Page 9 of Wicked Little Lies

The thug looks smug, she looks…gorgeous and blank-faced, in the clothes I saw her in last, and a little glassy.

They’re leaving the jewelry store which doesn’t sit well with me. At all. Because this was after I left, after Hendrick locked up the jewels. I know they work together, MG and this Harriet. But this seems not right. On any level.

An unpleasant thought hits. Not for the first time.

What if she somehow has the jewels? What if she’s working with Hendrick?

I see the first part of the thought happening, but the second? I know Hendrick. He’s a smug fuck, and I still want to wipe the pavement with his remains, but he was fucking pissed when we met up. And he didn’t trust her.

Like me.

Then of course, there’s the other thing. MG’s been gone over a fucking week and I’ll bet a cool thirty million or so that he’s been texting and calling. I mean, the ugly fucker’s been to my place twice and he’s really not a fan of having anything to do with me.

Also, I’m not over him fucking my sister. Even if she was sickeningly in love with the asshole.

Damn it, I miss Lili.

And all the old fury screams into being again.

I tap my fingers on the knee of my suit pants. “The note?”

“Sent,” he says.

This time I look up at him. “Any response?”

“Not yet.” He pauses. “You think Kincaid’s behind it?”

Pulling out the one I received, I open it and smooth out the edges.

I’ve got what you want. You’ve got the Heart of Dark Desires. I’m willing to negotiate.

“I don’t fucking know. Thing is I can get what I want, when I want it. So this makes zero sense.” Unless it’s the gun runner who thinks he’s got my ear, who thinks he can somehow manipulate a fucking place at the Quinate table.

He doesn’t know yet we’re cutting him the fuck out of everything.

“The kid’s hungry for power. He’ll do what he can, however he can. He’s a little shit with spies. Maybe he’s seen both me and Hendrick with her? Maybe not. But if it’s not him, why send the note on stationary from this place and not reach out. He’d do that.” I pause “Who the fuck else thinks I want MG?”

Carlos snorts. “Any fucker with eyes, Jac.”

His phone buzzes and he frowns, then starts typing.

He’s a big, ugly son of a bitch, and killing him might bring a modicum of satisfaction, but I need him alive more than that splash of glee that his death might bring. Besides, I actually like Carlos.

And like the dark revenge fantasies over MG, imagining even more things I’m not going to do isn’t helping.

“I’ll fucking rephrase that,” I say. “Who the fuck else might try and manipulate me by using her as lure for the necklace I don’t have?”

“What if the necklace is missing?” His gaze doesn’t shift from his phone. “Maybe this isn’t about the necklace.”

I frown. “Explain?”

“Maybe it’s a set up.”

I tap my foot on the carpet. “As in someone wants to put a cat in among deadly pigeons by making it sound like…what? I have the necklace?”

He shrugs. “Maybe someone’s trying to see what you and Agnossio do if you both think the other has the necklace.”

“Hendrick has it.” Unless she did pull off a double cross. “Or thinks he has. Or maybe what? Someone wants to see who has it. And took MG?”

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