Page 9 of Dark Prince

Listening closely, I can hear sounds of movement on the other side. We’re definitely not alone. He probably has some kind of code word to call in the goons.

“Don’t bother sitting,” he tells me gruffly. “This won’t take long.”

A cold shiver of fear runs down my spine. My self-preservation instinct is screaming at me to get out of there, to run as far from this guy as I can, and the acrid odors drifting up over the makeshift walls only amplify my fear. Jason used to show up to my apartment smelling like that sometimes, tripping balls and half-crazed.

My throat tightens, and I hate it. I don’t want anyone to see how much of a physical reaction I’m having to this place.

“It shouldn’t,” I agree, pretending that I’m not one loud noise away from wetting myself. “You’ve received some bad information, and I’m here to clear it up for you.”

The guy—Reese, I guess—raises one eyebrow and twists his mouth distastefully. “Are you accusing me of not checking my sources?”

“I haven’t accused you of anything,” I say as calmly as I can. “Jason’s debt is in no way connected to the girl who was attacked this morning.”

He snorts a little laugh. “Attacked? That wasn’t an attack. That was a collection letter.” He sighs dramatically and begins explaining the situation to me with a patronizing tone. “Listen, doll, here’s how it works. Someone like Jason, who has a reputation for skimming off the top and shitting where he eats, cannot do business with reputable people, such as myself, without some sort of guarantee. The little lady we spoke to today was that guarantee.”

“Did you ever speak—actually speak—to her in person before accepting that she was legitimately his guarantor?”

I don’t bother softening my tone. I’m furious and irritated, and if he’s planning on killing me I doubt my attitude will change his mind one way or the other. And while neither will get me far, I think rage gives me a better chance than fear in a place like this.

He cocks his head to one side and frowns at me. “It seemed unnecessary. Jason provided us with all of her information, and even showed us texts in which she agreed to have his back in the event of an unforeseen circumstance.”

I press my lips flat together and shake my head. Two can play the patronizing game. “And it never occurred to you that he might have stolen her information? Used it without permission? Never occurred to you that maybe he faked those texts with Photoshop or something?”

The man shrugs liquidly at me, and suddenly I’m aware that I haven’t seen him blink once.

God, that’s unnerving as fuck.

“I honestly couldn’t imagine him having that much foresight, never mind intelligence. And I still can’t. Listen, doll, if your little friend bit off more than she can chew with Jason, that’s not my problem. You know what my problem is? It’s the ten thousand dollars that little shit owes me. I’d prefer to get it from him, of course, but I’ll take the girl instead. I’ll make that money back one way or another. I’m sure you understand.”

He gives me a slow, almost reptilian smile that sends shivers through me. I know what he’s implying: using Cassidy’s body, by any means necessary, to earn back that money.

“You don’t need to do that,” I blurt out. I don’t know how I’m keeping my voice steady, but I’m going to run with it. “We can work this out without involving her. She was never connected to Jason’s business. She doesn’t have any idea where he is or what he owes or why. She should never have been brought into this—”

The man gives me a look that says everything. He really doesn’t give a shit how true it is that she has nothing to do with Jason. And honestly, I don’t know what made me think he would. It’s about the money, and only that.

My heart is beating erratically, and something in the back of my head starts to worry it’s loud enough for him to hear. I take a slow, calming breath to try and cling to my composure. I haven’t thought anything through, but my mouth starts blurting out words in hopes of finding an answer to the problem.

“You’re a creative sort of person.” I gesture around at the awful room, putting on the timeless customer service flattery that has gotten me through the worst of customer interactions. “So let’s get creative. How can we fix this while leaving my sister out of it?”

His dark eyes flash dangerously, and for a second I think he’s going to hit me, or worse. I stand my ground, in spite of my knees begging to rattle, and meet his eyes evenly. Our gazes lock, and after a moment, some of the harshness fades from his expression. His brows furrow as if he’s actually considering what I said.

“Admirable timing,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. “Interesting, interesting. Invested…deeplyinvested. I think I like that… I’ll forgive the debt,” he says before his voice fades off into speculation. “I will forgive the debt—if.”

I don’t know how I’m standing straight at this point. It feels as though my bones are vibrating with fear. My mind is jumping to the worst possible guesses of what he might ask for in return for forgiving Cassidy’s supposed debt.

Human trafficking, drug mule, prostitution…

I stop the thoughts short and square my shoulders. “If what?”

That slow smile splits his face once more. His eyes are burning coals, taking in my discomfort and relishing it.

“There’s something I need,” he says, his voice low and almost suggestive. “Something I can’t buy. It’s a little thing, one that doesn’t look particularly expensive, but it’s an extremely valuable artifact. And it’s missing from my collection. I want you to get it for me.”

An errand? How is it possible that he’s letting me off this easy? There has to be more to it. I nod slowly, however, and ask, “Where do I find it? How do I get it?”

He smirks and crosses his arms. “For the first, you will find it in Lucas Hale’s office. You know the name, I’m sure.”

My stomach churns, bile rising and falling in my throat like waves in a stormy sea. “Lucas Hale’s office?” I whisper.

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