I forced myself to put it down and make my way back out of the room, feeling like I'd invaded her privacy enough for one day.
As I moved back into the living area, a cat who'd been missing when I'd arrived was sprawled on the arm of the chair, staring at me with huge green eyes.
"Cat," I greeted him, giving him a nod as he continued to stare at me with an unimpressed expression. "When does your mom come home?" I asked, checking my phone for the fourth time.
Another fifteen minutes later, I could hear the jingle of keys in the door.
And there she was, looking slightly less exhausted than the night before, and wearing an unflattering white button-up top that reminded me of the material Huck's sister Gus used to wear to her job at the old folks' home. Scrubs I guess was what they were called. The pants were no better, the same stiff-looking material, but in black.
"Don't scream," I demanded softly, not wanting to alert her neighbors, even if I was pretty sure this was not the kind of neighborhood that had people calling the cops unless they saw someone bleeding to death in the street or something.
Shy's breath gasped inward as her body went ramrod straight. Those gorgeous eyes were wide when they landed on me. I didn't love it that it took her a solid five seconds before she decided it was okay, that I wasn't there like I'd changed my mind, and decided to take the gunshot wound out on her after all.
Her breath rushed out of her as her shoulders relaxed. "Why do I get the feeling this means there is bad news?" she asked, putting her purse and keys down before turning to lock the door.
"It's not great news," I admitted, watching as she walked over toward the cat, giving his head a rub on her way toward the kitchen, going right for the coffee machine.
"Okay," she said, nodding. "Tell me."
"The camera feeds were erased, so we have no face to work off of. And research says that while it isn't common to use extortion like this to get hits done, it isn't as rare as we thought, either."
Her jaw went tight as she took in the information. "So, so what now?" she asked, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter.
"Unless we get some information within the next two hours, there really only seems like one choice," I said, watching as she poured the coffee, like she needed the distraction for a moment before hearing the plan that would hopefully save the life of her baby sister.
"Okay," she declared after putting cream and sugar in her coffee, and giving it a stir. "What is it?"
"It's going to sound crazy," I warned her, taking my mug.
"What about this entire situation doesn't sound crazy?" she shot back with a humorless laugh.
"Fair enough. Well, we make it seem like you did the job."
"What?" she asked, brows pinching. "How would that work?"
"Yeah, this is the part where it sounds crazy," I told her. "We throw another party tonight. You come. Bang bang bang, lots of fucking chaos."
"Okay..." she said, brows furrowing, almost to the point of disbelief I'd been in when the plan had been given to me.
"See, Seeley and Donovan have some connections. Seeley can get an ambulance. Donovan can get a cop to show up. Put on a show. Bring out a body in a bag."
"But... but it wouldn't hit the police blotter, right? Or the news? Because it isn't real."
"Yeah, well, here is where it gets crazier. Arty, he's another friend of ours, he's a hacker, and he can get some articles up on legit news sites, so that if anyone researches it, they will find a report of me getting killed off. They will eventually get taken down when someone figures out they don't belong there. But hopefully by then, this fucker will have seen the reports and the various social media posts that will confirm it because of the partygoers. It's convoluted, but..."
"But it just might work," she finished.
"Exactly. It is all we have," I added, shrugging. "If there was any other course to take, I'd say we take it because this is so over-the-top and there is a huge margin for error, but because we have nothing to go on with this guy, it is our only real choice if we want to get Belle out."
"What if... what if he won't let her go?" Shy asked, eyes getting a little glassy.
"Look, bodies aren't good for business. Whatever their business is. Getting rid of them is a pain in the fucking ass. And with labs getting really good with trace evidence, killing is always a last resort to any criminal organization with a brain. They will let her go just to avoid the hassle of dealing with her body."
"That's... darkly comforting," Shy decided. "And after I get Belle?"
"That's when we move in and take these fuckers down."
"But... but you just said bodies... and trace evidence..."
"Street wars, they're a little different than kidnapping and murder. We wouldn't get close enough to leave much trace. And the bodies can stay there to rot in the sun for all we care. Sorry," I said when she went a little gray at that information.
"So you... you kill people," she concluded, voice tense.
"Not as a hobby," I said, getting a wobbly smile from her. "But in the name of saving my own neck? The necks of my men? Yeah, I'm willing to do whatever it takes."
"What if there are a lot of them?"
"We're not as small of an organization as we used to be," I told her. Back when we'd started, it had just been the four of us. Huck, me, Che, and Remy. With Teddy as an unofficial member in a way. Then Seeley had joined on. Eventually, we had an open house and brought on Donovan who Che knew from his old racing days and Sass's brother Alaric, a former male stripper. Two of Seeley's friends were in the process of untangling themselves from other jobs to prospect full time for us. And we could count on Eddie if we needed him too. We weren't the minuscule operation we used to be. We could hold our own.
"How will you guys... how will you know where to be when they get in touch with me?"
"Someone is going to be nearby at all times. Once you seem like you're on the move, we will follow at a safe distance. As soon as you get your sister, you run to your car and take off. Don't look back or anything. Just go. You okay?" I asked, seeing the gray twinge to her skin again.
"Just... I'm just a little sick over the whole thing."
"I get that. But if we can pull this off, it is almost over."
"I'd be an accessory to murder," she declared.
"Yeah, but you would have committed real murder yourself to get her back, right?"
"Yes."
"To someone who never did anything to either of you," I clarified.
"Yeah."
"Don't you think this way is better? The only people getting hurt are the ones who did the hurting in the first place."
"That's true," she agreed.
"And if they got to keep living, they would only do this again. More innocent people would get caught up in this cycle. They'd be forced to get blood on their hands."
"You're right," she agreed, taking a deep breath, then releasing it slowly. "So, walk me through it again step by step," she demanded, wanting to get every point of it committed to memory.