Charade Read Online Free PDF

followed his instructions by engaging the dead bolt as soon as she was inside the condo.
    “Ohmigod,” she told herself, leaning against the door and exhaling with exaggerated need. “What was that about?”
    It was a question she could have dwelled on—and drooled over—for hours, if Athena Academy hadn’t been waiting to hear from her.
     
    When Sasha dialed the number supplied in the e-mail from AA. gov , Allison Gracelyn, an Athena board member who now worked for the NSA, answered on the first ring, saying only that a car would be arriving for Sasha in ten minutes. That gave her just enough time to don a pair of black jeans and a stretchy purple V-neck sweater. Then she grabbed her favorite butter-soft black leather boots and a cozy parka, along with her purse, and headed for the door.
    Unfortunately, her third unexpected caller of the evening was waiting in the hallway. And this time, it really was the much-expected Carmine Martino, who asked pointedly, “Going somewhere?”
    Oh, crap, Sasha complained to herself. But aloud, she kept her cool. “A delivery guy just dropped off some flowers. But he took off before I could give him a tip. So I wanted to catch him—”
    “He’ll live,” Carmine assured her, his thick voice indicating he had had too much to drink. “The real question is, who the fuck is sending you flowers in the middle of the night?”
    “A client, if you must know.”
    He grinned. “The fat one that got trapped in her zipper?”
    “She isn’t fat. Not at all. It was a defective zipper….” Sasha narrowed her eyes in warning. “Go away, Carmine. If you want to visit, come back at a decent hour.”
    “I don’t want to visit. I want to collect on my bet.” He pushed her into the living room, then closed the door behind them and warned, “No more tricks.”
    Sasha’s training, both from Athena Academy and from her boutique-but-effective karate classes thereafter, would have allowed her to teach him a lesson, but she knew it would raise questions about her seemingly innocent lifestyle, so she decided on a different tactic. “We can sit on the sofa and talk. After I get these roses into water.”
    “Sitting on the sofa is a good start,” he said with a leer. “Hurry up. I’ll pour the booze. Where is it?”
    “Check the sideboard. I have a little of everything. The glasses are on the top shelf.”
    With her purse still clutched under her elbow, she grabbed the flowers and headed for the kitchen. Once there, she fished out her cell phone and address book, thumbing until she found the number for Antonio Martino’s consiglieri. Dialing rapidly, she listened to the ringing as she shoved the roses into a vase.
    “Who is this?” a gruff male voice answered.
    “This is Sasha Bracciali. Don’t talk, just listen.”
    The man was apparently good at taking instructions, because his only reply was soft, steady breathing. Encouraged, Sasha hid the cell phone among the blossoms, then returned to the living room, where Carmine was waiting for her with two glasses of red wine.
    Setting the vase on the sideboard, Sasha insisted in a firm voice, “I don’t want any trouble, Carmine. You need to go home and sleep it off before you do something we’ll all regret.”
    “You’re so full of yourself,” he retorted, slamming the glasses down, then stepping to within inches of her. “We can do this friendly, or we can just do it. It’s you’re choice. Either way, you’re gonna thank me for it.”
    “My father would be furious if he knew you were doing this. Your father, too.”
    “Fuck ’em both. And you. Literally in your case,” he added with a grin, reaching for her neck with one hand while his other began unbuckling his belt.
    But the sound of a phone, ringing from inside his jacket, stopped him, at least momentarily. “Fuck! Who the fuck…?” He pulled out the phone and scowled at the display. Then he grimaced. “I gotta take this. Don’t go away.” Flipping it open, he asked