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I was so close to pushing that bottle a little harder, a little further. In that moment, Mira was me, and I hated her. I saw the way Mira looked at Finn, and I saw myself. I saw the way she cowed and bent to his air of dominance, and I fucking saw myself.
My brothers killed their first man at age sixteen. Some kids get a car at sixteen for getting their driver’s license. In our family, you got a car when you killed someone. And were born a son.
Instead I was taught how to sit straight, shut my mouth, and look pretty. Look where that’s gotten me. Under the thumb of another fucking man.
I laugh alone in my temporary bedroom at the thought because I could be talking about Finn or Hudson. My father never taught me to fight back because he needed me to be compliant and dependent. It’s dangerous when a woman starts believing in her own strength.
But despite not having any of the training my brothers received, I am still trying to fight back. I’ve lost some battles, but I haven’t lost the war.
After all, I’ve gotten Finneas Fox on his knees…twice.
I wonder if he’s realized the same thing because I haven’t heard from him in two days.
If I’ve been able to flip the script one way, maybe I can flip the script again and use his own strategy against him.
I’ve been terrified the crew will find out he’s blackmailing me and knows his family is their target, but these women are the best of the best. I’m sure they will be able to work with this predicament I’ve put us in.
I slide out of bed and open my door with a direct line of sight to the apartment’s living room. Hadis, Linnie, and Marguerite are already in there, lounging on the basic navy couch and cream-colored armchairs. The apartment came furnished, and while it’s nothing special, it makes temporarily living here comfortable enough. It reminds me of hotel furniture, meant to look pleasing but still durable.
I head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of wine, weaving four glass stems between my fingers before returning to the living room. I kneel by the coffee table and uncork the wine, “There’s something I need to tell you guys—”
“I win,” Hadis says, and the other women laugh. I look up confused.
“We had a bet going on when you were gonna tell us what was going on with you and Finneas Fox,” Linnie explains, and I set the bottle down so I don’t spill it.
“I see…” There’s no point in denying it, even if they didn’t already know, I was planning on telling them. I sit back on my heels and scan their faces. They don’t look mad…or smug…more amused than anything. “What do you know?”
“He has something on you, but we don’t know what. And we’ve assumed since we are still alive, he hasn’t told his older brother about us yet.” Linnie speaks casually, but her eyes bore into mine with intensity. “But we could play the guessing game all night or you could just tell us.”
“Right then,” I begin to pour the wine while I try to formulate my words.
“Only three glasses. Hadis doesn’t drink,” Marguerite adds, and I nod.
Once I finish and everyone who wants one has a glass in their hand, I begin. “Finn and I were once good friends. Families in business and all. But after—what do you know about his father?”
“All of it.”
“Okay, well you can imagine we weren’t friends after that. We recentlyreconnected—” I internally wince using the same word he used talking to Hudson. “What I thought was a chance encounter obviously wasn’t. He has videos and photos of it all and wants me to pass him information on our operation ‘or else,’” I say with air quotes.
Hadis leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees, an excited gleam in her eyes. “This is brilliant.”
“Brilliant?” I take a big chug of wine.
“He doesn’t know anything, because you don’t know anything—”
“He knows the target,” I confess.
She waves her hand. “That doesn’t matter. Banks always know their money is the target. Museums always know their art is the target. But because he doesn’t know anything, we can feed him exactly what we want him to know. So…” She sits back and pulls her dyed blonde hair into a ponytail. “What do we want him to know?”
“So how did you all get together?” I finally ask, two hours later. We’ve planned exactly what we—well, I’m—going to tell Finn, and what they are going to do instead, and at this point, are just talking about their favorite places they’ve eaten since they’ve been in town.
They all look at Linnie who chuckles lightly. “I guess you could say we all have family businesses. My father was a bank robber, as was his father and his father’s father…you get the idea, no?” I lean forward, intrigued.
Marguerite laughs. “Some families have sweet Christmas or Easter traditions. Our family’s tradition is robbing banks.”
“Our?” I ask, trying to spot any familial resemblance between the two. It’s hard but not impossible to see, what with Linnie’s bold curly blonde hair and Marguerite’s tight buzz.
“Cousins,” Linnie continues, “But we met Hadis when the diamond shop I was working at—to rob, of course—hired architects for remodels.”
