“Oh, you mean the house you let your fuck-buddy Portia have? No thanks.”
“Hey, that’s uncalled for. It’s safe and it’s mine. I don’t want you to end up dead like your brother and sister. Understand?”
Elise pouted. “She hates me.”
“She doesn’t, but it’s your house as much as mine. And no one else knows about it.”
“Portia does.”
“She’s not going to betray me.”
“She’s not family.”
“Elise, please.”
“Fine.”
“No deviations from the plan. No games.”
“You’re no fun. And it’s not fair that I can’t kill Lucy. She’s psychic.”
“She’s not psychic.”
“You haven’t met her. She knows things she shouldn’t know.”
“She’s just a cop. But I promised her safety—we lose everything if she dies. Do you understand me? She lives, we get all the money her husband stole from us. All of it. That’s the agreement. She dies, we get nothing and we’ll be hunted.”
She sulked. “Fine.”
“When all is said and done—and after time has passed, a year or two, tops—you can take her down. But this is the one time where you have to exercise patience.”
“Okay.” At least she had something to look forward to. And a year or two might even turn into a month or two.
Yes, she was looking forward to torturing and killing Lucy Kincaid. Elise smiled as she finished her champagne.
“Ms. Hunt?”
It was Donny, the puppy dog. The boy who did everything she said and never questioned her. He was cute and loyal. She liked him. She liked people who did what she told them to do. If she told him to kill someone, he killed them. If she told him to steal a car, he stole a car. It was fun. And all he wanted was to get into her pants. She hadn’t let him yet, but she would when it benefited her. It was the promise that it would happen that kept him in line. That and money and fear of her daddy.
Donny should fear her more because her daddy was still in prison.
But he’d realize that soon enough.
“Sit,” she said, patting the lounge chair next to her. They had rented this house before she was out of juvie. Cute Donny and bitchy Clara and stupid Pablo had been taking care of business for months.
But she was in charge and they all knew it.
He didn’t sit.
“The DEA agent is still unconscious.”
“I know, so?”
She really hated people repeating things.
“Pablo called. He and Clara were unable to get the kid.”
She frowned. “I don’t like that answer.”
“He was taken out of school before the end of the day. They were in place, but he didn’t come out. They learned that Agent Kincaid picked him up early.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Clara thinks that once Rogan was arrested, they pulled him.”
“Well, that’s stupid.” Clara always tried to make Elise seem stupid, like she couldn’t plan a simple kidnapping. “The kid was icing. We’ll get him later,” Elise said. “He can’t be locked in that house all fucking day and night, right?”
“Jimmy said—”
“I know what my daddy said. I helped him come up with this plan!”
Yes, they wanted the kid, because kids were better leverage. Well, she wanted the kid. He wasn’t part of the original plan, but Clara and Donny didn’t know that, and if they thought it was her plan, and not her daddy’s plan, they might not obey her.
“I have an idea, if we can’t get him by tomorrow morning.” She jumped up and clapped her hands. “Let’s go play with the fed, okay? That’ll make me feel better.”
“He’s unconscious.”
She winked. “Not for long.”
Donny stared at her scantily clad body. She knew she was cute. And young and pretty and she had big boobs that guys liked. So she used them to her advantage.
She wrapped her arms around Donny and gave him a fat, sloppy kiss. She felt him tense, push toward her, instantly aroused.
She stepped back, enjoyed his torment. “That’s for being the only person I can really count on, Donny. When we’re done with this whole thing, we’ll have time for a lot more fun and games. I promise.” She touched his dick, because she could and it would drive him crazy, then she skipped into the house and to the soundproof studio. The owners had been musicians, they had a whole little recording studio set up in part of a tandem garage.
How nice of them to give her a kill room. Or a torture room. Or a room where she could do whatever the fuck she wanted.