“But the photographs.” Mr. Davis stands. “I’ll need your phone now, dear.” He holds out his hand. “Be a lamb, unlock it, and hand it over.”
Brenden
The safe inMr. Davis’s office is hidden behind a false painting. Seriously, it’s like something straight out of a TV show. I’ve never seen it before, but luckily they cheaped out on the safe itself, whereas the fake-painting-construction is extremely well done. Otherwise, I’d be spending all evening trying to drill the fucker, instead of using a shim to pop the front facing open.
No time to marvel at the workmanship. I get to struggling with the safe, reminded of the night I cracked into the Sarkissianhouse. What a shitstorm that was. I got what I needed, but finding Sam’s material has only made my life that much harder.
Any other time, under any other circumstances, and there’s no way in hell I’d withhold a score from Arsen. What is Sam to me, really, except for a fake brother-in-law? But it’s not him I care about, not really, even though I do like the kid.
It’s Tallie I’m doing this for.
The woman I wanted to escape from, and now?
I’m pinned by her. She’s a spotlight and I’m a creep. She’s all the light in the world keeping me together, because if the darkness comes back, I’m going to drift apart.
What the hell am I going to do?
I manage to get the safe rebooted and I’m about to input the default code when there’s a noise in the hall. I freeze, listening carefully. Someone’s definitely coming. Cursing, I throw myself behind a settee sitting in the corner, wedging my body down where it really doesn’t fit, and lay as still as I can with a wooden leg jammed against my face.
I see comfortable shoes and there’s a voice.
The same woman from outside.
“Doing it all over again, the sick bastards… and here I am, following their orders.Get our blackmail materials, Patricia. Find the gun and shoot the girl in the head.One of these days… What the fuck?”
A nervous jolt pulses through me and I realize?—
The painting is still hanging open.
And the front panel of the safe is lying on the floor.
Oh, fucking shit.
With a grunt of effort, I throw myself up over the back of the settee. The woman is gaping at it like she can’t believe her eyes. She hardly reacts, turning in slow motion in my direction, a thick envelope clutched between her hands. She shrieks, arms flailing wildly, and cash flies all over the place, fluttering through the air as I ram into her, knocking her backwards. No time for finesse—she bashes into the bookshelf.
But the girl’s tough. She lashes out, trying to punch me, and I have to grab her by the face and slam her skull back a second time. There’s an ugly crunch and she goes limp, blood slicking the wood behind her as she sinks down to the floor with an audible thump.
Fuck. I stand above her, breathing hard. There’s a chance she’s still alive, but a small one. God damn it, this wasn’t supposed to happen. I check her gingerly and she’s still breathing.
For now.
Tallie
“Where is that girl?”Mr. Davis mutters to himself as I pull my knees to my chest. Mrs. Davis continues to rub my back. I wish she’d stop.
“When Patricia comes back, we’ll take care of you,” Mrs. Davis tells me for the tenth time.
“I’m sorry about this. I’m just so sorry.” I keep repeating it over and over. “But I need ten thousand if I’m going to hand over my phone.”
“We know how this goes.” Mr. Davis doesn’t seem so sympathetic anymore. I wonder why?
Probably because I stared at him coldly and demanded cash before I was willing to hand over my phone.
The sick part is, neither of them even hesitated, because ten thousand is probably nothing in the grand scheme of things.
Peter’s rambunctious behavior will likely cost them a lot more in the future.
Lawyers would bleed them dry, that’s for sure.
