A Harmless Little Plan (Harmless #3)(21)

Everything is ready? I don’t know what she means by that. I don’t care.

“Good,” I say loudly, dropping my voice.

“Is your nice friend coming back? He said he’d get the camera equipment and be back soon, to start filming.” Tiffany frowns. “I want to make sure I’m doing everything I can so this is successful. I need to move up the ladder in my career. I hate what I do for a living now.” She shrugs. “It pays the bills, but...”

Her nattering becomes background static as I think about what’s happening on the other side of this thin wall. Lindsay’s kissing John, walking naked around that room – my bedroom – like she owns the place.

“Drew – er, Pete?” Tiffany’s long fingernails are digging into my bicep. “You listening?”

“Sure.” No, I’m not. I’m calculating and trying to figure out whether Lindsay is so smart that she’s able to override every fear response in her and act in a self-preserving way that is highly risky, or she’s played me all along.

And you known the damnedest part?

Either way, I still love her.

“So that’s okay?’ Tiffany interrupts, looking at me like she thinks I’ve been listening to her.

“Sure.”

She gives me a kiss on the cheek and scampers off.

And then my fucking phone rings.

I leap up, whack my head on a towel rack, and my phone goes flying, cracking on the tile floor with the sickening sound of a screen shattering. My tools go everywhere, and Tiffany squeals.

The phone still works, thank God. I don’t recognize the number, but that’s not new. I ignore it.

I flip back over to the scene in the bedroom.

Lindsay and John are kissing like they’re in the backseat of Daddy’s fancy car on prom night.

Stellan’s leering at Jane.

My stomach falls through the floor, blood picking up speed like it’s a horse in the Kentucky Derby on its last leg.

What the fuck am I supposed to believe right now?

My phone rings again. Same number. I pick up. Maybe it’s Silas on a new line.

“Drew? Jesus, Drew, get the fuck out of there.” It’s Mark Paulson.

“Mark? What? Did Silas tell you -- ”

“I’m not the one who got you released from jail, Drew.”

“What?”

“I didn’t get you released. I was in D.C. with Galt, trying to use every connection we have between the two of us. I was obstructed and stalled in every way you can imagine. My dad said he’d never seen anything like it, and if Galt Halloway can’t get shit done, you know there’s something deep at play.”

“You’re saying Stellan, Blaine and John got me sprung?”

“I’m saying,” Mark says slowly, as I watch Blaine Fucking Maisri waltz into my bedroom and rip Lindsay and John apart, then turn and say something to Jane, “that you’ve been set up even more than you ever imagined. Whoever got you out of jail, and whoever blocked my dad and me from getting you out, has power that goes all the way to the fucking top.” I keep flipping between watching the scene on the other side of the wall and listening to Mark, my phone flying fast and furious between my eyes and my ear.

“Where are you, Paulson? And why should I trust you? You’re telling me you’re not the one who got me out, and -- ”

“Drew, you don’t have a choice. We’re on our way.”

Can’t trust Lindsay, can’t trust anyone. I look at my screen and there’s Blaine, on top of Lindsay on the bed, and she’s screaming.

I feel the screaming in my bones.

And then the screaming ends, abruptly, like a snapped wishbone, like a twig turned to kindling, like death is a fulcrum you use to break everything to pieces.

“No time. They’re going in for the kill now, Mark. Now,” I whisper, hanging up.

And then I ready my weapon as Blaine cups Lindsay’s breast, his hand going lower, lower...

My leg’s ready to kick in the panel. Milliseconds before I deploy the kick, John leans down, his face filling my phone.

As I let all the kinetic energy in my body release, my gun in my hand, my mind a blank slate, he says, “Hi, Drew.”





Chapter 9





Lindsay



My hearing’s shut down, the sound of my own blood rushing through me so strong, I almost miss the splintering gasp of wallboard breaking. Drew crashes into the room like something out of an action movie. He’s holding a weapon in each hand and Blaine’s on me, his cock rubbing hard against my thigh through his pants, his wet mouth demanding my lips, my tongue, my attention.

A sound like thunder in my ear makes me scream deep in my throat, biting hard on Blaine’s tongue. I taste copper and pain, then he twitches and trembles, the violent shakes so bad I feel electrocuted.

And then he slumps forward, deadweight, crushing me.

Can’t breathe.

Can’t hear.

Can’t see.

Can’t anything.

Oh, thank God.

It’s over and I’ll just faint and fade out and be nothing and oh drew oh drew i love you and please please please --

Someone shoves Blaine off me and my world is bright and big and full of pain.

Loud crashes, my throat being squeezed, and eyes that fill with love and horror aimed at me.