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I never thought I’d get to a point like this about my father, but then I never thought about a lot of thing things my life has turned into.
Just one freaking surprise after another.
After I mutilated the second’s hand yesterday, I was shocked as hell they made Dominika clean up the mess rather than me. If that woman didn’t already resent the hell out of me, she sure does now. In fact, because she’s the kind of person who always needs to deliver her parting shot, as she was leaving the room, she took the time to tell me how she really feels about me.
“You’re just another Alekseev whore. Wait ‘til they’re done with you. You’ll be ruined. You’ll be less than nothing,” she hissed.
I sighed and picked at the manicure Evie tried to give me, already chipping and looking like crap. “You should know, Dominika. You should know.”
That’s when Vadik jumped to his feet, certain he was going to have to break up a cat fight. But Dominika just left, and when Vadik sat back down, his expression was part amusement, part annoyance.
Two for one. I’m getting good at that.
“Charleigh, for the rest of the day, can you just not stir up any more shit? No more hitting people, no more being a big mouth? Just for one day? Please?”
I nodded obediently, although I think we both know that, given the chance, I’d do what I did all over again. The guys can’t really get too mad about that. After all, they turned me into this… whatever I am.
I had a few hours of feeling impressed with my bad self, which should have been a warning. As my mother used to say, ‘pride goeth before a fall.’ Just as I settled in for a good night’s sleep, smug in the knowledge that I bested two of my biggest adversaries, comes the call from Evie, yanking me out of my self-important confidence, back to the shittiness of my real life.
Something always, always, has to go wrong.
Why, God? Why can’t I just have a full twenty-four hours of easy living? Why does everything have to be such a freaking challenge?
God doesn’t answer.
When we arrive at my father’s apartment complex, we drive around a few times so the guys can assess the situation. When things seem safe, or at least as safe as they can be, Kir parks in the back of the building and we approach it, with them in the lead, guns drawn.
Like Vadik says, this will not be a repeat of what happened last time I went to fetch Evie.
I’m not as confident.
My adrenaline is running like a firehose, and my head is pounding in time to my heart. This bullshit is going to put me in an early grave, I have no doubt. A body can only take so much fight or flight before it throws in the towel, worn down like an old automotive engine driven way past its prime.
With my key, Kir opens the door to my father’s apartment, ready for anything that might happen. Evie swore to me over the phone she was in there alone, but one, who knows if she’s telling the truth, and two, whether someone’s holding a gun to her head and telling her what to say.
Anything’s possible. I’ve learned that the hard way.
I wait by the door while they clear the place and when they lower their guns to their sides, I rush in.
“Evie! Where are you?”
* * *
CHAPTERTWENTY-ONE
Charleigh
The apartment is musty and smells bad, faintly of urine. I’m not surprised.
A closet door bangs open and footsteps run in my direction. “Char, Char, oh my God, Char,” Evie cries, throwing herself into my arms.
I want to hang onto my anger, to scold her, to let her know how pissed I am. But instead, I’m transported back, as I’m sure she is, to when she did the same in the weeks and months after we lost our mother. There was no comforting her as a six-year-old, and I’m not sure much has changed in ten years.
“Char, I was so scared. I didn’t know if those men were coming for you or me.”
Vadik directs the two of us, still embracing, to the sofa. I push aside some dirty laundry—why it’s on the living room sofa and not in the laundry room, I can only guess—and take one of Evie’s hands to get her attention.
She pulls her head out of my chest and looks at him, sniffling with a tear-stained face.
