Page 120 of Trailer Park Billionaire
“No. Wait. You can’t,” he says high-pitched. “You don’t understand.”
“No,” I say, spinning to face him, “you don’t understand. He’s doing this because he’s a stubborn idiot with a hero complexand too many unresolved childhood traumas. And I can’t let that happen.”
“Well, yeah,” Alex nods. “That’s true. Although, to be fair, he does want you to be safe.”
“Yeah, and I want him to not rot in prison.” I toss Alex the crumpled letter. “Besides, the kids at the trailer park need him more than the local prison kitchen does.”
Alexei nods slowly. “Agreed. But you still don’t understand. I need the RV to get to the St. Clair’s estate. I’m supposed to rob them while Ben keeps them busy getting arrested.”
Robyn cocks her water gun with the kind of glee that makes me worry for anyone crossing her. “Sounds like to me, that you’re going to stop your dumbass boyfriend from sacrificing himself, and Alex and I are gonna rob a bunch of billionaires at the same time?”
Alex tilts his head, his eyebrows raised like it’s not the worst idea he’s heard recently. “I mean… I guess that could work?”
“I’m in,” she grins. “Gun’s already loaded anyway.” Robyn grabs a glass from the table next to her and squirts an amber liquid into it, then downs it in one go and wiggles her head a little. “I put the peaty whiskey in here. Didn’t know if you might actually need it,” she says in my direction. “Anyway, you should go. We’ll be fine here. We’ll use the Haven transport van. The one that takes people to their doctor’s appointments. Guy can drive, Earnest can handle the security system. Paige and Sienna can help with the loot. And I guess Alex can be in charge of the snacks. It’ll be like Ocean’s Eleven… but with more arthritis.”
“Great,” I say, already heading for the elevator. “You do that. I’ve got an idiot to save.”
Alex calls after me. “You know, he won’t let you. He thinks he’s protecting you.”
I press the elevator button and pace on the spot waiting for it to arrive.
“I know,” I say softly. “Maybe now it’s my turn to protect him from himself.”
And then I’m gone. Out into the night.
Towards the museum. Towards Ben.
Towards whatever stupid, self-sacrificing plan he’s about to execute like a tragic Shakespearean side-character with a great smile and zero sense of self-preservation.
He thinks he’s the villain in this story.
But I’m not letting him write that ending without me.
Not when I’ve finally found someone worth stealing back.
42
HELENA
The RV rattles like it’s personally offended by my urgency. I take a hard left, tires squealing and then lifting off the ground slightly. I imagine Ben bumping his head against the passenger door when the car comes back down.
“Okay,” I say to the empty passenger seat, as if he’s sitting there with his stupid, hopeful eyes and that ridiculous ability to make me believe in things I shouldn’t. “What if I go in, hit you over the head, drag you back out, and we flee. To Laos. Together.”
Ben’s imaginary self raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re strong enough for that plan or that my family will just let you walk away?”
“Fine,” I mutter. “What if I show up and confess to the cops? Say everything you did was actually me. I orchestrated it. I’ll say I tricked you. That you’re the victim. That I’m blackmailing you.”
Imaginary Ben snorts. “Helena, I’m on my way to prison right now. You think I’d let you go through with that? That I’ll let you take the fall for me?”
I grip the wheel tighter.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
Ben’s quiet for a second. Then he sighs. “I love you, Helena. But you need to stop.”
“Fuck you,” I whisper. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”
I swerve around the parking lot behind the museum and slam on the brakes. Because the whole block is drowning in red and blue. The lights paint the museum’s façade like it’s bleeding—like something valuable has already been stolen.
