Chapter 41
"Well, well," Donald said, his voice like a knife wrapped in smug. "Didn't expect to see you here, Sam."
I sighed like a man being handed a rake and told to fight a dragon with it.
I threw up my hands. "You know what? I'm starting to think the universe wants me to commit homicide."
Donald chuckled. It was the sort of sound you'd expect from a villain tying someone to train tracks. He walked toward us, unconcerned by the shattered vase or the anger with which I was eyeing him.
"I see you found your skull," he said, nodding at the cage swinging from my belt like a cursed Christmas ornament.
That gave me pause. "Wait. That was you? You stole him?"
"Oh, not personally. I don't do grunt work anymore. But yes. I had him picked up. And the one who had an invitation delivered to you for the auction."
"Why?" I asked, not because I cared about his villain monologue but because I needed to stall while Laine edged toward the hallway.
