Page 37 of Thief of Night (The Charlatan Duology #2)

Of course Salt had sent Remy to Deerfield.

It was elite enough for a multimillionaire working toward being a billionaire and local enough for him to take Red out for a day trip to murder someone, no questions asked.

Charlie had looked up where Remy went to college, but hadn’t considered high school.

Lots of people around town would have known Remy. Not people Charlie hung out with regularly, but the Valley was small.

Her name is Suzie Lambton. You flirted with her right under my nose at a party and maybe knew her a tiny bit when you were a teenager.

“Suzie, right?” he said smoothly, recovering. “Are you in this building?”

Her smile was very friendly in return. Charlie couldn’t even fault her for it. Her smiles had been friendly before she knew he was due to inherit hundreds of millions. “Just visiting. Did you know that you dated a friend of mine when you were at Deerfield?”

His expression stiffened. “Sona,” he said finally.

Suzie put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a mock-scolding expression. “You weren’t very nice to her either.”

“I wasn’t good at being a person then,” he told her, the double meaning only obvious to Charlie.

Luckily, the elevator finally arrived. Red stuck his foot in, stopping the doors from closing.

“Have Charlie give you my number,” Suzie told him. “I’d love to catch up.”

Moving took the rest of the afternoon. Sweaty and covered in dust, they collapsed onto any furniture handy. Aron lolled on a beanbag that Posey had kept in her room and argued with Katelynn about whether the molding was Second Empire, Neoclassical, or something else.

José was telling Malhar the story of how he and Paul met, all three of them on the couch. Paul’s eyes were closed.

Pizza was ordered. Beer was acquired. Vodka and lemonade were put into a vase when no pitcher could be found. Plates were removed from a box labeled PLAAAAAATES . Lucipurrr was removed from her cat carrier. She stalked around the place, tail high as a flag.

I don’t understand what we’re doing in a building like this one. Charlie sent the thought to Red.

A few ideas presented themselves, none of which she liked. Was this a gambit by one of his family—offer the place to Posey, and then hold it over Charlie to control him? Would they wind up on the street through some elaborate bait and switch, forcing her to go crawling to Fiona or Adeline for help?

Not that she would. She’d rather sleep on the floor of her mother’s long-stay hotel than accept charity from Adeline. Hell, she’d rather break into the abandoned mill building and sleep where the dead drifter had.

Perhaps you should consider asking your sister . His tone was gentle, as though breaking bad news.

What could Posey have done?

He didn’t answer, leaving her to fill in his silence with her fears.

Charlie walked over to the chair that Posey occupied.

How many times had Charlie been secretive, assuring Posey that it didn’t matter where the money came from?

Brushing off questions? If Posey had made some kind of sketchy deal, she was only showing Charlie love in the exact way that Charlie had taught her to show it.

That didn’t make Charlie feel better; if anything it made her feel worse.

“This place is great,” Charlie made herself say. “I really love it.”

Posey’s smile was brilliant. “It is, right?”

“And you’re great,” Charlie told her.

A small frown started between her brows. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just happy.” Charlie wasn’t good at trusting people, but Posey deserved her trust anyway.

She made herself walk away without asking more questions.

As she stood at the window, looking down on the glittering lights of Northampton, someone touched her elbow and she turned.

Red held two plastic cups of spiked lemonade. He offered one to her.

Charlie accepted hers, taking a grateful swig. The drink tasted bitter and sweet at the same time.

“I was wondering if you had a moment to talk?” he asked. “Outside.”

“Sure,” she told him. “Is something wrong?”

He shook his head. The apartment was full of people, though. Deon had commandeered José to help mount the television on the wall and they were doing a lot of measuring and muttering. Malhar was messing around with the portable Bluetooth speaker, trying to agree on a song with Posey.

No one noticed as Charlie and Red slipped out of the apartment, down the stairs, and out into the cold night. The lights of Northampton were bright, but the hum of people was far from the leaf-lined parking lot.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Once, you told me that you would cut me free from you if that’s what I wanted,” he said, his voice low. “Will you do that now?”

For the last few days, she’d felt close to Red. He hadn’t given her a hard time for getting drunk and messy. He’d told her his secrets. He was invited to Christmas. She could even imagine him showing up, bottle of wine in hand. Expensive wine, in that cheap hotel room.

Charlie shook her head. “Why are you asking me that?” But she knew as soon as she posed the question. She counted up the days. He was going to Rose.

“Because it’s what I need.” His gaze on her was steady. “Please, Charlie.”

She needed to stop imagining Christmas. She needed to stop thinking of a future. “And I am supposed to just trust you?”

“To do what?” he asked, as though what Charlie said was confusing . As though she was a fool . As though he didn’t know that once he was untethered, he was free to hurt her.

“No,” she said, so furious that she felt lightheaded. “I won’t cut you free.”

His mouth twisted. He didn’t even look surprised. “So much for promises.”

“I saw you go out the window with that shadow girl,” Charlie said, low-voiced, as softly as if she were speaking to a lover. “I followed you. I heard her promise you my death in return for the assassination of the gloamist bound to her.”

He blinked, as though trying to break the spell of her voice. “You really followed me?”

“I did,” Charlie told him.

He shook his head. “I would have noticed.”

Her smile was malicious. “You didn’t. Because I’m the best.”

“And you believe I want you dead?” His eyes were coals, hot and bright. His soft mouth curved. “Are you actually afraid of me, Charlie Hall?”

“I spent days waiting for you to tell me what happened. I listened to you lie to me again and again.” Charlie pointed her finger at him. “So, no, I am not untethering you. Not unless you tell me the truth.”

“You wouldn’t like it.” His eyes were embers in the dark.

Lightheadedness hit her again, making her stagger. The unpleasant taste of the lemonade returned to her.

“You fucker,” she said woozily. “You drugged me? With what?”

“The lorazepam you brought back from Salt’s house,” he told her. “You don’t have to unbind me. I can make your hand hold the knife.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she said, the words slurring. Her tongue felt too big for her mouth.

“You might be the death of me,” he told her, opening the back door to the van. “But not tonight.”