Reveal

by Bromberg, K.

  And then it hits me. Maybe it’s because I don’t have the two of them staring at me. Maybe it’s because I have a chance to breathe. Regardless, the gravity of everything about this situation blindsides me.

  Oh my God.

  This is really happening.

  The FBI.

  All of it.

  And just as I sink into the reality of all this, the two men walk back into the room, Noah scratching his head, Abel resuming his bodyguard stance against the wall.

  “Change of plans,” Noah says.

  “There were plans?” I ask, and Abel nods. “Care to expand?” I laugh nervously as they both fix their unrelenting stares on me.

  “We planned on waiting until he made his move on you . . . then we’d make ours on him. We’d push and pressure and use you as leverage,” Noah explains.

  “But I don’t understand. It would be simple solicitation. Sleeping with underage girls is a way stronger case.”

  “Yeah, but if we add aggravated assault—”

  “You already have that in my proof. The pictures of him and a minor,” I interject, and Abel clenches his jaw in reaction.

  “Do you care to let us run this discussion, Ms. Sanders, or should we just press those charges now?”

  I stare at Abel and his threat and dutifully fold my hands in my lap to hide their trembling. “Sorry, but I’m not following what . . . oh.” It’s all I can say as my thoughts fall in line. “You were going to use me. You were going to wait for him to hurt me and then swoop in and use that against him as leverage for whatever it is you want from him.” I blink as I try to comprehend that they would really do that.

  They don’t waver in the least at my accusations. Instead, Noah takes a sip of his Sprite, his eyes on mine.

  “You’ve told the senator you have something else on him, and yet you’ve never quite elaborated what it is.” Abel lifts his eyebrows, neither confirming nor denying my accusation, and that in itself sends chills down my spine.

  “Wait a minute. After you got what you wanted from Carter, what was going to happen to me?” My voice is barely a whisper.

  “You were collateral damage,” Abel says, eyes boring into mine as he lifts his eyebrows. “We were using you, and if the Southern District of New York wanted to press charges against a madam who became known in the midst of our process or from the fallout”—he shrugs—“then so be it.”

  My ears ring. Collateral damage? Press charges?

  Am I going to lose everything I’ve worked for? Everything I took all these risks for? The irony isn’t lost on me—that I started Wicked Ways as a means to save Lucy, and it just might be the reason I lose her.

  The panic attack hits me full on without holding any punches. Assuming it is one thing. Living with the hint of its fear for so long has almost dulled the thought, made it blend into the background, but now—now that I’m sitting here with two federal agents, now that I’ve heard the actual words spoken out loud from an FBI agent—this is a whole dose of reality I can’t fathom.

  Noah is up in an instant, his hand on my shoulder as he urges me to breathe slowly. As he tells me to calm down while I want to scream at him that there’s no way I can be calm.

  Abel pushes a bottle of water across the coffee table, and Noah picks it up and hands it to me.

  A few minutes pass before I feel like I can continue.

  “You good?” Noah asks, and I do the only thing I can. I nod.

  “As I asked before, what else do you have on the senator?”

  I force myself to keep my voice steady in the two seconds I have to respond to his question before he knows I’m lying. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “I was bluffing him,” I reassert, and for some reason I stand my ground, uncertain why it is I feel the need to keep the call log I have a secret, but in that split second, I do. The only time I mentioned it as a log to Carter was when we were face-to-face in my driveway, not on my phone, so they couldn’t have heard what was going on. “He didn’t seem fazed by the photos, so I needed something else to hold over his head since the damage he could inflict on me was much greater.”

  They both eye me, and I lift my eyebrows and stare back so they buy my lie.

  You are lying to the FBI, Vaughn. You have something more on him. Are you out of your goddamn mind?

  “Like ruin your life.”

  My eyes snap over to Abel, his threat more than loud and clear.

  “So if I was bait in a plan that you’re no longer going to implement . . . why am I here, then?”

  Abel grins, but there is zero humor in it. “Plan B.”

  “Plan B? What’s plan B?” I ask.

  “Instead of waiting for him to come to you . . . we’re going to push the envelope, and you’re going to tell him you’re ready to sleep with him.”

  I measure my reaction, but I’m more than certain they can see the disgust and rejection in my expression.

  “And then what? There’s no way in hell I’m sleeping with him, let alone allowing him to touch me.” I push up out of my seat and start to move about the room. This is all way too real, way too raw, and I know that I’m in a shitload of trouble. “I’m not a prostitute.”

  Abel lifts a single eyebrow, and I glare at him.

  “No one is asking you to sleep with him,” Noah says.

  “Just make sure you get what we need before that part of the program arrives.”

  I whip my head over to Abel at his comment, and right now I hate him with every part of my being.

  “What exactly is it that you want from him? Don’t you think that would be pertinent for me to know?” Tears of frustration well, and again Abel points for me to sit down. I hate that I have to obey, but I do.

  “The senator is selling votes.”

  And with those five words, I know that I won’t be able to walk away from this hotel suite unscathed. I know what they are looking into. I know who they are looking at. It’s not like they are going to dust their hands of me.

  I take a deep breath. “Selling votes? Isn’t that normal in Washington?” I ask naively. “Lobbyists gift things to senators to persuade their votes?”

  “This makes it so much easier that you’re educated on the topic,” Noah says and leans back in his chair. “But this goes a little bit further than that.”

  “As in?” I push.

  The two of them look at each other as if they are in silent agreement to proceed, and then Abel answers. “There was a large vote a few months back on a bill that dealt with stem cell treatment. It was expected to pass. A yes would push the bill through and allow the research and development of a certain technology by a company called Tecolote R&D.”

  I’m more than aware that both men are watching my every reaction to see if there is any flicker of recognition on my part—there is none.

  “And not passing the bill would tank the company, I presume? The stocks that were suddenly soaring would plummet? I feel like I’ve heard this story before,” I say sarcastically, wanting them to know I may run an escort service, but I’m far from ignorant of current events. “So what happened? Did the bill not pass? Did someone know this ahead of time and sell their shares on insider information and save themselves from losing their asses?” I look back and forth between the two of them. “Is that what this is all about? Did Carter participate in insider trading?”

  “Told you she was smart,” Noah says to Abel, almost as if they have a bet going, before turning back to me. “We looked at that because it would fit the bill, but no, there was no insider trading.”

  “Then what?” I ask in exasperation.

  “The bill’s approval hinged on one vote.”

  “Let me guess—Carter’s?”

  “Yes,” Abel says. “And surprisingly, his yes became a no because he suddenly found his pro-life, stem-cells-are-humans belief when his entire political career he’s voted a different way.”

  “I’m not following,” I state as my mind swims.

 
“We believe that Carter was paid the sum of two million dollars from a rival of Tecolote’s to tank the bill,” Noah says, connecting all the dots for me.

  “Who is their rival?” I ask.

  “Alpha Pharmaceuticals.” Again, both men study me for any kind of reaction, but I have none.

  “But why would this Alpha company do that?”

  “Because a bill and grant given to Tecolote would put Alpha out of business when they’ve created a new way to manipulate stem cells. Alpha had one more month until their trials were complete, and then they could push their own bill through Congress. They’ve spent a ton of money on this, and if Tecolote’s bill passed, it would all be thrown to waste.”

  “But two million dollars is a ton of money,” I say.

  “It’s a drop in the bucket in DC. Besides, two mil is pocket change to a company that stands to gain hundreds of millions.”

  I stare at my water bottle, at the condensation ring forming on the table around its base, and try to process everything and understand it fully.

  “So Carter took a bribe. Isn’t that enough to pull him in for questioning?”

  “If only it were that easy,” Noah says. “We can’t originate where the money came from in Carter’s account, just that it showed up there a week before the vote. And then it left his account a few days after that.”

  “Can’t you just ask him where it came from?” I ask.

  “No. That’s not how this works. We don’t exactly have probable cause to be rooting through his bank accounts.”

  “Then how do you know he did it?”

  “Because another vote was bought that we caught. Small-time stuff. The senator wasn’t as crafty with their paper and wire trails on that one,” Noah explains.

  “Can’t you get him on that incident?” I ask.

  “Sure, but we’d rather get him on this one,” Noah says.

  I draw in a deep breath and try to digest all I’ve heard. “Okay . . . so you think he took a bribe to throw a vote. You can’t pin it on him. I get all of that, but what does it have to do with me?”

  “Everything.” Abel grins. “You couldn’t have played into our hands any better than you did to Carter. That bluff of yours is more than brilliant for what we have in mind.”

  “You’re going to tell him you’ll give him everything he asked for during your conversation tonight. The pictures. The signed NDA. The ten-thousand-dollar refund. You’ll explain that you’ve seen the error of your ways and know the only fair way to settle this is to just get it over with,” Noah says. “Then when you meet with him, you’re going to let him know about your second piece of nonexistent blackmail. You’re going to question him on it. Push his buttons. And get him to tell the truth.”

  I laugh out loud—part nerves, part incredulity. “You actually think he’s going to confess that he took a bribe? To me, of all people?”

  “Yes.” Abel smiles.

  “But—”

  “There’s something about the way he is when he’s with you.”

  “When he’s with me?” I ask, my skin crawling at the thought of them watching from afar somewhere. How they could see us interact but not hear a word. How they might assume what they want through the silence.

  For some reason, that seems like more of an invasion of privacy than the phone tap.

  “Your driveway. How he watched you in the lobby of the Four Seasons when you met with one of your girls the other night. How he—”

  “No more!” I hold my hand up to stop him, because his words just sucked all the oxygen out of the room for me. I struggle to breathe as I think of them surveilling him. Me. Us.

  As I think of Carter watching me when I didn’t know it.

  What other places has he sat and spied on me from afar?

  “Did you think we pulled you in here on phone calls alone?” Abel asks with condescension in his tone.

  I meet his eyes and pull myself together as best I can while my thoughts swirl and my world spins counterclockwise. I glare at Abel and his arrogance and then look back at Noah with a lift of my eyebrows, silently asking him to continue since I can’t seem to find my voice.

  “When Carter interacts with you, it’s almost as if he has to one-up you. Always prove he’s better and in control, and what better way for him to show he’s smart and conniving than to brag about it.”

  “That’s a stretch, Noah.”

  “Well, you better get flexible,” Abel says and leans forward, “or we’ll proceed with processing you down at the station.”

  Asshole.

  “So I do this, I get him to admit to it, and then what? What happens to me? Am I just collateral damage again? You use me and then throw me to the wolves?”

  “It’s not like that,” Noah soothes.

  “It’s exactly like that.” I throw my hands out and stand to pace the room again. “I’m your bait and then your chum to feed to the press when they need something to sink their shark teeth into.”

  “It’s not like you have a choice in the matter,” Abel says, and I swear he takes pleasure in rubbing my nose in it.

  I close my eyes and hate that one tear escapes. That I give them a show of weakness. That I have my hands cuffed in a way I never expected.

  “Look, Vaughn, all we need is proof,” Noah says after shooting his partner a look. “We have nothing to tie Carter to Alpha Pharmaceuticals. No phone calls. No emails. No anything.”

  “Except for his sudden change of heart in the vote and a mysterious two million dollars in his account,” I say.

  “Exactly.”

  “And the check for two million that he wrote out,” Abel says.

  “What?” I ask, at the same time realizing that he’d originally said the cash moved in and out of Carter’s account. I just assumed it went into another one of his accounts. “Who’d he write the check to? Is it someone who helped him throw the vote?”

  “You tell us.” I meet Abel’s stare when he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

  “There is one connection between the head of Alpha Pharm and Carter Preston,” Noah says.

  “Who?”

  The look they exchange has hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

  “Ryker Lockhart.”

  I can’t hide my reaction this time as I sputter in response. “What?” I all but laugh in disbelief.

  “A two-million-dollar check was written to one Ryker Lockhart a day before the vote was defeated,” Abel says.

  I study him, I hear what he’s saying, but I don’t believe it. “You’re saying you think Ryker was a part of this? That’s comical.”

  “Ah, she’s blinded by love. How cute.” Able nudges Noah.

  “Ryker hates Carter Preston.” I spit the words out, but I hate that doubts seep and creep into my mind. The you-owe-me’s of the pool house conversation rule my mind.

  “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 me
ss, 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.