Page 80 of Secret Weapon

“We should call Emmy.And don’t roll your eyes.”Pizdets.He must have been looking in the rear-view mirror.“Communication, remember?”

“Fine, call her.”

The phone rang twice on speaker, and then she picked up.

“Hey.”

“We have three alive,” Alex told her.

“Hold on.”A long minute passed.“Okay, I can talk now.You got three at the hospital?”

The sound of a stiff breeze told me she was outside.On the beach at the Peninsula?At this time of year, it would be empty in the morning.

“Dasha, Ana, and Hallie caught two inside, and I found the third in the parking lot.They wanted to take Ottie alive.We have their ambulance now.”

“Well, fuck, and I mean that in a good way.How badly are they hurt?”

“Not hurt much, just taking a rest.”

Moscow’s face showed the only real damage, and his skin was starting to blister nicely.Maybe he’d have new scars to go with the old one?

“Nice.Where are you now?”

“On a road.”

“The road between Coos Bay and Baldwin’s Shore,” I added.

“I’ll need to update the powers that be, but I’d rather ask our guests a few questions first.Darya, is there anywhere quiet we can do that?”

Two places sprang to mind, but I didn’t want to invite them to my own piece of land.That was my secret, my sanctuary.Emmy had taken so much from me already this weekend, and I wouldn’t give her that.Which left one place.

“There’s an old cabin not too far from here.Nobody goes there, not anymore.I’ll give you directions, and Alex can drop me off on the way.”

“You’re not coming?”

“I’m late for work.”

“At the craft store?Couldn’t you call in sick?”

“No, Miss High-and-Mighty, I can’t call in sick.Only two of us are working today, and Paulo needs to teach his Sunday-morning watercolour class.”

“I can send Bradley to help out.”

“Bradley?Are you joking?”

“He’s not the vapid shopaholic he appears to be.Underneath the glitter, he’s smart, and he’s also a team player.”

“Tell me he doesn’t have a gun.”

“He wanted a gun, so we got him a gun—a Beretta Bobcat with pink grips—but he probably left it at home.Which is a good thing because his aim is terrible, although he’s lucky enough that he could close his eyes and still shoot a man’s nuts off.”

“No shooting in the store.I hate disposing of bodies.”

“A man won’t die from losing his testicles.”

“No, he’d just shoot back.”

“Bradley won’t die either.He doesn’t even age.He’s practically immortal, but if he ever does breathe his last, four-leafed clovers are gonna sprout on his grave like weeds.Do you want him to help Paulo or not?”

A part of me wanted to go sell yarn because the deeper I got into this steaming pile of shit, the more likely it was that I’d lose everything I’d worked so hard to build.But I’d caught those men, dammit, so by rights, I should be the one to question them.Why let the English bitch take all the credit?

“I’ll tell Paulo I have a headache.Bradley will have to make his appearance seem natural.”

And I’d call Brooke as well.She wouldn’t mind dropping by to check on the two glitterbugs later, just in case they needed adult supervision.

“Don’t worry; I’ll brief him.At least he won’t have to fake his enthusiasm for macramé.”

“Macramé is actually my favourite craft.If I tie a man up, there’s no way he’s getting loose.”

“Glad to hear it, and I look forward to admiring your skills in person.Now, where’s this cabin?”

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