Too Late to Regret
“Mister, we’ve picked up Mr. Jackson. We’re on our way back.”
By 4 a.m., dawn was breaking.
The cars pulled into Vanclyn.
Kyle was “escorted” into a hotel suite.
Charlie sat on the sofa, a laptop resting on his knees.
“I stayed up all night because of you,” he said, still typing, not even lifting his head.
Kyle sneered. “Oh? Then you must really care about me.”
Charlie closed the laptop.
He took off his gold-rimmed glasses and set them aside. Looking up, his gaze was cool, like he was staring at a hopeless fool. “Kyle, I thought you wanted to be my ally. But now, you look more like a spy sent by the enemy.”
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