A Wanted Woman Part 60

"Still is."

"Looks like she's sleeping."

"Sure was quiet back there at the docks. Saw jumpers, balloons, but no children."

Petrichor wiped tears from her eyes, found a napkin and blew her nose.

"Crying, Petrichor?"

"Allergies."

Petrichor removed her red dress and expensive heels, stripped down to biker shorts, vest, and sandals. She tossed her dress into the sea. Then she pulled her wig away, tossed it, her hair now short and natural. She stood next to her father's American daughter, the woman who, if not for a cruel trick by G.o.d, would have been called Petrichor. She felt honored to have her name. Honored.

Now they looked like a rich foreigner and his West Indian prize.

Petrichor asked, "What's in all the luggage?"

"What I'm worth dead, but what I will spend while I'm alive."

"You had a Jessica Lee moment."

"Half of it's yours."

"Twenty-five percent."

"You don't know how much it is."

"I don't care about money the way most people do."

Petrichor looked back toward where she had been. She looked back toward the silence. The bottle, the empty bottle of witches' brew, she tossed it into the sea. She had done what had to be done. No children of the corn would grow on that soil. She was Petrichor, but she was also Nemesis Adrasteia. She had done things her sister would never know about. Things had happened to her that she would never talk about, things that put her on this road. Nemesis, also known as Rhamnousia, the spirit of divine retribution against those who succ.u.mb to arrogance before the G.o.ds. She had to protect her father's American daughter. This was not a business for the weak. Little LKs would grow up to become big LKs. For their dead mothers, for their dead fathers, many would want revenge. One wanting revenge would be one too many. Maybe Reaper would hate her for what she had done.

Petrichor said, "You know I'm the one whom you call Old Man Reaper's daughter, right?"

"You told me he's your sperm donor."

"Do you have doubts?"

"What's the issue?"

"You're my sister."

"Okay."

"Say it for me one time. Humor me. Acknowledge me as your sister."

"I know you are."

"No, say it."

"You saved my life at Fitts Village. Saved me on Swan Street. Made tonight work. It doesn't matter if Old Man Reaper is your sperm donor, you're my sister. Like it or not, you're my sister."

"He is."

"I believe you."

"Say it."

"You're my sister."

"Thanks."

"That was weird."

"Someday I want to be able to tell people I have a big sister. One day, when the time comes, if the time comes, I want to tell my husband that I have a big sister."

"Someone sounds emotional. Are you pregnant?"

"No, I haven't swallowed watermelon. I have always wanted to have a sister. Is that too much for you?"

"No, it's not."

Petrichor wiped her eyes and said, "Thanks for saying that. Means a lot to me."

"We're family."

"We're a family you don't want to f.u.c.k with. I'll kill theirs to protect mine."

"With what I was told by War Machine, I might have to test that out."

"What were you told?"

"Enjoy the view, Petrichor. Enjoy the sunset until I slow down."

"What's the issue?"

"We'll talk."

Petrichor said, "The dead cricketer."

"What about him?"

"Contact came through. Hidden files found on the drive. Got his files encrypted."

"He worked for the LKs. That's where his real money was coming from."

"I have it all with me on my phone." She nodded. "A lot more."

"He was skimming off the top. That's why he had so much cash."

"He did much skimming."

"He was moving much product. They always skim off the top."

"Skimming and f.u.c.king and cricket and f.u.c.king and smoking and f.u.c.king and fetes."

"He had the life."

"All that and a pregnant wife and maybe thirty children."

"More came in?"

"Count's still rising."

Reaper explained what had happened between the Barbarians and War Machine's group.

Then she said, "The Barbarians and LKs were playing chess, but War Machine couldn't make a move without revealing his hand. He couldn't attack RCSI without giving a cause, not without revealing his hand to his people, not without letting them know that he had f.u.c.ked up, not King Killer."

"Deep s.h.i.t. What do we do about the Barbarians? We go after RCSI?"

"Let me think about it. Trying to put it together in my mind. Let me think."

"One more thing before I shut up and let you fall into a brown study."

"Okay."

"Guy you met has been blowing up my phone too."

"o.r.g.a.s.m Man."

"Yeah, him."

"Definitely not relevant."

Halfway to Barbados, Petrichor tied weights to the limbs of their dead pa.s.senger, then they paused for a moment, paused and fed Diamond Dust to the beautiful Caribbean sea. Extreme beauty sank into deep waters, swallowed by an infinite blackness.

Reaper said, "Too bad she wasn't still breathing."

"Should've kept those Blahniks."

"Would've loved to watch her drown down to the last air bubble."

"Wonder what size shoe she wore."

"I mean the last air bubble."

"Why did you want the fashion statement dumped way out here in the sea?"

"Because of Eva Pern. She had the nerve to compare herself to Eva Pern."

"Okay."

"When Pern died from cancer, some embalmer worked a miracle, took a year to drain the fluids out of her and made her beautiful again, and people love beauty. They love style. Flair. Power. Her people, thousands of women lined up for miles, stood hours to see her remains. Because they had her body preserved, she will never die. Diamond Dust, after what I went through, I would come back and burn down Trinidad if they took her body and preserved that sh.e.l.l for display in a gla.s.s-encased national monument, if they drained all of her bodily fluids and replaced it with paraffin wax. There will be no body to fix up like a movie star, no display, and no line of people showing up to mourn."

Petrichor pulled out the bottle of Shipwreck 1907 Heidsieck she had stolen, an untainted bottle, and opened it, wanted to know what it felt like to drink that much money.

She said, "Look up."

"What's up there?"

"The sky."

"Was hoping it wasn't another helicopter chasing us."

"Never been out in the water like this. Stars are pretty."

"Absolutely gorgeous, if you're into that sort of thing."

"I am into that sort of thing. I have never seen them so bright."

"Where I lived in America, it was never this dark."

"So you never saw the stars?"

"Not like this."

"Like I can reach up and grab one from the sky."

"Don't fall off the boat."

"Wish my husband was out here to see this."

"Don't. Fall. Off. The. Boat."

"So, Reaper, what do we do next?"

"Collections, Petrichor. From the Barbarians."

"We're going after them?"

"What, do you think we're a team?"

"What, do you think we're not?"

SEVENTY-FOUR.