Page 134 of Wicked Little Lies

“So,” he says, not sitting, “this ass, posing as Magdalena Rossi’s kidnapper, had her steal from all of us. His name’s here, on the iPad, but the cufflinks aren’t here.”

He hands the iPad to Maximo, and he passes it around.

Ivan looks at us both, then finally at Hendrick, who’s back’s to the door. “You could have taken them—”

“Empty your pockets, Jac.” Hendrick cuts him off and downs exactly half his drink before setting it down. “Now.”

I step back almost spilling my drink, the room moving a little. “Fuck off.”

“Jac’s not only working against me, but against the Quinate. We’ve all heard the rumors, seen him talking with Kester Kincaid. And he got into the vault. It’s clear our bylaws offer a seat for anyone with the Quinate Jewels. There’s a secret missing piece, the cufflinks, and he knows it. He had to have them collected, after reading them, and working it out.”

Maximo says, “So he’s behind the recent break in of the vault?”

“No!” I point at him. “That was Hendrick. The father killer.”

“Quiet.” Ivan looks at me and then Hendrick. “If he’s got the jewels then he can take more power and kick out one of us.”

“And bring someone in.”

Is this the plan? It slides all over the place, and I can’t catch it. “He’s lying.”

“I vote,” says Hendrick, “to oust him. We can then voice someone else in before he sells the jewels or one of our seats. He used Rossi, and he’ll turn on you all, too. I voice we kill him, slowly. Her, too, since she’s no longer useful.”

I try and focus on him. “You son of a bitch.”

Declan and the others rise. “Problem is, Hendrick, we don’t trust you, either. What if you two are working together? We’ve decided that you’re both out. And Jac’s seat goes to Kester Kincaid. We need fresh blood.”

I try and speak. But things happen in slow motion. Maximo and Ivan grab me and find the cufflinks as Hendrick collapses.

“We need a fifth anyone know someone?”

There’s the squeak of the door as it opens, and black spots burst and die in front of me. Oh, shit, someone fucking drugged me.

“I do,” says a voice.

Kincaid.

Everything goes black.

TWENTY-THREE

MAGDALENA

“Fiona, can you explain all that to me again?”

My head’s spinning a bit, and I take a sip of the whiskey-laced coffee Jill’s given me. Well, I should say Vicky, since she finally revealed her real name to us.

The living room in Harry’s apartment’s too full with tension, and I force myself to breathe.

Of all the “gotcha” moments I expected, the twists and turns I let pretzel in my head, this is not one that was on my radar in any shape or form.

Fiona’s got a mug with whiskey and no coffee, her dark hair pinned up, long legs encased in sleek trousers, and she really looks the epitome of class and sophistication, someone who’d be the perfect Quinate wife.

Not, I tell myself, that this is what it’s about.

Antiquated bullshit like that isn’t her, or me, or anyone in this place.

“I own the earrings you’re looking for,” she says again.

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