That itchy heat turns into a rush of annoyance. “I’m not running. Whatever my motives may be, my offer is real. Sam might be a lost cause, but I owe my mother more than you can understand. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her peace of mind intact.”

I don’t know what he sees in my expression—I’m not even sure what I’m feeling right now: fear, anger, determination, even a weird sense of anticipation.

When he finally answers, his tone is all-business. “If I accept the bet, you’ll live here. Your room and board will be included.”

It is surprisingly generous of him to offer room and board.

“And if Sam returns with the watch before the year is up, I keep whatever salary I’ve earned for the duration.”

His eyes narrow. “Fair enough. But when you work for me, you do as I say—no questions asked, no holding this little agreement over my head. You own it.”

This is real. A cold sweat breaks over me, my lips going numb. I concentrate on breathing through my nose and trying not to be sick.

“It’s killing you, isn’t it?” he says, way too pleased. “The thought of being subservient to me.”

“What was your first clue, Detective?”

His grin is all teeth and anticipation. “I’ll own you, Delilah. For one year, your ass will be mine.”

Good Lord, he says it like he relishes the idea. Like he has plans for me. The little hairs along the back of my neck stand up and quiver. My fingers curl into a fist. “I’ll work for you. You won’t own shit.”

“Good as,” he counters.

“If you’re trying to run me off, it won’t work.”

“Better you do it now than three weeks into it.”

Like Sam.

I wish I knew how to read Macon better. He barely gives anything away that he clearly doesn’t want me to see. But there are things I have to know. “Anything happen between you and Sam?”

Right now, he might as well be a wall of granite. “You think I was fucking her? I don’t know why you’d care either way.”

“I don’t. But if this is some sick game of revenge between the two of you, I want to know about it now.”

Leaning forward, he rests his good arm on the desk. The movement isn’t exactly slow, but it lacks his usual grace, and I wonder how much his injuries pain him. “I wouldn’t touch your sister while wearing a hazmat suit. She’s her own level of toxic. I learned that long ago.”

He isn’t wrong, but I’m surprised that he is aware of Sam’s faults and that he has actually voiced them to me. “That’s an unkind thing to say about your childhood sweetheart.”

He blinks at that as though I’ve surprised him too. But the stoic expression remains. “I never considered her my sweetheart.” The ice in Macon’s eyes thaws just a bit as he studies me. “Last chance, Delilah. Call it off, and we’ll both pretend it never happened.”