by Ella Miles
I take another deep breath, trying to relax, but it’s impossible when I know Kinsley is on her way to a jail cell. A cell that she will be stuck in for at least tonight, possibly much longer. A deal would at least give her a chance at freedom.
“You must be excited about getting a break now that your undercover stint is over. As soon as the trials are over, you will be able to go home for a while or go on a vacation.”
I nod, but I’m not excited. I don’t know where my home is anymore. I don’t want to leave Las Vegas, not now that I’ve met the girl who has haunted my dreams for five years. I thought she was a naive, scared little girl. I thought she was weak and not able to make a decision for herself. I was wrong.
I’ve been a part of countless arrests. Every single person I’ve arrested or seen arrested had fear in their eyes when it happened. Every. Single. One.
Not Kinsley though. She faced being arrested head-on without a drop of fear on her face.
She stood up to her grandfather, a man I know to be a criminal.
She survived her father’s death without losing any more of herself.
I was wrong about Kinsley. She’s not just a princess. She’s also a survivor. And possibly even a warrior.
But as much as I’m afraid I’ve fallen for her, I can’t be her future. I can’t be with her and still be with the FBI. As soon as she finds out the truth, she will hate me anyway. My future is with the FBI while her future…well, her future is with anything but me.
The door to the holding cell opens, jarring me awake. I look around and find that a third woman is now sitting in the holding cell with us. I rub my neck that is sore from sleeping against the hard, cold wall all night.
“Kinsley Felton,” the officer says.
I stand and feel my knees crack from sitting all night.
“Come with me, please,” he says.
The man leads me out of the room and into another room just down the hall. A room for questioning. The same room I was in last time.
He indicates for me to take a seat in the metal chair at the table. I take a seat and wait for the door to open again. I pick at the rust on the metal table, just like I did last time, while I wait in the dark gray-colored room. I don’t have to wait long.
My lawyer walks through the door, followed by FBI agents.
Our family lawyer, Mr. Greene, takes a seat next to me. “Don’t worry, Ms. Felton. They have nothing to hold you on. I’ll be able to get you out of here today.”
I nod, and then my eyes widen at the men sitting across from me. Both men are from the poker game—Grant and Stephen. Grant still looks as cocky as ever, sitting across from me. The only difference is, his blond hair has recently been buzzed short. Stephen looks exactly the same—tall with buzzed short black hair.
“We meet again, Ms. Felton,” Grant says.
I frown at him. “Except we weren’t properly introduced last time we met.” I turn to Stephen. “I’m guessing you aren’t Killian’s brother-in-law.” I turn to Grant. “And I’m guessing you aren’t a world champ at poker.”
He smiles at me. “I guess not. I’m Agent Hayes, and this is Agent Liddell.”
I don’t smile at them. I glance at the door behind them, waiting to see if Killian will be walking through the door.
“He won’t be coming,” Agent Hayes says, reading my thoughts.
I frown at him but don’t say anything further.
“So, here is the deal, Kinsley. We have physical evidence that could put you in jail for ten to fifteen years on fraud and money laundering charges. Your signature is all over all sorts of documents, proving that you were involved in your grandfather’s and father’s legal troubles,” Agent Hayes says.
I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean? My father and grandfather weren’t doing anything illegal.”
My lawyer places his hand on my arm, reminding me to let him do the talking. But I can’t, not when my family is at stake.
“We’ve arrested your grandfather. He would be sitting in a jail cell right now if it wasn’t for his need for medical attention. And your father would have been in a cell as well,” Agent Hayes says.
I gasp at his words.
He continues speaking, “We have been investigating your whole family for the past five years. Your family has come in to lots of money, more money than possible based on the income of your company.
“We’ve had undercover agents planted in the company. Agent Byrne was able to infiltrate your family to the highest extent. We have evidence to convict your grandfather on many high-felony charges, including money laundering and fraud. He’s looking at twenty-five-plus years,” Agent Hayes says.
That can’t be true. My family would never do anything illegal. We have always earned our money fairly. Granddad is a stern man, and he would never do something like this. And I know my father wouldn’t have.
The FBI have it wrong, all wrong.
“But I wouldn’t worry about your grandfather right now. I would worry about your own future. Ten-plus years. Based on your past transgressions, we might even get you on more,” Agent Hayes says.
I glare at the man sitting across from me.
“You can’t bring that up. It was buried five years ago.”
Agent Hayes smiles. “Everything can be brought back up. Now, we can make this all go away for you. We can make it so that you walk free today and never have to come back here.”
“How?”
“All you have to do is agree to testify against your grandfather,” Agent Hayes says.
“No,” I say automatically. “I won’t hurt my family.”
He turns to my attorney.
“No. You don’t have anything to charge Ms. Felton with, except some forged signatures that can be easily proven not to be hers. She is not taking a plea deal,” Mr. Greene says.
“Then, we will bring the charges against her and go to trial,” Agent Hayes says.
Mr. Greene leans over and whispers in my ear, “Do you know of anything that could incriminate your grandfather?”
“No,” I whisper back.
He nods and turns back to the men. “What would you want my client to testify about?”
“We have reason to believe that she knew of the actions of her father and grandfather, and while she didn’t necessarily partake in the criminal activity, she knew exactly what was happening. We need her to testify to meetings she attended that occurred between her father and grandfather,” Agent Liddell says.
“No,” I say again.
“Think about it,” Agent Liddell says, looking at my lawyer instead of me.
My lawyer whispers in my ear again, “Right now, I know I can get you out on bail. I wouldn’t take the plea. But it is something to consider if the evidence is really as strongly against you as they claim.”
I nod but don’t accept that. I don’t accept that I might need to take a plea when, this time, I did nothing wrong. And I’d rather go to jail and think of it as penance for my past transgressions than say anything against my family.
“Is that all?” I ask.
“In a hurry to get back to your cell?” Agent Hayes asks.
“It’s better than being in here.”
“Your arraignment is scheduled to start in an hour. In the meantime, think about taking the plea. I’d hate to see a pretty woman like you end up spending the best years of your life in prison,” Agent Hayes says.
Everyone stands, and an officer leads me back to the holding cell but not before I get one last glare in at the agents.
I walk down the hallway leading back to the holding cell, the entire time scanning the area for Killian. He’s the reason I’m here. Whatever he found, that’s why I’m here, and it’s why my grandfather is handcuffed to his bed.
And, as soon as I get out of here, I plan on finding Killian. I plan on finding out the truth.
“Here are the conditions of your bond. Read it carefully, and then sign here,” the officer says, pointing to the bottom of the paper.
I take t
he pen and sign my signature without reading it. The same signature is supposedly all over several criminal papers. It’s the reason I was locked up for almost twenty-four hours in the first place. It’s the reason I could go to jail for ten years.
I slide the paper back to the officer, trying not to think about it when there are so many things I don’t know or understand. Things that I don’t believe to be true. I don’t believe my grandfather or my father would have done anything illegal, especially when it came to the well-being of their company.
“Here are your belongings.” The officer slides over my phone, ID, and lip gloss—the only things I had on me when I was arrested.
I take them and put them in the pocket of my sweatpants. I tuck my long blonde hair behind my ear. It feels tangled and greasy from not showering.
“You’re free to leave then.”
I turn from the officer and walk out the door of the jail. I take a deep breath to keep the tears at bay as I walk out into the warm Las Vegas air.
“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Scarlett says, running toward me.
She immediately wraps her arms around me, like I’ve been off at war for a few years instead of just sitting in a holding cell for one night.
“I’m fine, Scar.”
She releases me and begins looking me up and down. She inspects every inch of me, but I don’t know what she expects to find. I’m not bleeding or permanently scarred. I didn’t get any tattoos or join a gang.
“I’m fine,” I repeat.
She suspiciously eyes me, like she doesn’t believe me. “You should get a doctor appointment just in case.”
I roll my eyes at her and start walking toward the car she drove to pick me up. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t know that for sure. You could have caught hepatitis or something while you were in there.”
“Scar,” I whine, “I’m fine.”
I give her a stern look before I quickly walk the rest of the way to the car while Scarlett scurries behind me in her heels. Each step of her heels sounds loud on the concrete while my sneakers barely make a sound.
I open the door to her red Mercedes, feeling exhausted and tired. I just need to go home and sleep. Everything will make sense after a good night’s sleep. Even though it’s two or maybe three in the afternoon, it feels like two or three in the morning to me; that’s how exhausted I am. I just need to sleep for twenty hours straight, and then I’ll wake up and realize this was all a dream.
I move to slide into the passenger seat, but something makes me stop. I don’t know why I look behind me, but I do. It’s just a feeling that I have to look before I get into the car.
When I look up, I realize why I had the feeling as soon as I see Killian standing just outside the jail building. He intensely looks at me, like he always does. His dark brown hair looks a little unkempt on top of his head, and it’s obvious he hasn’t shaved since the last time I saw him. He’s dressed in a suit, much the same as he has been almost every day I’ve spent with him. Every day, except for the one day he took me on a date, but it wasn’t really a date. It was just a way for the other agents to try to get information from me. It was just a hoax.
I feel my anger bubbling inside me, I slam the door, and my feet begin moving toward him before I even have a chance to think about what I’m doing.
“Kins?” Scarlett asks hesitantly.
“I’ll be right back,” I say as I continue to walk toward Killian.
He keeps his intense eyes on me, his face not showing me any emotion or giving anything away as I walk to him. When I get close, he indicates for me to follow and then begins walking away from the building. We walk two blocks before he ducks into an alleyway and stops, turning to face me.
“You okay?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “I’m fine.” I’m annoyed that everyone keeps asking me that. “Why are we here?”
“We couldn’t have this conversation in front of the jail. Too many cameras and witnesses.” He pauses. “I’m not supposed to speak to you. It’s not good for the case.”
“I see. Then, why are you?” I raise my eyebrows.
He innocently looks at me. “Because I couldn’t stay away.”
I open my mouth to speak, but Killian’s lips crash with mine, and I stumble backward in shock. He easily catches me in his arms, as if he was expecting that reaction. His lips are brutal against mine, demanding more from me. Even though our last kiss was just last night, it feels like we haven’t kissed in years. The kiss feels like home, something I’m desperate for after spending a night in jail.
Those feelings quickly go away though as thoughts of last night creep back into my head. I try to lose myself in the kiss again and pretend that there is nothing wrong. That he wasn’t the reason I just spent a night in jail even though I had done nothing wrong. I want to love him, but instead, I hate him.
I try to push him back to get him to release my lips so that I can show him that I hate him, that I no longer care about him. He doesn’t budge though. He just kisses me harder, making it even harder to resist. Every kiss brings me closer to just giving in to him and forgetting my hatred. So, instead, I decide to attack back with my own defiant and brutal kisses. I bite and nip and pull at his lips as my hands claw at his back.
He doesn’t fight me. He lets me take my anger out on him, as if he thinks he deserves the pain I’m inflicting. He does. He deserves worse after lying to me and my family. He deserves a whole lot worse.
I bite down hard this time, hard enough to draw blood and for him to let go of me. He touches his fingers to his lips and then removes his hand, looking at the blood. His eyes then look to me, and I see the lust still in his eyes. He still wants me, but he doesn’t love me. He doesn’t care about me. If he did, he would have told me what was going on before he had me arrested. He wouldn’t have let me get so invested in him when he wasn’t being truthful. He was just using me.
“What was that?” I ask.
“It was a kiss. It was—”
“Stop. I don’t want to hear it. We are over. It doesn’t matter what it was.”
He sucks in a breath but doesn’t argue with me.
“Why have you been investigating my family?”
He blankly looks at me but doesn’t say anything.
“What did you find?”
Again, he stands stoic and doesn’t answer.
“Why did you propose to me? Why did you try to become CEO? Why was I in jail? Why? Just…why?”
He doesn’t answer me or show any reaction to my questions.
“My family did nothing wrong. Not my grandfather. Not me. And especially not my father.” I don’t know why I feel the need to defend my father now that he’s dead, but I do. I think I feel even stronger about fighting for him because I loved him more than anyone, and he’s not here to defend himself. I won’t let his memory become tarnished.
“How long have you been investigating? The full five years you have been working for the Felton Corporation?”
He doesn’t answer me, but there is one question that he might answer. One question he owes me.
“What is your name? Your real name?”
I wait for Killian to answer, to say anything about what happened.
He doesn’t. He just looks longingly at me.
I shake my head as I begin pacing back and forth in the small alleyway. It must have rained last night because I notice a small puddle of water as I walk through it.
“You owe me your name, don’t you think? We slept together. You proposed to me. Don’t you think you owe me your name?”
His eyes soften and sadden at my words. I’ve affected him but not enough for him to talk to me or tell me anything.
“If you’re not going to talk to me, then why am I here?”
He isn’t going to tell me anything. I really wasn’t anything to him. Just someone he could sleep with to make his time undercover more enjoyable.
He moves his hand to touch me, but I brush it away. He doesn’t g
et to touch me again if he’s not going to talk to me.
“I came to say good-bye. I won’t come speak to you again—at least, not outside of a courtroom or FBI building.”
He hesitates, and I feel tears welling in my eyes at the thought that I might never see him again. Even now that I know the truth, it doesn’t stop me from getting emotional at the thought that I might never see him again outside of a courtroom or interrogation room. It won’t be like this again.
“And I came to say I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you or to let you get so emotionally invested. I was just trying to do my job. I never wanted this. You understand why we can’t be together? Why we have to say good-bye now?”
I nod. “I understand that you never cared about me and were only doing your fucking job!” Anger escapes my mouth with my words. I was trying to hide it because, as long as I was hiding it, he wouldn’t know how much he truly hurt me.
He winces, feeling hurt by my words.
I close my eyes, trying to calm myself before I speak again. When I open my eyes, I say the only words I have left to say, and I say them without any emotion, despite the pain I feel inside, “Good-bye, Killian.”
“Good-bye, princess.” He opens his mouth to say more, but then he stops himself. He turns to walk back to where we came from, but then he stops and walks back to me, like he’s changed his mind again. “Take the deal they are offering you. You don’t deserve to go to jail. I don’t want to have to testify against you. If this goes to trial, you will go to jail. Take the deal.”
“You’re incredible. You don’t tell me anything. You lie to me the entire time I’ve been with you, and then you tell me to give up everything I’ve ever known. You’re just trying to get me to testify against my grandfather. I won’t do it.”
“You have to trust me on this. They will nail you. They have the evidence they need, and your grandfather will go to jail, no matter if you testify or not. So, take the deal. There is no reason to sacrifice yourself just to be loyal to a family that has never been loyal to you.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He grabs my shoulders. “Please, just listen to me.”