Page 60 of To Curse A Knight

“I have a proposal for you.” She slid onto the couch cushion beside mine, and I realized the cup of wine in her hand was not her first. Or her fourth, by the thick smell of booze coming off her lips.

Christ, it was just after noon. Had my mother become a drunk when I wasn’t looking?

I looked at her expectantly, waiting for another cloud of booze-soaked air to hit my face when she spoke.

“Don’t bring it back to The Six,” she said, her voice barely audible. An almost maniacal look crouched in her eyes. “Bring it to me. I have a contact on the black market ready to sell it—and I’ll give you forty percent of the cut.”

“Forty percent to swindle The Six? Are you mad?” I leaped up from the couch and spun on my heel to stare down at my insane mother. “That’s a death sentence, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t have to be.” Ma pouted, biting her lower lip in feigned thought; she was clearly trying to swindle me into this idea. “Forty million would set you up for the rest of your life. Go disappear to Thailand, or Costa Rica. Find a girl and live out the rest of your days.”

“So, you can live out the rest of yours.” I scoffed bitterly. “This is to line your pockets, not mine.”

Her gaze hardened for one tiny second, betraying her true feelings, before watering. Like my words had mortally wounded her. My Ma was attempting to conmeinto conning The Six, from a con I’d already been hired to con.

This was the stuff of aMonty Pythonmovie.

“I want a better life for you than what your Da and I gave you.” She sniffled like the master manipulator she was and stared up at me through mascara-clumped eyelashes. “Is that so hard to believe?”

Ah, yes, yes it was. Ma’s interests in me were limited, at best, ever since she took off to America when I was a boy. But I’d play her game.

“Nah, it isn’t.” I settled back into the couch beside her and drew her hand into mine. “I’m gonna need more information, Ma. Who’s your contact? What’s your exit plan? I don’t want you out in the world alone, either.”

“I won’t be alone, Locke.” She reached for a tissue on the end table and delicately wiped her nose, then folded her hands into her lap; I waited for her to carry on with it. “I met a man I’m going to take with me. We’ll live out our days in a little Tahitian hut on the beach and I’ll never look back.”

Fitting—she’d just confirmedIwas not a part of the exit plan—as I’d have guessed. This assignment was her ticket away from the disgrace she’d earned in our world, and she expected me to throw awaymylife to hand it to her.

“Let me think about it,” I said eventually. I rose and offered her an impish grin—as if this were just another exciting challenge I was considering. Then I headed to the door.

“Give me a week, yah? I’ll have my own exit figured out by then.”

“Okay, Locke.” She followed me to the entryway and pecked my cheek. The soft smile on her features told me she well and truly thought this was in the bag for her.

Even my mother would drive a knife into my back if given the chance. Didn’t matter if it was metaphorical. I took the stairs this go around, tramping down them two and three at a time, my footfalls bouncing around the concrete stairwell like the thoughts in my head.

No way was I considering it. I wasn’t about to add The Six to the list of enemies who wanted me dead—I was a ballsy git, but I wasn’t stupid.

But Ma was no damsel, and if this was what she was after, she was going to move every mountain in Sequoia to get it. I was going to have to move fast.

Instead of blaring music through my car speakers on my drive back to Hillary’s condo, I rode in silence, sorting through all the strings I’d laid out in a line.

Marco’s servers. Soon, I’d have access to every file and be able to leak all of his wrongdoings into the world. I wanted him dead, but I wanted him dead by shank in a prison cell. I wanted him to suffer for months with anxiety, knowing he was going to be sent to some maximum security filled with murders and rapists, and then I wanted the same to happen to him in the coldness of an eight-by-eight windowless room.

Hillary’s painting was more complicated. I knew where it was and had direct access to her apartment. Now I just needed the code to her secret room, and I’d be able to take off with it. But Kellan and Aaron had never been a part of my plan, and those fuckers would sooner cut off my head than let me get away with hurting her.

I shivered as I considered Mr. Roboto’s preferred method of torture. Was I willing to be shredded into ribbons for some crappy piece of 20th century art?

Her ogre companions aside—was I willing to face her rage head-on? I liked Blondie. A lot. She challenged me and made it seem like she saw through me, even if I haven’t been telling her the truth half of the time. She’d be one hell of an enemy, but she could be one hell of a friend.

A man could always make use of a beautiful billionaire ready and willing to cut off heads in vengeance for him.

I snorted at the picture of Hillary doing just that in aWonder Woman-type costume, except this one was black and bright pink, tight along her torso with a pleated pink skirt and thigh-high black boots, and a Batwoman helmet, showing off sexy pink lips beneath the mask. It was this man’s hottest wet dream.

What was my alternative? We weren’t all going to take on Alvarez and then become one big dysfunctional family. A Cartel son, a banished billionaire, and me? Even the worst jokes didn’t have that kind of punchline.

A secure message pinged through my phone and disrupted my disjointed inner monologue. My heart pounded like I’d dropped a hit of ecstasy as I read it.

Blackbird’s work was complete. A tasty little bug was working its way through every encrypted file on Marco’s personal server. Within three days, we’d have everything we needed to take the fucker down.

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