“That’s fascinating!” Edie forced herself to smile at ashamefaced Doug, then at Austin and Belinda and everyone else. “I’ve always thought counterfeiting was an interesting blend of artistry and technology. It kind of reminds me of what I do.”
“What do you do?” Perking up, Doug perched on the sofa’s back and watched her curiously.
“Don’t tell them,” Max ordered. “Don’t—”
“Tell us. Now.” Belinda’s axe made an ominouswhooshing sound when she lifted it menacingly. “If you lie to me, I’ll know, and you’ll regret it.”
“I’m a soap maker.” Edie’s throat was dust-dry, and swallowing hurt. “My job mixes art and science too.”
“What thefuck, woman?” Max sounded like the top of his head was about to blow off. “Even if we manage to escape, they have enough information to hunt you down now.”
She crinkled her nose. “I’m not a good liar.”
In retrospect, she probably shouldn’t have been participating in such a fraught discussion when she was exhausted, still partially frozen, and fresh from a disorienting nightmare.
“Wait,” Belinda said slowly. “I know you.”
“Motherfucker.” His knife and body still poised for attack, Max glared down at Edie. “I can’t believe you just told them—”
“I knowbothof you.” The other woman’s head tilted as she studied them, the tense readiness in her posture softening. “Wow.”
“Ha! It’s not just me!” Edie poked his ribs, then returned Belinda’s curious stare. “Hold on.Howdo you know us? Who do you think we are?”
“We watch Brad and Tonya’s channel all the time.” Grinning now, Belinda tucked her axe into a leather carrying sling. “Which is where we saw you, and the reason we know abouthischannel.”
Her forefinger pointed directly at Max.
“You—” His jaw worked for a moment. “You’re a subscriber?”
The redhead winked at him, which was both a good sign concerning Edie’s and Max’s continued survival and really freaking annoying. “Ever since you modeled those tiny macramé briefs.”
His shoulders relaxed a fraction. “That’s my video with the most views.”
“For good reason,” Belinda said with emphasis.
Both Austin and Edie scowled at her.
“Now that we’re all acquainted, I should take you on a tour of our headquarters. We’re based at Sharper Image, since they have lots of electrical outlets. It’s where we put our generator,” said sweet, clueless Doug, interrupting the tense moment with yet more dangerous revelations no one had asked him to share. “And, of course, we spend a lot of time at Brookstone too.”
Austin groaned faintly.
“Ah.” Dismissing the momentary sting of jealousy—this was neither the time nor the place, and she had no claim on Max anyway—Edie smiled at Doug. “The massage chairs?”
“The massage chairs,” he affirmed. “Want to know how counterfeiting works?”
Well, yes. But she was more invested in not getting murdered due to her unwilling acquisition of information about his gang’s criminal enterprises.
“It’s okay, Doug. I know you have”—she gestured toward the roomful of armed people—“um, a lot happening right now.”
He frowned. “But it’s so interesting. We prefer to use the basic Colombian method—”
Austin’s eyes flicked to the ceiling above. “Glorious mother of the gods.”
“It’s fine, Austin. Her full name”—Belinda’s chin tipped in Edie’s direction—“is in Brad and Tonya’s videos. We can easily find her address. I’m sure I can find her companion’s information as well, so we don’t need to kill two of our favorite content providers for knowing too much. No matter what Doug tells them.” She raised her eyebrows at them, then gripped the handle of her axe. “I assume both of you realize what’ll happen if you run your mouths. Correct?”
Involuntarily, Edie glanced at Doug.Take us into your gang and tolerate us with exasperated affection?
For the first time, Austin’s expression turned severe. “Doug’s a true artist and our friend. We need him. We don’t need you. Understood?”
