Page 12 of Dark Wishes (Dark Contract #2)

Selena

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This bank isn’t one I’ve been to before.

Jamison picked it, declaring that any branch would work.

In a rare occurrence, I believe him. There’s no tactical reason to keep me from showing up on my usual bank’s camera twice; the transactions will be embossed in time via some computer data center.

The cops can reference it with a basic warrant.

Do they have a warrant yet? Probably not, or they’d call and tell me. It’s easier to threaten someone to turn themselves in than hunt them down. They don’t have a warrant because they don’t have anything. They’re chasing whispers with no substance.

I bend over the ATM and scoop up the chunk of bills.

My account is essentially drained, though I have a little in my savings.

If Dad doesn’t give me the predictable monthly deposit of 3 grand on the fifteenth—just five days away—I'll be in trouble. Mom’s bills cost over half of that 3 thousand bucks each month.

If I miss a payment, the facility will give me some wiggle room, but. ..

I pause in the middle of stuffing my backpack. Jamison knows about my mom and dad now. The only person who knew my situation was Valoria.

She’d been sympathetic, avoiding bringing up my dad; better than that, she’d fawned over my mother.

On video calls the two of them could chat forever.

Valoria wasn’t faking interest, oh no. She would sit wide-eyed and invested in every story Mom told.

Even if it was just repeating the plot of a movie for the fifth time, Valoria was locked in.

What does Jamison think about all this?

I don’t need his pity. But... it’s nice to not have to hide my secret. Slipping off to the garage to make the phone call was stressful. I'm jittery at the mere memory of him standing behind me. How long was he there for? A minute? The whole call?

Gathering myself, I jog towards his car where he parked it down the block. He watches me approach, his eyes the usual impenetrable onyx glacier. I thought I’d be able to read him better after last night. What a naive thing to imagine.

“Well?” he asks the second I climb inside the car.

I unzip my bag, showing him the money inside. “I’ve got it.”

Jamison reaches out; I slap his hand away, clicking my tongue like he’s a naughty cat. His wide eyes are satisfying. “Tell me that we’re going after Caruso today.”

“There’s no reason to be hasty.”

“Yes, there definitely is.”

“We need a solid plan first.”

“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. “Do you have 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?”

“Do you?” 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.”

“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 drink some 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.”

He draws himself up on the bench, neck bunching, frown becoming a wretched shape. “Really.”

“Yeah, it’s the easiest, most direct method.” I chew more of my burger, waiting for him to say something. When he just sits there brooding I slow my chewing. “Wait,” I say, swallowing. “You don’t like the idea of me showing off my boobs to get close to Caruso.”

His eyebrows draw together tightly. “I couldn’t care less.”

“Okay,” I say slowly, unconvinced. “Whatever. Even if it did bother you—”

“It doesn’t.”

“I’m still doing it. The issue is making sure Caruso will meet with me alone.

Just showing up looking sexy doesn’t mean they won’t shoo me off or have someone else talk to me about making videos.

I can lie pretty well, but the longer we chat, the more chances they’ll figure out I’m not who I say I am. ”

“Yes, that part is a problem,” he agrees.

“Is it safe to check their website for how to like, audition or whatever?”

“Not on our phones.”