“What’s Plan B?”
“Plan B means this ends.”
My heart started tripping over itself (but at least it was now beating).
“What are you going to do?”
“Was toyin’ with ‘em, the Balduccis, pittin’ them against each other. I wanted them to feel the fear. Trip up. Get angry. Turn their attention from you to each other so they’d implode. I wanted them to do stupid shit so we could get them and they’d go down. They took it beyond my expectations, poisoned their own f**kin’ brother. Then they branched back out your way, torched your gallery and in the meantime your father stepped in and if we don’t shut him down, he’s gonna f**k everything up.”
I was stuck on his earlier point.
“Do you think they poisoned Harvey?” I asked.
“Poison isn’t Seth’s style. He doesn’t mind mess. He likes to make a statement.”
He was talking about my father and his words made my blood run cold.
Hector went on, “Marty has a chemistry set. We know he roofies girls he wants to f**k who won’t give him the time of day. Likes to do the same to adversaries, makes it easier to kick the shit out of them. Word is, he’s got an interest, he does research, plays around with pharmaceuticals just to see what they’d do. Eddie says there were two deaths by poison last year, both enemies of the Balduccis.”
I stared at Hector.
Veronica Mars had been “roofied”, in other words, slipped a date rape sedative so she’d go incoherent before she passed out and when she did, the creepy, weak, homicidal high school kid had his way with her (but also her cute, sweet high school ex-boyfriend did too but he had an excuse, he’d also been roofied, it wasn’t a good night for our plucky Veronica).
“That’s gross,” I said to Hector.
“That’s Marty,” Hector said back.
“What’s Plan B?”
“You don’t have to know what Plan B is but while it’s happenin’, you aren’t outside touching distance of me or one of the boys. Clear?”
“Clear,” I agreed. “But I think I want to know what Plan B is.”
He shook his head.
“Hector –” I started.
“You agreed I’d take care of you, I’m takin’ care of you. That’s all you need to know.”
“Hector!”
He gave me a squeeze, his eyes went narrow and then, obviously because this was important, for good measure, he gave me a shake.
“Sadie, I’m askin’ you to trust me.”
I pulled in my lips, bit them and stared at him.
I’d made this bed, I’d tested that trust, I’d let him know it and now I was lying in said bed.
Blooming heck!
I had only one choice.
“Oh, all right,” I gave in and watched his face start to relax. “But only if you let me paint your living room whatever color I want.”
It was his turn to stare.
And he did this for awhile.