Ah! SSA. That’s what they kept calling Chase. A supervisory something or other.
Reed nods and releases my hands. In the stiff tone he used withour fatherearlier, he makes introductions. “Everyone, this is Lila Kent. As you know, she’s graciously agreed to cooperate with us. I’ve promised her we’ll do everything in our power to ensure her safety.”His voice changes, dropping in pitch to menacing territory. “And I trust you’ll do your part to uphold that promise.Or else.”
A nervous laugh chokes its way out of my throat, which triggers a few others in the room to react similarly.
Reed shoots an offended glare at me. “What?”
“Oh, come on.” I shake my head, debating whether I can say what I’m thinking. My mouth decides for me. “That was pretty cheesy for someone who buysmildcheddar.”
If he gets mad, I’ll blame my nervousness for that little dig.
Reed tries to conceal his reaction, failing spectacularly. His grin widens slowly until he resembles the Cheshire Cat, but he only gives that smile to me. For the others in the room—who are in various stages of hilarity—he flashes the irritated scowl that was once so familiar to me.
The female agent is the first to speak, addressing the country boy beside her from behind a curved hand. “His smile makes so much sense now.”
Agent Cowboy feigns disappointment, pursing his lips at Reed. “Fallin’ for the mark. That’s a rook move, right there.” He turns his dark eyes on Andrews. “Did you teach him nothing, old man?”
Oh boy.Starting to regret that comment now. I should’ve opted for nonsense.
Even Andrews gets in on the ribbing, pointing an accusatory finger at Reed. “I told you it would reflect poorly on me.”
Guilt grabs hold of my spine as I force myself to meet Reed’s eyes. “I’msosorry.”
“This was bound to happen,” Reed responds almost flippantly, then sags against his chair with his hands locked behind his head. “Anyone else want to take a cheap shot at the designated asshole? Get it out now so we can start doing our damn jobs.”
Doth my eyes and ears deceive me? Is he...enjoyingthis teasing? Not verystiffif you ask me, which I know you didn’t.Judging by the reactions of the peanut gallery, I’m not the only one surprised by Reed’s nonchalance.
When nobody else speaks, he bows his head chivalrously. “Great. Let’s move on, shall we?” He gestures with an open palm toward his partner. “Lila, you already know Agent Warren Andrews. Beside him is Agent Grant Hemsley. Don’t let the scowl bother you. It’s directed at someone else.”
He moves his hand from agent to agent. “That’s Agent Luke McBride, who was good enough to leave the ranch today. And this is Agent Bianca Carson, the smartest one in the room.”
She smiles warmly at me, allowing her frosty demeanor to thaw. “Hello, Lila. Nice to meet you.”
After some awkward small talk, in which I work tirelessly to avoid spouting distracting nonsense, Reed finally brings it on home. “Lila, we need your help to find the person you know as Silas Everson.” A sour look crisscrosses his face as he grinds the dirty snake’s name out of his mouth. “Based on your statement and other evidence, we know he’s a key player. Let’s see if you can get him on the phone so we can reschedule your meeting. If he answers, Carson will use cellular tower data to try to determine his location. We’ll be recording the call as well.”
I perk up at that. “And if you get his location, I won’t need to meet with him, right?”
“It depends on what he says on the call,” Reed hedges.
I press my lips together to stop from pouting. He notices and covertly puts his hand back on my upper thigh to soothe me.
Agent Andrews warmly adds, “He’s right. There are multiple possibilities here. For example, Silas may say enough on the recorded call to incriminate himself. Or maybe he doesn’t, but Carson gets his location. Then we could start following him, and if he commits a crime while we’re watching, we could bust him. In either of those scenarios, we probably wouldn’t need you to meet with him.”
Probably?Ugh.
Noticing my deflating hope bubble, Reed squeezes my thigh tenderly. “But if those or any other ideas don’t result in actionable evidence, we’ll still need to send you to speak with him in person like we talked about earlier. Okay?”
“Yeah. I see.” I offer the smallest smile in the history of smiles. “Let’s do this then.”
They take turns giving me pointers for the phone call. How to respond to various questions he might ask. Options for how to redirect the call if I get in trouble. How far to push him. When to concede. What hand signals they’ll give me. Even the tone of voice I use.
Blah, blah, blah. Noise, noise, noise.
By the time they’re done with their well-meaning lecture, my brain is burnt toast. I’ll be lucky if I get out a single word without cracking. My confession would come out in a lingering stream of consciousness.
Hey Silas, oh my god, the FBI is listening right now, please don’t kill me.
Basically, the success of this first task—arguably the simplest of what I’ll need to do for the FBI to earn immunity—all boils down to my ability to play it cool.
