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“Put some clothes on, Penelope. My men are onboard and I don’t want to kill anyone else today.”
“What did Blake do?” “Pissed me off.” I swallow. “So you killed him.” His palm presses harder into my stomach, and his chin comes to rest on my shoulder. “He was eyeing something up that doesn’t belong to him.”
“You know where my brother is, Penelope?” “Have you tried Find My iPhone, Angelo?”
“He means, he gets why Rafe is obsessed with you now. You talk almost as much shit as he does.”
“Fuck,” he hisses, letting my arms fall. “Did you just bite me?” I look at him seriously. “You know what they say. Eat the rich.”
I guess I’ve learned two things tonight: why people love Christmas and why women do crazy shit like smash up cars with baseball bats over men.
“My Queen of Hearts,” he rasps in fascination, more to himself than to me. “My beautiful demise.”
We let them go slack when our idiot brother emerges from the fog, firing an AK-47 at the sky. “Good afternoon.” He squints up at the falling snow. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” I stare at him. “It’s a miracle you’ve never been to prison.”
“If I drown, you’re drowning with me. If you burn, I’m burning too. Pick your route to hell, Rafe. The destination and the company are the same.”
I don’t snitch on my sister-in-law though. We’re starting The Real Housewives of Atlanta next week, and like fuck am I watching the franchise on my own.
