Page 27 of Dark Wishes

“Why?” I blurt.

His jaw clenches, the line of his jugular swelling, flexing, the way he would if he were chewing.

Before he speaks, I say, “It would be easier for you if I died in there. Am I wrong?”

The full body shudder that assaults him fascinates me. “I don’t need you dead.”

“But if I was, the Sanford problem gets easier. I’m a loose thread.”

“You’re a thorn in my side is what you are,” he growls. He puts his hand out, palm up, clearly trying to appease me. “I take my duties seriously. You’re my client, I’ll fulfill our contract while keeping my reputation in good shape.”

“You mean it.”

“Yes,” he sighs in exasperation, “I mean it.”

I try to read his mind. It’s foolish, but it’s also the only way to learn what he really plans for me. I’m greeted with my own spiraling thoughts and not a sudden talent in telekinesis.

Will he keep me safe? Is this a ruse? What reason could he have for keeping me safe, because it can’t be just his pride. That’s not enough.

If he'd told me the truth about his sister—not what happened, just acknowledging her existence—I could have convinced myself there was a chance his heart wasn’t black as coal. That he wasn’t praying for a way to get rid of me...

That last night was more than a passionate mistake.

Jamison flinches when I slap the stack of bills into his open palm. “Alright,” I say, shrugging as casually as I’m able. “Tell me your plan.”

***

A double cheeseburger tastes extra good when you’re plotting revenge.

It’s even better with the cooling breeze skirting off the Pacific Ocean just yards away. The burger shack off Malibu is tucked away from the main tourist spots. The parking lot is coated in layers of sand that hide the faded lines, but it can’t fit more than four cars, and one of those had better be a compact.

It doesn’t matter because today, the lot is empty. We have the singular picnic table to ourselves. I’ve staked out the bench that lets me face the ocean, while Jamison sits across from me, slightly to my left, to not block my view.

“This is really delicious,” I say around a mouthful of cheese and sesame seeds. “Have you been here before?”

Jamison tips his straw from his lips. The ice inside his coke rattles as it melts in the soda; he’s already downed half and we haven’t been here for more than ten minutes. “Enough times to know when it’s quiet.”

I nod in understanding.No cameras, no bystanders. Perfect place to discuss a murder.Wiping a napkin over my lips I drinksome of my lemonade, letting out a satisfied gasp. “I might have to get a second order of fries. I’m starving from skipping breakfast.”

“There’s a great place to get fresh pasta further to the south, but they don’t open until six. We can go if you’d like.”

My eyes narrow pointedly on his overt calm tone. “If you’re trying to make me choose fancy pasta over Caruso, forget it.”

“I’d never try to change your mind.”

“Please,” I snort. “You’ve done it already.”And I still don’t know why.“We’re here, let’s talk shop.”

Jamison twirls the ice in his drink, then sets it aside. Am I crazy, or is he just leaking waves of resignation? “We need to either wait outside his studio to catch him off guard, or we need to get inside.”

“Your plan sounds exactly like mine.”

“Hardly. You’re not going in there alone, Selena.”

“Of course I am! I won’t get a second glance, but you think they won’t wonder who the hell you are?”

“Why would I stick out more than you?”

“Because I’ll look like every other smoking hot girl they lure into their den.”

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