Chapter 15 #2
“I don’t have to imply anything. I am leagues more sane than any of you.” I flash my teeth at Alexei, but he isn’t sold on that explanation. He thinks he’s the most rational person here. “I wouldn’t have blown Bryson’s brains out like you did.”
“What would you have done with him?” Alexei returns, retrieving a pair of shoes from a shelf inside the closet. They dangle from his gloved fingers as he looks at me like he’s appreciating the shape I make inside his house. Our house. “I’m genuinely curious.”
“She’s too nice,” Bohnes repeats, and then he exchanges a secret look with Widow. Who the hell do they think they are, getting all cozy like that? “Brilliant tactical mind. Ruthless decision making. But nice. Everyone has flaws.”
I kick him in the shin with my heel and he hisses, dropping his head back and rolling his eyes in pleasure.
“Harder next time, Force, or I might think you’ve lost your touch.” Bohnes groans when I pinch his nipple in punishment.
“I would’ve used Bryson for another project.
Double duty, like Nish said. He could’ve given us intel, been used to lure his father, that sort of thing.
Just shooting him was efficient, sure, but could we be utilizing our resources better?
” I toss my hair as I turn toward the door, glancing over my shoulder to see Ash bleary-eyed and be-sworded with his cheek pressed into the duvet. He groans when he gets up.
“Too nice,” Alexei agrees, stepping into the hallway with his shoes still hanging from his hand.
He’s one of those people who likes shoes off in the house.
Not sure how realistically I’ll be able to adhere to that one.
“Bryson was useless. But if you see a way to utilize Polina against Chet, by all means, do it. Any suffering, any humiliation, is nothing less than what he deserves.”
I head down the stairs with Alexei on one side and Bohnes on the other. The staircase is huge, more than wide enough for the three of us with Widow and Ash trailing just two steps behind.
“No such thing as a nice girl in Prescott.” I hop off the bottom step between Nisha and Bastian, looking between the pair of them. “We have a lot of shit to buy today. Don’t be too picky, okay?”
“Why are you looking at me?” Bastian retorts, outraged as he gestures at Nisha.
He’s in his mountain-man-best with fresh flannel up top, a henley underneath, and some loose jeans.
Nish looks like an in-love fashionista, very hip and cool in her white tracksuit and gold sneakers.
“I’m happy just to be included this time around. ”
Lemon.
“I’ll make sure we look good and shop quick.” Nisha frowns, staring down at the fancy marble tiles that we’re standing on. “Being nice ain’t a bad thing, you know, Scarlett.” She lifts her gaze up and refuses to let me run away from this. “You taking on this Polina thing, that is you being nice.”
Nisha turns and exits through the open front doors where a small portion of my crew is waiting, sitting in idling vintage cars and smoking cigarettes with the windows rolled down.
When they see me standing there, everyone scrambles to put themselves back together, putting out their smokes, gripping their steering wheels with two hands. Aww.
“Definitely a slutty wedding dress though. Don’t let her talk you into something conservative,” Basti whispers, taking my hand and drawing me down the front steps.
Today, we are taking the Bugatti.
Ain’t in Widow’s name yet. And even if it was?
Still mine.
Polina isn’t at the cafe anymore.
We took too long getting out of the house and coming over here. Might not be any cops in Prescott, but there are heaps over here in the ‘tree neighborhoods’ where all the best boutiques are. Speeding wasn’t much of an option today. Obeying traffic signals was required. It blew.
“What a waste of a good car,” I murmur, rubbing my ass on the seat with a blissful sigh. Bastian gives me a look, tugging his shades down. The winter glare today is fierce and ugly. I hate it. I, personally, will not be removing my shades until after I get inside the store. Maybe not even then.
“Poor thing. No police chases today? I’m sure you would’ve enjoyed it. But since I’m your mechanic, I’d like to put out there that I’m not qualified to fix body damage on a Bugatti.”
“Yet,” I reply whimsically, opening the car door and climbing out in heels and fierce leather pants that still had the tags on them when I found them in the suitcase this morning.
Alexis had good taste, not gonna lie. My stomach churns and I feel nauseous for a few seconds there.
Please be period cramps. Please, please, please.
Polina Lisitsa is inside the first store I wanted to visit today, so this works out just fine. Although, I did kind of want a coffee. Might get one after we’re done here.
The boys are nowhere to be seen, creeping into various spots in and around the building.
They’re close, but I can’t see them, and it feels eerie to be without.
I like having four shadows. Driving in separate cars bugs the shit out of me, too, but there’s nothing to be done about it. What am I supposed to drive? A minivan?
I would rather die.
Bastian opens the shop’s glass front door for me. Nisha jogs up to join me, the rest of the girls we brought filling up the space behind me. We’re all dressed well. We’re all hot. Polina isn’t going to know what hit her.
I step inside, moving from the frigid sidewalk into the pleasantly warm interior of a boutique that sells underwear for two hundred bucks. Cheapest item in here. I know that because I’ve stolen from this exact place.
“JUMP” by BLACKPINK is playing on the store’s speakers.
Polina is on the far side of the store, staring right at me. As soon as the doors opened, she spotted me I’ll bet. She knows what she did, and she’s been expecting trouble.
I waltz through the sea of overpriced clothing in black heels and a bright red blouse, tossing my unbound hair and smiling like the benevolent bitch I am.
I’m the first to step up to Polina, Nisha and Bastian on either side of me.
My girls form a circle, trapping our target inside.
A few others are working to keep the employees distracted. Hype’s on camera-duty.
“Mrs. Borisov,” Polina whispers, clasping her hands together in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them. Her face is frigid with terror, her pupils dilated. I’m not a huge fan of being called ‘Mrs. Borisov’, but if it serves a purpose like it does here, fine.
“You have an oh shit look on your face, Miss Lisitsa.” I smile at her, reaching out a hand and placing it on her arm. She recoils. Not bad instincts since I’m her future killer. “There a reason for that?”
“Your husband is sleeping with my boyfriend.” Polina proves she has more guts than brains.
That was a bold statement. I sigh and turn to the clothing rack on my right, fingering the sleeve of a cloud blue jacket.
Costs three grand. I hope Bohnes was being serious when he said he could afford all this.
“Actually,” I begin, pretending to flinch like I’m shy. “They’re both mine. Those boys, I mean. I own them both. What they do with their mouths and dicks is not your business. Nice try though. Want to tell me what family secrets you spilled to Aspen?”
Silence. You could hear a pin drop in that store. The employees have mysteriously disappeared and the front doors are locked. Polina notices all of these things and that makes her as nervous as she should be.
I reach up, running a single finger down the length of her jaw. She’s shaking now, like the consequences are creeping in.
“He never wanted your cheap bitch friend.” Polina sets her jaw with this next one. I’d say she was digging herself a deeper hole with a nasty statement like that, but don’t worry: I won’t make her dig it personally. “Chet made him date her.”
“Great. Getting straight to the point. I love that about you, Polina.” I grab her by the neck and she cries out, scrambling at my hands with her own. “Tell me how you know Chet.”
She must see her own demise in my eyes (accurate) because she answers my question without hesitation.
“He worked with my dad on the deal between Archer Realty and Borisov Group.” Polina swallows repeatedly, closing her eyes against the sight of the empty store and the dozen girls I brought with us. “He’s the one that introduced me to Aspen.”
“More.” I squeeze a little harder and Polina panics, digging her nails into my wrist. It hurts, but I stay where I am.
Frozen. Unsmiling. Waiting. Polina writhes against me, knocking into a display of thongs and sending all the bejeweled scraps of fabric fluttering to the floor like petals.
I force her to her knees with only a single hand on her throat.
Her face is starting to change color. “Last chance.”
I release her and she falls to the floor, crying now and clutching at her throat.
Polina is the perfect Oak Valley brat stereotype.
I’ve met dozens and dozens of them over the years.
At the track. At Bohnes’ infamous pop-up parties.
This one is no different. They do know about consequences.
They just believe their wealth and influence will protect them from those consequences.
Not this time.
When she doesn’t answer, panting in a sprawled position on the floor, I draw a small switchblade from my back pocket and flick it open. Holding it in my right hand, I tap the flat of the blade against my left palm.
“Nisha. Bastian. Hold her still. Hot girls like Polina tend to crack when you start mutilating their pretty faces.”
The pair of them grab onto her arms and Polina panics, words flowing from her like a leaky faucet. It’s easy to see why and how she became the rat. This girl never heard the phrase ‘loose lips sink ships’, now did she?