Rich Man's Revenge. Katherine GarberaЧитать онлайн книгу.
Bree and her sister threatened by dangerous men—as well as the sheriff, who’d wanted to toss Bree into jail and Josie into foster care. So they’d thrown everything into their beat-up old car in the middle of the night, and headed south. For the past ten years, they’d never stopped running.
“You lost? At poker?” Josie repeated, dazed. Her eyes suddenly welled up with tears. “This is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” Bree said tightly.
“Of course it is!”
Josie was clearly miserable. Looking at her little sister’s tearful face, Bree came to a sudden decision. She grabbed her duffel bag.
“Pack,” she said tersely.
Josie didn’t move. Her expression was bewildered. “Where are we going?”
Bree stuffed her passport into her bag, and any clean clothes she could reach. “Airport. You have two minutes.”
“Oh, my God,” Josie breathed, staring at her. “You want to run. What on earth did you lose?”
“Move!” Bree barked.
Jumping, her sister turned and grabbed her knapsack. A scant hundred seconds later, Bree was pulling on her hand and yanking her toward the door.
“Hurry.” She flung open the door. “We’ll get our last paychecks and—”
Vladimir stood across the open-air hallway. His broad-shouldered, powerful body leaned casually against the wall in the shadows.
“Going somewhere?” he murmured silkily.
Bree stopped short, staring up in shock. Behind her, Josie ran into her back with a surprised yelp.
He lifted a dark eyebrow and gave Bree a cold smile. “I had a feeling you would attempt to cheat me. But I admit I’m disappointed. Some part of me had hoped you might have changed over the last ten years.”
Other hulking shadows appeared on the stairs. He hadn’t come alone.
Desperately, Bree tossed her head and glared at him defiantly. “How do you know I wasn’t just hurrying to be on time to meet you in the lobby?”
Vladimir’s smile became caustic. “Hurrying to meet me? No. Ten years ago you could barely be on time for anything. You’d have been late to my funeral.”
“Oh, I’d be early for your funeral, believe me! Holding flowers and red balloons!”
His blue eyes gleamed as he came toward her in the shadows. She felt Josie quivering behind her, so as he reached for her, Bree forced herself not to flinch or back away.
“People don’t change,” he said softly. He pulled the duffel bag from her shoulder. Unzipping it, he turned away from her, and she exhaled. Then, as he went through the bag, she glared at him.
“What do you think I have in there—a rifle or something? Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to go through other people’s stuff?”
“A woman like you doesn’t need a rifle. You have all the feminine weapons you need. Beauty. Seduction. Deceit.” Vladimir gazed at her with eyes dark as a midnight sea. His handsome, chiseled face seemed made of granite. “A pity your charms don’t work on me.”
As she looked at him, her throat tightened. She whispered, “If you despise me so much, just let me go. Easier for you. Easier for everyone.”
His lips curved. “Is that the final item on your checklist?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’ve tried running, insulting me, accusing me of cheating, and now you’re reasoning with me.” Zipping up the bag, he pushed it back into her arms and looked at her coldly. “What’s next—begging for mercy?”
She held the bag over her heart like a shield. “Would it work?” she breathed. “If I begged you—on my knees—would you let me go?”
Reaching out, Vladimir cupped her cheek. He looked down at her almost tenderly. “No.”
She jerked her chin away. “I hate you!”
Vladimir gave a low, bitter laugh. “So you did have a checklist. It’s fascinating, really, how little you’ve changed.”
If only that were true, Bree thought. She didn’t have a plan. She was going on pure instinct. Ten years of living a scrupulously honest life, of scraping to get by on minimum-wage jobs, and taking care of her sister, had left Bree’s old skills of sleight of hand and deception laughably out-of-date. She was rusty. She was clumsy and awkward.
And Vladimir made it worse. He brought out her weakness. She couldn’t hide her feelings, even though she knew it would be to her advantage to cloak her hatred. But he’d long ago learned the secret ways past the guarded walls of her heart.
“You can’t be serious about making me your slave forever!” she snapped.
“What?” Josie gasped, clinging to her arm.
Vladimir’s eyes were hard in the moonlight. “You made the bet. Now you will honor it.”
“You tricked me!”
He gave her a lazy smile. “You thought that dealer was going to stick his neck out for you, didn’t you? But men don’t sacrifice themselves for women anymore. Not even for pretty ones.” He moved closer to her, leaning his head down to her ear. “I know all your tells, Bree,” he whispered. “And soon … I will know every last secret of your body.”
Bree felt the warmth of his breath on her neck, felt the brush of his lips against the tender flesh of her earlobe. Prickles raced through her, making her hair stand on end as he towered over her. She felt tiny and feminine compared to his powerful masculine strength, and against her will, she licked her lips as a shiver went down her body.
Vladimir straightened, and his eyes glittered like an arctic sea. “This time, you will fulfill your promises.”
He made a small movement with his hand, and the three shadows on the stairs came forward, toward the bare light outside their apartment. Vladimir strode down the steps without looking back, leaving his three bodyguards to corral the two Dalton sisters and escort them down the concrete staircase.
Two luxury vehicles waited in the dimly lit parking lot. The first was a black SUV with tinted windows. The second … Bree’s feet slowed.
“Bree!”
Hearing her sister’s panicked voice behind her, she turned around and saw the bodyguards pushing Josie into the backseat of the SUV.
Bree clenched her hands as she went forward. “Let her go!”
Vladimir grabbed her arm. “You’re coming with me.”
“I won’t be separated from her!”
He looked at her, his face hard and oh, so handsome in the moonlight. “My Lamborghini only has two seats.” When she didn’t move, he said with exaggerated patience, “They will be right behind us.”
Glancing at the SUV parked behind the Lamborghini, Bree saw her sister settled in the backseat as the bodyguards climbed in beside her. Bree ground her teeth. “Why should I trust you?”
“You have no choice.”
He reached for her hand, but she ripped it away. “Don’t touch me!”
Vladimir narrowed his eyes. “I was merely trying to be courteous. Clearly a waste.” He thrust his thumb toward the door of the bright red Lamborghini. “Get in.”
Opening the door, Bree climbed inside the car and took a deep breath of the soft leather seats’ scent. Fast cars had once been her father’s favorite indulgence, back when they’d been conning rich criminals across the West, and Black Jack had been spending money even faster than they made it. By the time her father