“If Ian couldn’t stop them with his resources, ya think they’ll want to stitch up a case against these career criminals? This is not the eighties, Ran. These people have lawyers on retainer. The type who charge four figures an hour.”
“Are you saying they’re scared to touch the Bratva?” I asked.
“I’m not saying they aren’t, is all.”
This meant I had to drag out Brat’s stay here in Texas until I had a better idea of how to protect her in Los Angeles. If the Russians had impunity, and didn’t fear getting caught, I was certainly the next one in line to get offed.
The best course of action was to tell Anthony Thorne there was a threat to Hallie’s life in L.A. She wasn’t going to be happy about it, but sparing her feelings wasn’t as important as keeping her safe.
Brat was done three hours later. She wobbled out of the back room toward the register, wincing with each step she took. The artist slipped behind the desk and checked her out. With a faux smile on her face, she snapped her fingers in my direction, like I was her butler. “Pay the man, Lockwood.”
“My apologies, ma’am. I forgot my checkbook in the suite, along with my servant uniform and, apparently, your sanity.” I smiled cordially.
What made her think I’d pay for this shit?
“Cash’ll do. So will a credit card.” She didn’t spare me a look.
“Nonetheless, I’m still not reaching for my wallet.”
“I haven’t received my daily allowance in days,” she reminded me. “Go on. Pay up. That should cover the tattoo and the tip.”
“I’m not paying for this.”
“Well, someone is,” the man behind the desk said, popping the buttons of his leather vest open. “And I ain’t got all day, pals.”
“Gee, I understand,” she sassed, draping herself over his desk seductively. “The last thing we need is a headline, sir.Anthony Thorne’s Daughter Leaves Local Tattoo Shop without Paying Bill.”
Yeah. Hallie Thorne wasn’t dumb. She simply channeled every cell in her brain to being a manipulative little minx.
Reminding myself that I was about to keep her in Texas for a long time, and that was retaliation enough, I took out my wallet and handed him my card.
Brat twirled her way out of the shop, all sunshine and rainbows. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”
After a quick stop at a bridal shop to get her measurements for the maid of honor dress, we drove to her parents’ house in silence. My favorite soundtrack.
About halfway through our journey, she let out a little sigh, and that was when I knew my luck had run out and she was about to start talking.
“I think I might be a horrible person.”
“Finally, a statement we can both get behind.” Was she expecting a pep talk? We were in the midst of a cold war.
“I mean it, Random. I think I am.”
I didn’t want to get to know her better right now. I didn’t want to hear about her woes. In fact, I regretted the moment I made the error of telling her aboutmyhumble beginning, but at the time, she’d looked about ready to off herself and a dead client would’ve looked really bad on my résumé.
She stared out her window with a slight pout. I thought I saw a tear sliding down her cheek.
I guess self-realization was part of the ‘grow the fuck up’ itinerary I’d thrust upon her. Sighing, I said, “Why do you think you’re a horrible person?”
“I just realized yesterday that I have no real friends. No real connections. My relationship with my family is in shambles. My life is keeping up appearances. It’s an empty shell.”
I said nothing. If this was her having a breakthrough, it was better she come to the conclusion herself.
“And all those Instagram friends…NeNe and Tara…” She frowned, shaking her head. “They haven’t even called me once since I got here. No one but Keller—he’s the closest, but… Don’t you think it’s weird?”
“No. It is very possible NeNe and Tara don’t know how to operate a phone.”
“I just feel like I’m wasting my life away.”