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“Oh.” My cheeks start to burn. “Something for Curty and something for Quin,” I say, raising the bags in turn, to show which is which.
Darius chuckles, and Loosh looks at him. “That was a joke? I don’t get it.”
“She got lingerie,” Darius explains. “The gift for Quin is the lingerie.”
Loosh frowns, his thick, dark eyebrows forming a heavy overhang that shades his eyes.
“The gift is Kira, wearing it for him,” Darius explains further. “It’s not for Quin to wear.”
Lucius looks from the bag to me, and then nods. “He’ll like that.”
“That’s the idea,” I say, my cheeks blazing as I set the bags into the backseat of my car. “Did you guys scan my car, for a tracker? Or did they follow me in?”
“Tracker. We’ll neutralize it after,” Jules says, still studying his screens while his fingers tap away at his keyboard. “Incoming.”
Dusty’s back with a whistle and a bounce in his step. The others watch with bated breath, as he hands a piece of paper to Jules and takes a bow. “The ladyNatashahas agreed to meet me for a drink tonight. Apparently, she just finished work for the day and is heading home, to soak in a bubble bath. I was welcome to join, but I have one more appointment with a terminal patient of mine at the hospital, and if I don’t see him, I may not ever again, which would be a tragedy.”
“You told her you were a doctor?” Darius shakes his head at Dusty and blows a palm-raspberry at him. “That’ll set off thebullshitalarms. She totally fake-numbered you.”
“Number checks out,” Jules declares, as an orange flag appears above Natasha’s head on the video screen and follows her, as she enters the lingerie store. “Looks like she’s prepping for a hot date tonight, Dusty.” He holds his knuckles up, to get bumped. “That’s it, Natasha. Buy your slutty panties, for the suave homosexual gentleman, and lead us back to your hive.”
A snort escapes me, so loud they all turn to look at me. “Sorry,” I say, as my cheeks start warming again. “I’m nervous, but I’m also enjoying this whole family-hang-out thing, and I’m not sure I should be.”
“Uh… it’s revenge, Kira. Of course it’s enjoyable,” Darius says with a grin. “And a family that plays together stays together. Right, Loosh?”
The prisoner tries to struggle, and Loosh alters his grip on the guy’s head, tugging his hair back hard, so they can look into each other’s eyes. I’m guessing the guy is seeing his untimely death in Loosh’s, because he stills instantly. Loosh shoves him back down and dusts something off his sleeve. “I’m not sure my therapist would classify this family outing asplay. He gave me a doll yesterday.”
“A sex doll?” Darius wrinkles his nose.
Loosh frowns again. “No. Just a doll,” he says, showing its relative size with his hands, like it’s the size of a large child’s doll. “I mean, Icouldhave sex with it.” He shakes his head. “It has a weird smile. I don’t trust it.”
My phone beeps with a text message from Bo.
Bo:Just droppedCurty to school, and his undercover bodyguards are in place. He’s had a great time with little Ruthie this morning. He’s so gentle and sweet, it’s adorable. He’s going to be the best big brother ever. X.
My heart gives a little flutter, and I’m about to tear up in the car park, but my phone pings with another message — and so does everyone else’s.
Daisy:The bird’s in the air, the shackle is coming off, and the fan is on. Get ready for the shit to fly. No going back now.
I look down at my bracelet and see a new, flashing red light, illuminating my shoes in the dim basement. My pulse kicks up, and I want to rip the thing off, but I need to leave it on for now. There’s a backup plan, to temporarily block the transmission, but it holds greater risk and would leave me running and looking over my shoulder for life.
A strange alarm sounds from close by, and Loosh fishes a phone out of his prisoner’s pocket, as if it was his own and he was simply storing it there, for easy access. He hands the phone to Dusty, who responds in a gruff tone, speaking Russian as fluently as the hostage might if he wasn’t gagged.
I can hear Jack, barking orders on the other end of the line, and Dusty smiles through the whole bizarre conversation, using stilted English with a heavy accent each time he responds. “Proof? What proof? Head? Heart? You want something special, or just make big mess? Get… What is word?” He mumbles something in Russian. “Trophy. Big, pretty trophy. Lots of blood or…?Ahh. Something cleaner? Not panties den — she will shit dem. You like hair?”
Jack gives some very thorough directions, and Dusty rolls his eyes, as he nods along. “Yes, yes. Get pictures, take bracelet, dump body and car in ocean,” he says before muttering again. “Is not first rodeo. You want I go now? You send half money, I go. Pay rest when get pretty pictures.Yes,and leg bracelet.” Dusty growls what I imagine are a few choice Russian curses.
Jack doesn’t seem to appreciate them, given his volume, and Dusty pulls a face at his phone. “You think I give fuck what we agree? You want done, you pay.” He hangs up and tosses Jules the phone.
Jules immediately connects it to a second laptop, and soon, a bunch of the hitman’s personal information is filling one of his other screens. He opens the banking app without any fanfare, and we wait for a deposit to come through from Jack.
“What if he doesn’t send the money?” I ask. “What if he calls a different hitman? Or hitwoman?”
“Natasha’s next closest, and he’s not calling her,” Jules says, pointing at his screen, and then showing me another list of names and faces down the side of a different monitor. “I’ll get notified if anyone contacts her or the two-dozen-or-so other assassins we’re tracking. I also have low-grade tabs on Jack’s cell, home, and office lines. He sweeps for bugs regularly, but mine are hardwired into his house and transmit from the security hub in his garage, and Quin has ears on Jack himself — he’s not taking any chances with your safety, Kira. Believe me, we’re fine.”
I nod and take another breath. “So we’re just waiting on Atty and confirmation of payment?”
Atticus comes into view in the front seat, rubbing his eyes. “You’re ready for me?”
