Page 22 of Pretty Psychos
"Not in a quaint cottage by the ocean," Leif said. "Look at this place, it's practically a mansion. I bet every room has a view of the water." He trotted up the front steps to the expansive porch, a bag over his shoulder. "I've always dreamed about decorating a place like this."
"You might get that chance," Forrest said. There was more he wasn't telling us, but he wasn't going to be forthcoming either.
I had a sneaking suspicion we might be here for a while.
CHAPTER 8
WOODY
"Okay, what the fuck gives?" I demanded. Forrest could play that iron-masked leader bullshit with the rest of them, but I wasn't buying it.
Yeah, he was pissed his house burned down, but that was just material shit. Wood, glass, furniture. The place could be rebuilt and refurnished.
Sure, someone burned it down to get to him, but there was more to it than that. He didn't bother to take shit personally. Not when, in his line of work, people got personal a whole bunch of the time. Blaming him for the decisions he'd made. Insisting he make the decision they wanted. Suggesting their friends or family were innocent because they wanted them to be.
No, there was a shit ton else going on here. He wouldn't have a face like a thundercloud if he didn't have a good reason for it.
"Maybe nothing gives," Forrest suggested.
"Have you ever heard the expression, 'don't try to bullshit a bullshitter?'" I stopped to adjust a painting on the wall that was hanging slightly lopsided. "It means?—"
He stopped, spun around and said, "I know what it means. They would have been waiting for us in the Hamptons if we'd gone there instead."
"Yeah, so?" I asked.
"So they knew we were leaving the city before we decided to," he said.
I absorbed that for a moment. "Someone ratted us out."
Should I strangle Savannah now, or ask questions first, then strangle her? Yes, I know I hate strangling people, but if she was working against us, I'd make an exception.
“That, or they tried to anticipate us," he said.
"You don't think Savannah had something to do with it?" I asked, keeping my voice low. Sable would defend her if she heard me accusing her of anything. Of course, she would, she was loyal. She adored her friend. I admit I liked her too, as much as I liked anyone.
He rubbed a hand over his chin. "No, I don't. I think she's genuine. We might be more predictable than I expected."
"I should be insulted by that," I said, "but this was your plan. You might be the one who is more predictable than you expected."
"It doesn't matterwhois predictable. Whether it's me or all of us. The point is, they knew what we were going to do."
"They might know we've come here instead." I took a better look around at the house, its hardwood floors and pale blue wainscoting. It was as quaint as you might expect of a house of this age. Too nice for me to burn down. Bummer.
"They might," he agreed, "but this place is standing. As long as it is, so are we."
I took note of all the doors. If they'd burned down his other house, they might try to blow up this one. Excuse me if I didn't want to be blown up in my sleep. Or when I was awake for that matter. I objected to being blown to pieces. Not to mention ifsomeone tried to blow up Sable. I'd tie them to the back of my car and give them a nice tour of town at full speed. By the time I was finished with them, there wouldn't be any skin left for Leif to harvest.
"Leif is going to be disappointed if he can't go to any of his parties," I said. So much for a relaxing break.
"Leif will get over it." Forrest adjusted the painting I'd straightened.
"What's the plan?" I asked.
The moment he knew his other place was gone, he would have formulated a plan. That was how he worked. He did nothing without thinking it through quickly but thoroughly. I admit, he impressed me relatively often. Vice versa, probably. I mean, definitely.
"There's a restaurant in the village that serves incredible seafood," he said, adjusting the painting back to the way I'd put it.
I smirked at him. "All this shit is going down and you're thinking about fish?"
