A Harmless Little Plan (Harmless #3)(17)

“Of course!” Tiffany gushes. “I’m a pro! I practically live on camera 24/7.” She plucks the piece of paper from my hand and shuffles off, reading as she walks. “Wait. This is a note telling them I’m having work done on my pipes.”

“Yes. Just a friendly note from one neighbor to another.”

“But everyone who lives in this complex knows that I would never leave a note, silly. That’s so rude. I would knock on the door and -- ”

“No!” Panic gets the better of me for a split second, enough to yell loud so that she jumps. “You need to stick to the script.”

“I thought there was no script.”

“We don’t have lines, but we have guidelines,” I emphasize. Get a fucking grip, I tell myself.

And then I hear the men on the other side of the wall talking. A pause.

Followed by the sweet sound of Lindsay’s voice.

“Okay,” Tiffany says, wary. The way she’s looking at me makes it clear she’s not sure what to think, but she’s going along with it anyhow.

“Just slip it under the door. If someone answers -- ”

“Why would someone in your apartment answer?”

I wink. I lie. “It’s part of the show.”

“Gotcha. So they’re actors?” She fluffs her hair, which mostly means she pushes the helmet of hair up an inch.

“No. They’re unsuspecting real-life people who don’t know what’s going on over here.” Another truth.

“Oh!” Her eyes brighten. “I love being in on the joke and they don’t know!”

Joke.

Right.

I look at the wall and contemplate my first move. Goal number one is to get a fiberoptic camera through a light socket or a tiny hole in the wall, to establish a visual without breaking the line. I can’t think too many steps ahead, because I have to pivot if this goes south. All I can do is focus on this step.

The drill and other tools will make noise. My premise is weak. But having Tiffany go to my apartment is part of the ruse. I wait until she comes back.

It gives me a chance to assess myself. I look down.

I am fucked.





Chapter 7





Lindsay



“What do you want to know?” I offer.

“Why would you give us confidential information like this?” Stellan asks, turning to John. “I smell a set-up.”

I laugh. “You seriously think I’m offering fake information? Okay. Fine. Go ahead. Go ahead and kill me. Then you’ll never know if I could have told you something you could use to protect yourselves.” I shrug, as much as you can shrug with your hands tied together. “Kill me. Ruin the chance.” The words come out with a strange detachment as I stop caring.

I just...stop.

A switch flips in my head. It’s a relief. I am my blood. I am my heartbeat. I am each breath.

But my mind doesn’t matter any longer.

No one is coming to save me.

Not Daddy.

Certainly not Mom.

And obviously not Drew.

We fool ourselves every day into thinking that we have forever. Maybe we have to. If we thought about the fact that we’re going to die someday, maybe we couldn’t really live. Waking up, brushing our teeth, slogging down coffee, and doing whatever we need to do to check off our To Do list requires a belief that there’s no end.

Because if you knew there was an end, wouldn’t you live differently?

See, I know there’s an end.

It’s staring right at me.

“Where’s the weakness in your father’s security?” John asks.

Stellan smacks his arm. “She doesn’t know the answer to that.”

Because I don’t care, I say, “Helicopter mechanic. All it takes is planting a guy on that team to sabotage Daddy’s helicopter.”

They stare at me.

“No way. That’s what Anya said, too,” Stellan whispers.

Anya. Anya and Jane. Of course. Of course they betrayed me. Betrayed Daddy. I’m beyond caring, right? The information flows over me like a river of logic. Makes sense.

But how are they connected to Nolan Corning?

Tap tap tap.

Someone’s knocking on the front door.

John’s body lunges, flying over me, arms and legs extended like he’s a flying squirrel. I rotate slightly just before he lands on me.

Big mistake.

His hip bone digs into mine like two foreheads cracking, my left leg going up as he rolls, the pain of his jeans button scraping along my inner thigh. My hands are in front of me and some muscle in my shoulder pulls so hard the pain blinds me, leaving me screaming without sound.

I’m close to fainting again.

“Jesus, Lindsay. Be more careful.” John’s mocking words heat up my ear, his breath smelling like garlic and darkness. I close my eyes, the brush of my bare calf against his jeans like singeing my skin with a hot branding iron. My breasts feel heavy against my chest. The cool air makes my nipples tighten reflexively.

Shame ripples through me as they pucker. The last time that happened, the muscles moved from arousal.

Not terror.

“Get in here,” I hear Stellan say to someone. The door slams shut. I can look through the open bedroom door and see sections of the hallway. Pale shadows cover the wall. A woman comes into the room, her head turned around as she still talks to Stellan, who is handling her roughly.