“What did he sound like?”
James considers. “Older. Smooth. Lots of big words. Someone used to talking people into things.”
Not Victor, then. Victor's style is clipped and cold. This sounds like someone else. Someone working for him, maybe.
“Did he give you a name?”
“No. I asked once and he shut me down. Said it was better if I didn't know.”
“And you didn't think that was suspicious?”
James's face twists. “I didn't care. He was paying me. That's all that mattered.”
“What exactly did he want you to do?”
“Keep tabs on Emma. Let him know if she seemed happy, if things were going well with you. He wanted updates on her routine, her friends, her state of mind.” James's eyes slide away. “And he wanted me to make contact. Remind her of what we had. Make her doubt what she has with you.”
“By ambushing her outside her building. Sending her threatening messages?”
“I was supposed to make her feel unstable. Off-balance. Like she couldn't trust her own judgment.” A ghost of a smile crosses his face. “She always was easy to rattle.”
I'm out of the chair before I realize I've moved.
My fist connects with his jaw. The crack is satisfying. James's head snaps back, blood blooming from his split lip as he sprawls across the couch cushions.
Tank doesn't move. Doesn't flinch. Just watches with the calm interest of someone observing weather.
James cups his mouth, stares at the blood on his fingers. “You can't?—“
“I can.” I shake out my hand. Knuckles already throbbing. “That was for every time you made her flinch. Every bruise. Every night she spent afraid in her own home.” I lean down. “You want to tell me again how easy she was to rattle?”
He shrinks back, all the bravado gone.
Tank finally moves, hand landing heavy on James's shoulder. James flinches.
“Stay down,” Tank says quietly. “Next one's mine, and I don't pull punches.”
James swallows hard. “I'm just telling you what he wanted,” he mumbles through the blood. “I didn't... I wasn't going to hurt her. I just wanted her to see she made a mistake leaving me.”
“She didn't make a mistake.” I stand, the chair scraping against the floor. “She escaped. And you've spent the last few months trying to drag her back into your pathetic orbit because you can't stand that she's better off without you.”
His face contorts. “She's not better off. She's with you, isn't she? Some rich asshole who's going to get bored and toss her aside. At least I actually loved her.”
“You don't know what love is.” I step closer. “Love doesn't track someone across state lines. Love doesn't take money to terrorize the person you claim to care about. What you have is an obsession with control, and Emma stopped letting you have it.”
James opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“Here's what's going to happen,” I say. “You're going to give me every email, every message, every piece of communication you've had with this man. Phone records, bank statements showing the deposits, everything. Then you're going to pack a bag and leave Silverpoint. Tonight.”
“And if I don't?”
I lean down until we're eye to eye. “Then I stop asking nicely. And trust me, James, you don't want that. Because unlike you, I don't need someone else's money to make your life hell. I can do it all on my own.”
He holds my gaze for three seconds before looking away.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I'll get you the emails.”
“Good choice.”
