Margot lets out a low moan and buries her face against my shoulder. I turn and catch a glimpse of Archie. His hazel eyes are stormy. Impossible to read. My men wanted my stepmother dead for months. Did he know? Did he deliberately chase her? Force her hand? I look away. They’re questions for another time; we have work to do.
“You’re the only one we’ve let out,” I tell Margot. “Lachlan and Harris are too angry, and we don’t know how they’ll react.”
“They wanted Mr. Parker to give them jobs,” she says through her tears. “They thought he’d… They thought it would be different.”
“I bet. But that doesn’t matter now. Archie, Bill, and I have to leave, and you need to call Uncle Edgar and tell him what happened. He’ll be able to handle things from here. Can you do that?”
Margot lifts her head, and I can tell she wants to refuse. Uncle Edgar is mean, old as the hills, and refers to every female member of his family asgirl. But he’ll definitely know what to do with Corinne’s body and how to slap some sense into my brothers.
“Margot,” I say. “I’m counting on you. If you don’t call Uncle Edgar someone will phone the police. The neighbors might have already. They could have seen Corinne fall.”
Margot draws her shoulders back and looks me right in the eye. “I can call Uncle Edgar. I’ll do it right now.”
“Good.” I turn to Archie. “Let’s go.”
“Whatever you say, boss.”
Margot pauses. “Why’s he calling you ‘boss?’”
“Because I’m the boss. At least for now. Okay, I’ll be back soon.”
Fresh tears well in Margot’s eyes. “JJ, I’m so sorry—”
“I know and we’ll sort it all out. Just hold on and we can talk when I’m back.”
Still crying, Margot gives me one last hug and it’s not until I’m sitting in Corinne’s Bugatti that I realize there’s a good chance I lied, that I’m never coming back.
***
Our plan forinfiltrating the compound is only slightly less hair-brained than the one we made for Corinne’s house. Thirty minutes away from Parker’s place, I climb into the tiny car trunk and curl into the smallest ball possible.
“Our codes should still be able to get us through the gate,” Bill tells me as I fold my arms around myself. “And your mom’s been to Parker’s enough that the Bugatti shouldn’t raise the alarm with the garage staff…”
Stepmom, I think.Dead stepmom.
“…But Christ only knows what happens when we get to the underground car park,” Bill continues. “All goes well, we’ll overpower the night security guy and get you out. We won’t have long after that. We’ll head to the cells and pray to God we can free the guys.”
“What about Mr. Parker?”
“I see him, he’s dead,” Bill says flatly. “But we’ve gotta see him first.”
I notice his face is grey, his usually sparkling eyes flat as stone. “Bill, you don’t have to do this. Even for my money. You can just drop me off and get out of there. That’s enough.”
He just shakes his head. “We’ve let this asshole get away with shit for too long.”
“Suicide,” Archie mutters. “That’s what this is, but fuck it, the old boy’s right. If we don’t take him down, who will?”
He flashes me a classic Baskerville smile. “Three cowboys on a mission from hell, sweetheart. What a way to go.”
I try to smile back as Bill lowers the trunk lid, surrounding me in velvet darkness.
It’s cramped and hot in the trunk, but I don’t mind. I’m more terrified of when we arrive, and I’ll have to get out. But just when I think we’ll keep driving forever, the car stops and I hear Bill talking to someone and male laughter, then we move off again on different terrain, smoother, and I know we’re on Mr. Parker’s driveway.
My body feels like it’s made of paper. Bubbles. The most lightweight, defenseless material. We areinParker’s compound. It’s crazy that his guards don’t just start shooting, that they can’t already tell they’ve been breached. The car stops again, and I listen hard for grunts, gunshots, sounds of a fight but there’s nothing. Then the trunk snaps open, and I almost scream as artificial light floods my face.
“You okay, boss?” Archie asks, holding out a hand.
“Fine,” I say, scrambling out. We’re in what looks like an airport car park, dozens of luxury cars spaced out over a football field worth of concrete. But we seem to be totally alone.
