Lately, Rudy had been relegating Charley to mind-numbing fact-finding missions at private auctions and events, bringing her in later, cutting her out earlier, sharing fewer secrets. For months, her efforts had turned up jack shit; she figured that�s why he�d been giving her the crap assignments. A punishment, a warning, call it what you want.

But lately she was starting to wonder if he believed she was involved in the infamous double-cross.

If he believed betrayal was genetic, passed down from father to daughter.

Charley sipped her water, trying to cool the rage boiling up inside her.

Rudy was pissed about her bad luck streak? Fine. But Charley was pissed too. Pissed that her parents had brought her into this world with no intention of helping her become a legitimate, tax-paying adult. Pissed that no one seemed to know what had truly happened to her father. Pissed that no one had bothered to find out.

It was her father�s inside guy, Rudy had always believed. A man none of them had ever met. Her dad had vouched for him, bringing him in at the last minute on a big job in the West Village. The mark was an extensive art collector, the cache valued at $70 million on the street.

Posing as contractors, her dad and the guy went in alone, with Rudy and the others in strategic positions throughout the city. Charley was at Rudy�s apartment, coordinating the whole thing through an elaborate system of coded text messages they�d worked out in advance.

The men had made it in, made it out, made it to the Holland Tunnel.

But that was the last anyone had heard from them. They never checked in again, never showed at the rally point in Jersey.

Hours turned into days. Charley and Rudy were frantic, the rest of the crew looking to them for answers they just didn�t have.

A week after the heist, her dad finally turned up�murdered and left in an abandoned tire warehouse in Trenton.

The art he�d boosted�along with the inside guy�had vanished.

There was no evidence at the scene, nothing to tie him to the theft. The police said it was a gang hit�gunshot to the head, body stashed, wrong-place-wrong-time kind of thing. But that was bullshit. People like Charley�s father never died from being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Everything was calculated and planned, nothing left to chance.

Rudy was out of his mind with grief over the loss of his brother, but he and the others were convinced it was an inside job�the worst kind. They believed Charley�s father had double-crossed them, intending to split the proceeds with his man, only to have it all go south on him.

Charley blinked away old tears.

In his life, her father had been a lot of things. A master thief. A violent drunk. A cheating husband. Even a murderer, at least one time that Charley knew about. But he was a loving father, and unwaveringly loyal to the crew he�d handpicked from the best guys he�d ever worked with. Unwaveringly loyal to Charley.

Yeah, he was a bad man�she�d accepted that long ago.

But he was not a traitor.

Unfortunately, Charley was alone in that opinion, and she�d learned long ago not to bring it up to Uncle Rudy. When it came to the death and apparent betrayal of his only brother, he couldn�t go there.

"Tell me why we should keep investing in your professional development," Rudy said now, "when you�re giving us nothing in return? The team is starting to question whether your head is in the game."

Charley clenched her jaw. Nothing could be further from the truth. The game, as he put it, was her pathway to a normal life, and she was all in.

But how much longer could she keep playing by his fucked-up rules?

"I get it," she said calmly, forcing a contrite smile. She needed to get back on his good side, and fast. "I�m sorry, Uncle Rudy. I�m frustrated too. The family from last night? They�re broke. Almost everything valuable went to auction long before we heard about them. And they�"

Charley snapped her mouth shut as the waiter approached.

"Get some appetizers, kiddo," Rudy said, waving a hand over the menu. "Whatever you want." JrNovels.com