Kiss me if you dare [ENGLISH]

Chapter 13

Charmey

It took Fleur exactly five minutes to reach Charmey, who was leaning against the black lacquered metal of the Ferrari. It was evident from the sloppily draped scarf she had probably thrown on in a hurry that she had rushed out of bed after receiving the call. The anger that had been present earlier had vanished, which was an immense relief.

"What's going on?" she panted, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

Charmey put on her fake mask and feigned a slightly nervous but determined mood. Then she opened the door for Fleur while showing her the mobile screen, already set to Google Maps. "Urban. I've found him."

Fleur almost lost her balance and grabbed the door to avoid falling backward. "What?"

"I don't have time to explain everything right now. Get in the car, we're running out of time."

Thankfully, she complied without objections, and Charmey slipped into the driver's seat at the same time. The engine started in just a few seconds, and they quickly pulled onto the main road. According to the digital map, it would take twenty minutes – hopefully, they would arrive before that. Charmey had no time to lose, regardless.

She was aware that her threat had taken root somewhere in Gabriel, but she couldn't be certain if, against all odds, he would decide to file a report. In the worst-case scenario, she would have to leave town. It was risky, but at the same time, Charmey loathed changing her plans at the last minute. She could only imagine, in her wildest fantasies, how it would end.

Fleur had been gazing out of the window for the first eight minutes without saying a word, but occasionally casting sidelong glances at Charmey. It was evident that she was hiding something. Nevertheless, Charmey appreciated the silence and preferred not to be distracted.

It wasn't until they had exited the central part of Thornhill that Fleur finally spoke, and the flush that appeared on her cheeks spoke volumes. "Mella..." Her voice was terse and hoarse, betraying the emotions she desperately tried to keep to herself. "I don't know what happened last night. I was down after the whole thing with Dad, and I'm sorry I took it out on you. It wasn't right."

Charmey still had her eyes on the road and shifted gears. "It's okay," she replied curtly and coldly. She wished Fleur would remain silent until they reached their destination. It struck Charmey that she might have avoided all of this if she had diverted her friend's desires from the beginning.

"No, it's not okay. I guess I just wanted... to feel something different for once. But you deserve an apology."

Charmey didn't respond. She had no desire to go through the events of yesterday once again. She distanced herself from anything that could divert her from the mission, but deep down, she knew it wasn't the whole truth. She had tried to suppress it – the faint feeling deep inside that gave rise to thoughts she didn't want to confront. They were alien – dangerous, and she must never succumb to them. They could destroy her.

"Please say something. We need to talk about this."

She caught herself and returned to the character with a faint smile to lighten the mood. "Sorry, but I mean it. You don't need to worry about me."

Fleur ran her hand through her hair and leaned back in her seat. "I just don't want you to feel used."

"It's okay."

She nodded, and Charmey went silent. It didn't matter what was said, in an hour, none of this would matter.

***

Trothbeck Street 9 was not as remarkable as Charmey had imagined. If you were a mafia leader, you had enough capital to build a castle. He probably owned one – in the Caribbean, South Africa, or somewhere else in the world where society didn't constantly interfere in people's private lives.

Charmey parked the car at the back of the single-story concrete building, surrounded by dense pine trees. It would be a disaster if the car was gone when she returned. In the worst case, she wouldn't be able to get away from here.

The snowmobile trail was eroded and would probably be paved eventually, and the sun that occasionally peeked out from behind the clouds made the whole situation feel absurd.

"Now what?" Fleur asked, trying to interpret her facial expressions. She was undoubtedly afraid of what was to come, but Charmey securely gripped her arm to reassure her.

"I'll go in and check the premises. You stay here. If I'm not back within half an hour, call the police for backup, okay?"

Fleur nodded, and Charmey released her, opened the car door, and stepped out. Dark puddles of oil were scattered here and there, and along the concrete wall without windows stood stacks of planks. If she didn't know better, she would think it was a construction site, but the bullet holes in the walls and the smell of marijuana were enough evidence of what was happening inside.

She made her way around the corner and moved toward the entrance. The doors were made of the same scratched metal as the roof, reaching up to nearly two meters in height. She politely knocked and waited for someone to answer. There was no sound from the inside, and Charmey began to grow impatient. For Gabriel's sake, she hoped he hadn't lied once again. She couldn't do anything but let them lie there and hope they wouldn't cause too much commotion.

Urban was indeed in the room they had referred to. He stood still with his broad back to her, appearing to be sorting piles of papers on the desk in front of him. He was, fortunately, alone but not unarmed.

Charmey cleared her throat. "Aren't you more heavily guarded than this?"

Urban froze but didn't turn around. "What are you doing here?"

She took a few slow steps forward and shrugged. "Just wanted to see how you're doing."

She noticed how a ballpoint pen rolled slowly down the edge of the table and hit the floor just as Urban pulled a gun from his inner pocket and fired.

The shot hit her left arm with surprise, causing imbalance. How had she miscalculated so badly? Of all the possible scenarios that could occur, this wasn't one she had in mind. She needed more time.

Urban still aimed the gun at her and looked incredibly determined to kill her.

She managed to throw a final glance at the clock on the wall, watching the minute hand pass the eighth digit as the shot was fired.