Page 109 of Blind Luck

“Time to go.”

I half expected to walk into a bloodbath in the foyer, but the white marble was pristine apart from the pool of barf. Instead, I saw what looked like a giant silver maggot lying by the elevator with Dusk crouched beside it, her back to us. She must have used an entire roll of duct tape on Jace. Loud rumbling sounded, and she jerked his head out of the elevator shaft an instant before the car flew past.

“Now, I really wish I hadn’t been forced to do that, but you didn’t leave me much choice,” she said to him, her voice sing-song. Something smelled revolting, and I was fairly sure Jace had shit himself. “Did I get that right? The gaslighting part, I mean. You’re the expert in it.”

The elevator car trundled upward again.

“Ready for another try? Isn’t this fun?” Dusk pressed his head backward again so it stuck out into the shaft. “Did you know that scalping was a big deal in the seventeenth century? Most people think it was only the indigenous peoples who liked chopping off body parts—and let’s face it, the colonists deserved that—but the settlers were every bit as bad. Scalp bounties and genocide. On three?” She giggled. “If I get it wrong, do you think your head will pop off? Or will it just get smushed beyond recognition?”

Okay, I took it all back. Dusk wasn’t the sweet one. She was fucking nuts.

She twisted to look at us. “Oh, hey, guys. We’re just playing chicken with the elevator car. You want a turn?”

Jace began wriggling on the floor. “She’s a savage!”

“Don’t fidget, sweetie. You might go Humpty Dumpty all the way to the bottom, and where’s the fun in that?”

Sin didn’t seem even the tiniest bit surprised by developments. “Guess it makes a change from Russian roulette. What do I have to do?”

“You win, okay?” Jace cried. “You fucking win. I’ll sign the damn papers.”

“You don’t want to have one more go? Feel the wind in your hair?”

He turned pleading eyes on me. “She’s crazy. She’s fucking crazy.”

“I can see that.”

Dusk giggled. “Actually, my psychiatrist says I’m not completely crazy. I just have trouble with impulse control.”

“Maybe we should let him sign the papers?”

She pouted. “You’re no fun either.”

Sin and Dusk carried Jace to his desk and propped him up in his swivel chair. Dusk ran several more loops of duct tape around his waist to hold him securely in place, and then Sin pulled out a vicious-looking knife and freed his arms.

Before they connected with the notary, Dusk issued one more warning.

“Remember, sweetie, if you try anything dumb, they’ll be shovelling you into a closed casket. Don’t forget to smile, okay? You look so pretty when you smile.”

Ten minutes later, it was done. We had the signed papers, the paintings, and enough cash to tide over Selene until she got access to her trust fund. Before we left, Duskdropped a single blunted razor blade onto the credenza in the foyer.

“You can cut yourself loose after we’re gone. And remember, if you try to find Selene, I’ll find you first.”

The hotel was still in chaos, so we stripped off the blazers and waded through the melee until we reached the street. Marcel was waiting nearby in a nondescript blue SUV.

“That was a hoot,” Dusk said as we climbed into the back seat. “We should do it again someday.”

Sin clicked her seat belt into place. “I thought you were going to scalp him on that last run.”

“Me too. It’s not as if I practised beforehand.”

Thank goodness for that.

“It was just an act, right?” I said. “You don’t really have impulse control problems, do you?”

“Oh, no.” She waved a hand. “My impulse control is A-okay. I have a few psychopathic tendencies, is all. It’s actually an advantage in this job.”

Super. Psychopathic tendencies? That was totally fine, then.

---