Page 53 of Hell Hath No Fury

Agatha’s phone pings, and she gives me a look as she picks it up, glancing at the screen before turning it toward me.

Lilith: You little bitch.

I grimace, and Agatha laughs, darkening the screen and placing the phone on the table between us. I look at the phone and then back to her face as I ask, “Are you not going to reply?”

She snorts and waves a hand dismissively. “No point.”

Glancing at my own decidedly silent phone, I sigh, uncertain about what the best plan is at this point. The ship has sailed on what I should have done in the first place, so finding the next best-case scenario is imperative. “What should I do?”

Agatha peers at me blankly. “Oh, I don’t know. You could call her.”

“And say what?”

She chuckles wryly. “You could start with I’m sorry. Just be prepared that her not taking it too kindly is inevitable, but that will follow your apology.”

“There is always a but,” I mutter as I rise from my seat, pick up my phone, and turn to find a quiet place to have a discussion I’d rather not have. Never being the guy to put off the inevitable, I straighten my shoulders and sit at the back of the jet, a fair distance from Agatha, who has her back to me.

I consider an audio approach, but then reconsider, hitting the video before I can talk myself out of it. Shockingly, it connects almost immediately, and as her face comes into view, I brace myself for the well-deserved ass-chewing I’m sure will be coming as soon as she opens her mouth.

But then, when she doesn’t say anything, I squirm in my seat, leaning closer to my screen as if that will bring me closer to her as I say, “Lilith.”

She raises a brow, her lips twitching as she responds, “Antonio.”

Narrowing my eyes at the screen, I study her. She appears rather smug, which seems odd, considering I would have thought she’d simply be angry with me. It means she’s up to something. “What’s up?”

Smiling, she shrugs. “Oh, not much. What’s up with you?”

Shit. It’s worse than I thought.

I consider playing along, keeping up this pointless back and forth of pleasantries, but then decide to put a stop to it now. “You’re not mad at me?”

“Nah,” she replies with a wave of her hand. “What’s there to be mad about?”

Yeah, she’s pissed—livid even.

“Seriously? You expect me to believe you’re not plotting revenge as we speak?”

“Actually,” she responds rather pleasantly, her fingers twirling a lock of her hair absentmindedly. “I figure your little stunt doesn’t even compare to our little stunt, so it’s only fair that I not hold a grudge.”

Alarm bells go off not just at her words but at her tone, and I lower my phone so I can lean forward even more, my forearms braced on the tops of my thighs. “What do you mean, ‘our little stunt’? Who the hell is there?”

She smirks, her head bobbing back and forth as she makes a face I can only describe as prissy. “Mostly, Antoinette and I. But I had to call in Mickey as well.”

Well, fuck my entire life. I grit my teeth, my blood pressure rising at a critical rate as I assess her obvious self-satisfaction, then I ask loudly, “What the fuck did you do?”

Agatha, obviously startled by my shouting, immediately turns to look at me over her shoulder, and I give her a frustrated look that has her saying, “Oh, what now?”

“Is that Agatha?” Lilith chirps, then all but yells, “Do give her our best.”

Agatha winces, an unapologetic grimace on her face. She motions for me to come back there, but I wave her off, not wanting to give Lilith any openings to get off-track. “Never mind her, Lil. Tell me what the fuck you’re talking about.”

“It’ll be easier if I show you.” Not bothering to wait for me to respond, the camera flips, showing Mickey sitting on a plane. “And let’s not forget this guy,” she adds almost as an afterthought as the camera pans away, settling on another figure sitting on the opposite side. Or, shall I say, strapped into a chair on the other side.

“Goddamn it, Lilith. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Her face comes back into view, and she rolls her eyes dramatically. “Bringing the informant along for the ride. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“This isn’t funny,” I snarl, anger and panic battling for domination as I try to find words to accurately communicate what I think about this situation without setting her off on a path of complete self-destruction just to spite me. “Where’s Matt?”

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