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“I’m begging you. Lock the doors. And if anyone comes knocking, call the police. Don’t screw around with this, Aunt Midge. I might know how to get that cash.”

The thought of leaving her alone sits like bricks in my stomach, but the whole reason behind my return to the Blackthornes is to help her. I’ll plan to swipe the key from Laura during one of her many naps and grab the doll from the case. Then text Aunt Midge to come pick me up. I’ll say there’s a family emergency at home. We’ll find a place to hock the doll and get the cash.

Yeah, it’s shitty.

Yeah, I feel like an absolute scumball for taking advantage of the Blackthornes this way.

But I would do anything for my aunt.

Even this.

“I’m so scared, Isa.” The constant shudder of her body proves the point. “What if he comes back tonight?”

“Can you stay with Shelly?” As much as her coworker from The Shoal annoys the hell out of me, she’s the closest Aunt Midge has to a best friend.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Do you need me to drive you there?”

“Nah.” Reaching for her pack of smokes, she shakes her head. “I’ll have Shel come get me. She ain’t got nothing better to do, anyway.”

“Good. Stay with her tonight.”

The sound of a horn outside is probably Makaio, but to be sure, I pad toward the window, and peer through the curtains. The sleek black car sits at the curb, and Makaio stands alongside the passenger door. What I wouldn’t have given for him to be around the night before. I bet Franco would’ve run scared shitless, if Makaio had been here.

Nabbing my duffle, I head back toward Aunt Midge for a quick peck on the forehead. “Text me when you get to Shelly’s, okay?”

“I will.” Fingers fidgeting with the cigarette she hasn’t yet lit, she lowers her gaze. “Isa, I’m sorry for this. I’m sorry I roped you into this.”

“It’s okay. We’re going to be okay, I promise.”

* * *

Guilt weighs heavy on me, while I sit in the backseat of the luxury car, knowing that some time tomorrow, I’ll be scamming three-hundred grand. I wipe my sweaty palms across my jeans for the dozenth time and try not to look at Makaio, but I feel him staring at me through the rearview mirror.

“You okay, Miss Quinn? You look kinda pale.”

“Just … something I ate. Not sitting right with me.”

“You need me to pull over, let me know. Don’t want you blowing chunks in the backseat.”

The visual of that tickles the back of my throat, and lips clamped over the real possibility of throwing up, I nod.

We finally reach the manor, and I’m pretty sure my heartrate has doubled since we left Aunt Midge’s. Taking Makaio’s hand, I climb out of the Bentley and glance up toward the empty window of Lucian’s office.

Good. I can’t bear to see him tonight.

Shuffling up the staircase, I pass Rand, who holds the front door open for me.

“Good evening, Miss Quinn. I trust you had an enjoyable weekend.”

Enjoyable? Not even close. “Yes, it was … nice.”

“Excellent.” He closes the door behind me, and in spite of the spacious surroundings, I suddenly feel claustrophobic. “I’ll have the chef prepare dinner for you, while you get settled into your room.”

I can’t even think of food right now. I can’t even think of how he can think of food right now. “That won’t be necessary, Rand. I ate before I left,” I lie. “It’s not sitting well with me.”

“Ah, yes. Happens after a week of meals prepared by a chef. Do you need anything for indigestion?”