Page 23 of Fair Game

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“Wish granted. I’m here.” Her sunshine smile lights up her face, but it softens at the look on mine. “I’ll help you with whatever you need. Let’s start by getting you some tea.”

“No time for that. I need to take down my dad.”

Charlotte adjusts the leather tote bag over her shoulder, a frown wrinkling her forehead. “Elise…”

Now that Lydia and Nate are safe in the brownstone behind an over abundance of security, the jittery, running-out-of-time feeling I had about Jacob is back, but it’s worse. Like I should already be out the door and on the way to somewhere else. So much for cold resolve.

“My dad set the fire at the Bettencourt building. Or he paid someone to set it. I don’t know how, but he lured Gabriel there.”

“We already know he’s dangerous.” Charlotte’s blue eyes are absolutely serious. “You need to stay away from him.”

“Here’s what you don’t understand.” My mouth goes dry. “I told you—I told you I was involved with the consortium. I told you my dad taught me all those things. I didn’t tell you that the first fire—the one that killed James and Natalie—I didn’t tell you it was my idea.”

Charlotte holds up a hand. “Stop, please.”

Before I can argue that it’s better to get it out all at once, she takes my arm and leads me to Gabriel’s kitchen. Charlotte parks me at the kitchen table, sets her bag down on the counter, and briskly goes through Gabriel’s cupboards until she finds tea.

She fills the kettle and puts it on the stove to boil. Arranges two teabags in two mugs. Finds Gabriel’s sugar dish.

“Lottie—”

“Tea’s not done. It’ll only take a few minutes.”

The water boils. She pours it over the tea bags, then brings the mugs to the table. Goes back for the sugar dish. Calm. Methodical. My best friend.

Then she takes the seat next to me and tugs at the tab of her tea bag, letting it rise and fall in the water. “Okay. So I’m sure I understand. It was your idea to burn down a building with people inside it?” She scrunches her nose. “When we were…six years old?”

“No. No. My dad liked to play these games. All kinds of business scenarios. I knew how to read contracts. I wasn’t—I knew a lot. And one day he came to me with a scenario. A little game. How would I deal with a building owned by the consortium that had lost a lot of value? I told him that he could get insurance money if there was damage. An act of God. I told him he needed a really big fire.”

“Okay.”

“It was me. I was the one who did that.”

Charlotte lets go of the tab on the tea bag and takes my hand in hers. “That’s just not true.”

“Itistrue. I was the one—”

“Elise, it’s not. It might have been your idea, but you were a little girl. You didn’t put any kind of plan in motion. You didn’t decide to kill innocent people to get more money. That wasn’t you. And you weren’t responsible for the fire at the Bettencourt building, either.”

“I didn’t set the fire, but I do bear some responsibility. I helped Gabriel get into the consortium. I gave my father the idea that he used to kill James and Natalie.”

“You couldn’t control your father.”

“I still can’t control my father.” I don’t allow my voice to rise, but it’s close. “That’s the thing, Lottie. I’m the one who understands how far he’ll go, because he taught me to be just like him. He won’t stop until the entire Hill family is dead.”

Charlotte shakes her head. “Mason is in contact with the detective who helped him with…” Her chin trembles, but she lets out a breath. “With the evidence against my dad.”

“Lawyers can’t stop him. All the legal maneuvers in the world couldn’t stop him. I’m the only one who can do it.” The truth feels like calcified brown sugar in my throat. “I’m the only one evil enough to take him down for good.”

“By doing what? Killing him?”

“I don’t know. It’s something I have to think about.”

“That’s not necessarily true.” She doesn’t let go of my hand. “And you’re not evil.”

“Yes, I am. I just keep it hidden from you. I pretend I like working in a bakery, and I keep it hidden from everyone.”

A beautiful, skeptical expression takes over. “Youdolike working in a bakery. I’ve seen your face when you take things out of the oven.”


Tags: Amelia Wilde Erotic