Page 66

I see that ridiculous hair first, tight ringlets peeking out from the wall by the stairs, and the gun goes hot in my hand. My finger snakes around the trigger, and I’m squeezing down before I can stop myself. The hammer cocks back, a heartbeat away from firing.
“Get your butt down here.” My words are a snarl through clenched teeth, and hell yeah, it’s meant to scare the bejesus out of her. If this girl screwed everything up, I swear I’m going to strangle her.
“Leave her alone,” Jade says from her spot at the bar. Her ass is still parked on the stool, but the rest of her looks ready to spring. Both hands are planted on the marble, and she leans into it hard, like she’s about to pole-vault over it. Like she wants to jump into the line of fire.
I aim the Beretta at her head. “Don’t move. The second your feet touch the floor, I won’t think twice. I will take you down, and I’m a good shot so don’t even try.”
Her cheek is a mess, swollen and stained purple. Fractured, I’m guessing, and a twinge of regret hits me between the ribs before the pain in my back wipes it clean. I’ve never hit a woman before, and swear to God, I didn’t want to hit Jade. I definitely didn’t mean to hit her that hard, but you try facing a screwdriver coming for your jugular and see how you respond. I did what I had to do.
And what I have to do now is deal with Beatrix.
She slinks across the living room floor in her bare feet—and the kid was smart to lose her sneakers. Easier to control how your feet land when you’re not wearing any, and even smarter to have made sure they were hidden so as not to drop us any clues. Maybe that’s the problem here, that this kid is too damn smart.
“Want to tell me how you got out of the duct tape?”
Beatrix shakes her head, and the movement squeezes off a tear—and judging by her red eyes and wet cheeks it’s not the first. “Not really.”
“I was doing you a favor up there, so you know. I put on the TV. I made sure you were comfortable. I even offered you a snack that you flat out refused. I mean, I don’t know what else I could have done to make this experience any easier for you and your brother. Do you?”
Her glaze flits away and her fingers go to town, tapping out a silent rhythm on her thigh.
“What the hell is that?” I gesture at her dancing hand with my chin. “Do you have a tic or something?”
Her fingers freeze, and she crosses her arms, pressing both palms in her armpits. “It’s notes.”
“Notes to what?”
“Bach’s B minor partita. You wouldn’t understand. It’s classical.”
Partita—the same term Jade used downstairs. But it’s Beatrix’s other words I’m focused on. The ones that insinuated I’m stupid.
“Just because I don’t listen to classical music doesn’t mean I don’t know what a partita is. Of course I know what a partita is. You look like the flute type.”
She makes a face like I just offered her a bowl of shit soup. “The partita for flute is in A minor, not B. I play the violin.”
That expression, her snide tone. It’s a reaction I’ve seen a million times, as familiar as a favorite old coat. It’s exactly how Gigi would have responded at that age.
The nostalgia lasts only a second or two before dissolving into something sharp and hot. I breathe through it, a series of quick and shallow breaths.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I don’t have a gun aimed at your head. Like you have a death wish.”
The little shit actually rolls her eyes, and this kid. This spunky little kid. From the second we walked in the house, she’s been a thorn in my side. Staring me down. Daring me to punish her.
“I’m serious, kid. Look away, or this gun is the last thing you’ll see.”
“Beatrix, for God’s sake,stop,” Jade says, and to her credit, she hasn’t moved. But she’s put some space between her chair and the bar and positioned herself at the edge of the seat.
But it does the trick. Beatrix swings her gaze to her mom. “What.”
Not a question, and even though she clearly doesn’t expect an answer, I give her one. “Don’t be a hero.” I flick the gun back and forth between the two. “Don’t either of you do anything you’ll regret.”
I’m talking to both of them, but my words are especially for Jade, whose expression is wild. Wide eyes glistening with a combination of fury and horror. Second cheek flushing purple to match the first. Her life or Beatrix’s? I can tell she’s already made the choice.
By now Beatrix is close enough for me to grab her by the shirt. One good tug and I’ve dragged her into the kitchen.