Page 39 of Dark Reasons

Because they betrayed him.

Because he thought they did him wrong.

Had that really happened? What if the story is true, but the slight wasn't? How far can Jamison be pushed before he perceives something I do as abetrayal?Jumping down the steps as fast as I can without snapping my neck, I burst into the parking lot. Stumbling through the shadows I brace myself on the trunk of his car.

You always knew he could kill you,I remind myself harshly.Don't let this get to you! You have a job to finish. A person to avenge.

I peer back over my shoulder, expecting Jamison to be looming there. The small hairs on the nape of my neck tingle. I'm alone, but my thoughts are horrible enough that I don't feel like I am.I could just ask him, right?What an idea.Hey, Jamison? Did you murder your sister? Did she deserve it?

Did all those innocent bystanders?

My skull is splitting, the skin across it too small for my brain beneath. Clutching my head I hunch over, face on the cold metal. I need to get a grip. Jamison is going to ask me what's wrong if I don't get a better mask on.

He can read me like a favorite book.I think about last night and my cheeks heat up.Those hands of his that made me feel good, they were the last ones to touch his sister before she went cold.

The stairwell door opens, creaking, whining. Jamison stands in the threshold. He's a pure black specter, I only know it's him because Rory is shorter, and no one else is here. His shoe glides softly over the concrete. I'm watching him, ears straining, but hearingnothing.

Yes. I think he could kill a room of people and get away unscathed.

"What's wrong?" he asks when he gets close. I don't retreat, only because the car stops me. "You're acting strange."

"I'm just thinking about Caruso."

His eyes narrow under scrunched eyebrows. "You were acting like this before you heard where his business was located." I don't have anything to say to that. My silence pushes him to get closer; I'm pinned between him and the trunk. "Did Rory tell you something?"

The ripples that roll up my spine steal my breath. "No," I croak.

Jamison clenches his jaw. "Tell me."

"I... don't know if I can," I say honestly.

Something softens in his features. Dipping his head, he bends lower until we're eye to eye. His hands grip the car, making a barrier with me in the middle. "He told you my nickname, didn't he. The Silencer."

I fight the urge to grimace and fail. "He might have."

The tension smooths from his forehead; he swings his head lightly, chuckling in the base of his throat. The sound is delicious. It's almost enough to calm my nerves. "That asshole. This is why he has no friends, he loves terrorizing people too much."

"But is it true?" I ask in a whisper.

"Yes," he sighs, looking extremely drained. Watching my face, he hesitates. "It's impossible to work in my industry and not become notorious. Having a name like the Silencer benefits me. It's frightening, it acts as a warning, and it gives me a name to go by other than my real one."

"Wait, is Jamison yourrealreal name?" I ask dubiously.

"It is," he laughs. "I don't give it out much in day to day conversation." He grins in that angled way of his. "You tried to give me a fake name when we first met, I recall. Polly, was it?"

"I thought that was the smart move. I guess the better one would have been to have not met you at all, huh?" I say it with a teasing smile.

The light fades from Jamison's eyes. His grin goes away. "You're right."

"Oh, fuck. I didn't mean to offend you."Whydid that upset him?

"You didn't. Come on, let's get out of here," he says, backing away from me. I'm free from his body trapping me on the car. I should feel relieved. Instead, I have burrs in my stomach.

He enters his car, I get in on the other side. "Where are we going?"

"We need to make plans, and I'd rather do that when I'm not starving."

"So... you want me to look up restaurants near my apartment?"

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