Series: Webs We Weave Series by Krista Ritchie
Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 145038 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Clearly.
I swivel on the barstool to Nova. “The point of staying here is to also have a life outside of the job.”
Nova is mutilating his omelet. “Not for me.”
He can’t rest until the job is done. That is also painfully clear.
Infiltrate Jake’s family. It’s step one in the ultimate plan of deception, and we all have specific parts to play.
For Nova, he isn’t supposed to cozy up to any influential townspeople. His role is to aid us if shit takes a wrong, horrific turn.
If he’s not at the art museum, then he’s spending all of his time on Oliver’s liveaboard speedboat. Courtesy of Meara O’Neil. The elderly lady simply gifted the boat to Oliver for being “the best listener” she’s ever met. She’s not even his client! I’ve spent more time serving her soda and crab cakes and listening to her yap about being three degrees from some billion-dollar family who owns Fizzle. Where is my boat?
Yes, I am jealous.
Nova, I hope, loves the speedboat, since he spends every day on it. He’ll moor the vessel out in the calm water alongside a few other sailing yachts.
Right in view of the Koning estate.
Whenever Rocky, Oliver, or I am invited to the estate as guests, it’s not suspicious that Nova is one dinghy ride away from the shore because he’s always there.
“Just promise me you won’t become a recluse,” I say to Nova. There’ve been times where we haven’t seen each other for three months or four while pretending to be other people, and I’ve started loving the idea of not being torn apart.
He stares faraway at the plate while he says, “I couldn’t be away from you two for that long.”
Good.
Oliver whisks the eggs. “The grim-faced art curator who lives in solitude on the sea. Women love it. You’ve shot up on the list of Most Eligible Bachelors in Victoria.”
I scowl since Rocky is firmly on that list. Jake is off it since he’s taken by me.
“I’m not looking for anything with anyone.” Nova washes down his food with a rougher swig of OJ. “It’ll get in the way.”
Of the job.
It’s strange to be the one to protest. I’ve always been “for the job” first and foremost. Now…being here, being with Rocky, it feels like we’re paddling toward a new future we’ve never even seen before.
I want that for my brothers, too.
“Ol,” Nova says tensely, causing me to follow his pinpointed gaze to Oliver. “You’re bleeding.”
A crimson river flows out of his nose. Oliver quickly smears the blood with the side of his hand. “Shit,” he mutters.
I rip off a paper towel from the roll and toss it at him.
Squeezing his nose with it, he staunches the bleeding. None of us say a thing. The silence is heavy, and my stomach won’t settle. Even a bite of melon sits like peanut butter in my throat.
“How much coke are you snorting?” Nova asks with the grinding of his teeth. “Is it that necessary?”
“I can’t say no.” He sounds nasally. “Collin Falcone likes to party, therefore Oliver Smith likes to party. He loves that I keep up with him, and we all love that he’s no longer Trent’s closest friend.”
Oliver spends less time conducting therapy sessions and more time integrating himself into Trent’s social circle. He’s quickly separated Collin from Trent—which gave Rocky the perfect path to becoming Trent’s Number One Guy in the Group.
“I’m fine, Nov,” Oliver says gently, tossing the bloodied wad of paper towel in the trash. “See?”
“You’re going too far,” Nova warns. “Use sleight of hand. Act like you’re snorting it.”
“He’ll notice. I’m okay. I’m okay,” he emphasizes. “Phoebe, tell him.”
“He’s okay,” I chime in. I know most of what Oliver has done for jobs. This isn’t even the half of it.
Rocky, Oliver, and I are more trained in face-to-face manipulation than the others, and sometimes we’ll go to extremes to complete a job. Oliver has been known to take things too far, but I trust he’s profiled Collin.
“If he thinks joining in the drug use is necessary, then maybe it is,” I reason.
Nova is pissed. “You’re only saying that because you’d do the same thing in his position.”
“I mean…” He’s not wrong. “Let’s change the subject.”
Oliver washes his hands. “You want to join the quatro, Nov? I can get you in Trent’s friend group.”
“Hard pass.”
“What do you mean?” Oliver mock gasps. “You don’t want the Fortunate Four to become the Foxy Five?”
I internally gag at the nickname the town has adoringly begun calling Trent, Rocky, Oliver, and Collin. When they enter a venue together, people act like gods have dropped from the sky and chosen to grace us mere mortals.
I’m not charmed.
“Fortunate Four,” I seethe. “The irony. Considering every encounter with Trent feels like one big, ugly misfortune.” My nose flares as emotion burrows too deep.
Don’t think about it.