark. It's been two weeks. Balfour will have him in his clutches by now, and he hates Malloryn. I cannot just leave him there. Malloryn would come for me. That's what a Rogue does."
"Ican'tcome with you."
Not to Russia.
She'd sworn an oath of blood to Tin Man that she'd never go back. She'd stood over his grave and promised him he hadn't sacrificed his life for nothing. She'd stop taking risks. She'd try to live her life the way he'd wanted for her.
Charlie pulled free. "That's your choice. But I'm making mine. If I can't have the best, then I'll have to find someone else to watch my back."
"You manipulative son of a bitch."
"Now, now, Lark."
He turned toward the door, leaving her stricken.
"We leave in two days from the airfields in Battersea," he called over his shoulder as he shoved his hands in his pockets. "At dawn. If you want in, don't be late. I won't wait for you."
And Lark shivered as all the ghosts of her past started laughing at her.
* * *
Lark pacedthe wash chambers as her bath filled, unable to calm herself. Not even the haul of gems from the Golorukov job could distract her. She'd pushed the entire lot into Foley's hands without even bothering to evaluate them.
"What the hell is he thinking?" she hissed.
A job in Russia?
Taking on the entire Crimson Court?
Lord Balfour?
If Charlie were lucky he'd only have his throat cut, his body dumped in a shallow grave. If he was unlucky....
Suddenly she couldn't breathe. All she could see was fire. A manor burning. A little girl crying out, "Mamochka!"
But mama was not going to come. Not this time.
Damn it. She'd thought she'd left Russia and all her nightmares behind.
A decisive rap came at the door, slicing through the memories. Lark forced the world into focus again.
"Maid service," a voice called.
