He circles around behind me and then swings his big fist underneath my raised arms. Pain explodes through my ribs, and air rushes from my lungs. I fall to the floor, holding my side and trying to catch my breath.

Jasper squats down and drives his sledgehammer hand into my face. I see stars. Blood trickles from one nostril and my lips are bleeding into my mouth. I blink back tears and feel a wave of nausea.

“Don’t knock him unconscious,” Marco says. “Stick to the body.”

Jasper does, thundering me with blows to my ribs, stomach, and back. I roll and squirm and try to cover myself, but if I can’t fight back, there’s little I can do.

“That’s enough,” Marco says, stepping forward to stand over me. I sit up, trying to breathe shallowly so I don’t inflame my bruised—or broken—ribs.

“You know why I’m here?” he says.

“To kill me,” I say. “So why don’t you go ahead and get it over with?”

“I’m here for what you stole from me,” Marco says.

His hair has grown longer and is pulled back in a ponytail, but otherwise my old partner is unchanged. He’s dressed in a sharp outfit: black shirt and pants, gray sports coat, expensive dress shoes.

“Marco,” I say. “We both know this was never about the diamonds. You just got your feelings hurt because I was quitting. You didn’t want to be left alone, that’s all this is. You’re a jilted little schoolyard bully, petulant because your best friend dissed you.”

Marco considers this. “Maybe so,” he says. “But I still want those fucking diamonds.”

I spit a glob of blood and mucus onto his shoe.

“Fuck you,” I say, a string of blood hanging from my mouth.

He takes the butt of his gun and pistol whips me in the forehead. I fall back onto the floor, dizzy and lightheaded, fighting not to pass out.

“Hey,” Jasper whines. “You said not to hit him in the head.”

“Do as I say,” Marco says, “not as I do.”

Blood crawls down my forehead from a fresh gash.

“Tie him up,” Marco orders.

Jasper rolls me over and duct-tapes my hands together behind my back. Then he yanks me onto a kitchen chair and wraps my feet to the legs and my arms to the back. He positions me facing Claire, who is tied in the same way except for the added swatch of tape over her mouth.

They haven’t hurt her as far as I can tell, but she’s clearly traumatized. Her hair is a mess and her eyes are red from crying. Her skin is pale, as if she might be sick at any moment.