Page 2 of Charity's Torment

“Hi, Dad.”

“Cupcake, where are you? Dinner is in fifteen minutes.”

“Sorry, things ran a little late at work today. I need thirty more minutes. Okay?” I put my pistol back into my purse. Tom’s body moved like jello as I nudged him with my boot to make sure it was over. Satisfied, I pressed my fingers to his jugular, double checking for the lack of heartbeat.

“Okay, I’ll hold your mom off, but you know she doesn’t appreciate having to wait.”

“Thanks, Dad. Be there soon.”

I hung up and dialed another number. “Well, Tom, it looks like this is it for us. Enjoy Hell,” I said while waiting for my boss to answer.

“Charity?” His silky smooth voice made my knees go weak. I could listen to his voice soothe me to sleep any day of the week… so long as he wasn’t angry.

“Boss, the horses came home.”

“It’s chickens, Charity. They came home to roost, that’s the saying,” Luca said.

“Whatever. You know what I mean. I need a car on Cardinal and Fifth.” I pulled my hair from my pony and washed down the bathroom door handle, syringe, and lid, erasing all traces of my presence, then placed the syringe on the bed and threw the cap on the floor.

“I’ll send Max. He’ll be there in five minutes. Any problems?”

“Easy as pie, Sugar,” I said in my best southern belle accent, then hung up.

I buried my phone in my purse, grabbed a hand towel, and wiped down the rest of the surfaces I had touched, then placed the “do not disturb” sign on the door. I held my head low, with my hair obscuring my face, and raced to my pickup location. Walking in heels sucked.

I stood at the corner for all of a few seconds when Maximilian pulled up in a glossy black car, and I dumped my ass into the expensive seat. “Hi, Max. He sent you in the Vanquish because it’s inconspicuous, right?” I said, rolling my eyes.

Luca’s extensive vehicle collection would make Jay Leno weep, and he sent the flashiest vehicle, three blocks down from a fresh murder, to pick up a girl in a hooker costume…smart.

“Hey, I was already out with it. You can take the bus if you prefer to blend in.” He smirked.

“Gross. I’m not using the bus,” I said. “I need you to drop me off at my house. I have a mother to appease and a deadline to make.”

“Bene! Bosswants you to come in when you’re done.” The engine roared as he pulled away from the sidewalk.

“I just talked to him, and he didn’t say anything. Besides, I really don’t want to go in. I’m tired.”

“You realize he’s not going to like that.”

“Yeah… and?” I fingered my hair and shook it loose, letting my locks encompass my shoulders and hang at my back. Max peeled his eyes away from the road and watched me play with my hair.

Max was a stunning muscular man with tattoos littering his body, but I feared he waswayout of my league. That didn’t stop the butterflies that assaulted my belly and the heat between my thighs just from being close to him. Max shook his head with displeasure. Probably because of my lack of respect for hisboss—his cousin—the acting Don of the Moreno family. “As much as I love your fortitude, you are begging for trouble. You remember what happened the last time you disrespected him.”

“Yeah. I do.” Fifteen lashes of his belt across my skin—something I knew he thoroughly enjoyed. But I held a dark secret… I enjoyed it.

The car slowed, and he drove up in front of my two-bedroom home.

“I’d suggest you show up, Charity.”

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. “Thanks for the ride, big guy.” I shut the door and didn’t stick around to watch him peel away.

I discarded my keys in the bowl by the door, and my quaint living room illuminated with the flip of a switch. My security system beeped, and I turned it off, then checked the time. I had five minutes to change my clothes. It was all the time I set aside for myself. I told my father I’d be there in thirty, and I intended to keep my word.

Rushing to my room, I threw off my clothes and pulled on tattered black jeans, a t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. I gave myself a once-over and picked up my keys and helmet.

A noisy meow from my fat, needy feline caught my attention. “Cannoli, I can’t give you attention, you poor thing. I am going to be late.” I scratched behind his ears, then arranged my holster at the narrow of my back and pressed thearmbutton on the security panel.

My cream-colored Kawasaki Ninja sat in my garage, waiting for the next impending joy ride. I pulled out the “crotch rocket,” as my father calls it, and revved the engine. I strapped my helmet on, closed the garage, and took off like my life depended on it.

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