Odd Man Out Syndrome was Owen’s favorite malady. Sickness as a superpower, really. Except when it came to Marcelline. If there was even more whispering behind his back than he’d imagined, that insult was something he might sink his teeth into. And Samantha had never once convinced him to unlock his jaw off anything.

She picked up a little plush box, colorful beads over turquoise silk. A gift from M. She wasn’t thrilled about putting Marcelline in jeopardy. But considering the Flinck was in the wind again after all this time, and that Owen was tangled in it once more, it was better for them to meet on purpose than by accident.

•  •  •

Owen picked up right away. “Samantha. Always a pleasure to see your name pop up on the screen.”

“You just want me to ask you what name you’ve saved this number under and I don’t want to know.”

“You might. It’s hilarious.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re not really a funny guy, Owen. Sorry.”

He chuckled down the line. Warm-ups. Both of them oiling up their most pleasant voices with all the smiles in them. This is what they did because when Samantha called Owen, or Owen called Samantha, one or the other or both would be reasonably likely to have something negotiable to say over the next minutes.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”

“Well, it’s about the Flinck.” In the expected pause, Samantha petted the smooth lavender finish on her squared manicure.

“Hmmm. It’s fairly coincidental that you would bring that up right now.”

“I’m almost positive you don’t believe in coincidences.”

“Don’t I?” A resigned anger crept into his voice. “I have to, because this is one hell of a coincidence. As it happens, I’m picking up that very thing here in just a couple of hours.”

Samantha wasn’t afraid of Owen’s anger. Not for herself, anyway. “Except maybe not.”

Owen sighed. “So, what am I doing then? Go ahead. Say it. What has that pointless little ratfuck done now? I know he wants more money, but, really, Samantha? How did you link up with that piece of shit? It’s beneath you.”

“It’s not him. It’s Marcelline.”

She knew he’d need another second with that one. She waited, turning the box on her desk and watching the light play through the glass beads, throwing a patchy rainbow onto the wall beside her.

“Oh, I see. Ah. Right.” Owen went a stormy kind of quiet again. “It was you. You made her a ghost. That’s why I could never find her. Wow. Of course. You’ve known where she was this whole time. And now you bitches are playing me, all the way down to this.”

“Take it easy.”