“Tell me now before I slit your throat.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” The panic in her eyes tells me she thinks I might actually be deranged enough to do it. I grin like a psycho.
“Wouldn’t I? I have nothing left to lose. I’m trapped in a marriage I didn’t want, thanks to you. I’m thinking a stint in a Supermax might be a pleasant upgrade.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll visit you, cupcake,” Luka reassures me.
“Thanks, sweetie.” I blow him a kiss while Vivian stares at the two of us with horrified fascination.
“So, bitch, want to spill the deets or shall I practice my plastic surgery skills using this very unhygienic knife?” I pretend to stare more closely at her taut face. “Looks like you’ve had a lot of work already. It would be a real shame to undo it all.”
“Fine!” she shrieks. “Put the knife down and I’ll tell you!”
“Damn right you will.” I take her wrist and spin her round so I can tie her wrists together using a zip-tie I picked up from one of the kitchen drawers back home. She struggles, but thanks to a diet of lemon water and lettuce for the last decade, she has the strength of a cocktail stick.
“Grab that jacket so I can hide the zip-tie on the way out.”
“Where are you taking me?” The panic is real now. Vivian has seen the end of her plot arc, and she doesn’t like it.Oh well.
“Somewhere quiet where we won’t be interrupted.”
The housekeeper is on the phone when I lead Vivian outside. “I’m fine, Moira,” my stepmother assures her, as instructed. She winces when I press my hidden knife into her side, but thanks to Botox, her expression gives nothing away.
“Are you sure, ma’am?” Moira seems unconvinced, but Vivian nods.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Bye, pretty lady,” Luka says to Moira, winking at her again. And again, the silly woman blushes like a teenager. She’s deluded if she thinks Luka’s interested in an old biddy like her.
But Luka’s charm knows no bounds.
I push Vivian non-too-gently in the small backseat of Luka’s car and climb in after her. Luka closes the door and jumps behind the wheel.
“Where to, Bonnie?”
“Bonnie?” I frown in confusion.
“You’re Bonnie and I’m Clyde.”
“Great. You’re modeling us on a pair of fugitives who died in a hail of gunfire. Amazing.” I roll my eyes as he grins. “Take us back home.” Luka nods. The moronic guard opens the gate without looking up from his phone. I hope Tim isn’t paying him a fortune.
Once we’re a mile away from the house, I turn to Vivian and grin like an unhinged escapee from an asylum.
“We can use my husband’s kill room to interrogate our prisoner.”
I have no clue whether Angelo has a kill room, but once my words sink in, she hyperventilates and then promptly passes out.
Which is just as well, as when I check Luka’s phone, there are dozens of missed calls from Angelo and Kane, and a bunch of panicked messages.
I hit call. “Where the fuck are you!” Angelo’s yell nearly perforates my eardrums.
“On our way back to the house with a prisoner for interrogation.” There’s a long silence.
“Excuse me?”
“I’ll explain when I see you.” Before he can bombard me with questions, I hang up. It’s about time he realized who wears the pants in this marriage. And it’s not him.
42
