Page 31 of Dark Wishes

I’d started to turn for the door—I freeze where I am. She’s forcing me into her bubble, my ability to disassociate fading away with the ease of her kind smile. “I didn’t even tell you what he did.”

“Doesn’t matter. I saw the look on your face when you were in here the other day. The way you scrambled for that contract... you’re serious about killing him. This isn’t a flippant thing for you.”

“No,” I agree.

“Then he deserves it." She flashes me a compassionate smile. “Goodluck.”

Her well-wishes take the wind out of me. Jamison steps between us, gently guiding me by my shoulder towards the door. I don’t shake him off. Iris has, with just a few words, reminded me what matters. She didn’t need to pry into my history to come to her conclusion. Her acceptance, given so freely, is like a shot of honey to my sleepy brain.

Asking Jamison about Sanford risks delaying my mission. It’s better to play dumb, just leave it alone, until I get what I came for.

I won’t let Valoria’s revenge wait another minute.

“Thank you,” I call out to Iris.

I’ve never meant it more in my life.

Chapter Nine

Selena

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Turning the pistol in my hands, rediscovering the weight of it, I let out a low breath. The last time I held my gun, Jamison snatched it away without effort. I’m shocked he’s given it back; I take it as a sign hedoestrust me. Running away is one thing, giving me an opportunity to shoot him in the back is another.

“Weird, it’s lighter than last time.”

“It hasn’t changed,” Jamison says.

No. It’s me who has.

“How about this?” I ask, sticking the gun down the front of my dress, straight into my cleavage. I don’t normallyhavecleavage, but the push-up bra combined with the low-cut fuchsia dress is doing amazing things.

Jamison narrows his eyes at my chest. Quick as a cobra he grabs the hilt of the pistol, yanking it out while I squeak. “Do you want to shoot yourself that badly?”

“I’ll keep the safety on,” I argue.

“That will slow you down.” He sounds annoyed with me. He’s been acting like this since we drove towards Sparks Entertainment. “Lift up your dress.”

I balk, gripping the hem protectively. “What?”

“You need to strap it inside your thigh. It won’t be noticed, and you can pull it out easily when the time comes.”

“How the hell do I attach it?” I ask, frustration tinging every word. I hate thathehates my ideas.People hide guns down the front of their clothes in movies all the time. It’s a perfectly good idea; he’s just being difficult.

He motions at me with his chin. “Lean back in your seat.”

We’re tucked inside his car in a tight alley, no more than a block away from Caruso’s studio. There are no cameras plastered on the outside of the dog grooming salon across the street or the bakery to our left. We know this thanks to thehelpJamison called in two hours ago.

This time, when we went to see Rory, I remained in the car. Jamison went up to discuss our plans without me. He didn’t insist I go inside Rory’s apartment, though he could have. I appreciated how understanding Jamison was.

It would be great if he showed more of that side of himnow.

Cringing at his serious stare, I push myself back against the passenger seat. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

“We don’t have time to go over pointless details,” he growls. There it is again—why is he so upset? “Lift your dress or I’ll do it for you.”

He isn’t joking. Swallowing uncomfortably, I hook my dress up my thighs until it’s bunched on my hips. Jamison pops open the center console, digging inside, rustling papers and other things. “Hold still,” he instructs me.

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