Page 111 of Reveal

“Can’t hate him too much if he’s paying him that kind of cash,” Abel says, hitting his stride, his disgust so palpable the room is weighed down with it.

“I’m serious. I know him. It—it was a retainer. Has to be,” I say, each word escalating in pitch. “Ryker is representing Carter’s wife. She’s filing for divorce. That has to be where the check came—”

“A two-million-dollar retainer? A woman who hires a lawyer but never actually files papers? Paid to a man who represented the CEO of Alpha Pharm during his own divorce, no less? Sounds like the Prestons have Ryker sitting on the money for a bit before taking it back . . . less some fake billable hours that Ryker charges them, of course. I mean, he deserves a fee, after all, since he is taking on some of the risk and all but cleaning, laundering—whatever you want to call it—their money until any heat they feel subsides.”

“He’s rich. He doesn’t need to risk something like this for money,” I say, trying to explain it to myself more than anyone.

“Powerful men like to play God. They get drunk off the feeling of it. You know that more than anyone, Vaughn.”

I’m numb. My mind is a mess, my heart even more so.

“Yes, Vaughn, you just might have been used here. Two men who like to play games. Two men who pretend to be at odds to make sure they are not connected in any way possible. Two men—”

“You’re lying.” I grit the words out as the fear he’s right when I know he’s not takes root. “That’s not the man Ryker is.”

“No, you’re right. It’s not. He just offers his girlfriend up for no reason other than to pay back a debt.”

“I’ve heard enough.” I rip my purse off the counter when I don’t even remember setting it down.

Abel’s laugh rings out the loudest. “Like we care. Remember, Vee, we have all of your phone calls. We have everything on you. Everything.”

My body vibrates with fury and shame and embarrassment like I’ve never felt before. I fight back the sobs from manifesting, but my shoulders heave like I’m already crying.

I jump when Noah’s arm rests on my shoulders, and as much as I should buck it off me, I need to know what it is he wants to say.

“We know this is a lot to take in . . . but like we said, we wouldn’t have picked you if we didn’t trust that you could pull this off.”

Lies. All fucking lies, I want to scream at him. You’re blackmailing me.

All the while tearing my world apart.

I don’t trust myself to speak, so I nod.

“You do this, we don’t prosecute you. Simple as that,” Noah explains.

“And if I don’t?” I fear to ask.

“Let’s just say this would make a great episode for Law and Order, ripped straight from the headlines,” Abel jokes.

“We’ll be in touch in the next few days,” Noah says with a glare directed at his partner. “We’ll get everything set up, and—”

“And we suggest you don’t speak a word of this to anyone. And I mean anyone. Or the problems you’re facing right now will be minor in comparison,” Abel says, unable to resist one last threat. “We’ve put a lot of man hours into this investigation, and if you tell anyone and screw it up, it won’t be just the two of us you’re screwing over—”

“But the whole bureau as well,” Noah finishes for him.

I nod again, the tears burning.

“We know where to reach you,” Abel says. “You’re free to go . . . for now.”

And with that, I walk out the door and leave the life-altering change that room and those men just caused for me.

The elevator ride down feels like it lasts hours.

The walk through the lobby feels like it’s miles.

But I put one foot in front of the other, never more sure of two things. First, I’m sick of men feeling like they have power over me and asserting it. My uncle James, my brother-in-law Brian, Carter Preston, Ryker in the beginning . . . and now the FBI.

Second, this is my worst nightmare all wrapped up into one ball of barbed wire. No matter what I say or do, I’m bound to be cut and injured.