Page 34 of Dark Reasons

Jamison swerves the car off the road, then back on, rattling me with the ferocity of the motion. "Are you crazy? I'm not letting you out of a moving car!"

"Thenstop driving."

"Selena, you're not going anywhere."

"You're telling me I have to sit around all day doing nothing while you count down the hours until I pass you the rest of the money? No. No way. I'm searching for Valoria's killer."

"Just be patient," he growls.

"I'm done with patience." I pull the handle—he pops the lock back down. I yank it up, and he curses, guiding the car quickly off the road to park it behind a brown van at one of the many sidewalk meters.

The engine dies and he twists to glare at me. "You don't get that there is a process to my work."

"I guarantee you didn't make your other clients wait around like this."

"My other clientspaid in fullwhen they signed their contract."

"It's not that. I have a feeling you're treating me different."

That gets a rude laugh out of him. "You're right, with good reason. No one who's hired me before has been twisted enough to want to be involved in the actual slaughter."

"You want me to sit on my hands."

"Yes! That's how this goes! You sit and wait until the job is done."

"Nope. I told you, I want to be the one who kills him." I spot something out the window and tap the glass. "Look, there. Can't we use the computers in the library?"

He sees where I'm looking. His slowness to respond emboldens me; I open the door, avoiding him when he swipes to catch my arm. "Hey!"

"I'll get things started," I say. He climbs over my seat, hanging out the door, but I dodge away from his reach.

He grumbles something under his breath, before yelling, "Wait!"

I pause on the grassy slope that leads to the library. "What's the harm in letting me search Caruso's name?"

He sighs. "Get back in the car."

"I don't think I will."

Jamison's eyes flash, darkening past black. Then he wipes his face with a hand and lets out a tired breath. "I'll take you to where we get our intel. It's more reliable, and definitely safer, than a public library."

"You mean it?" I ask, gliding my foot closer to him. "You'll really help me find Caruso? Today, right now, without the rest of the money?"

"It's better than risking you getting caught doing something illegal."

Hopping into the car I shut the door. Jamison eyes move magnetically to mine. "I'm smiling, aren't I?"

"You're about to shoot into the sky like a rocket," he says miserably.

He's right—I'm wriggling in my seat in a mix of joy and impatience. Even the congestion on the freeway can't dampen my mood. Eventually we break out of the traffic, parked cars blurring past us on a quieter street.

I don't recognize where we are—I think it's somewhere in Echo Park. Searching for anything I'll recognize, I'm tossed against my door when Jamison jerks the car around a corner into an underground parking structure. It's dark here, none of the lights in the cracked ceiling work. "Where are we?" I ask.

He stops between the faded yellow lines of a marked spot. There's a dented, red Hyundai across from us, a blue Camry to our left. No other cars are here. "It's a private lot that belongs to my coworker. He lives in the building above us."

I squint out the window at the busted light strips. "What if he's not home?"

"Rory doesn't leave."

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