Page 67 of Lords of Misrule
“It’ll be fine,” I say calmly, wanting to reassure her and wishing I had better words. Though I’d probably scare her if I did.
“I know. I just… hate this. I just want to make sure Brady is safe. Get him back home and know he’s okay. I want him to have a fresh start, and I don’t trust this guy.”
Her calling the place she lives with me—with us—home makes my heart skip half a beat. I reach over and run my fingers over her knee.
“None of us do. But we’ll be okay.” I’m driving down a dark road to an out-of-the-way meeting spot in a forest preserve that Steven picked.
I didn’t tell Charlotte, but I went there earlier this week to scope the place out. It looked abandoned like the maintenance staff haven’t even been there in weeks. Which made it all the more likely that he’s intending to do more than just take the money. He also told her to come alone which was never even a possibility, but we’ll need to make it look like it is.
“We’re almost there. I’m going to pull over and get on the floor. You can drive, make it look like it’s just you. But you need anything, I’ll be right here, okay?”
“Okay.” She nods as I pull the car into a turnoff, and we shuffle positions. I climb into the back, sliding down and getting my legs partially under the seat. I have to scrunch down to even try to fit. The only bonus is that it’s dark outside, and I doubt he’ll be able to see well enough to notice even if I’m not perfectly hidden.
She starts to drive down the road again and then I feel the car turn, hitting gravel instead of pavement as she pulls into the meeting spot. There’s an old outdoor restroom that he wanted to meet at.
“He’s there already.”
We’ve come a few minutes early. I hoped we could get a jump on him, but he’s been several steps ahead of us at every turn.
“Park as close as you can.” I want to be nearby if I need to act. I made her leave her cell phone at home, and I left mine too. No one we could call for help could get here fast enough anyway, and I don’t want anything identifying on us if we run into trouble with him and have to make hard decisions. But it means there’s no way but her screams that I’ll know when she needs me. That makes me sick.
“Okay.”
“You’ve got it all rehearsed in your head, Charlotte. You’ll be okay. Crack the window just a tiny bit, so I can hear.”
“Yep.” Her voice is tight. I can hear the stress in it. Practically feel the tension rolling off her as she grabs the bag of money.
“Charlotte?” I call to her just as she goes to get out.
“Yes?” she whispers.
“You can do this.”
She takes a breath and hops out of the car, shutting the door behind her. I listen as her feet crunch across the gravel, and I can feel the cool air leaking through the cracked window. I hear the two of them greeting each other, a third male voice too that I assume is her brother. That’s a good sign at least.
Charlotte has more than what she owes him in the bag. We made the plan that we’d pay him a bonus in order to incentivize him to stay away for good. Pay him off essentially to stay away from Brady and from her. I imagine he wants a different mark anyway after all this trouble. But there’s still that gnawing worry in my gut that since he’s gotten his money once, he’ll try to get it again—see Charlotte and Brady as rich targets who can deliver when he threatens.
I flex my fingers, stretching my gloves, and pat my hip to make sure my gun is still there. I hear her voice and a male one answering her. The cop doesn’t bother to check the car for other people, probably just doing a cursory check from a distance to make sure he doesn’t see a passenger. He’s counting on her to be a dumb naïve college kid just trying to save her brother. And I’m counting on him being stupid enough to believe that—leaving her alone because she’s not a threat to him. Maybe even thinking he can swindle her out of more money again in the future.
I hear the hushed tones of their voices as they talk across the way, coming through the late-night air crystal clear but barely filtering through the small crack in the window. I have to hold my breath more than once to check to make sure there are no raised voices. If I hear a scream, I want the warning that precedes it.
Another minute later, I hear a male voice call out and a female voice returns it before I hear footsteps, they’re heavy across the sidewalk and even heavier and faster when they hit the gravel. Like someone’s jogging. Another set follow, hard on the gravel.
My body tenses, and when I hear a hand hit the door and then struggle with it, I grab the garrote in my pocket. I ease out from my spot when I hear the heavy panting and a body hit the driver’s seat, but no one speaks. She’d have said something by now. If he’s done anything to her, even just left a handprint on her like he has in the past, I will fucking torture him to death.
I move quickly then, jumping to the spot behind the driver’s seat and pulling the garrote around the person’s throat. Just before I can pull it tight though I hear a cough. Her cough.
“Rowan!” she chokes on my name.
“Fuck!” I cry out, dropping and hopping into the passenger seat to look at her. “Are you okay? I thought you were him. The way you ran, the way you flipped the door handle.”
She glares at me, jamming the keys in the ignition and turning the car on.
“Get down.” I see him in the distance, his head tilting as he watches us—well aware now that she has company. I slink down in the seat even though it’s useless.
A second later the back door across from me opens and a guy who looks a little younger than us jumps in.
“Rowan, Brady. Brady, Rowan.” Charlotte makes quick introductions.
