Green nods, petting Skipper who’s still blissed out in his arms. "Yeah, finish up. We're curious to see how this all plays out before we get to our second act."
Glaring at them all, I grab the stack of papers folded in my clutch and smooth them out. It’s the denial letters, obituaries of his company’s victims, my mom’s among them. I try to ignore all three of them as I start taping them to the walls, covering his pretentious art. I’m supposed to feel a surge of catharsis, satisfaction from striking another name from my list but there’s so much tension with their presence that I don’t get the samethrill I did last time I did this and that pisses me the hell off, big time.
I grit my teeth as I smooth out another paper to the wall. My Mom’s face stares back at me, her smile frozen in time, and my throat tightens. This is for you, Mom. For all of them. He helped kill you with paperwork, and now I’m burying him in it.
The three men stand watch as I get the last thing from the basket and spray the paint in bold, dripping red that’s now my calling card to these fuckers.
YOUR GREED KILLED THEM ALL.
I stand back and the paint can drops from my fingers. It’s done. The records on the walls are a testament to his crimes. I quickly move to the far wall and start taking pictures of the passed out Victor and the walls behind him. I’ll make sure the world knows about this.
I turn to face Black, Red, and Green, ready to deal with the next problem. But before I can say anything, the door opens again and I whirl around, terrified it’s one of the security guards. Instead, I see Hensley’s wife standing there in a sleek black gown, her face hard as she takes in the scene. Her passed-out husband, the papers all over the wall and the dripping words in red. She hits me with a sharp look.
“Is he dead?” she demands, her voice sharp but steady.
I can sense the guys stiffening and moving closer to my back as I step forward, heart pounding, and hand her one of the crypto keys I had slid into my cleavage with a smile.
“Not dead, but he’ll wish he was when he wakes up. There were two crypto keys, just like you said. As agreed, here is your cut. You’re sure the access codes you gave me are good?”
“Positive. It was his emergency backup. He gave me the access codes to the keys and his lawyer had the combination to the safe. In case something ever happened.”
“Thank you, Evelyn. I’m guessing you know this already - but play it safe. There is nothing to lead back to you with this right now. Don’t do anything that’ll make people think you had anything to do with this.”
Evelyn casts a dead look at her husband before answering. “Don’t worry. I have my own plan. This is going to be a mess and I think the stress will cause me to move out and file for divorce. It might take a while, but I’ll get out. You had better get out of here yourself. I’ve distracted security for now - told them to get outside and make sure none of the drunk guests wrecked anything. But they’ll be around to check things out soon.”
I wait for a moment, worried that if she changes her mind this will get very, very messy - and think back to what made this all possible.
It started a month ago, right after I landed in Santa Monica and started scouting Hensley. I’d tailed him first, learning his routines, but then I shifted to her, his wife, Evelyn. I decided she was the wildcard, the one who could make or break this. I watched her from afar, sipping coffee at a café near their mansion, noting the way she moved with a guarded elegance, her designer clothes hiding what looked like bruises on her arms. Finally one day, after I was pretty sure I knew what was going on I approached her. She was sitting alone at a table, tears tracking down her cheeks, her phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip, when I slid into the seat across from her like we were old friends.
“Rough day?” I asked, my voice soft but direct.
She looked up, startled, wiping her eyes. “Do I know you?”
“Not yet,” I said, leaning in. “But I know your husband. And I know what he does to make all that dirty money. He specializes in denying claims, letting people die for profit. He killed my mom that way and I think he’s hurting you too.”
I laid it out then, the plan—the gala, the distraction, the heist.
“Help me take him down. You give me the codes, the layout, and I’ll make sure he’s ruined. You get a cut, a fresh start and he gets to pay for his crimes.”
She hesitated, her eyes flicking to the bruises on her wrist. “Why me? Why trust me?”
“Because I see it in your eyes. The hate, the trap. We’re both his victims. Let’s make him pay.”
It didn’t take long before she nodded, her tears drying as resolve set in. “I’m in. All the way.”
We met a few more times, her slipping me the safe specs, alarm codes, his schedule. She was my inside woman who added her recommendation for Sapphire Blake, who all their rich friends used for parties. She was the twist he’d never see coming.
She keeps that hard look on her face for a beat more before it cracks into a brilliant smile, relief flooding over her features.
“You did it. Thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.”
She takes the crypto key, nods at me with another grateful smile, and walks out, closing the door behind her with a final click.
Green
Ican’t stop the grin from forming on my face and choke back a laugh as the wife leaves the office. Her asshole husband slumped on his leather couch like a discarded puppet, his shirt half-unbuttoned, floppy dick exposed from his open zipper and a stupid grin plastered on his unconscious face. The walls are a grim collage of denial letters and obituaries, Blue’s handiwork screaming her rage in red spray paint: YOUR GREED KILLED THEM ALL . It’s a fucking masterpiece, and I can’t help but admire her and the wife for this epic level of payback. We should have know she’s have all her bases covered for a con like this. We thought we would help her but she already had an inside man…or woman to cover it. She’s fucking brilliant.
Skipper’s in my arms, her tiny body vibrating with excitement, her sheriff badge glinting as she nuzzles against my chest. She’s the only one happy to see us, and it’s a kick to the gut that this little rat-dog recognized me quicker than Blue did, at least until Black tugged on her hair and blew our cover. Those blue-green eyes, wide with shock and a flicker of fear, locked onus the moment she realized who we were. She’s trying to play it cool, all attitude and defiance, but I see the tremble in her hands, the way her skin flushes pink like she’s fighting the same heat we are.
