But it didn’t seem like Jason was going to give him a choice. He dug his gun so hard into Micah’s forehead that he was sure it’d leave indents. “The watch. Now.”

Seeing no other option other than to comply, Micah unclasped the watch from his wrist – hands surprisingly steady as he gave it to Jason, who immediately pocketed the timepiece.

“Now your cellphone,” Jason said.

Moving slowly and nonthreateningly, Micah did as he was instructed. But Jason only frowned, confused when Micah handed over his cracked phone – the state-of-the-art iPhone Damon had gifted him left behind in his apartment as usual.

“What the fuck is this?”

“My phone.” Micah didn’t actually say “duh” – he wasn’t suicidal – but his tone certainly implied the word.

Jason scowled. “Don’t be a smartass. There’s no way Damon allows you to strut around with only this piece of trash for communication.”

Micah shrugged. “Like I said in the car, you don’t know shit about mine and Damon’s relationship.”

Micah became intimately acquainted with Jason’s gun – a semi-automatic revolver, he was pretty sure – when the man jammed it into his side.

Micah winced, but he forced himself to remain as still as possible as Jason patted him down and turned out his pockets, all the while digging the barrel of his gun into his ribs, threatening to blow apart his insides.

“Damon will murder you, you know. If you go through with this.” It wasn’t even a threat – it was a fact.

Jason didn’t respond, but he seemed satisfied that Micah didn’t have any other communicative devices on him because he removed his gun from Micah’s side and took a step backward.

“Sit down,” he said, gesturing at the couch in the living room. Micah imagined blood would be a nightmare to get out of the cream-colored upholstery.

“You don’t have to do this,” Micah said, even as he hesitantly obeyed and lowered himself onto the couch.

Assuming he intended to kill him, Micah wasn’t sure why Jason hadn’t just shot him already. He’d had plenty of opportunity. Whatever the reason, it gave Micah hope that maybe – just maybe – Jason didn’t actually want to kill him, and perhaps he could salvage the situation without bloodshed.

That didn’t mean Micah didn’t have to force down the urge to thrash or kick out when Jason pulled out a pair of zip ties and used them to bind his wrists and ankles together. Reminding himself that he’d been trained how to get out of zip ties, Micah forced himself to remain calm, pushing the panic he could feel threatening to rise in his chest as deep down as he could, even as the plastic wire dug into the thin skin of his wrists.