Page 45 of Cruel Charming Psychos (Necessary Evils 2)

I force a wide grin, hoping for the best as he reaches for the watches and begins to examine them.

“Do you mind if I take these into the back to have them appraised?”

“Take your time,” I say, trying to reassure him that I have nowhere to be.

He collects the watches and places them into a basket and then takes a vase into his other hand. He disappears into the back. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually returns without the items. He sits back down into the chair on the other side of the window.

“I’m going to be straight with you,” he says. “I can’t give you close to what these are worth. There are better avenues for antiques like these, but if you’re sure you’ll be able to come back and pick them up, then maybe that doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t,” I assure him. “If you can give me ten thousand, I’ll be happy.”

“I’m not a complete scam artist,” he says. “I’ll give you fifteen thousand and hold them for up to sixty days. After that, they’ll be gone and the only way you’ll be able to retrieve them is if you somehow hunt down the buyer and buy them back from him for tenfold the cost. If you can agree to these terms, then I can write you a check or send a wire to your bank account.”

“My parents cut off access to all of my accounts,” I say, continuing to tell him only half-truths. “If at all possible, I’d rather have cash.”

He hooks his gaze upwards and leans on his elbows. “Ten thousand in cash is the best I can do. We don’t keep an exorbitant amount of cash on hand. I’m sure you can understand why.”

“Ten thousand is fine.”

“Okay then.” He slides me a paper and a pen. “Sign these papers and I’ll go get your cash.”

I fill out the form without so much as glancing at the terms and conditions. I have no intentions of coming back for this stuff. I slide the paper back under the window and wait for him to return. When he does, he’s carrying a fat stack of cash in his hand. He glances over the paperwork before slipping the cash into a yellow envelope and then sliding it to me. Then, he slides me a small, golden key.

“What is that?”

“What does it look like?” he grunts, no longer keeping up pretenses now that he has made the exchange.

“I know what it is. I’m just wondering why you’re giving me a key?”

“We can’t sell it, and it was in the bottom of one of your vases. Are you tellin’ me that you don’t recognize it, or remember why you put it there in the first place?”

“Oh, that’s right,” I say, scratching at the back of my head with one hand as I reach for the key with the other. “I forgot I put that there.”

The way he eyes me, suspiciously once more, unnerves me. In my head, I imagine that he’s already figured out the truth that these things do not and never belonged to me. I stuff the key into my pocket and get the hell out of dodge before he calls the police.

* * *

Traffic is a nightmare, so it takes me twice as long as usual to get to the apartment. When I go to open the door, I realize that it’s not locked which is strange because I always lock doors. I twist the knob and step inside slowly to find my father waiting at the window.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says as ominously as possible as if he’s some sort of gangster that’s been sent to kill me. “You and I are going to have a talk about the things you think I don’t know about.”

I close the door behind me, unafraid of him. “How did you find me here?”

“Did you really think you couldn’t be found?” He looks over his shoulder and smiles. “I know everything you do. I’ve known about this place since you first rented it to shack up with that whore.” He turns to me fully. “You have something of mine.”

“Emily isn’t here,” I say, assuming that thatsomethingof his is actually his daughter.

“That’s another problem for another day.” He waves me off. “I’m not here for your sister. She’s an addict for attention. Soon enough she’ll come out of the woodwork, slitting her other wrists so she can be the star of the show.”

I shake my head in disgust. “Do you ever listen to yourself and hear how sick you sound?”

“I forgot that you’re suddenly the morality police. After everything you have done, I should have cut you off sooner. You have a lot of nerve breaking into my home and stealing priceless artifacts.” He closes the distance between us, a dangerous look searing into me. “I want them back.”

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

“You think you’re so damn wise, but somehow you’re not smart enough to understand that I can see you turning off the security system just before everything went missing.”

“I can promise you that it’s all gone.” I shrug with apathy. “You’re not getting any of it back. I didn’t turn off the cameras because I didn’t want you knowing it was me that did it. I turned them off so that you wouldn’t have proof that I was the one that did that. That’s the difference.”

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