“I’m not. That’s part of the reason I like you so much. You bring out the fun-lovin’ side of me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Enough of this fool nonsense, Skeeter Malcolm. Are you gonna help me or not?”

He laughed. “You know I’ve killed men for lesser offenses than the disrespectful way you’re talking to me now.”

“You won’t kill me. I’m too valuable.”

“No?” He grinned at Bruce Wayne. “But what’s to stop me from killing him to make you do what I want? Or threatening your sister? And you know I’d gladly have your boyfriend out of my way. Heck, either of them. What’s to stop me from threatening the people you care about to get you to do what I want?”

I moved toward him, my expression cold. “Because I took you for a smart man, Skeeter Malcolm. Fear works as a motivator, but not for long. Smart men know that there are more effective ways to get what they want.”

His eyes narrowed. “And what do you propose that is?”

“Mutual need. I have something you need. You have something I need. We stick to our deal, Mr. Malcolm. You can threaten me and the people I care about all you’d like, but then I’ll be lookin’ for the first door out. Why would either of us want to bolt if we’re scratchin’ each other’s backs? The longevity of your asset will be more certain if you don’t resort to scare tactics.” Who knew those business books I was reading would come to good use with a thug? But business was business, whether it was above board or below.

“Huh. You might have a point.”

“I’ll try to have a vision of you as a gesture of good faith.” As soon as I uttered the words, I wished I could take them back. Jonah said Skeeter spent all his money on booze, women, and cars. What if I had a vision similar to the one I had with Samantha Jo? But I usually saw whatever I intended to see when I forced a vision. With Samantha Jo, I hadn’t focused on anything, which had resulted in my unfortunate encounter with Moose in all his glory.

Nevertheless, it didn’t matter whether I changed my mind or not. Judging by the gleam in Skeeter’s eyes, it was too late to take it back now.

“I like it.”

“Then you’ll help me get my money back. And if I get any new information, I promise to share it with you.”

“Deal.”

“Which means nothing to you, but I can assure you that I’ll never purposely give you useful information or have a vision for you in the future unless you follow through with your end of the deal.”

A grin spread across his face. “You’re quite the firecracker, aren’t you? Okay. I agree.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I said I liked you, and I meant it. Hell, I’d consider proposing marriage to you to have more control of your gift, but I’m not a one-woman man. I suspect you might cut off my junk if you caught me cheatin’, so we’ll stick to business for now.”

If he weren’t serious, I would have laughed.

“How do you do this?”

“Stay where you are on the desk. I’ll hold your hand, and we’ll see what happens. But it might take a bit. Even a minute or more, so don’t be asking how much longer it’s gonna be every ten seconds.”

He held out his hand, smiling from ear to ear, and I wondered again at my folly. But it was too late to change anything now. Though I could sometimes see the future, I couldn’t do a darn thing to change the past.

“When I have a vision, I see it from the perspective of the person who’s nearest to me. So I’ll be you in the vision. I’ll blurt out something that I saw when I come to. It’s usually the most important part, but there’s always more, and I’ll tell you that part too.”

He waved his hand. “Fine. Sounds good. Let’s get to it.”

“One more thing. If I see something bad—like, suppose I see you dead—you can’t take it out on me or anyone close to me.”

“Got it. Don’t shoot the messenger.”

I heaved out a sigh. I had a feeling that I was gonna regret this. I only hoped I saw something he found useful or he might make me try it again. I grabbed his hand and closed my eyes.

“Are you—?”

“Shh!” I hushed.

He laughed, then settled down. My hand began to get clammy, but he held on tight. After thirty seconds or so, I felt a vision coming on.

I was in a hazy room that looked like a warehouse. The room smelled like smoke, sweat, and stale beer. A crowd of about fifty people filled the space, mostly men, but a few sluttily dressed women hung on them like accessories. The voices echoed in the space while men were lifting paddles and shouting numbers.

“Fifteen thousand.”

“Fifteen–five!”

“Eighteen!”

I didn’t lift the paddle in my hand or say anything until the bidding started to slow down.

“Do I hear twenty-six?” the auctioneer called out.

I lifted my paddle. “Twenty-six.”

The other bidder was silent.

“Twenty-seven,” a man called out. I turned my head to see it was a guy lowering his paddle. I knew who he was. The man who’d worn the Batman ski mask.

My fists tightened with rage. I was starting to lift my paddle when someone brushed past me. I felt a prick on my leg, and within seconds my thigh muscle was burning and my head was fuzzy.

“Do I hear twenty-eight?” The auctioneer looked at me.