Reveal

by Bromberg, K.

Those four words—the mistrust laced through them—are like a twist of the dagger and knock my thoughts loose in a state of panic.

  “Tell him what?”

  “You’re the only one I’ve ever told about my uncle. About Sam. Did you tell him?” Her voice rises in pitch, distrust in each and every syllable.

  “No. That’s none of his goddamn business. I wouldn’t betray your trust like that.”

  She gives me a look that says I already have, and fuck if she isn’t right.

  “You promised you wouldn’t confront him.”

  Like hell I won’t.

  “How am I supposed to stand by and let this happen to you?” I throw my hands up. “How as a man worth anything am I supposed to not defend you?”

  “You’ve already done enough.” And it’s those words that quiet and fuel my rage simultaneously.

  But not at her. Not at Carter.

  Rather, at myself.

  “I deserve that.”

  Her nails score into my skin where she grips my forearms. “There’s nothing we can do. He’s a senator. He has—”

  “I don’t fucking care if he’s the goddamn pope,” I shout, hating that my defiant Vaughn is suddenly lying down on this.

  “I can’t compete with his power and influence.”

  “What is it that you have on him, Vaughn? What is it he wants so badly that he’ll destroy you for?”

  Because it has to be that, right? It has to be her blackmail material he’s after. Otherwise, his obsession over sleeping with her would be sick and so very different than his need to use it against her to get what he wants.

  “It doesn’t matter what I have on him. He could recover from it—others in his shoes have. It was enough to keep him at bay with Lola, but now?” She sighs. “Now? The stakes have been upped, and he’d destroy me and everything I care about in the process.” She lowers her head and looks at her hands as she moves them off me to clasp them in front of her. Then she nods and begins to leave.

  “Don’t walk away from me.”

  She stops, her back to me, her head down. “I’m not walking away, Ryker. I’m just . . . I don’t know what I’m doing, but I have to think of me and Lucy first.”

  I nod, knowing that I have to respect her request and hating it all at the same time.

  If I hadn’t stepped in, he might have moved on. All this might not be happening.

  “Don’t make this any harder than it already is, Ryker.”

  “I’m going to kill him.” I’ve never spoken truer words.

  “He’ll ruin me.” Resignation colors her tone.

  “And I’ll ruin him.” I step up behind her and put my hand on the curve of her hip. Something, anything, to let her know I mean what I’m saying. It’s the first time she doesn’t pull away from me.

  “It wouldn’t matter. The damage would already be done. I’d already lose everything that means anything to me.” She turns and looks back at me with those eyes I’ve lost myself in more times than I’ll ever admit just as another tear slips down her cheek. “Please, Ryker . . . I appreciate you wanting to wield your sword for me, but it’s not going to make this go away.”

  “Then give him what he wants. Whatever you have on him,” I urge.

  “And give him complete and total power over the situation? Over me?”

  She’s right in every sense of the word, but all I want is for her to be safe. All I want is for Carter Preston to leave her the fuck alone.

  “It’s my life you’re messing with, Ryker . . . not yours.”

  “I’ll make this right. I’ll figure out . . .” Fuck! “I’m so sorry, Vaughn.”

  “I know you are.”

  And without another word, she walks away.

  No. I let her walk away, because I feel like a helpless piece of shit who can’t seem to do a goddamn thing right.

  If I thought I knew rage before, I fucking know it now.

  You did this, Ryk. You and your goddamn fucking selfishness. You sicced this pit bull on the woman you love, and now he’s salivating over the chance to sink his teeth into her.

  And all I have in defense is a shitty garden hose to try to scare him off.

  I move from one end of my office to another. The drywall calls on me to punch it, to push a hole through it, but I know it won’t do a goddamn thing to fix the situation. To call off the dog.

  No. A hole in the wall will be just another reminder of Vaughn.

  Of how she needs someone to patch the drywall when I keep punching through it.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Vaughn

  For the second time in days, I find myself wandering the streets of New York City. I buy a coffee from Starbucks, but it grows cold in my hand without the java ever touching my tongue.

  I know this isn’t Ryker’s fault.

  I know that Carter is just finishing what I started when I denied him services, made him pay compensation regardless, and threatened him with blackmail pictures. I’m not naive enough to think we’d end it at that.

  But I was naive when it came to thinking that maybe if I didn’t poke the sleeping bear, Carter would allow everything between us to grow cold and move on.

  And then Ryker went and poked the bear.

  I stand in the middle of Times Square. The jumbotrons flash bright colors from their screens. Tourists mill about, their shoulders and backpacks jostling me here and there.

  But I’ve never felt more alone.

  This is such a different feeling than when Sam died. With her it was absolute devastation and utter shock. But now? Now I have so many things I never expected right at my fingertips—adopting Lucy, everything with Ryker, the applications I filled out this week to get my teaching credential—and I fear one wrong move could take that all away from me.

  My mind keeps circling back to Carter’s threat. To his mention of my uncle. And with a clearer head now that I’ve confronted Ryker, I can focus on why his threat is ringing out of tune to me.

  So Carter Preston knows about my uncle . . . but what about him? How would Carter outing my sister’s abuse hurt me? Privately, it would remind me of the despair and devastation she went through to protect me, but publicly? How could him talking about my creep of an uncle do anything to harm me?

  The only way it could is by outing the fact that I’m the owner of Wicked Ways. That I sell sex for a living and take a cut off the top.

  So why is Carter using it as a threat? Is there something else missing that I don’t remember? It took me over ten years to remember her abuse, so what else is it that I’ve repressed, if anything?

  That’s the unknown that’s haunting me.

  At first it was the fear that my uncle would find me and drag me back—juvenile in thought, but no one can judge a woman who in her adulthood fears the man who haunted her youth and abused her sister—and now it’s the fear that there’s something else there I don’t know.

  “What am I doing, Sam?” I mutter, well aware I won’t get a second glance in this crowd for talking to myself. “What am I missing?”

  My Wicked Ways cell alerts a text, the vibration in my hand informing me. I turn it over to see a text from Ella. Just my bimonthly question. Lol. Are you ready to sell yet?

  Ella’s been trying to buy me out since the minute I made a name for myself in this business, and I’ve held off because I need the ongoing income to pay off my debt. For the first time ever, though, I want to text back in all shouty caps YES! YES, I’M READY TO SELL . . . but I feel my client list isn’t robust enough to get the offer I need to make it worth selling.

  Just one more piece of the life I’m trying to build put on hold.

  Just one more dream I have to wait to achieve.

  Just one more heartache I have to endure.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Ryker

  “Is this seat taken?”

  “All yours,” I murmur just above the bluesy jazz the bar is piping through its speakers. The weeknight crowd is above average in size in this yuppified
bar on the East Side.

  “You’re lucky I was in town,” Carter Preston says, and I can see him hold up his fingers in my periphery to flag down the bartender. Once his drink is ordered and his first sip is taken, he leans back in his chair.

  I make him wait. Not because I have anything more pertinent to do but more because the fucker makes my skin crawl.

  “You going to talk, Lockhart, or am I going to sit here with my dick in my hand and pretend you love me?” He laughs like the self-righteous prick he is, and I’m already annoyed with him.

  “A double this time,” I tell the bartender when he points to my glass asking if I want a refill. I look at Carter for the first time. “This shit has got to stop.”

  “Us meeting in private like two lovers? I agree. It has to stop.” He smiles like a picture of innocence, and my hand tightens on my glass in reaction.

  “Leave Vaughn alone.”

  Carter takes his time sipping his bourbon, rolls it around on his tongue, and then sets his glass down before leaning back and staring at me. “Ah, so you are falling for the whore. How cute is that? The elusive Ryker Lockhart falling for the indiscriminate Vaughn Sanders.” He shakes his head after a beat and laughs. “I knew she couldn’t keep a secret. Loose lips in both places, apparently.”

  I fist my hands and clench my teeth and refuse to take the bait he’s throwing out for me. “Just a personal PSA is all.” I shrug.

  Carter part smiles, part laughs. “She has no idea you’re here talking to me, does she? What? Did she threaten to hold out if you did? Such a rebel, Lockhart. Risking the pussy to defend her honor. No worries—your secret is safe with me.”

  “My secret? Nah, more like I’m trying to make sure both of our asses are protected. She does have shit on you, Carter. I get being a politician and all you’re used to people having dirt, but hers . . . ,” I say with a lift of my eyebrows that tells him to figure out how bad it is for himself.

  “The log she has means shit,” he says dismissively. “The pictures will burn themselves out.”

  The log? Pictures? I slide a look at him over the rim of the glass when I take a drink.

  “That’s your business. Not mine,” I say with a shrug. “If what she has on you is meaningless, then why are you still pursuing her?”

  The slight stall of his glass to his lips tells me he’s bluffing.

  “She must be one magical paid fuck for you to risk losing your career over,” Carter murmurs, stare unrelenting, smirk taunting. “Screwing a woman—defending her—when you don’t know the truth about her isn’t exactly the smartest thing, now is it? You’d think a lawyer such as yourself would be a little more careful with his reputation.”

  “And you’d think a senator would have stronger morals,” I counter with a lift of my brows, but I have no fucking clue what he’s talking about other than her owning Wicked Ways.

  His laugh carries over the rest of the chatter in the bar, and a few people glance our way. “I see what you did here. Trendy place on the opposite side of town. A little crowded. A spot up front at the bar. Public but private. No one will think twice about the two executives in suits having a tense conversation.”

  “Stop with the bullshit. The standing in front of her house in the middle of the night. The threats about risking Lucy’s adoption. The intimidation. That might work in your fights on the Senate floor, but it doesn’t play well here.”

  “Stop or else what? You’re going to make sure my wife takes me to the cleaners? Oh, I’m scared.”

  “This has nothing to do with your wife.”

  “You’re fucking her too, then?”

  “I don’t sleep with clients.”

  “Apparently Vaughn does,” he says and then tsks when I shift in my chair, my fist clenched as I bite my tongue. In our last conversation, I basically confirmed that Vaughn is Vee. There’s not a chance in hell I’m going to make that mistake again. Stupid, because Carter already knows it, but I’ve learned my lesson. “It’d be a shame for you to take a swing at me right now. My security detail is a little bored as of late and might be a little too eager to take care of you. Besides, there are too many connections between us right now, so you don’t want to risk being noticed.”

  “It just might be worth it.” I meet his glare and lift an eyebrow in a taunt. The tension thickens as I wait for him to make the next move.

  It’s his call. Ramp this down, or take the hit my fist is begging to throw.

  “You know what, Lockhart? I’ll tell you the same thing I told your hired help.” He shakes his glass so the ice rattles.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m not the best guy to threaten. While I’m sure your ego is large enough to think that a part of this has to do with me pursuing Vaughn to get back at you for screwing me over with Bianca, you’d be wrong. While I normally wouldn’t put it past me to be that vindictive, don’t think so highly of yourself that I care anything about you one way or another. If I want to get back at you, sure, I’d fuck her and take every ounce of pleasure hearing her cry out my name . . . but it’s easier than that. All I have to do is let Roxanne talk. Offer to pay my old friend what she’d stand to lose if that divorce settlement of hers is overturned due to her attorney’s misconduct. She’d be more than willing to throw you under the bus for that with the whole woman-scorned bit she’s playing. A few gossip mills later and your reputation will take a big hit over how you sleep with your clients’ wives and then go soft during negotiations against their favor. That would be payment enough.”

  And Roxanne resurfaces once again . . . fucking cocksucker. If he’s trying to hit every please-break-my-nose-with-a-punch button, he’s more than succeeded. I shift in my seat to abate the urge and take in a deep breath.

  Keep your focus, Ryk. While punching the hell out of him will make you feel better, it does nothing to get him to back the fuck off of Vaughn. De-escalate the situation.

  “Vaughn’s off limits,” I grit out. “Not because you want to get back at me, but because she’s not someone you want to get tangled with. She goes down, you go down.”

  “She’s going to go down all right, and it’s going to be on me.” He tilts his glass up and empties its contents with a satisfied sigh. “You see? I don’t care if she’s with you or not with you or if you’ve gone soft and now are a pussy. I want her, and I will have her for no other reason than to even a score. Yes. I’m a sick bastard like that. No woman gets the upper hand on me and gets away with it. And I’ll fucking get off on every goddamn moment of it.”

  I try to remain calm and not engage. I’m realizing that the more I react, the more I fight, the more adamant he becomes to have her.

  “No man uses fear to corral a woman.”

  “She’s not a woman, Lockhart. She’s a whore. And you’ll thank me in the future for reminding you of that little fact.”

  “Half of Washington has dirt on you, Senator. You going to hate-fuck all of them as well?”

  “If I need to.” His smile is cold and calculating and begs me to say more, but I refrain. My body is so taut with anger my muscles ache. “Cat got your tongue?”

  “Nope. Just trying to figure out how an asshole like you hasn’t been killed by a guy like me yet.”

  He chuckles and taps his glass against mine. “You go from all but serving up Vaughn’s pussy on a platter to me to defending her as if she’s your holy grail. What happened to using sex to garner fear and then gain power? Where did that eager little beaver who gobbled up my advice go?” His chuckle rumbles through the bar as I let him ramble to see what else he’s going to say to me. And fuck if it isn’t one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. “You think there wasn’t a reason I didn’t tell you what I had on her? You think I haven’t been around the block enough times to feel out the fucker who screws me over by taking my wife on as a client and then promises to let me sample his whore? More importantly, I have you admitting on tape that you pay a woman to have sex with you. I have you offering to pay her to hav
e sex with me. Bribing a politician is a serious offense, Ryker. You’re a lawyer. You should know that.”

  “You son of a bitch.” It’s all I can think to say as my mind tumbles out of control. Over how I walked right into his trap without blinking a fucking eye. I said her name, and it was recorded. Fucking hell. Now one misstep by me won’t only screw me but will have enough fallout to devastate Vaughn in more ways than I could ever imagine.

  “Don’t worry, though. I won’t use it against you unless you fuck with me. Unless you intervene between Vaughn and me.” He leans in closer so I can smell the alcohol on his breath and the scent of snake oil from his slimy soul. “I play games for a living, Lockhart. You let your guard down and forgot that part. But don’t you worry—I’ll get what I need from you and what I want from her, one way or another.”

  I bite back the rage that consumes me. At him for being a prick and playing the game better than anyone I’d like to admit. At me for walking into a setup I should have seen a fucking mile away. For sitting here like a shell-shocked bastard as he walks away instead of punching his goddamn lights out.

  Now what, Ryk?

  She came to your office. She finally confessed what happened. And then she begged you not to confront him. Not to push his limits, because who knows how an irrational fuck like him would take it.

  And of course she was right.

  Nothing’s changed now other than that you did exactly what she feared: you stoked the fire, so now it’s burning even brighter for the pyromaniac to sit back and play with until everything burns down around us.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Ryker

  “Stuart.” It’s how I greet my private investigator when he answers my call.

  “Why do I get the feeling this isn’t a simple request to see how my day is going?” Stuart asks with a chuckle.

  “I want to know every goddamn thing there is to know about Vaughn Sanders.” My feet move from one side of my office to the other. They haven’t stopped moving, seeing as I keep replaying my meeting with Carter over and over in my mind.

  “I thought you told me to hold off on stripping her bare.”