I’m bluffing.
She doesn’t need to know that.
“I’ve got Langley on the line,” Fliss calls, her voice shaking but her jaw firm, her eyes glinting and wet with her phone pressed to her ear. “Do you want the cops taking you in and fingerprinting you, Paye?”
That girl—Paye, I guess—tilts her head back to glare at Felicity upside down, baring her teeth like some nasty rodent before turning a pouty, mutinous glare on me.
Even pinned down, she folds her arms over her chest, her frilly dress puffing a little as she kicks her feet sulkily.
Damn if it isn’t like dealing with a three-year-old with murderous intentions.
“Fine,” she huffs. “Whatever. Just get off me, you ogre. You stink.”
I raise both brows slowly.
My kid doles out better insults.
Whatever.
I let it go and lift my hand away gradually, watching her for any sudden moves.
She sits up, primly fixing her hair and adjusting the front of her dress, before standing with her chin held high, haughty and contemptuous.
She sweeps us with a look, and then her gaze drops to the floor.
That switchblade.
She’s after it before even a split second passes—but I’m faster.
Lunging to my feet, I catch her by the arms from behind and lift her right off the ground, her legs kicking in the air.
“Finders, keepers. Play nice,” I grind out, holding fast to my wriggling, squirming burden as I move to the door. “Fliss, get that knife before she gets any cute ideas.”
“Don’t you dare!” Paye cries, her voice rising shrill and then breaking. “Don’t you dare get your filthy fingers all over it!”
With the phone still pressed to her ear, Felicity darts over and snatches up the switchblade, then flicks it closed and pockets it before staring at me with a million questions in her eyes.
I march that little blond murder cat right up to the front door, which Felicity pulls open for me.
Outside.
Down the steps, with Paye squalling fit to raise the dead the entire time.
I think if I even let one pinky loose, this pint-sized freak might turn around and kill me with the sheer force of her hatred.
This might be comical if she wasn’t so creepy.
Call it reflex and instinct again.
Sometimes you can tell when something’s off, and there’s so much wrong with this one.
At least her goons had a little tactical sense. They’re waiting on the sidewalk with a black car that wasn’t there when I pulled up, and I recognize the same SUV that went tearing out of the parking lot of The Nest that night I found Fliss crying after her ’contractor dispute.’
That answers a few questions.
It also raises a hell of a lot more.
With Fliss trailing behind me, I shove Paye toward the end of the walk, and then push her at her goons.
“Take her,” I say curtly. “And don’t get any ideas. The cops are listening right now and already on the way. And just in case...” I read off the license plate I can just make out past one guy’s body before folding my arms over my chest. “He’s heard it now. So you could shoot us and run and hope they don’t find you. But they will. If you don’t know what town you’re in and what it’s been through, I suggest you do some reading. This is so not the place to dick around with gunfights, boys.”
The men don’t change their expressions.
Typical of hired assholes.
Still, the way Paye turns back and looks at me, the venom in her eyes hides nothing.
I have a feeling this is far from over.
This is just a cease-fire.
Not the end of the war.
Without a word, she lifts her head, regal as a monster princess. She waits for one of the men to open the car door for her, then takes his offered hand to lift her up into the back seat, handling her with delicate practice.
The royal and her retinue, indeed.
I don’t relax, not till one of them gets behind the wheel, the others flank Paye in a protective phalanx, and I hear the engine humming.
Finally, the SUV goes rolling down the street, gliding as dark and silently as an eel.
The moment the car turns the corner, out of sight, Felicity collapses against my side.
I barely catch her, wrapping my arms around her shoulders to hold her up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she whispers in a broken mantra before raising her voice. I can hear Langley losing his shit on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry,” she says again, louder this time. “No—no, it’s fine, you don’t need to come, Sheriff. It was a bunch of out-of-town assholes playing a prank. No one’s hurt. I know they need you at the festival.”
“You sure?” I murmur, keeping my voice low. “You might need the cops on this, Fliss.”
Not him, she mouths, shaking her head, then speaking into the phone again.
“Sure, I’ll let you know if they come back. Thanks—I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
Then she hangs up, her entire body sagging against me bonelessly, her arm falling to dangle limply with her phone barely clutched in her fingers.
“Oh my fucking stars,” she mumbles against my chest, and I think it’s the first time I’ve ever heard her say anything worse than damn, maybe a quick shit when Eli and I destroyed her leaning tower of mugs. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry you got dragged into this. There are no words.”
“Relax. I’m just glad I showed up when I did.” I grip her shoulders gently, looking down at her pale face, the stark fear in her eyes and the drying tear tracks on her cheeks. “Get your dog, Fliss.”
I glance past her. That little puffball bounces in the doorway, yapping and growling like he did something heroic, barking clear into the night.
“We’re getting out of here,” I tell her.
“We are?” She blinks, lifting her head and looking up at me blankly. “Why? Why when you know how...how bad it is now...”
“Because I was right to move you in with me and dead wrong for thinking you should ever come back here alone. You’re not safe anywhere she can find you. No more trips back here without me. Get the dog, get anything else you need for a long-term stay, and let’s move. We need to talk.”
Pulling everything out of her the hard way is the last thing I want, but her murky business almost got me killed.
She owes me answers, and not just because I’m interested in keeping my own ass in one piece.
I’m in this now. Fully.
That means I need to know what’s going on behind the curtain. It’s pretty obvious she’s been filtering the full picture, obscuring where that gold truly came from, who’s involved, and just how much peril she’s in.
Before, it was all a big fat hypothetical and a dash of suspicions.
It sure as hell isn’t now.
Fliss moves around me anxiously as she packs up a few more things. I take it on myself to pick up the cash strewn all over the living room and stuff it into the bag left behind.
I’m glad our mini killer didn’t clean her out again—though now I know where all her money’s been going.
Straight down a deep, dark chute leading to a psycho’s piggy bank.
It’s a silent trip save for Shrub’s excited yapping as we pile into my Jeep and head to my cabin. We’d never put an official time limit on Felicity’s stay besides some vague hints about a solid week.