Page 33 of Dark Reasons

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My finger clicks overthe ATM keys. A few are tarnished, unreadable, but I know what the numbers are. Context is powerful. It's the reason I figured out that Jamison wasn't letting me gofree,he was just looking for a way to tell me that even ifhewere gone... dead or arrested by my actions...

I'd still end up in the ground.

I wonder who he'd send to kill me,I muse, waiting for the machine to pull up my account.Would it be that guy in the backroom of the tattoo parlor? Or someone else? How many other hit men does he know?

The only thing that gives me some satisfaction is how I didn't take his bait. I'd never walk away from this plan.

What if I'd said yes?

He wasn't looking for a yes,I remind myself bitterly,it was just a cruel way to make me understand my situation.His best offer involved him becoming mystalker.Who admits to that?

Someone who tried to break into my phone.

I mull over last night while poking the ATM some more. I try not to think about how much money I'm taking out. Money that isn't mine. Not really. I jump at the angry beep from the machine. "What the hell?" I grumble, reading the error message. "Max limit reached?" The machine has spit out ten thousand dollars, and it's telling me that's my daily limit. My stomach drops into my feet as I collect the stack of hundreds from the tray.Shit.

Carefully putting the money in my purse, I hustle back to the car. Jamison left it in front of Egg Biscuit. He doesn't look at me when I climb inside, he just starts the engine. "Well?" he asks.

I gnaw at my bottom lip. "Minor problem."

He'd started to reverse; he hits the brakes, turning towards me. "I'm listening."

"The ATM wouldn't let me take out more than ten grand." I show him the money in my purse, thumbing the edge of the papers. "I can get the rest tomorrow."

His brow drives low over his black eyes. "How do I know this isn't all the money you have?"

"Because it isn't. Here, look." I pass him the account slip that shows the remaining funds. He squints at the faded printed numbers, then reverses the car out of the plaza. "So... we're good?" I ask.

"Tomorrow you'll get the rest."

Breathing out in relief, I sink into the passenger seat. "Then what's next? Searching for Caruso?"

"I'm not doing any work until you pay the fee."

"What?" I balk. "But... that's not fair!"

"It's just business," he sighs, turning the corner. "Anyway, I don't even know who this guy is or where to find him. There are a lot of steps in plotting out an assassination, Selena."

"I'll google his name." I take out my phone, starting to type. "Caruso Oakley, let's see what comes up." The car stops short—he reaches over, snatching my phone. "Hey!" I gasp. "What the fuck!"

"Don't look things up on your personal phone," he scowls. "That's making a trail. Do you want his murder tied back to you?"

"Then how do you expect me to figure out where this guy is?" I bite back.

"You let me handle it." He tosses my phone back into my lap, his attention on the road again. I glower quietly at him as he drives us further into the city. Neither of us speaks for a full two minutes.

I break first.

"How can you handle it," I say, chewing each word like it hurts, "if you aren't doing any work until I pay the rest of the fee?"

His smile is vague and definitely cynical. "You'll find out tomorrow, when the bank releases the rest of the money."

"I'm not waiting another whole day!" I shout.

"You don't have a choice."

"Yeah, I fucking do. Let me out." I jiggle the door handle.

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