Then again, he’s more likely here about the crimes I’ve been committing.
Mustering what’s left of my courage, I shove up to my knees. Mr. Votaw gives me an assist from there. When I get to my feet, his cheeks are as ruddy as mine feel. Excellent.
I can’t meet his eyes. “Thank you. Sorry for stopping suddenly. I thought I saw a rat.”
But it was just Reed—same thing.
Once I’m seated, I force myself to sweep my gaze around the room, pointedly making friendly eye contact with everyone except Reed. When I get to him, my smile fades naturally.
And to think I used to have a crush on him. Younger me was such a fool.
Older me? Not faring much better since yet another lover has hoodwinked me. This time, my heart isn’t the only victim. Poor Kenzie.
However, I will fix this.
Somehow.
Assuming I don’t end up in jail by the end of the night.
Reed stands in the corner with his arms crossed at his chest. The other man slowly lowers to the seat across the table.
My boss clears his throat. “Lila, have you met Steve?” He gestures to the older man who is eying me with suspicion tugging down his facial features. “He’s the head of casino security.”
I nod at the man and force my smile to widen. “Mr. Hanley, right?”
He dips his chin at me, then tips his head toward the soggy potato in the corner. “This is special agent Reed Hayes. He’s with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions.”
I guess he didn’t tell them he knows me.
Gasp. Reed Hayes being shady? Who’da thunk it?
Shaking off my inner musings, I attempt to act normal. “The FBI, huh? Wow. Sounds serious. I hope I can help.”
Mr. Hanley flips open a manila envelope and slides a picture across the polished mahogany table to me. “Do you recognize this man?”
Gulp.
I pick up the photo, buying myself some time.
Do I answer honestly? Play dumb?
I’m not a liar. I won’t be able to pull it off. And if I try, I’ll bury myself in an even deeper hole.
After setting it back down on the table, I answer truthfully. “That’s myex-boyfriend. His name is Silas Everson.”
Mr. Hanley sends another photo my way. “And do you know who Silas is talking to in this picture?”
Biting my tongue, Ibarelyquash the urge to blurt out something comically random. It’s this thing I do when I don’t want to answer a question. You’d be surprised how easy it is to distract someone when you unexpectedly ask them if they’ve seen your pickle.
Instead of resorting to cheap tricks, I crick my head to the side, studying the photo. “Nope.”
Honest. But barely.
“Really?” Reed chimes in doubtfully. “You sure about that?”
I blink at him thrice, fighting an unnatural snarl. “Yes. I’m sure. I’ve never met him.”
Look at me. Spittin’ facts upon facts.
