Page 38 of The Alibi Club

“I don’t need those assholes.”

“I beg to differ. They have the power to kick you out of your own company.”

Duncan finally looked up at Jamie, placed his phones screen downward, which he had once again picked up, either from force of habit or to check email or something, and took her in.

“Who exactly are you?” Duncan gave her a withering, annoyed gaze. “Look, let me just write you a check. You forget I ever existed. Otherwise, I will tell the board I found you wholly incompetent, direct my various social media directors to overwhelm your Yelp page with negative feedback, and tank your business within a month.”

Add aggressive, harsh, possible psychopath.

Jamie stammered. “You can’t—you can’t threaten me, Mr. Reeves.”

Reeves ran a hand through his unruly hair and shoved an olive sloppily in his mouth. “I can do anything I fucking want,” he said smugly. “Don’t you get it? Save yourself the trouble.” He reached across the table, grabbed her wrist, and lowered his voice. Definitely psychopath.

“You will do what I ask and you will do it by tomorrow morning—or else.”

Jamie felt a pang of panic grip her.

Her mind returned to the night of her attack in an instant. She swallowed back the fear and tried to breathe through it. The terrifying way he overwhelmed her. Reeves wrenched her wrists, twisting her skin so tight, it burned. Memory rekindled, she felt all the air go out of her lungs. Reeves had grabbed her wrist with the same ferocity Melvyn Ott had the night he attacked her.

Duncan finally released her and said casually, “You seem like a smart girl. Do the right thing.”

Jamie got up and nearly knocked the water glass off the table as she rushed toward the bathroom to escape. She walked quickly past the bar area where Cliff had been without even looking to see if he was still there. But she caught the smell of French fries. They must have just arrived.

She went into the ladies’ room and leaned on the counter. She couldn’t catch her breath. She felt her throat closing, hard to breathe, her vision growing blurry. She sat down on the bathroom floor, closed her eyes, and began counting as she took in another breath, trying hard to handle her thoughts before they spun out of control.

After the moment passed, she stood up. She splashed some cold water on her face and looked at herself in the mirror. She would not let Ott, or this new nemesis Duncan Reeves, win tonight. “You can do this. You are a professional. You’re good with psychos. Besides, you’re in the middle of a restaurant.” She took one more breath and walked back out to the dining room.

But when she got back to the table, Duncan Reeves’s brash, cocky, dominating attitude had changed drastically. He looked visibly shaken. She approached warily.

“Mr. Reeves, I refuse to be talked to that way,” she announced with a tremor in her voice. “I demand an apology.”

Reeves was still staring down at the table, then out to the street. “I’m really sorry,” he said, hesitating for a moment before blurting it out.

Jamie squinted. Shouldn’t have been that easy.

Duncan Reeves continued, “I was way out of line.”

Jamie put a hand on the back of her chair, pulled it out, and sat down, still unsure of why there was such a sudden change of attitude. “I accept. Are you … okay?”

His forehead was red and had a mark on it that looked suspiciously like the edge of the plate in front of him. He seemed to struggle with answering the question. He looked briefly outside again, which caused Jamie to turn her head to the window facing the street, which was empty except for a parking enforcement agent giving someone a ticket. When Jamie turned back to Reeves, his eyes were darting back and forth, as if scanning for danger. He said, “I have these tendencies that get me in trouble.”

Jamie wanted to accept that premise. It wasn’t totally out of the question for a man to act aggressively and then moments later do a complete about-face in manner, tone, and composure … but then she saw the cell phones. Both were completely shattered.

Duncan Reeves drank his entire glass of water as she watched him.

“What happened to your cell phones?”

“Dropped them.”

Eyes narrowing, Jamie put it together. She thought back to Cliff. Had he stepped in to help her? She couldn’t think of another explanation.

Why would he do that?

She suppressed a tiny alarm going off in her head, composed herself, and said to her client, “Okay, Duncan, let’s get started.”

Duncan did everything he could to stop it, but an exasperated sigh escaped his lips.

CHAPTER TWENTY