I know how this is going to go down; we’ve been over it a million times in the last twenty-four hours, and everything up until my actual part in it is planned perfectly. It’s what they do. There’s nothing for me to worry about unless Luther suddenly decides that I’ll look better dead, which I wouldn’t completely put past him. I just have to hope that he’s still as fond of me as he’s always been.

“Come in!”

Suddenly not feeling the fondness. My gut clenches as Arlie inches open the door and pulls me through after her.

Luther is the only one here, gun on his desk, relaxed back in his chair as he watches us enter and take the seats across from him. There’s something curious in his stare as his eyes roam from Arlie to me and back again.

We wait him out. Arlie, because she has the patience of a saint, and me, because she had the good sense to gag me and make sure I can’t give anything away.

“Where’s Colin?” he finally asks after the silence has gone stale between us.

“Contained.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna need more proof than that.”

Like it’s some huge imposition and not at all planned, Arlie logs into the security footage they set up and turns it so Luther can see. Even without a view of the screen, I know what it shows. Colin, bound and gagged like me, sitting in a chair in the middle of the warehouse we just left, with Ever standing over him, gun in his hand.

Arlie manages a smirk, which isn’t something she does lightly. “Ever isn’t happy that he doesn’t get to play with him.”

Luther goes on studying the screen. “After all the headaches this man has caused me, I want him dead already. No more fucking around.”

“Cool. Give me the address, and I’ll make the call.”

Luther freezes for a second before leaning back in his chair. “The deal was that you’d exchange them both.”

“Yeah, but I’m smarter than that. I brought this one”—she nods my way—“in good faith. Once I have the address, you can either choose for Everett to bring the job here or get rid of him immediately.”

Luther looks me over. ‘‘You’re okay with turning your friend over like this?”

Arlie shrugs, and if I doubted she was the right person for the job before, I don’t now. She’s perfected the complete level of disconnect needed to sell her answer. “Perry’s not my friend. He’s a mildly annoying cling-on that refuses to leave us alone at our table no matter how many times I ask him to.”