* * *
Mairi waited while the men kicked the door open and entered the motel room. She followed a few seconds later, sniffing the air. Freddy MacKilligan had definitely been here, and he hadn’t been alone. But he was gone now.
“How does he stay ahead of us?” one of the men wanted to know.
“He’s got someone helping him,” Mairi guessed. “Someone who’s tracking us. Can tell when we’re close.”
“How do you know that?’
“Because I know how me uncle thinks.” She snapped her fingers. “Phones. Get rid of them. I’ll get us some burners. No contact with family or girlfriends. No computers or anything else.”
“Then how do we track him?”
“I’ll find someone to help us out. I just need a day or two to—”
“The twins aren’t going to like you going off on your own again,” he pointed out, making Mairi want to rip his throat out. She didn’t . . . but she really wanted to.
“Then keep yer mouth shut and there won’t be a problem, now will there?”
“But the twins said—”
Mairi reached up and grabbed him by the jaw, squeezing until she heard a small “crack” sound. She wasn’t trying to break it. Not unless she had to.
“I said,” she warned again, up on her toes so she didn’t have to shout to be heard by the much taller man, “keep yer mouth shut and there won’t be a problem. Understand?”
Eyes wide, gawking down at her, he managed a nod.
“Good.” She motioned to the room. “Clear this place and head to the hotel. I’ll get you new phones and check in with you later.”
Mairi walked out of the motel and returned to the rental car. She sat down in the driver’s seat and stared straight ahead. She didn’t want to deal with Freddy MacKilligan. The idiot. And when she finally tracked him down, she was going to make him suffer for distracting her from what she really wanted, which was Max MacKilligan.
And anything that got in the way of that goal just pissed Mairi off.
Mairi rested her hands on the wheel. Maybe she should just kill the twins. If she got them out of the way sooner rather than later, she could focus on Max.
She liked that idea. Of course, she’d originally wanted to keep the twins around so they could continue to distract all the uncles and aunts. But now they were just getting pushy and annoying. Mairi didn’t have patience for that sort of thing.
Thinking on it a bit longer, Mairi realized that she didn’t actually have to kill the twins herself. She had another option. One that would free up her time. She just needed to get a few things in order and . . .
“Excellent!” she cheered, pleased with her brilliant decision-making. “Get all that sorted and then I can put a bullet in the back of me cousin’s head.”
Mairi let out a happy sigh. She did love when things worked out in her favor.
chapter EIGHT
“I just don’t see why I’m responsible for him,” Max complained.
Nelle came out from her dressing room wearing designer jeans, a designer sleeveless shirt, and six-inch heels that probably cost several thousand dollars. She was putting on gold-set diamond earrings that brought out her dark brown eyes and matched the gold and diamond bracelets she wore on both wrists.
“You feel responsible for him because your sisters say that you’re responsible for him. Charlie is your moral compass and there’s nothing wrong with that.”
Max loved the Manhattan penthouse apartment that Nelle occasionally shared with her family, with its eight bedrooms and two terraces that boasted amazing views of Central Park. Of course, the family could have bought a private island for what they’d paid to get this place but it was in the heart of the city and the Zhaos didn’t like to be subtle about their wealth. Not surprising. They were honey badgers. Badgers weren’t subtle about anything.
“Really?” Max asked, sitting on Nelle’s giant double-king-sized bed. “Because I feel like everything is wrong with it. Because of them, I’m stuck with this guy for however long it takes him to shift on his own and not keep asking that same stupid question about whether he’s been drugged or not.”
Nelle turned away from the mirror she’d been looking in and gestured to the other end of her bed. “Should we really be having this conversation with the poor guy just sitting there?”
Max glanced over at a silent Vargas. He was busy watching the BBC World News channel and didn’t seem the least bit interested in what they were talking about. She waved away Nelle’s concern.
“You know,” Nelle went on, “his adjustment doesn’t have to be time consuming, especially with all the girls here at the same time because of the playoffs. We round everybody up and we help you help him. It’ll be just like old times.”
“I guess that’s an idea.”
“Come on, Max. Lighten up. Just be glad your sisters give a shit about this kind of stuff. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my sister. But instead . . .”
When she didn’t finish her sentence, Max asked, “But instead what?”
Nelle walked over to a small closet and opened it, revealing Nelle’s sister trapped on the floor, hogtied and gagged with duct tape. Most likely by Nelle herself.
“Dude! What the fuck?”
“She deserves it.” She glared down at her sister and yelled, “Because she’s a bitch!” She slammed the door shut, ignoring her sister’s muffled threats, and pulled her phone out of her back pocket.
“I’ll text the girls,” she said with abrupt great cheer.
“You’re not just going to leave your sister in there, are you?”
She snorted. “She’ll be fine. Gnaw her way out of those restraints in no time.”
“Is the only reason you have duct tape in your beautiful apartment so that you can hogtie your sister whenever you want?”
Nelle glanced up from her phone and grinned. “Yes!”
* * *
Zé stared across the round table in the coffee shop at the five women gazing back at him. There was Max, her purple hair in two pigtails high on her head, purple bangs hanging into her eyes. Gorgeous Nelle, who had the attention of every man in the establishment. Tock, whose blank expression made him uncomfortable. Streep, who’d been complaining since they’d all stood in line to get their coffee and treats. And Mads, who seemed to do nothing but glare at everyone who came within ten feet of her personal space.
“Maybe we should just get rid of him,” Tock finally suggested when no one else had any other ideas.
“We can’t,” Max said with a sigh. “Charlie really likes him.”
“I thought she already had a man.”
“She doesn’t like him like that. She just likes him. And you know what Stevie will do if she finds out—”
Nelle waved her manicured hands in the air. “No, no. Forget getting rid of him.”
“For moral reasons?” Zé had to ask.
“Sure . . . if that makes you feel better.”
“Is anyone else concerned,” Mads asked, speaking for the first time since she’d entered the coffee shop, “that he’s taking it so well that we’re discussing getting rid of him?”