And this all went on around me.
Nausea swims up my throat, and I’m on the verge of throwing up.
“Chris’s name came up in conversation, Presley,” Keven quietly adds.
“No!” I burst out crying, already knowing what he’s going to say.
“They abused Chris too. The Cateses and Clay. Apparently, he was their favorite.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Presley
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Keven asks as his colleague Sinead finishes fixing the rhinestone pendant brooch to my jean jacket. Apparently, there’s no such thing as wearing a wire anymore because they have all kinds of miniature digital recording devices. Like the brooch I’m wearing with a recording chip embedded in the middle. All I have to do is press down on it to activate it. “It’s not too late to back out.”
“I’m not backing out,” I say, smoothing a hand down over my black and red shirt. I’m wearing ripped jeans and sneakers, favoring a comfortable casual style that is my usual daytime summer look, so I don’t tip Clay off. “I haven’t gone to all this trouble, setting this meeting up, to back out now.” It was my suggestion to use me as bait to lure Clay out of hiding. In exchange for me doing this, Keven’s FBI boss has agreed, in writing, that there will be no charges made against Kent. I want to help my ex. Not to assuage my guilt—of which there is a bucketload—because I love him.
We might not be together anymore, but the way I feel about him hasn’t changed. I will do whatever it takes to protect Kent. Even standing in front of the manipulative bastard who hurt him, pretending to be concerned, if it means I get him to fess up.
It wasn’t easy getting a message through to Clay. His phone has been disconnected, so Rafe helped me get the word out on the street. It took two weeks, but eventually, Clay set up a meet and sent word to me.
“No one would blame you if you did,” Keven says, scrubbing a hand over his five o’clock shadow. He looks tense, which doesn’t help to calm my nerves.
“Keven.” Sinead squeezes his shoulder. “Presley will be fine. We have a full task force on this, and we’ll have eyes on her from all angles. Nothing is happening to Presley on our watch.”
I know why he’s concerned. The meeting location has obviously been chosen to avoid surveillance. The warehouse sits on a vacant lot across from an abandoned building in a derelict part of Roxbury. The FBI had men inside the building for the past twenty-four hours, and they will have sniper weapons trained on the heat signatures inside the warehouse once this all goes down. The hidden microphone in my brooch has a unique heat signature so they can tell who I am in case shit hits the fan and they need to open fire. Keven, and a bunch of additional FBI agents, will be waiting around the corner for the signal to move in.
It’s not ideal, but these men and women are trained for all kinds of situations, and I’m prepared for all eventualities. I’ve got to do something to help. I won’t let Clay and those other bastards go underground. Kent deserves justice and not to be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life. So do the other men who have bravely come forward. And I need to avenge Chris because there is no one else who will care to ensure Clay pays for the torture he inflicted on my ex.
“I trust you,” I tell them because I do. I know Kent’s brother would not let me do this if there was a serious risk to my life.
“Kent will string me up by my balls when he finds out about this,” he adds, eyeballing me.
“He’ll forgive you when he discovers Clay and those other animals who hurt him are behind bars.”
Keven nods as a tall, thin man with salt-and-pepper hair approaches. He offers me his hand, and I shake it. “Presley. It’s good to meet you. I’m SSA West. I’m leading the operation today. Do you have any questions for us?”
I shake my head. “I know what I need to do.”
We head out a few minutes later, and Keven drops me off at my car—the one Kent bought me. It’s been at his apartment, and I haven’t gone back for it. We are no longer together, and I’m no longer deserving of the gift, but Clay asked to meet in a run-down warehouse on the outskirts of Roxbury, and getting an Uber to the location would only raise suspicions, so I’m driving my car one final time.
Keven arranged for the car to be driven to this parking garage, about five miles from the meeting destination, so there is no risk of being seen. He hands me a large brown envelope. “There’s the cash, and you’ve got the pepper spray, right?”
“One in each side of my sneakers,” I confirm. They are only tiny vials, and I doubt they will be of much use, but I took them to appease Keven.
“I hate that you are going in there defenseless.” He drags a hand through his hair.
“I might not have a weapon, but I’m not completely defenseless. I have a few tricks up my sleeve. Ironically, it was Clay who insisted I take self-defense classes when I was seventeen. He didn’t want me going out into the big bad world without the ability to defend myself.”
“Presley.” Keven grips my shoulders almost painfully. “I need you to promise me you won’t take any unnecessary risks. When things turn bad, get away from him and let us handle it. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.”
“It’s not on you, Keven. This is my choice. That bastard played me for years. He hurt Tillie’s father, and he hurt the man I love. He needs to pay, and I need to be the one to set things in motion.” My voice cracks as I let emotion best me. “Don’t you get it? I won’t be able to sleep at night if I don’t try to put this right. Clay has hurt so many people, and it ends now.”
Slowly, reluctantly, he nods. He pulls me into a hug over the console, holding me tight. “You are so strong. It’s no wonder you’re the only woman to ever capture and hold my brother’s attention. I can see why he’s so in love with you.” He eases back, staring into my eyes. “Kent needs you. Remember that, and stay safe.”
He climbs out of the car, and I give him one final nod before I reverse out of the parking spot and hightail it out of there.
***
