Page 26 of Dark Wishes

“Okay, let’s make one then. Here. Now.”

Jamison sends a scathing look that would debilitate most people. It makes my knees shake, but I’m sitting, so he can’t tell. My faux confidence is enough to get him to slump back in his seat, a hand over his closed eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“It’s not like this should come as some big shock to you. I’ve been repeating that I want to do this since we met.”

His hand droops lower, revealing one eye squinting miserably at me. “Doyouhave a plan? Even the barest framework of one?”

My grin causes him to squint harder. “A pretty good one, in fact. Caruso owns that gross studio. All I've got to do is show up pretending to be a girl ready to audition for his sick videos, then bam!” I point my finger to mimic a gun. “Actual bam, because I’ll blow a hole in his head.”

Jamison blows out air through his nose, throwing a long arm over the back of the driver’s seat. “Does his studio allow walks-ins?”

I cringe and say, “I’m sure they must.”

“Are they even doing auditions?”

“Uh, well, why wouldn’t they be?”

“Rory said there'd be intense security.”

I start to squirm. “It’s not an airport.”

“What happens if you do get inside? You shoot him, then what? Get caught? Fight your way out? Go to prison? Get killed by cops or an overzealous guard?”

“I don’t know!” I yell, my voice echoing through the car. Seeing his patient frown, I glare down at my feet, which are less irritating. “I don’t fucking know, and I don’t really care if they catch or kill me. As long as Caruso dies...”

“And your mother?”

Anger and shock steeps in my guts. “What about her?”

“If you die, who takes care of her?”

My heavy body holds me in place in my seat. I barely have the strength to push my hair from my eyes. “Telling you about my family was a mistake.”

“Your Mom—”

“Is my concern,” I snap, “not yours.”

“She relies on you, Selena. Unless you have some siblings I don’t know about?”

“Doyou?”I rasp, scrutinizing him closely.

Jamison is an empty vessel. I hadn’t planned to ask him this—not here, maybe not ever—but the moment rose like a humpback whale and I climbed on without thinking.

Without a single line creasing his face, he says, “I don’t.”

The recent pillar of trust we’d begun to build crumbles. “Neither do I.”

He nods slowly, glancing at the backpack in my lap. “Your plan isn’t a bad start. It’s just missing a crucial piece.”

“And that is?”

“Me.” His smile is warm, like spiced cider; it makes my heart somersault. “I’m a tool. A rather useful one, in fact. Use me, Selena. I'll get you close to Caruso, and you’ll still escape with your life.”

He sounds genuine. What a tragedy that he lies effortlessly.

Drumming my fingers on my bag, I hum pensively. “Our contract says I get to end his life. Me, not you. Can you really promise to make that happen while still getting me out of there alive?”

A sorrow I can’t find a source for flits through his face. “I won’t let you die.”

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