“I want to meet in person.”

“Naturally. But I would consider it a personal favor if you would give me your word that you won’t hurt her.”

“We’re not in the personal favors business, Samantha.”

She wished they had more time for Owen to cool off. He was still angry. But her reach was longer than his, and he knew it. She’d had enough of his attitude.

It wasn’t a habit of hers to draw a red line. Only two times in all her career. One confrontation had ended agreeably and they were still colleagues. The other ended with a burial at sea.

“Then let me put it this way, you gorilla. I have a pair of your gym socks. Think back. Where did I get them? Where did the blood come from that is all over them now? No matter what, she’s still a missing person, OJ. Don’t cross me. I don’t ask much, but this time, I’m not really asking.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Owen had kicked the leg of the desk in his hotel room, upending the full water glass over the remnants of his breakfast tray and reducing the juice glass to shards against the plate.

The mess taunted him. Owen wasn’t the glass-breaking sort. Tsk, tsk for boiling over. He gritted his teeth. The dripping water splatted into the puddle on the carpet at irritatingly uneven intervals. He called the front desk to report the mess. The desk clerk said she’d send someone. The patient weariness in her voice briefly inspired him to break more shit just to make this worth it for everyone.

Instead, he took out a $20 bill for the tip and waited. Waiting while angry was his least favorite thing to do.

In the last few days, he’d come to believe that Marcelline hadn’t set him up for a stooge four years ago. The relief was both wonderful and terrible. Mostly terrible. Poorly spent time was the one thing you could never fix. He’d scared her, practically held her hostage. But it was probably worse than that. If she hadn’t run away, he might have done something bad. Something irrevocable.

Talking with Jonathan had convinced him enough of her innocence to feel glad that she’d gotten away. He’d even set a longer game to see the end of Jonathan because of it. To avenge her. And that idea hadn’t been unpleasant either.

If it had worked the way Jonathan had wanted it to, with him delaying the sale by screwing over Marcelline, it would have been a problem of more like the leg-breaking variety. Maybe some lost teeth. Some teachable moment for Jonathan that would have healed eventually.