Chapter 17 #2
“Wish us luck,” Bohnes replies, grabbing onto the windowsill and hauling himself up.
It’s a miracle that his massive body can fit through there.
It’s like he’s practiced slinking around so much that he’s gone liquid, just shadows and ooze, pouring through that open window and onto the grass outside.
“Hey.” Widow puts his hands on my shoulders, handsome and dapper and expensive in his suit. Best part though is that his face and hands are still cheap and rough and Prescott, like home. “Have you ever read Of Mice and Men?”
“Yeah, yeah. Steinbeck, right? Read it freshman year for one of my classes.” My mouth twitches. “I was the only person in the class who actually read it, but hey, my essay slayed.”
“Look across the river, Lennie, and I’ll tell you so you can almost see it,” Widow says, quoting the part of the book where the main character, George, tells his friend Lennie to look away before he gives him a quick mercy kill.
It’s such an appropriate reference that I end up throwing my arms around Adrian’s neck and kissing that cheap mouth like I own it (because I do). “Good luck, princess.”
Widow squats down and puts his knee up, so that I have something to stand on.
I’m several inches shorter than Bohnes and wearing heels, so I appreciate the help.
I set my champagne glass on the sink, put a comforting hand on the top of Widow’s head, and use the flat part of my shoe to stand on him so he doesn’t get hurt.
“I ain’t mad. I never been mad, and I ain’t now,” I reply mysteriously, drawing a smile to Widow’s lips. That’s another quote from the book, and it’s the perfect way to encapsulate my feelings about Polina and what I know I have to do.
“Five minutes,” Alexei reminds me from his guard post near the door, glancing over his shoulder to exchange one last look with me. His father’s corpse ring shines on his left hand.
I nod, slithering out after Bohnes and falling the short distance into his arms. He catches me like a bride and the pair of us look at each other. He isn’t smiling anymore, not even with the knowledge that we’ve got the money back. This fortune he worked so hard to win for us.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to do this? It wouldn’t leave a stain on my conscience.” Bohnes sets me down, his hands on my hips and his forehead against mine. The wind is cold, curling up through the valley and ruffling the grape vines that cover the hills on all sides of the estate.
“You say that, and maybe you even mean it, but that’s not what I want.
In Prescott, girls mind girls. You know that.
” I sigh as I take a step back. It’s tempting to hold that position forever.
Bohnes’ arms feel like happy endings and eternity done right.
His expression is searching and tender, as real and genuine as anyone I’ve ever met and anything I’ve ever experienced.
“True. But I hate to see you like this. If it were up to me, I’d be your hands and feet, your eyes and teeth. I’m more than willing to leave you to a life of luxury while I mop up all the cobwebs.” He sounds earnest, pleading in a way that’s so rare for him that I’m almost taken aback.
Tears prick the edges of my eyes, a rare wash of saltwater.
Murdering teenage girls is not what I signed up for.
It’s not why I created my crew. But it is absolutely, one-hundred percent unavoidable and necessary.
Trying to save Polina could get everyone I know and love killed.
I’d be leaving her to Chet’s mercy or Jonas’ retaliation, to the family’s justice. One way or another, she’s going to die.
It has to be me, like George with Lennie. If I let the mob have her, it’ll be worse.
“I’m the boss, Bohnes.” I press my palm against his cheek and he turns his head, biting me more gently than usual.
“I’m here if you need me, like always.” He steps back and takes a gallant bow, a specter in an all-white suit that matches his teeth and hair.
“Despite all that, I still want to be your hands and feet, your eyes and teeth.” Bohnes rises back to his full height, his hair tousled by the breeze.
All that black eyeliner, yum. “After you.”
He extends his left hand, inked with our wedding ring and his beautiful bone tattoos.
I turn away before I get lost out here in the windswept vineyards with my soulmate. It’d be so easy to do that, to let the romance blind me to the fact that I haven’t yet crossed that finish line and seen the checkered flag wave.
Nisha and Hype are waiting around the corner, seated on a pair of cheap camping chairs that they brought with them.
The former looks as dapper as I do, dressed in a black fedora and a matching suit that’s at least as sharp as Ash’s.
Hype is wearing one of the dresses we charged to Bohnes’ credit card, this silky emerald green satin that looks sick with her lime-green and purple hair.
“Cameras are disabled,” she mumbles, brown eyes fixed to the screen of her laptop.
“I’ll start the signal jammer as soon as you’re ready,” Nisha adds as Bohnes slips away to scour the parking lot for potential witnesses. Up ahead, standing at the edge of the parking lot under the Edison bulb lights is Polina and Bastian, the pair of them waiting impatiently for me.
“Thank you, ladies.” I stroll forward, tugging out the pair of latex gloves that I borrowed from Alexei. I snap them into place, reaching into my pocket to reassure myself that I have both Chet’s keys and also the small pistol that he keeps in the dash of his car. Bohnes’ gifts to me.
My hero.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Bastian is not happy, dressed in a chocolate brown suit that complements his coloring. “She’s talking shit about Lem, Scar. I can’t…it’s a lot for me. I almost punched her in the face when she said that Lemon couldn’t even die right.”
Ouch. I tamp down my own feelings on the matter.
“What’s the problem, Polina?” I ask casually, strolling up to her with my gloves on.
She sees them, but doesn’t comment. In her mind, we have a plan all worked out that saves her from dying for the treason she committed.
She might not trust me, but part of her is still in love with Aspen and she’s as blind as my bestie was.
If only these poor girls looked less at how someone makes them feel and more at the actions their beloved takes. If only they didn’t confuse intensity for intimacy. If only. If only…
“It’s freezing fucking cold out here,” she snaps at me, her cheeks pink from the wind and her mean eyes narrowed to slits.
Her dress is about as hideous as they come, the most expensive designer gown from the boutique we first encountered her in.
It’s a pale peach color, plastered to her body in a way that I could tell her father didn’t much appreciate.
“I should be in St. Croix with Aspen. Maybe Corsica. Instead, I’m trapped in this miserable Oregon wasteland with a cheating boyfriend. ”
She sniffles, more likely from the cold than the idea of Aspen’s infidelity.
“Well, I guess Aspen should’ve been more careful to stay alive.” I gesture at the pearly white Ferrari 296 GTB that Chet Senior arrived at the party in. I had Polina bribe his driver to piss off for a few. “I already told you: the twin I’ve got with me is Ash. Your man is dead.”
“That’s such bullshit.” Polina snorts, reaching out to open the passenger door of Chet’s car.
I’ve told her that we’re going to film some content of her sitting in there to use against Chet, to frame him for having an inappropriate relationship with a minor.
“You can keep your gay boyfriend, but go ahead and stuff your lies up your ass.” She slides onto the leather seat and then crosses her arms obstinately.
“If Chet didn’t suck at his job, this wouldn’t be happening. How is this my life?”
I’m not sure if I’m supposed to hear that or not.
Thank you fate, for making this just a little easier on me.
If Polina had her way, Alexei would be dead and she’d be cozying up to my dead bestie’s fiance.
“Let me grab my phone…” I begin, eyes flicking over to the creeping form of Bohnes as he gives me a thumbs-up, a wink, and then a very quick knock on the driver’s side window of the car.
Polina turns to look that way just as I draw Chet’s pistol from my pocket, aiming at the back of her head and taking a deep breath.
I’ve said this so many times to myself that I’m getting sick of hearing it: I’m not the hero in anyone’s story.
This is proof of that. If it’s kill or be killed, I know exactly where I fall. Morality isn’t even a part of it.
Gently closing the passenger door, I put the pistol through the crack in the open window. Even down to this detail, I’ve planned everything.
“What the fuck was—” Polina begins, the words cutting off abruptly as I pull the trigger.
The single round hits her in the back of the skull and she slumps forward instantly, blood leaking from the wound but not splattering.
There’s a reason Chet keeps a twenty-two on him.
The rounds are small enough that they leave an entrance wound but not an exit wound.
They bounce around in the skull and ensure a quick kill without the mess.
I push the gun through the window and let it fall onto the edge of the seat, my eyes on the dead girl in Chet’s car.
“Villains and heroes are both myths, you know,” Bohnes tells me reverently, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He’s debonair when he’s dressed up like this. Focus on that and not on Polina. You’re just checking items off Burt’s list.
“You reading my mind again?” I ask as a flurry of cars pours into the opposite side of the parking lot.
Beaters and classics alike. My girls. My crew. Well, the ones not watching the house for us anyway.
“I don’t even need to,” he murmurs, drawing me away from one of the most dishonorable acts I’ve ever committed. “I can read your body the way Widow reads his books. I’m literate in the curves of Scarlett Force.”