Using whatever shred of love I had for my father against me.
I hated him. Hated myself for caring because all it did was show how weak I was. How easy I was to manipulate and control. Still.
“Good.” Burns looked satisfied. “So. Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to complete the job for him, and then I’ll let him live. Deal?”
Oh no.
Fuck no.
My throat closed like someone was choking the life out of me.
“I can’t,” I managed to say. “I’m in law enforcement. My job is to arrest people who do exactly what you’re expecting me to do.”
Someone struck my dad again.
My stomach roiled.
“Besides it being illegal, I don’t even know what the job is,” I continued. “He didn’t tell me anything about it. I’m not in this line of work anymore.”
Burns gave me a faint smile. “It’s not a line of work one ever leaves, little girl. Once you’re in our world, you stay. You got caught and paid the price. You’re a criminal. This life, it’s where you belong. Since you’ll probably lose your job, I’ll give you one. You’re talented. Pretty. A convicted felon. Everything I’m looking for in employees.”
I definitely wanted to argue that point but was smart enough to keep my mouth shut this time.
Burns reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out an envelope. On the outside was my name written in my dad’s hectic writing. “Your dad was kind enough to outline the plans for you. You have one week to get it done or your dad dies. Understand?”
An out-of-body feeling came over me. It was the same one I’d had that night the police picked me up with the Empress sapphire. My eyes glazed over. I withdrew. Separating the real me from what was going on.
Faintly, I found myself nodding my agreement because while my dad had sat at my kitchen table and told me they were going to kill him if he didn’t do a job, it wasn’t the same thing as this. As Burns having my father beaten on command. On giving his life a timeframe.
On giving me the sole role of saving him.
One week to steal something worth killing for.
All by myself.
For a man who might be my father but with whom I had zero relationship.
I should just say no. Or call in the feds to deal with this.
I was a sheriff’s deputy. I had connections. Resources to help me.
Except they wouldn’t care about my dad’s life. They wouldn’t make sure he got out alive.
As much as I wanted to believe I didn’t care either, it wasn’t true. I may hold a grudge against my dad and put as much distance between us as possible, but wanting him dead was something different altogether. I didn’t want to love my father, but deep down, beneath the anger, I did. He was the only family I had, and I couldn’t live with knowing he’d died because I didn’t help.
Because I could.
Dammit.
“Good. Steal the Skard blade, and we’ll be in touch to make the trade. The seax for your dad’s life.” Burns stood and pocketed my ammo, setting the Glock on the sofa cushion.
I didn’t know what he was talking about, what a seax was, but I knew the details were in the envelope.
I pushed to my feet. Burns walked up to me and got a little too close. I refused to step back, to let him know he got to me. He stared down at me with a little smile laying around his lips. “It’s good to have you back on the team, Meg.”
My brain revolted at his words, but I was careful to show nothing. I didn’t answer, just waited until he moved toward the door. The two goons flanked me until he’d reached it, then they followed.
I didn’t know how long I stood there without moving or breathing. Maybe only a few seconds. Maybe it was minutes.
All I knew was that when I heard the sound of footsteps out front, I wanted to hide rather than face the man who made them.
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
HAYES
“Megan?” I tapped the unlatched door and pushed it open.
I’d sat across the street watching three guys walk out of her house. Three guys who didn’t look like they belonged anywhere in Sparks, Montana. In fact, they didn’t seem to belong in the state or the region, for that matter. They looked metropolitan. Criminal. Very dangerous.
More than a little out of place in my woman’s house.
“Not tonight, Hayes.” Megan’s voice sounded broken. Tired. A little shaky.
I stomped in to find her snatching a gun from the sofa in her living room.
“I said, not tonight,” she snapped, without turning.
“Okay.” I forced myself to make my voice soft as I approached her. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. And those guys had everything to do with it.
Had they hurt her? Touched her?