Page 21 of Kill Your Darlings

The important thing was to stick to the schedule.It was imperative to stay on track.Imperative to do nothing that appeared out-of-character or drew unwanted attention.

I listened to the echo of those thoughts and realized it sounded like I was prepping for the role of villain inPoker FaceorColumbo.

I wasn’t the villain of the piece.I had zero intention of doing anyone harm, let alone committing murder.But I also had no idea what I was dealing with.No idea what U.N.Owen wanted.Nothing good, seemed a safe assumption.

Maybe this situation could be resolved through open dialogue.

Probably not.Open dialogue would have likely started with…dialogue.Not a fake book submission.

Blackmail?

Blackmail was the obvious answer.I kept coming back to blackmail.

And, if this was indeed an attempt at extortion?

I wasn’t going to be blackmailed.That was for damn sure.

But was I really prepared to go to the police?Confess my part in Dom’s death?

The wave of cold nausea that swept over me answered that question.

And if I wasn’t willing to go to the police—or give in to blackmail—what were my options?

Limited.

At best.

Had Milo received one of these… Well, he wouldn’t have received a book submission.He wouldn’t have received anything because how would anyone find him?I’d tried for years without success.

Unless Milo was the one behind U.N.Owen?

No.Once again paranoia was waving hello from the fun house.There was no way Milo could threaten me without putting himself in jeopardy.

No, Milo was not U.N.Owen.If not outright paranoia, the idea was surely wishful thinking.

Because Milo was almost certainly dead.

Chapter Six

“I should have just stuck with Millbrook when I had the chance,” Christopher Holmes was saying.

We were sitting in the comfortable indoor dining room of Wave Street Café.Sunshine glinted off the small forest of potted herbs and succulents lining the sills of high windows.Muted jazz played low beneath the clink of dishes and the hiss of the espresso machine.Tucked off Cannery Row and only about a three-minute walk from the hotel, the café was a cozy, upscale-casual breakfast and brunch spot popular with locals, but undiscovered (so far) by conference attendees.

“Why didn’t you?”I’d been curious about that decision for a while.

His world-weary sigh was so heavy it nearly blew the foam cap off his vanilla latte.

“I don’t know.”He grimaced.“I was convinced either Rachel coerced you into it, or you were offering me a deal for old time’s sake.”

I put down my fork.“You think I’d offer you a book deal if I didn’t actually want the book?”

His brown eyes met my gaze directly.“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“I think you’re sentimental, yes.”

I smiled ruefully, “I’m not at all sentimental.I wanted that book.I loved working with you and I love Miss Butterwith.Hell, Miss B.was my first big discovery.I was more than happy to regain control of the series.”

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