Page 62 of Hell Hath No Fury

I laugh, not entirely sure how she still has the power to surprise me with her word choices. “I guess you’re lucky they make a wide variety of tools now. Endless options without having to commit to just one thing.”

She smiles, then laughs. “Variety is the spice of life, right?”

“Not so sure that’s what they meant when they first coined that expression, but sure,” I reply slowly, slightly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation has taken. “That totally works.”

Sighing, she nudges me with her elbow. “I’m happy things have turned around for you.”

“Me, too,” I say with a small smile. “Assuming I haven’t completely fucked it up already.”

Agatha waves her hand at me. “Oh, it’ll be fine. The last person to throw stones would be Lilith Ferro.”

“But she has such great aim.”

The plane comes to a stop, and the flight attendant moves to the door, waiting for the all-clear to open it. Agatha and I both stand, disposing of our garbage and then waiting by the door to exit.

I catch Agatha’s gaze, motioning around the plane. “This is on stand-by indefinitely, so if at any point things go to shit, just head back here.”

“If you’re sure you don’t require assistance, I think I’ll wait here and see what plans Lilith and Antoinette have made.”

“That’s a great idea,” I reply. “Then you can let me know what’s going on.”

She nods, and I walk toward the exit door, only to be stopped by Agatha’s voice behind me as she says, “Antonio?” I stop and turn back toward her with raised brows, so she adds, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Don’t fuck around too much.”

Smiling, I nod, knowing exactly what she means.

Then I turn and walk out the door.

27

An Opportunist’s Moment

Lilith

Bythetimeweland at the private airstrip in France, I’m entirely fucking sick of sharing the same space as Dmitri. He is one slimy, charming motherfucker, and if I thought we could’ve managed on our own, I would’ve tossed him out of the plane at 30,000 feet without even blinking.

Unfortunately, we still need him; therefore, he still breathes.

And speaks.

“Someone get me a fucking ball gag for this dickhead,” I spit out, looking around the small space in the hopes some kind of goodie chest will miraculously appear in front of me.

“This is not Declan’s plane,” Mickey explains helplessly.

Frowning, I ask, “Whose plane is it?”

“A rental.”

“We’re resorting to renting fucking planes now?” I level Mickey with a patient look, though I’m sure he knows I’m feeling everything but patient at this point. “Mickey, you bought me afucking farm to store my new backhoe. Surely, you can buy me an airport to store a fleet of planes.”

He laughs and leans back in his chair. “Well, sure, Lils. I’ll get right on that when we get back, but you may wanna take a look at the price tag on this supposed fleet.”

Squinting at him, I think over his comment, knowing he’s likely correct that the price might put me off. If it was at all economical, Mickey would’ve already taken care of it.

Glancing at my phone, I ask, “Are we sure this is the right airport? Aggie’s not answering my texts.”

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