Page 28 of Charity's Redemption

Tears burned my eyes, surprising me as his words rained down on me like piercing daggers. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me to go home and follow orders like a good soldier, but don’t tell me I’ve disappointed you. Not that when I was only trying to saveourfamily.

“Sorry, sir.” Hanging my head, I closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear the look he struck me with. “I’m just trying to protect us.”

“You said you trust him?”

I nodded.

“Then act like it.”

He stood from his seat, his chains rattling. “I heard that someone else got the credit. Are you having problems following orders?”

I flicked my gaze to his as my breath hitched in my chest, recalling the man, Alejandro, in Mexico and my decision to blame it on the Cartel. “No, sir. I made a judgment call.”

“That’s not what I asked you to do.”

How did this conversation take a downward spiral so quickly? Not only did he say he’s disappointed in me, but now he’s questioning me and my ability to fall in line. That was more serious than going around Luca. It put me on a fine line between safety and a sudden drop into the Hudson.

“Sorry, sir,” I mumbled as he walked away towards the door he came through.

The guard opened the door for him. “AndCharity?”

I cringed as I heard him speak my name. “Yes, sir.”

“Never overstep my son’s authority again.”

A pain stabbed at my chest as he walked away. “Sorry, sir.”

Arturo disappeared behind the heavily reinforced doors, leaving me to my own malfunctioning devices with unshed tears, blurring my vision and burning sinuses. I sniffed as I spied the guard gleaming at me. “What are you looking at?” I said, anger tinging my voice as I spun from the metal chair and walked towards him.

He shrugged, opened the door, and set me free.

“She has a pointis all I’m saying,” Nico said, thumbing through papers on the kitchen table that he’d pulled from his briefcase, still rehashing the conversation that happened hours ago.

How were we still going on about this when there was nothing else to discuss? I even had a meeting set up to go over the arrangements. I refused to let Charity put herself in such a position where the target was such a high profile even the president would look into it. There was a ninety-nine percent possibility of it becoming a clusterfuck, and I wasn’t willing to see her go through that.

“Don’t fight me on this, brother.”

He placed his papers down on the table with more force than necessary. “I’m not fighting you,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, closed his eyes, and exhaled, “I just think we need to talk about this some more—think it through.” His hand slid from his face and into his lap.

“I’ve thought it through.”

“What’s the point of having me around if you don’t take my logic and wisdom into consideration?”

Heat flicked up my spine and settled at the base of my throat. “I keep you around for when I need it, brother. It’s why Pops put me in this position and you in yours.”

He shook his head, then Max walked into the dining room, a beer in hand.

“I called you over forty-five minutes ago for dinner. Where have you been?”

He shrugged and took a swig out of the amber-colored glass bottle. “I’ve been doing things.”

“Sit down.”

I pointed to the chair across from me, where his Lamb Ragù had gone cold. Max plopped into the chair, a little on the wobbly side.

Nico leaned over the table, resting his elbows on the white cloth and papers. “What’s going on with you, Max?”

He curled his lip and shook his head slowly while placing his beer bottle on the table. “Nothing.”

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