“No,” I say, thinking about the email exchange I had with Frank and Leone. The fiancé told me they weren’t going to negotiate separately, so I should copy them both on emails. That told me plenty.
Frank was ready to pay a two-million-dollar ransom until he heard something had happened that would leave her with a scar on her face. My email blamed her for overreacting to something, saying the injury to her was her own fault. After I sent that message, Frank said he needed to see a photograph before continuing negotiations.
I clench my jaw now, thinking about it.
“Frank’s known to us,” C says. “You don’t need to send fake emails as a kidnapper to figure him out. Did you do it thinking you could bait him? Lure him into coming somewhere alone to pick up Rachel? You should know Frank would never risk himself for anyone that way.”
“I know.”
“So then what? Did you do it to turn her? To show her they don’t really care about her? That they’re just using her?”
I could say that I found out she already knows that, but I don’t. The things she says to me are mine.
“He wouldn’t need to try to turn her to our side on his own,” Trick says. “He’d involve us to help frame that kind of plan.”
C glances at Trick, and then back at me.
“If you’ve been sneaking around with her, why keep it a secret from us?” C asks.
“C’mon, ‘Vil,” Trick says. “There’ve been rumors that she’s been coming to the theater. Some people know it’s to play violin. Others think it’s to see one of us. Since about two hours ago, Frank’s telling people there was a ransom demand, but he thinks it might be a hoax.”
“He doesn’t think it’s a hoax. He’s giving himself an out for not paying it,” I say, my rage at Frank growing by the second. If he was in the room, only one of us would leave it alive.
“He said he won’t pay a ransom?” C asks, surprised. “Even if he wouldn’t pay because she’s his daughter, he’s built her up on social media. There are influencer endorsement contracts that are worth real money. And he’s gonna benefit from the marriage connection to New York. Why wouldn’t he pay?”
“You told him she won’t be coming back the same,” Trick guesses. “No virgin bride for Leone?”
“I said her face was damaged. He said no more negotiations until he saw a picture of her.”
Trick’s eyes turn ice blue. If Frank were in the room, Trick would flip me for the chance to kill him.
“Did something happen?” C asks slowly. “Did she get hurt?”
“Of course not,” Trick says. “You think The Punisher here who protects kids and old store clerks did something to disfigure the girl who sponged his brow when he was practically a rotting corpse? Get real.”
C studies me. He knows I’m capable of things. I’ve punished plenty of girls in front of him, never in way that would cause real or lasting damage, but he knows I’m no angel. He leaves that for the moment though, and instead asks, “Why keep this play a secret?”
“It was my show. I didn’t want C Crue on the hook for it if it went sideways.”
“You can’t run a show on your own,” C says. “None of us can. Anything any of us does, C Crue does.”
I shake my head. “C Crue wouldn’t have run this play. From a crue point of view, it’s all downside, no upside.”
“Sounds like it. So then?”
I shrug.
“We’re in this, whether you wanted us in it or not,” C says impatiently. “No more secrets. Straight up. What’s the deal between you and Rachel?”
“No deal. I took her. Grabbed her and shoved her in my trunk. The whole nine,” I murmur.
C’s brows rise. “To get even with her? And to get at Frank?” C still can’t see it.
Trick narrows his eyes. “You had to be watching her? Planning this took time.”
I nod. “I stalked her.”
“The stalking, how long?” Trick asks in a low voice. He’s hooked a piece of it.
