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I look at the masked man.
He looks at me.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“You’re not going to spout off about them being the Quinate?”
He won’t touch them. Taking out a Quinate member is death for all those you care about. But Harry…
We both know he’s got me.
Because I think he’s going to ask me to betray Jac and Hendrick, and in a way that makes me stealing the Heart of Dark Desires look like a friendly prank.
“What do you want?” I repeat through clenched teeth.
Through the mask, his eyes gleam with the grin he’s hiding behind it. “Simple. There are five pieces of jewelry. You need to find them, starting with the Heart of Dark Desires. They all form a set. Whoever owns this set, owns the Quinate. There’s a number on the phone. Call that when you have them and your friend will be safe. Jac and Hendrick?” He shrugs. “That’s up to my boss. But their position, like all Quinate, will no longer be guaranteed. All the safety nets will be gone.”
I stare at him. “This is insane.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t care about those two,” I say, lying. “But how the hell can I guarantee my safety and my friend’s when I don’t even know what these other four pieces are.”
He leans forward. “You care. Use their resources, lie, cheat. I don’t give a fuck. You’re smart and these pieces are locked away. No one knows where. Your job is to locate them.”
“Oh, in that case,” I say, sarcastically, “give me five minutes.”
“When you find them, you have to retrieve them.”
“And if I just run?”
“How’s your arm?”
“Sore from…” I stop, remembering the bump I felt in the shower, the one I thought was just swelling. “What the fuck did you do to me, you sick asshole?”
“We put in a tracker.”
“The bangle?”
He ignores that, picking up the necklace I tried to palm off as the Heart of Dark Desires. “We’ll know where you are so if you don’t deliver…We’ll find you.”
Or maybe they’re both chipped.
“I could cut it out.”
“Maybe it’s sensitive and if do that your friend will die. Tell me, are you willing to take the risk?”
I just stare at him, heart beating as a wildness that’s half fear half anger whips up.
“Didn’t think so,” he says. “On the phone is a number like I said.”
“Yours?”
“It doesn’t matter who answers. Call when you have a piece and definitely call when you have all five. You have two weeks or everyone you care about is dead.”
I’m about to demand more information when something loud crashes into the door. The man’s on his feet, iPad falling, the necklace gripped in his hand as he reaches for his weapon. The door splinters and bursts open.
It’s Jac, a wild, green-eyed avenging demon. He sees me, and before the masked man get his weapon out, Jac leaps on him, hands on the guy’s neck as he slams him and himself into the ground.
