After pulling off the long auburn wig I was wearing and throwing it in, I pushed my short black hair back out of my eyes. I pulled out a pair of black jeans and a black hoodie and changed right there on the street, stuffing my dress and heels into the trunk and then slipping on a pair of black boots.
I stuffed my handgun into my waistband, pulling my hoodie over it before grabbing the empty backpack. After pulling on a pair of black gloves, I slung it over my shoulder and quietly shut the trunk and began walking towards Artie’s driveway.
The gate was locked, so I looked around again to make sure I was alone before walking under a dark tree and then hoisting myself over the fence.
I paused, listening for footsteps. Slowly, I snuck down the winding driveway, making sure to stay in the shadows while I surveyed the grounds.
The house was all dark now, save for a small light at the back of the house. The grounds were lit up with dim lights along the walkways and a few light posts in the garden, but the bright party lights streaming over the garden were off now. Sneaking around the shadows at the edge of the house, I checked in the windows for signs of life.
I’d made it all the way around to where I started and was back by the garden, when I saw two figures sitting in lounge chairs and talking out by the edge of the cliff.
I squinted in the darkness, finally recognizing Tulsa and Artie.
Perfect, I thought.
Quickly, I ran around to the front entrance, trying the door. To my surprise, it opened easily. I took a deep breath and walked inside, waiting, listening.
Silence.
I ran towards the stairs, my steps light and quiet as I ascended the staircase. The hallway was much dimmer than before. I headed straight for Artie’s study, pleased to find the door unlocked. I ran over to Tulsa’s portrait and quickly pulled it off the wall, punching in the numbers I’d seen Artie push in.
Thirty-eight, twenty-six, sixteen…
When the safe beeped and opened, my heart skipped a beat.
Quickly, I opened the backpack I’d brought with me, and swept the entire contents of the safe into my bag. Whatever was in there had to be valuable to Artie, and that’s all that mattered. I shut the safe, put the painting back and took a quick scan of the office.
His shelves were lined with awards, various golden and crystal statues that made me wonder how many people he’d hurt while getting them. I contemplated taking them, but those weren’t the kinds of things I could easily move.
Instead, I grabbed a glittering Fabergé egg next to them, placed it in my bag and quickly walked out of the study.
I listened for voices again before moving on. Silence.
Next, I headed for the room Artie had gone into earlier, the same one I’d seen Evergreen run out of. I put my ear to the door and when I didn’t hear any sounds, I slowly opened it.
The master bedroom greeted me in all its bare white glory. I rolled my eyes and walked in, trying not to think of how many times Artie had been naked in that room.
Instead, I made a run for the closet and found Tulsa’s jewelry right away. I scooped up everything I could find and threw it into the bag. Now that my bag was getting heavy, I figured I’d done enough damage.
They could come back inside at any moment and I knew better than to overstay my welcome by getting greedy. I made it back outside easily, quietly closing the heavy front door and heading back down the front stairs.
Loud, angry voices rang out over the gardens and I stopped to listen.
Artie and Tulsa were fighting. Edging a few steps closer, I saw they were now standing by the edge of the cliff.
“You’re a monster, Artie!” Tulsa cried loudly, her voice full of despair.
“I’m the monster?” Artie shouted. “You little bitch! If you weren’t such a cold-blooded ice queen, this never would have happened!”
She slapped him and I froze, a slow smile spreading across my face. Good for you, Tulsa, I thought.
Artie stood in shock for about half a second.
Then, he closed the distance between them quickly, wrapping his hands around her neck before she could get away. She screamed, her cries carried away by the whipping wind blowing off the ocean. Her hands flew up as she tried to pry his fingers away from her flesh, but he kept squeezing.
Her eyes grew wider and wider as she fought him.
“You fucking bitch,” he growled, squeezing, the vein in his temple throbbing as rage filled his eyes.
I’d seen that look before.
When he was on the floor of his office that day that I’d kicked him.
I’d known then that if I didn’t leave quickly, he would have hurt me.
Watching him now, his fingers wrapped around his wife’s throat — the woman he was supposed to love — her eyes bulging as she gasped for air, my nightmare seemed to come to life before my eyes.
Tulsa tried to fight him off. Once she realized she couldn’t pry his grip loose, she reached out, clawing at his eyes, her long, manicured nails scratching at his eyeballs.
He cried out, releasing her and grabbing at his eye.
She fell to the ground, gripping her throat and gasping for air. He swiped at her, anger rolling off him. He shook his head slowly, eyeing her with white-hot fury as he descended on her again.
“You cunt!” he shouted, just as he brought his fist back, slamming it into her jaw before she managed to scramble away again.
“I’m going to fucking kill you!” he roared, scrambling after her. She’d pulled herself up to her feet and stumbled away, dazed from his blow. Her eyes widened as he ran towards her again, pushing her backwards as his hands wrapped around her neck again.
Her hands flailed against his fingers again, but he squeezed harder.
“No,” I whispered, still frozen in place.
He had to let go, he had to…
I looked around quickly, hoping for someone else to appear and make this all stop, but there wasn’t another person in sight.
It was on me. I grabbed my gun from my waist, my heart racing.
“Artie, please…stop,” Tulsa croaked, her voice weak now, her knees beginning to buckle. But he wouldn’t let go, and he was much taller than her, so she didn’t sink to the ground, but it was obvious she wasn’t holding herself up any longer. Her toes barely scraped the ground, as her lips began to turn blue.
Finally, her foot caught the ground, and she braced herself, finding enough leverage to try to push him away one last time, just as I brought the gun up and slid my finger over the trigger.
It didn’t work.
Instead, the leverage she’d found sent them both flying backwards.
It was then that he finally released his grip on her neck again, but it was too late.
Tulsa tumbled backwards, flying over the edge of the cliff, disappearing instantly into the darkness. Artie stopped himself from going over, her ear-splitting shriek of terror fading before a sudden silence.
“Tulsa!” Artie shouted, rushing to the very edge and looking over, his eyes wide as saucers.
I gasped loudly, the shock of what I’d just witnessed tearing through me. My finger slid away from the trigger and I took a step back, my gun falling to my side.
Artie heard me. His head whipped around, his eyes crashing into mine.
“Fuck,” I muttered, my feet moving before I’d even registered I was running away. I sprinted down the driveway and vaulted over the gate. I’d pulled the backpack off my back along the way and threw it into the front seat with the gun, before jumping in and starting the car.
I hit the accelerator, peeling out loudly and flying away from Artie’s estate just as he ran out into the street and shouted after me, his fist in the air.
Watching him disappear in the rearview mirror, my heart was racing so fast, I was sure it would explode in my chest.
Chapter 3
PEPPER
My drive home was a struggle.
With one eye in the rearview, I didn’t take a real breath until I r
eturned the Jaguar to its home in the garage and walked the short way home. Once my deadbolt slid into place, I sank to the floor of my apartment, my heart still racing in my chest.
I’d been through a lot in my life. More than most.
I’d witnessed lots of crime, even violence.
But I’d never, not once, seen someone literally murdered right in front of my eyes.
The death of my father comes close, but this was different.
Had Artie really meant to push her over the edge? Only he knew.
Hell, he would have strangled her to death if she hadn’t fallen.
Would I have shot him? I didn’t really know.
But one thing that only the both of us know now is where she’s gone.
If she hadn’t gone over the edge, I’m convinced he would have finished her off with his bare hands. That doesn’t matter now, though.
I’d peered over that edge myself just hours before, and I knew there was no surviving a fall like that. I shuddered at the thought of what condition her body would be in after that impact.
And then followed by the sheer power of the ocean washing over her, offering her up like a meal…
It was too much.
I jumped up, suddenly filled with anxiety. I felt confused and terrified, all at the same time, even though I knew I was safe now. I hadn’t been followed, I was sure of that. And nobody at that party knew my real name, nor where I lived.
Mainly, though — I felt dirty.
And it was all because of Artie.
I’d known he was a prick since the first time I met him. The immense amount of stories about him was enough to convince anyone else of his true character. I’d felt bad enough that he’d touched me the way he did again tonight.
But I had no idea he was capable of murder.
And let’s face it, that’s what it was. He could have saved her. He could have reached out and grabbed her, preventing her sure death.
He could have stopped strangling her. Hell, he could have not strangled her in the first place.
But he didn’t. He didn’t do anything like that, not at all.
He killed her.
I walked into my bathroom and stripped off all my clothes, stepping under the heat of the hot shower and attempting to wash away any trace of Artie. I may have washed him off my skin, but he was still in my mind when I got out, and I hated that.
I’d hoped crashing his party and robbing him would feel great. Vengeance is sweet, after all. Revenge is best served cold, and this was a freezing dish.
But tonight had only made things that much worse for me.
I dried off and put on my pajamas and slathered on moisturizer, brushing my hair and teeth until I felt as clean as possible.
After opening a bottle of wine and pouring a huge glass to calm my nerves, I finally felt strong enough to face myself in the mirror. I walked back into the bathroom, my big green eyes staring back at me.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Pepper,” I said to my reflection. “Artie’s a bastard. A rapist. A murderer. All of this is Artie’s fault.”
I repeated it a few times just for good measure and then walked out of the bathroom.
My backpack sat on the dining table and I walked over to it, taking a deep breath before slowly unzipping it and dumping the contents out on the table.
First, I noticed a script, bound with stapled edges — The Wanderer, by Alice Waters.
“Hmmm, never heard of her,” I mumbled, putting it aside. I set out all of Tulsa’s jewelry, which sent a small pang of guilt through my gut as I untangled it, now that she was dead. I thought about breaking back in to return it, but what would be the point now?
I picked up another bag, the bag I’d seen Artie put in the safe at the beginning of the night. I opened it up and dumped it upside down.
“Holy shit,” I cried, my eyes growing wide as I watched hundreds and hundreds of tiny diamonds pour out, forming a growing pile in front of me. They sparkled under the overhead light and I screamed with glee.
Diamonds.
So many of them I couldn’t count. It could have been thousands.
They sparkled like stars that had fallen from the sky, but all I saw was dollar signs. They had to at least be worth several hundred thousand.
“Fuck you, Artie,” I smirked. I’d finally gotten my revenge.
The victory was bittersweet, though. In exchange for vengeance, Artie had given me a memory I absolutely didn’t know how to handle. His arrogant assaults were bad enough, but I knew I’d never erase the vision of Tulsa tumbling over that cliff from my mind.
Maybe Artie had won after all, I thought, as I shoved the diamonds and jewels and script back into my bag. I shoved it under my bed and checked the locks on my front door before heading off to bed, my heart heavy and Tulsa’s echoing cry of death haunting me the entire night.
Chapter 4
PEPPER
Dawn came fast, and I slept very little.
Haunted by Tulsa’s death and the look of rage in Artie’s eyes, it was enough to make anyone shake in their shoes. Artie was one of the most powerful men in this city, hell, this whole country, and I wasn’t fooling myself by thinking he was going to just forget I was there.
I knew I’d have to watch my back.
I knew anything at all could happen.
I hoped I’d covered my tracks well enough that he couldn’t find me, but anything is possible. And this town, while teeming with millions of residents, can still feel very small.
I knew the best thing for me to do was to lay low for a while.
After making a pot of coffee, I turned on the television, and flipped to the morning news. My stomach flipped when I saw the headline across the bottom of the screen.
‘Movie mogul’s wife murdered after birthday party…’
I turned up the volume, bracing myself when I saw Artie’s face. I expected to see him being led away from his house in handcuffs, but instead, he stood at a podium set up out on the street in front of his house, a throng of reporters hanging onto his every word as they asked him questions.
“Mr. Paige, can you tell us what happened?”
Artie feigned a look of despair before answering.
“I honestly don’t know,” he shrugged. “I was asleep and I heard yelling. I walked outside and saw my wife fighting with someone. Before I could get down there, the woman shoved my wife off the cliff and ran away.”
My mouth dropped at his words.
“Do you know who the woman was?”
“No, not yet, but the police are searching through the neighbor’s surveillance footage.”
My stomach dropped. The bastard was trying to pin it on me.
“You didn’t recognize her?”
“It was dark,” he said, with a dismissive wave.
“Don’t you have a security system?”
“My system was down,” he said, shaking his head.
“The coast guard is still looking for your wife’s body. Have you heard any updates?”
“No,” he said, wrinkling his brow. “I hope they find her.”
I do, too, I thought, so they can see the bruises you left on her neck!
Waves of anger rushed over me.
This bastard was going to do whatever he could to pin this shit on me, wasn’t he? Or, maybe he just needed to pin it on someone else rather than himself. Maybe there’s no footage after all. And if there was, it was dark and I was covered really well. Artie got the best look at my eyes and that likely wasn’t on any tape. And if it was, well, it would implicate him more than me.
Artie held up a hand and quieted the crowd around him.
“I just want to say that Tulsa was the best woman I’ve ever known. A kind woman. A gentle woman. She was brilliant in her own right. I’ll miss her for the rest of my life and I won’t rest until I find her killer. That’s all I have to say at this time. Please give me my privacy now.” He hulked away, his face turned towards the ground, his shoulders slumped.
Chapter 5
PEPPER
The diamonds seemed to have a life of their own.
I’d laid them all out on my bed again after throwing my remote at the television and they sparkled in the light like they were alive.
“What’s an asshole like you doing with these diamonds, Artie?” I said aloud. I grabbed my computer and started googling. Somebody somewhere had to be missing these babies.
What I found was more mind-boggling than I expected.
Just one week ago, a huge lot of very rare diamonds were stolen from the cargo hold of a Swiss airliner in a Brussel’s airport. The thieves had brazenly cut a hole into the fence near the runway, drove right onto the tarmac and broken into the cargo area of the plane.
“Estimates say these particularly rare diamonds could be worth up to fifty million dollars or more,” I read, my voice quivering. “Fuck…”
I’d sold a lot of jewels in my life, and I knew loose polished diamonds like this were worth a small fortune, but I never expected it would be that much. I picked one up between my fingertips, holding it up to the light and watching it refract off the edges.
“Why are you so special?” I wondered.
Artie would indeed be missing them.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he was missing them more than his dead wife, in fact.
It was hard to imagine that Tulsa Paige was dead. Well-known and well-loved in the industry, she was the darling of every party she went to. Like her husband, she had a lot of clout. There was no doubt in my mind her death would be something that was talked about for decades.
My anger at Artie grew by the second. I wasn’t the least bit shocked, though. My presence there gave him an out. It could have been anyone. A straggling guest. A waiter, a valet driver, a security guard — anyone at all.
THE HUSTLE: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK FOURTEEN) Page 4
