“So,” Aaron said, “you ever bring the watch back?”
“Did Gerald not talk to Agent Sanderson?” Tom grabbed a sheet to drape over the body, deciding immediately that he was not going to stay over to do his embalming report.
He needed to get out of here.
When he turned back around, he thought he was seeing things. Maybe he had inhaled too much formaldehyde because there was no way Aaron was actually standing there with a gun in his hand.
“I’m not fucking around anymore,” Aaron said, boldly pointing the gun right at Tom’s face. “Tell me where that fucking watch is or you’re dead.”
“Aaron?” Tom’s heart stopped. “What are you talking about? Why do you have a gun?”
“For fuck’s sake,” Aaron groaned, kicking the door shut with his foot. “I’ve tried to be nice. I’ve been trying so hard to be a good guy here. But you just had to take the fucking watch!”
Fear twisted Tom’s stomach into a painful knot, his heart restarting to fuel his growing panic. “I don’t understand. It’s just a watch.”
“No, it’s not.” Aaron gritted his teeth. “It’s a Cecil Vulturo original, a limited edition run by Rolex that Gerald bought in a damn pawn shop last year for Junior’s birthday! The seller had no idea what he had, and neither of those dumb fucks we work with did either.”
“It’s…” Tom struggled to understand. “It’s valuable?”
“Priceless. The last one sold at auction for over two million dollars.”
“For awatch?”
“Yes! For a watch! Now shut the fuck up and tell me where it is.” Aaron gritted his teeth. “I already know it’s not at your house, so fuckin’ tell me where you’re hiding it. Over at your little boyfriend’s? Huh?”
“You’re the one who broke into my fucking house?” Tom accused, his hands twitching from an endless supply of adrenaline rushing through him. He felt like his feet were about to lift off the ground or he was gonna throw up. Maybe both.
“Tell me where it is,” Aaron bit back, refusing to answer. He shook the gun impatiently at Tom and growled, “Right now.”
“Why are you doing this?” Tom demanded. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind? Even if I did have it, you can’t take it and sell it.”
“Oh, I can’t?” Aaron scoffed haughtily. “With the way Mr. Crosby’s mind is going, all I have to do is say he lost it. Who is everybody gonna believe? Me or the guy who keeps trying to dock a dead man’s fuckin’ pay?”
Tom was becoming rapidly aware that he was trapped in here. Aaron was blocking the only door, and Cypress was stuck in the garage with no way to get past the keypads locking both the doors that led into the hallway and the prep room. He prayed Cypress would notice it had been too long, that he would call for help—
“Now,” Aaron snapped, “where is it?”
“Were you helping Junior rob those people?” Tom asked urgently, hoping to buy some time.
He had to keep stalling.
Once Aaron knew Tom couldn’t get the watch, he knew he was dead.
“Yeah, so Junior’s been assisting me with my little cash flow problem, okay?” Aaron shrugged. “We’ve been helping each other out, and I happened to notice the watch. I didn’t think it was real, so I went online and checked it out. Junior, thatidiot, had a fortune on his wrist and had no idea.”
“He sold it for drugs, didn’t he?” Tom laughed nervously. “Right? I mean, otherwise, you would have just gotten it from him.”
“Yup,” Aaron snorted. “Fuckin’ moron traded it to that sleazy Seymour creep.”
“Oh, my God.” Tom’s blood instantly froze in his veins as realization clicked into place. “Wait… you… You killed Mr. Ross, didn’t you?”
“Look at you, Scrappy-Doo!” Aaron scoffed. “It doesn’t matter anyway. You can’t prove a damn thing.”
“You fuckin’ knew him,” Tom pressed. “That’s how you knew he liked to be called Seymour. And you killed him… over awatch?”
“For a watch worth fuckingmillions!” Aaron shouted furiously. “Do you have any idea how hard it is keeping Shelby happy? Do you have any idea how much fuckin’ debt I’m in?”
“Why didn’t you take the stupid watch when you killed him?” Tom threw up his hands. “Did you get too busy stabbing him and forget?”
