Page 133 of Wicked Little Lies

Because if anyone’s going to kill her, it’ll be me.

I don’t want to kill her.

I don’t want to harm her.

I want—

“If you were smart, Miller, you’d have been out of the fucking country and assuming another name,” a voice snarls loud across the room. “But you’re not.”

I take a breath.Game on.I look at Hendrick who just arrived with Maximo not far behind him.

“And here I thought Quinate were protected.” I offer my nastiest shit eating grin I have.

Hendrick flinches. “Not if they’re double-crossing assholes.”

About fifty percent of the patrons leave.

“We have a meeting, asshole,” I say, “That’s what I’m here for. Why do I get the feeling only one of us’ll walk? And by one, I mean fucking me.”

Another thirty percent go.

Hendrick laughs with ugly intent. “You think so?”

Five percent more sidle out.

No one wants to be around Quinate trouble.

Ivan and Declan arrive.

Kincaid straightens, but I shake my head. He looks annoyed but backs down. I return my focus to Hendrick.

“What’s your problem? Killing my father after yours killed my sister not enough? Does it sting too much that Magdalena prefers me?”

“Fuck you,” he says in that cold and deadly hate-filled way he has.

Another ten percent leave.

Those who remain are either the ones we’re after or fucking morons.

Hendrick doesn’t lift his gaze from me. “I call to start our meeting here and now.”

“Bold,” I snarl. And it is. Though the bar is almost empty, it’s still public, and I’m handed my drink by Kincaid. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the others.

There’s something in Hendrick’s gaze as the Quinate members move toward a room in the back, and Declan raises a hand.

The man looks from me to Hendrick. There’s zero love between me and Kelly. His sisters weren’t even that good a fuck. Except the youngest, and she’s clingy. But his face is stone. “You sure, Hendrick?”

“I’m the speaker,” I say as though it’s an important position. I amuse myself with it being so, but the truth is power is equal in the Quinate.

Hendrick’s gaze cuts into me. “Not anymore, you traitorous fuck.”

“Whatever, shithead. Let’s get this going.”

The backroom is a weird place to hold a Quinate meeting, but I chalk it up to it being because it was called last minute.

I’ve drank half my drink, and for some reason, I can’t keep my mind wandering. The door’s ajar and someone knocks, comes in and hands a drink to Hendrick and the others. They don’t drink, but I fucking do.

I stare at the jewels Hendrick’s upended on the table.

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