Simon Says by Lori Foster Page B

it.”
    Jutting his face toward Barnaby, Marvin asked, “How?”
    He gulped. He wasn’t fond of Dakota, but he didn’t particularly want her harmed, either. Still…better her than him. “I sent Dakota on an errand.”
    Eyes brightening, Marvin eased into a more relaxed stance. “Dakota?” His mouth curled. “Tell me everything, Barnaby. Now.”
    Seeing no hope for it, Barnaby detailed his plan for getting the money Marvin extorted. When he finished, he added, “If you’ll just give me a little more time, I’m sure Dakota will succeed.”
    â€œShe better.” He gave one hard shove to Barnaby’s shoulder and, laughing, he stormed out.
    After locking the door, Barnaby looked around at the mess. His beautiful home. His beautiful lamp and table. Now ruined.
    The thought of murder teased his senses. He’d done many reprehensible things in his time, but he’d never killed anyone. Right now, he thought he could do it.
    After years of wheeling and dealing and always coming out on the short end, he’d finally played a winning hand. He owned his life. He had a nice, quiet existence. He was able to watch game shows in the morning and in the afternoon he relaxed in the shaded yard. Sometimes he took pleasure in trimming the lawn, sometimes he paid others to do it.
    He didn’t want to risk it all for a punk-ass thug. Not when there were easier ways….
    The jarring sound of the phone brought Barnaby jerking around, ready to defend an attack. He laughed at himself when he realized the intrusion was a call.
    Stepping over the destruction on the floor, he lifted the receiver. “Hello?”
    â€œBarnaby Jailer?”
    Quiet satisfaction lifted his tension. Instinctively knowing who called, he affected the proper tone and attitude. “Yes. May I help you?”
    â€œThis is Simon Evans. Dakota Dream asked me to call you.”
    Call him? That little bitch. She knew that wasn’t what he wanted. He couldn’t get anything accomplished unless he met with Simon face-to-face.
    Barnaby’s hand tightened on the receiver. “Simon. Oh my. Yes, thank you. Thank you.” He conveyed just the right amount of uncertainty and gratitude. “This is wonderful. But…I was so hopeful that we could meet. In person, that is. You see—”
    â€œNo.” Firm, with no room for indecision, Simon cut him off. “I’m only calling to tell you that I’m not interested in meeting you. Dakota has been damned insistent, but I won’t change my mind. I hope you’ll tell her that you accept my decision.”
    â€œBut I don’t.” Barnaby moderated his tone. “I can’t. You see, it’s imperative that I meet with you.”
    â€œI said no.”
    Desperation unfurled in his guts. “Just let me explain.”
    â€œThere’s no point, because it won’t matter what you have to say. I’m not interested.”
    Barnaby stepped on broken glass without realizing it. “I understand that you must be hurt, or perhaps angry at my long absence. There are no good excuses, of course. But maybe if you’d hear what I have to say, you’d change your mind.”
    â€œNo.” Lacking any inflection at all, Simon said, “I’m not hurt or angry. I just don’t care. Period. That won’t change.”
    His hand nearly crushed the receiver. “At least give me a number where I can call you back. Or perhaps your current address.” He wouldn’t go to him, but he could write to him, endearing letters that might soften his stance.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen maybe—”
    â€œGood-bye, Barnaby. I’d prefer that you not bother me again.”
    The line went dead. Barnaby’s arm dropped to his side and he looked around at the destruction in his home. All because of her.
    â€œYou’ll care,” he predicted in a whisper. “Trust me, Simon, before