Page 117 of Reveal

That in itself tests every ounce of strength I have not to fling the door back open and tell him everything.

But I can’t.

I can be weak with Ryker. I can let down my guard. I can be the woman no one else gets to see because he makes me feel secure enough when we’re together.

And how he just reacted? Coming here because he was worried and then silent when he knew something was wrong. Comforting when I’m more than certain he wanted to shake answers out of me. It was everything I needed him to be and then some.

There’s no way Ryker is a part of this payoff with Carter.

No damn way.

A man capable of being that devious wouldn’t have come to my door twice in one day to make sure I’m okay simply because I said I wasn’t feeling well. A man that full of deceit would be glad I was out of the way so he could carry on scheming and fucking me over.

I’ve spent my whole life being screwed over by men or watching those I love be screwed over. I’ve spent so much time forcing myself to go at it alone because I thought I was better off for it.

And now, just as I’ve finally found a man I love and trust—because we’ve worked through our issues, regardless of how unconventional those issues may be—I’m left with the rest of my life beginning to fall down around me. I have Carter after me. I have the FBI threatening me and telling me Ryker isn’t trustworthy. I have Brian telling lies to try to extort money.

At some point, I have to shut the white noise out. I have to trust my own instincts. I have to allow myself to rely on others. I have to believe in myself and have conviction in my own opinions.

I have to realize that no matter how damn hard the fight might be—how much it might scare me—it’s time to fight it with both fists and everything I’ve got.

If I don’t, I just might lose everything, and that’s not an option.

Leaning my head back, I close my eyes and see the concerned look in Ryker’s eyes before he left, and deep down, I know the truth. Ryker might be a bastard in court, he might be a hard-ass who demands without reason, but at his core, he’s a man who lives his life by the law. He doesn’t need money. He doesn’t need the thrill of defying the rules.

He had nothing to do with this.

The question is, Was it just Carter, or is his wife in on it too? Did she hire Ryker as a front, a place to hide the money? And if so, how would she ever expect to get it back?

I give a deep sigh and settle back into the silence of my house, which is full of unanswered questions these days.

With another good cry under my belt, I know exactly what I need to do.

The lie I told the agents—that my second piece of blackmail was simply a bluff—just might be my bargaining chip.

It might be the only thing I have going for me. It’s one way I’m choosing to fight.

There is clutter all over my kitchen table.

Papers I’ve printed. Documents I’ll use as proof. The highlights and circles a road map of truths. The missing link they needed that I never even knew I had.

Then there’s the legalese I tried to understand. Things that Ryker would have been able to explain in seconds, but I couldn’t ask him. Questions my private investigator could clear up for me, but my trust factor in general isn’t exactly high right now.

Maybe I wasn’t crazy thinking stuff was moved in my office. Maybe Noah and Abel slipped in here to investigate themselves. It’s not exactly legal, but I have a feeling Abel doesn’t play by the rules most days.

“Come on, Vaughn . . . think.”

I shuffle through the papers again. The same ones I’ve read and reread so many times that I can’t see straight.

With my hands on my hips, I nod.

I can do this.

I can make demands myself.

And I can dangle the goddamn carrot to make them agree.

My shower is long and hot, and when I step from it, I know more than anything that I can do this.