Page 24 of You Were Warned: Part One

I nod. “Pretty much. You’re a breathing corpse.”

He runs his hands through his hair and exhales. “This is why I wanted to end it. Why sit around and wait to die?”

“There is an alternative,” I say with a smile. Though I couldn’t care less about what happens to this man, since it sounds like he brought it on himself, if I take what the Jester deems belongs to him it could be amusing.

“If you say to disappear, I have considered that, but then I would always be looking over my shoulder.”

“You could stay on the island. I would have to get approval from Nixie, but that won’t be hard.”

He looks at me skeptically. “Why would you do that? You don’t know me.”

“Besides the fact that you look like a lost puppy right now, annoying the Jester is my favorite pastime. Not much annoys that walking joke, so it’s a win-win for both of us. It buys you more time to deal with your situation, and I will flaunt you in his face while you do.”

“Isn’t that just prolonging the inevitable?”

I shrug. “Maybe, but ending your life because someone else wants you dead is the stupidest response to the situation. They win without having to do anything. You need to be smarter.”

I don’t always mean to come off cruel, but sometimes people need to be told how it is, and I don’t have time to coddle people.

“You don’t even know me.”

“No, but you held my spider so she wouldn’t be alone outside.” I stand and grab my water. “Stay or go, it’s your choice. But if you stay here, it’s on my terms.”

He picks at the label on the water bottle. “And what are your terms?”

“Don’t touch my spiders. Don’t go into the tank room without me. You don’t make noise after midnight when I’m sleeping. And when the Jester comes looking, and he will, you let me deal with him.”

“Why would you deal with it?”

I turn back to look at him. “Because it will be the most fun I’ve had in months.”

I can see the cogs in his head turning as he considers his options, but right now he doesn’t really have any.

“Okay,” he says after a few minutes.

“Okay, you’re staying? Or okay, you understand my terms?”

“Both,” he says.

Good, smart man. Someone in my space is not ideal, but if it annoys the Jester, I can deal with him for a few weeks until I get bored and throw him to the wolves.

“The couch folds out—I’ll get the sheets. Until I clear things with Nixie, you’ll stay inside. Nonresidents can’t walk around by themselves outside of opening hours.”

Jensen nods as I go to the linen closet and get him what he needs. The Jester is going to be furious, and hopefully it gives him a taste of his own medicine, because fuck knows he annoys me on a daily basis. Nothing I have done in the past has worked, and as much as I want to kill him, I know he would find enjoyment in that.

Jester

Vesper was right. Of course she was—she is brilliant. I saved Jensen because I was pissed that he was going to ruin my fun. Torture is beautiful; the way they squirm, the sounds they make—it’s the whole reason I do this job. Jensen took that away from me.

I was weak for a moment. I might be okay with death, but not when people take their own lives. I must remember Jensen is a job, one I need to hurry along, and I need him alive for that to happen.

Leaving the cell unlocked was my best bet to make him run—or it could have been stupid, and he might try to hurt himself again. But I figured I would give him one last chance to lead me to the drive. If he doesn’t, I will go ahead with the torture and see if I can get the information that way. I wish the job was handed to me with the freedom to do what I pleased, and then this could have all been over with on day one. However, that is not what the client ordered, and with the amount of money he’s paying, what he says goes. It will be enough that I won’t have to work for the next year, and I can focus on Vesper. I know I’m slowly having an effect on her.

I watch the feed on my phone where Jensen sits in the basement. He has been alone for a while now, and any sane person would try to escape. He looks at the door, then after a while he gets up off the bed and walks over to it.

“Go on,” I whisper as his hand wraps around the bar. “That’s it.” Then he pulls, and the cell door opens, yet he stays there. “Oh, come on!”

He finally takes a step out and stops. Why is he not running?