Page 21 of Dark Reasons

"Maybe? Jamison, let go. Now."

He doesn't ease up; he puts more of his weight on me, clenching until my skin throbs. His face is placid... his tone soft, patient, unrelenting. "Does he know you by name?"

"I'm not sure."

"Think. And think hard."

I stop trying to get away, settling in my chair, but never taking my eyes off of his. "I've never said my name in front of him."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah. I always paid with cash, too, since that's all he takes." Judging his expression, trying to read him, I take a leap. "You're thinking of all the ways the cops might track me down if they connect me to the murder."

"Oneof us has to think about it." Jamison let's go of me, offering me a fork from the bag like nothing happened... like he wasn't just crushing my wrist to the point of pain. "I'm used to coming into a contract with clean hands."

"I doubt you've ever had clean hands," I mumble. Flexing my fingers, I stab my fork into the pile of food. "You really think the footage from the hotel will lead the police to me?"

"It's very possible."

"I had a costume on," I counter.

"But your face was visible."

"And I used a fake name, the hotel has no record of the real me. I also left my phoneherethe whole time, so there's no electronic trail. There's no way they can place me at the scene." Sweat glides down my back, making my shirt cling. I watch him for any sign I've eased his fear.

He scoops up a hunk of meat, violently gnawing it. I don't like how he keeps watching me... it makes it hard to eat. "There's a time for cockiness, Selena. This isn't it."

He's right,I acknowledge.

I glance at my phone, fiddling with it.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he prods.

Shoving the phone deep in the pocket of my shorts I scoop up some of the salty, sauce coated rice. I chew for a long while. There's lot Iwantto say, yet the words won't come out. Stalling for time I push my chair back and grab some bottled water from the fridge. "If you were in my shoes," I muse, setting a water on the table in front of him, "what would you do?"

"You mean if I'd gotten involved in a sloppy killing? Or if I'd hired a hit man who may or may not end my life at any moment?"

Choking on my mouthful of water, I give him a wry grin. "Oh, come on, we both know you're not going to kill me."

"You're so sure?" he muses.

I narrow my eyes, trying to remember why I'm confident I'm safe with this man. "You won't get any money until I pay you."

"True, but that just means you're safe for tonight."

"You'd kill me after getting paid? That's not good for your reputation."

"Spare me. I'm already wondering how far I've fallen by taking your contract in the first place."

Sitting back down I point my fork at him accusingly. "Who would judge you? The girl running the cover for your little "tattoo" business, or the guy who forced you to accept my signature? What was his name again?"

"We both know he didn't give it to you."

"Right, so you can tell me now."

"You don't need to know."

"I think—"

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