Page 102 of Reveal

Forever.

“I told you, there is nothing about me that is for sale.”

“Everything has a price.”

“You’re right. Those photos will go for a large sum to the right buyer. How old was the girl sucking your dick? Seventeen? Sixteen?”

“Don’t fuck with me, Vaughn.”

“No problem there.” Sarcasm rings through every part of my tone.

“There’s something about women like you that make me so fucking hard. Ripe for the picking and ready to be put perfectly in their place. Beneath me.”

“Is there a purpose to this call other than to listen to you want things you’ll never get? Because frankly, it’s getting old,” I say, refusing to let him know he gets to me every time. “I already have the paperwork filled out for a restraining order against you. All I have to do is file it.” The lie comes out of nowhere.

He laughs in response. “All I have to do is pick up the phone and your whole word comes apart. I think your fallout is ten times worse.”

“Apparently you’re used to picking up your phone and making calls,” I say, assuming the call log I still can’t make heads or tails of shows his calls, even though none of the numbers match up to ones he’s dialed me from.

“You’ve got a mouth on you. I can’t wait to put it to good use.” Chills blanket my skin at the calm and cool way he makes the statement. “I’m back from my trip.”

“Good for you. I’m sure your wife is happy to see you.”

Another low and unforgiving chuckle rumbles through the line. “Ask your boyfriend about how that’s going. I’m sure he’d be happy to fill you in.”

“So that’s what this is all about? He’s representing your wife, so you think you get dibs on me?” I rise from my seat and move through my house, suddenly on edge. This conversation is as unexpected as his comment.

“No. That’s not what this is about. This is about how you have things I want.”

“So what? I hand them over and we’re even? I find it hard to believe you’d let me go at that.”

“You’d be correct.”

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to make sense of him. “So what are my options?”

“Hand over the pictures. The call log. The ten grand I paid Lola. And one night with you so I can collect my interest.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“That’s the American way.”

“I can’t do the first two. I’m not the one who’s holding the items. The ten grand was for services you screwed up. And you can forget about a night with me—”

“You. You. You. Did anyone tell you the first line in business is the customer is always right?”

“You’re no longer my client,” I state, trying to keep this away from him talking about me personally.

“He came to me, you know,” Carter says, his tone devious, his intent to cause problems more than clear. “You told Ryker not to, and he came at me anyway. It was a pathetic attempt to call me off, when he’s the one who gave me the okay in the first place. That alone will make it that much sweeter when I fuck him over.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know that. We’re meeting up for dinner after my interview with the Washington Post tomorrow,” I bluff.

“And I’ll be sure to call Chief Okawa down in Greenwich and tell him I happen to know where Vaughn Dillinger is.”

My bluff is immediately forgotten as my heart stumbles in my chest, but only because it stops beating momentarily. “What?” That’s not what I meant to say, but it comes out anyway. “You fucking—”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Fucking is indeed on the menu.” He laughs. “And I know you think you have shit on me, sweet Vaughn. I know you think you can play this game as deftly as me . . . but you can’t. Not a single thing will matter once I make that call.”

I don’t speak. Can’t. My stomach churns, and my heart is lodged so far into my throat that it’s all but suffocating me. I hate that my skin becomes coated with sweat at the mere mention of Greenwich.