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Finally, I just scribbled,Sorry. Thanks for everything. It was wonderful.
I folded it in half, wrote his name on it, and left it on the table next to the landlady’s note. I was done.
After forty minutes of nail-biting vigilance, I saw the hydrangea bushes shiver and quake. It was time. I checked on Shelby’s position, waiting until I saw him come into view in the front. Then I ran to the bedroom, slid the window up, shoved out my bag, dropped my battered leather purse on top of it, and hoisted myself up onto the sill.
I forced my way through the bushes, which was a challenge. It had been years since anyone had trimmed them. I was a city girl, so gardening was not in my skillset. The branches clutched at my face and hair. I could barely pull my go-bag through them.
Jo waited in the car, wearing a dark sailor-style cap with her hair shoved up in it. I think it was supposed to be her disguise. Her face was bright with excitement. At least someone was having fun. Joanna was such a sweetheart. It was so irresponsible of me to take advantage of her, but it was too late to go back on the plan now.
I opened the car’s back door, and was faced with a pile of bulky black garbage bags. They appeared to be full to bursting with old clothes, towels, and bedcovers.
“Just get down on the floor behind the seat,” Joanna instructed. “Mom packed those into the car last week. She’s been on me to take those bags to the Goodwill, and I’ve been putting it off. Looks like today’s the day. I’ll just pull a few down on top of you, and you’ll be invisible.”
I tossed my bag in, and slithered into the floor space, feeling claustrophobic as hell when Joanna rolled a couple of black-plastic wrapped bales of fabric down on top of me, blocking out the light. My face was shoved into a mess of fast-food wrappers and plastic Starbucks Venti cups.
The car lurched forward. “So, did you, like, leave a glass slipper for the guy, at least?” Joanna asked.
“Of course not,” I said. “That would defeat the whole purpose.”
“Well, not to throw you in a tizzy or anything, but I’ve been thinking. If anyone on earth could protect you from some shithead criminal, it would be that guy. Along with his own personal army.”
“I can’t use him like that,” I said, resolutely. “I won’t put him and his family in more danger. It’s the wrong thing to do, if I care about him.”
“Of course,” Joanna said. “’Cause you’re in love with him. It’s so romantic, and sad, too, you know? Like Romeo and Juliet. Or Ladyhawke.”
“Jo, dammit, if you make me cry again, I’ll murder you myself,” I warned her.
“Okay, okay,” she soothed. “Not another word.”
But it was too late. The tears were already welling up. Then they spilled over.
The damage was done.
CHAPTER24
Nicole
Nicole sipped her green tea, and studied the mosaic of information covering the walls of her headquarters. It included every scrap of info she’d ever gleaned about the Masters and their associates, the Unredeemables. Some combination or other of those dipshit assholes had dashed every one of her plans so far.
But they were on the defensive now. She was coming for them, and they were going down.
If she’d only kept Shane Masters for herself after she had first nabbed him eight months ago, she’d been on the top of the world right now. With SmokeScreen, she would have shaken off Halliwell’s yoke forever. But she’d had weak links in her team, and that shithead Vincent was one of them. Halliwell had assigned Vincent to her to babysit. She’d been cleaning up after that incompetent little prick for years.
Halliwell knew just how to get the maximum sting out of his punishments. To let Vincent strut around, lording it over her. Fucking with her just because he could.
Her jaw throbbed, in spite of the anti-inflammatories she’d taken, against Vincent’s orders. She’d never forgive the look on his face while Vin watched the dentist pry out her molar and implant that poison tooth, without the benefit of anesthetic. Vin’s eyes, so bright and eager. Enjoying it. He liked to see her naked and in pain. He’d always been envious. Jealous of any attention Halliwell gave her.
And Halliwell had signed off on that. He’d deliberately given Vincent permission to abuse her that way. His own daughter, his tool, his loyal servant.
Afterward, as she lay limp in the chair, naked and blood-spattered, Maynard, one of Vincent’s men, assuming she was unconscious, had given her breast a squeeze. The memory still bathed her brain in killing-rage-chemicals. And the green tea was not delivering on the calming effects the online brochure had promised. The heat hurt her sore jaw. And it tasted like ass.
She needed to drain this bad energy, or she would lose control. Do something unfortunate. Which was to say, something impossible to hide from Halliwell.
That was what had gotten her into trouble before. The Masters had fucked her up twice. First, when Jed Clearwater survived the Ready Line massacre. Second, when he and Freya had survived that debacle in Oregon. Ethan and his Unredeemables had descended upon them, and she and her then-partner, Wex Boer, had gotten their asses hammered. Wex had been killed. She’d been in disgrace with her father ever since.
Father, in a manner of speaking. Vincent and Nicole had never been able to think of Halliwell as a father. None of them had. He was anything but paternal, behaving more like a capricious god. He knew perfectly well she had more brains and talent than Vincent, but he had promoted Vincent above her. Because she had fucked up.
Hence, the demotion, the tooth. She was being spanked.
