“Time for what?”
“Time for your darling husband to get here with my money. Time for me to take it and disappear into the night.”
“That doesn’t make any sense! You just told me there are people watching, which means they’ll know who you are. Cam and I know who you are. All of us can pick you out of a lineup.”
He winces. “Yeah, I’m not going to lie, the pulling-off-the-mask bit wasn’t exactly part of the plan, but we’ve already determined I am a desperate, desperate man. I can’t let my baby girl die, Jade. Her death is not an option.”
A tiny pang beats behind my breastbone.
Understanding.
Sympathy.
As much as I hate Sebastian, as much as I hate what he’s done to me and my family, I feel sorry for the father who’s about to lose his daughter. I feel sorrow for Gigi’s illness, for having to live however many days she’s got left with the knowledge of what her father did—for her.
Focus, Jade. This man doesn’t deserve your compassion.
I spot a roll of duct tape on the floor by the windows.
“Get up.” Without taking my aim off him, I push to a stand and shuffle Beatrix and me that way. “Stand up and move to the chair. Slowly.”
“I hear it’s hard to get blood out of such fine Italian leather. That doesn’t seem like a very good plan.”
“Get up.” I kick the roll closer with a foot, then poke the gun in his direction, aiming it at his face. “I mean it, Sebastian. Get on the chair.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no? I’m the one holding the gun, remember? Now’s not the time to negotiate.”
He gives a blithe shrug. “So shoot me.”
“What about your daughter? How is me shooting you going to get her new lungs?”
“Nothing is a guarantee, Jade. I’ve thought through every possibility of how to save my girl, and none of them is a sure bet.”
“What about your cousin Tanya? Couldn’t she help?”
A momentary flash of surprise—that I’ve done the math, that I’ve connected the dots—before his brows dip back into a frown. “That asshole ex of hers, Thomas, he’s a litigator. Her divorce agreement barely covers enough to feed and clothe the kids and mortgage payments, on a house he still owns. Tanya doesn’t have any money. She’s as broke as you and Cam.”
“What are you talking about? Cam’s not broke. He owns five restaurants. Successful ones.”
“Oh come on. You don’t still believe in that fairy tale, do you? His investors own the restaurants. He owes them more than he can pay.”
“But Cam just told you he has the money. He’ll be here with it any minute.”
“Sure, but we’ve already established your husband is a liar.”
“He wouldn’t lie about something that important.”
“Oh no? Did he tell you he pulled out of the Oakhurst deal because he’s broke? No—not just broke. Your husband is in hock up to his eyeballs.”
I shake my head, a jerky back-and-forth that’s overly forceful. “That’s…that’s not true.”
It might be true. Cam just told Sebastian that his shops were bleeding cash, and I’d have to be blind not to have noticed how about a year ago, Cam started wincing at the first question about work. How overnight, he sprouted frown lines and gray hair, how once frequent invitations from his investors suddenly dried up.
But come on. Money problems? Not with this house, two kids in private school, a daughter under the tutelage of the most sought-after violin teacher in the city. Not with what we spend on cars and clothes and vacations. This past March, when I lost the tennis bracelet and matching earrings Cam gave me one Christmas, he gave me a new set without complaint. Why would he do that if he’s short on cash?
Sebastian draws an X with a finger on his chest. “Swear to God. Not unless Cam’s suddenly won the lottery and even then, the buzzards would have picked his winnings clean. His creditors aren’t the type to play around.”
Still, it makes no sense. If Sebastian knew there was no possibility of him walking out of here with the cash he needed for his daughter, why put us through all of this? Why risk his own life, his freedom, for a mission impossible?
I don’t understand any of it.
A pounding shakes the level beneath us, a boom of a boot against wood, and I know instinctively it’s not Cam. Cam has a key. He wouldn’t need to bust through his own front door.
The police.