Chapter 30
Bohnes
I’m left out of things for the mere offense of having been wounded in battle.
Widow used that horrid safe word ‘parking space’ to keep me from standing up to fuck Scarlett. I’m only currently allowed to be fucked by her by while lying on my back. What about my dignity? My pride?
“You spurted blood all over my back while fucking just a few days ago.” Scarlett presses her fingertip against my cheek, pushing hard. “So, no. For the next few days, you’re basically a corpse. Not just in looks or morbid interests, but in movement.”
“I’ll let you ride me; I won’t be left out of an interrogation.
” I’m standing in the grass, barefoot, outside the quaint little cottage that serves as our crew’s on-site prison.
Keeping Trish contained inside is easy and convenient, since there’s a kitchen and a toilet and all that.
Housing a prisoner has never been simpler.
“We’re not cutting her fingers off or anything like that,” Scarlett hazards, concerned that I might find fault in her interrogation methods. “Yet.”
I sigh.
“That’s your problem then. If you’d done that, we’d know more.” I cross my arms, surrounded by Widow, Ash, and Alexei. Everyone is on high-alert, expecting a retaliation for last night. This morning, thanks to Emma Jean, opinion online is swinging in our favor.
Mayor Kelly is under a public microscope.
His own son was filmed staring at the bones of his father’s political opponent.
It’s a big deal, a massive blow to Jonas and his reputation.
His claim, that rampant gang violence has swallowed his precious son, is hard for the average person to believe.
Too convenient. His kid just happened to kill the guy who was hand-over-fist more liked during the last mayoral election?
If the Kelly child did it, the internet surmises, then he did it for his dad’s sake.
“We’re going to need witnesses at Jonas’ ‘trial’.
” Scarlett makes air quotes because we all know the family will rig it against Jonas.
They want to finish this chapter of Pavel’s murder and get back to business as usual.
“If Trish is missing her fingers, do you think it’ll seem like she might have been threatened to sit on the witness stand?
There are other ways of causing pain without leaving a mark. ”
“Nothing painful enough,” I disagree, shrugging as Scarlett sighs and moves up the front steps, unlocking the cottage’s door with a keypad.
This cottage itself is a secondary safe room, installed by Pavel because he was well-aware of the lifestyle that he lived, even if he was only a satellite in it.
“I hate having to prove you wrong to your face, Bohnes.” Scarlett walks right up to Trish, causing the woman to flinch and burrow into the pillows at the end of the sofa.
She doesn’t look like she’s been touched.
I don’t see any marks on her. No bruises.
No cuts. No blood. No wonder she isn’t talking.
“Awfully nice place for a prisoner,” Widow says, scanning the walls with his lips pressed flat. He hates the idea of his cunt aunt enjoying anything close to comfort. In here, she has a couch, a bed, plenty to eat, a shower with hot water. What’s the driving force for her to tell us anything?
Fear and pain, those are the answers.
“I look forward to experiencing my wife’s creativity.
” Alexei stands stiffly at the corner of the living room, hands folded behind his back as Ash clears the house.
I let him do it, watching him from the corner of my eye to make sure it’s done properly.
The last thing we need is to get jumped from a closet.
“Go on, darling. I’m sure I’ll be leaving this room a changed man. ”
“Oh, baby, you’ll love this one,” Scarlett says, removing a jar from the bag at her side and setting it on the coffee table.
Inside the jar is a huge spider, one with a shiny black abdomen and a blatant red hourglass.
A black widow.
Trish sucks in her breath, shaking violently as she presses her back to the edge of the couch. Her eyes are wide in terror as Scarlett lifts the jar up and stares at the venomous creature inside of it.
“Trish hates spiders. Arachnophobia is her thing. She’s got it real, real bad.
That’s what she told her friend, Katie, who told her daughter who told her nail tech who told one of my girls.
The gossip train has delivered us a gift.
” Scarlett looks at Trish with blank eyes, a different animal than she was when she shot Polina. “Hold her still.”
I move forward and Widow cuts me off, holding out his palm and giving me a what’s your damn problem? look that makes me sigh. Being cared for by more than one person is exhausting. I’m too relaxed. Enough to sleep in the back seat of a strange car at a block party. That’s terrible.
Ash steps up to help with Trish, dragging her from the couch and shoving her into a chair. He keeps his hands on her shoulders, pinning her in place.
“Please don’t. I’ve told you everything. I’m being cooperative and truthful, everything that you asked of me.” Trish begins to hyperventilate as Scarlett unscrews the top of the jar, holding it out to Trish and making her flinch.
“Where does Jonas get his money from? Obviously the construction stuff was part of it. What about the rest? You cover up everything for him. You have to know.” Scarlett begins to tip the jar, turning it all the way upside-down without dislodging the spider.
It’s trembling in its web, but it’s sturdy.
Trish’s eyes are rolling with terror. It’s enough that she actually passes out, which surprises me. She hasn’t even been touched and she’s lost consciousness?
My lips draw back in a huge grin as Scarlett borrows some smelling salts from my pocket and wakes Trish up.
The pair of women look right at each other.
“Your nephew confessed that he was being molested, and you didn’t give a fuck.
Guess what? I do give a lot of fucks about what happens to you.
” Scarlett draws a pencil from her bag, sticking it inside the jar and swirling it through the spider’s web.
The widow ends up on the eraser, still attached to her stolen strands.
“I want you to realize all of your worst fears, Trish. This week, a black widow. Next, a brown recluse. That one makes flesh rot.”
“NO!” Trish is screaming at the top of her lungs. Ash cringes, closing one eye as he processes the horrendous shrieks of a coward. “JONAS PICKED ADRIAN! JONAS!”
“Jonas picked Adrian for what?” Scarlett asks, sighing as she draws the widow from the jar and hovers it two or so inches from Trish’s face.
The woman is cross-eyed now, panting and sweating and shivering.
The spider moves one of its hideous black legs and Trish nearly passes out again.
“Last time. I’m not just going to put it on you, I’m going to let it bite you.
Will your bite get infected? Maybe. Will you become unrecognizable under the pus?
Possibly. But that was just a spider. We can explain these injuries in court—”
“Jonas works with families who’ve been pushed past their breaking points.
” Trish’s respiration is so rapid that it reminds me of a mouse, something small and prey-like.
“They need compatible donors for their kids, spouses, themselves. Whatever. He makes it happen. If you think about it, it’s just a life for a life. Not bad, just neutral.”
We’re all a bit confused, I think.
What the fuck did she just say? Donors? My mind goes to our brief conversation about the politician John Booth, and his only son, the one that needs a heart transplant. I look at Widow, and he returns my stare. We’re thinking the same thing. We’re all fucking thinking it.
“Jonas chose Widow?” Scarlett asks, tilting her head. “What do you mean?”
“He’s…” Trish has to swallow several times to get the words out.
She’s twitching strangely, putting herself in even greater danger of accidentally touching the spider.
“I couldn’t have saved Adrian, even if I wanted to.
Jonas had them run some tests on him when he was in juvie.
He’s the perfect match for one of his clients.
Valeria knows way more than me, please. Please have mercy. ”
Trish closes her eyes, like she’s making peace with the inevitable.
“My father is facilitating organ theft?” Ash clarifies icily, but Trish doesn’t answer.
“That was a question.” Scarlett’s voice is quivering, but her hand with the black widow is still.
Trish remains silent.
Alexei watches all of this on my right side, still and cool and bemused. We exchange a look, each of us tipping up the slightest edge of a smile. Scarlett is an expert at psychological torture, a skill we’re both impressed by. The villain’s underling doesn’t stand a chance.
Scarlett drops the spider on her face and Trish’s eyes fly open. She starts to scream as Scarlett gently pokes the black widow with the eraser, pissing it off. There’s a sharp flinch in Trish’s body when it bites down and her keening cries ring like music inside the small space.
“My aunt…sold my organs? Is that what she just said?” Widow wonders, like he’s somehow still able to be surprised by the dark depths of humanity. There is nothing too perverse or violent for a human. That’s why I’ve always wanted to be a ghoul.
“Please let me kill her,” Ash begs as Widow assists Scarlett in recapturing the black widow with the jar. He holds the glass in his hand while she herds the creature with the pencil, screwing the lid back on as soon as it’s inside.
Trish slumps over in terror, eyes rolled back, a small red spot on her face.
“Next time I come in here to talk to you, and you refuse to answer questions, I’ll put it in your mouth.” Scarlett tucks the jar back into her bag alongside the pencil and off we go, exiting the house and leaving Trish alone on the couch with no access to the outside world.