Reveal

by Bromberg, K.

  “You’re crazy if you—”

  “What’s it going to be, James? Are you going to do what the fuck I asked? Get the charges dropped. Admit to me that you’re a sick fuck who abused Samantha. And never—ever—speak of them again. Not to newspapers or police or so much as your own goddamn conscience. But then again, we both know you don’t have one.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are? I don’t take orders from anyone, let alone—”

  “Tick. Tock.” I hold the necklace up, the key swinging, and take measured steps toward the telephone on the desk.

  “Jesus Christ.”

  “Not even he can save you,” I grit out, looking at this pussy of a man unwilling to fess up to his sins. “Make the call.”

  It takes ten minutes for James to get the prosecuting attorney on the line, explain that after all this time he thinks he may have been wrong in pointing the finger at his nieces, and that he needs to know how to go about getting the warrants withdrawn.

  “I don’t understand, Mr. Dillinger,” the prosecutor says through the phone’s speaker. “This has been one of those cases that has haunted Greenwich forever. Why do you suddenly think differently? Are you under duress? Is someone forcing you to—”

  “No. No duress,” he stutters as he glares at me. “Just getting older and want to clean my conscience. I’d hate for them to be arrested someday should they come back home when they never committed the crime in the first place.”

  The prosecutor emits a loud sigh. “The warrants for theft still hold, though, right?”

  I shake my head.

  “No. No charges.”

  “You sure? Ten thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry and cash is an awful lot.”

  “It is, and if we ever find the person who broke into the house and shot me, I won’t hesitate to go after them to the full extent of the law.”

  The lies roll off his tongue, and I just shake my head in disgust. Is this what Vaughn thought Carter Preston was referring to when he brought up James Dillinger? That she’d be arrested for theft?

  “Only if you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” James says.

  “Okay, I’ll file to get an appearance before Judge Benedict as soon as possible. He’ll want to have the ladies appear in court—”

  “That can’t happen. I don’t even know where they are.” James glares at me, and I love that he hates everything about this. Serves him right.

  “Then—”

  “I hear you want the state’s attorney appointment. I can make that happen if you get this taken care of for me.” Silence sits on the line for a bit. The prosecutor clears his throat. “Did I not make good on my promises before when this first happened?”

  “Yes.” His voice is soft, cautious.

  “Then why do you doubt me now?” James asks, and I hate knowing this asshole is so good at manipulating people.

  “I’ll get the record set straight,” he finally agrees.

  “Thanks. And I’ll start making those phone calls on your behalf.”

  I hang up the phone and then shift my hip on the edge of the desk, a condescending smile on my lips. “That wasn’t too hard, now was it?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Just a few more things and I’ll be out of your hair, and in turn you’ll stay out of jail.”

  “What more do you want from me?” he asks, visibly tired.

  “I don’t want you to ever search out Sam or Vaughn. If I so much as hear that you’re even asking about them, the contents of that locker are turned over to the authorities.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re blowing hot air now.”

  My temper snaps. The temper I swore I’d keep in check is obliterated as my hands fit perfectly on either side of his neck and squeeze with enough pressure to put the fear of God into him. “At least I have a breath I can blow.”

  “Fuck you,” he forces out with what little oxygen he has left.

  “For a man as intelligent as you, your vocabulary is seriously limited. Now tell me the last thing I want to hear. Admit to me you did it. Admit you got your sick rocks off by molesting your niece.”

  “No.”

  I squeeze a little harder, his labored breathing becoming a wheeze. “No?”

  His face starts to turn red, his fingers trying to claw my hands from his neck. My own conscience questions what I’m doing, but all I can think of is sweet Lucy without a mom. All I can hear is the hurt in Vaughn’s voice when she so much as mentions her childhood here in this mausoleum.

  “Still a no?” I ask, worried he’s not going to care how far I take this high-stakes game of chicken.

  “Yes. God. Fuck. Yes. I did it. I fucking did it. Are you happy?” Spittle flies off his lips and hits my cheek.

  “Did what?” I demand.

  “Had sex with Samantha.”

  I release my hold on him and wipe the spittle off with the back of my hand. It takes all I have to look at him, my stomach churning, my heart hurting.

  “You sick fucking bastard.” Fury riots through every single part of me as I look at the wasted man. “I would add that if you so much as go near another little girl, the same goes with the contents of this locker. I’ll turn everything over to the police.” I run my eyes up and down the sorry sight of him. “But I guess Samantha made sure that wouldn’t happen again with where she aimed, now didn’t she?”

  He grits his teeth as my smile widens.

  “If you ever come near me again . . . ,” he says, his face a mask of fury.

  “You’ll what?” I laugh. “It’ll be because you broke your word, and I’ll be at your sentencing in court. You’re a pathetic piece of shit. May you rot in hell.”

  I head toward the library door, and once I have it open, I turn back to face him one last time. “For your information, Samantha didn’t tell me a thing. I never had the pleasure of meeting her. You sealed her fate the minute you chose to violate her. You sealed your own as well.” I remove my cell phone from my pocket so he can see that the record button on the screen has been engaged. “You go back on your word to me, I have your confession right here.”

  Without another word, I move to the foyer, where Beatrice is heading toward me.

  “Leaving so soon?” she asks cheerfully.

  “Yes. Poor James isn’t looking too well. You might want to check on him.”

  Just as I pass through the gates and take a breath of non-creepified air, my cell rings. I chuckle when I look at the screen and wonder just how fast good ol’ James rallied up the Dillinger family.

  “Chance. Brother. Are your senses on high alert? I step foot in Greenwich, and it’s like you know I’m in your town.”

  “I know, and it’s about damn fucking time. You didn’t call. You didn’t write.” He laughs.

  “Yeah. I wasn’t sure how long my business was going to last.”

  “You done now? Can we have drinks? Dinner with my fam? What?”

  I think of the woman I have at home. The woman who is a complicated mess of gorgeous chaos, feisty innocence, and flawed perfection. She’s the one I’d much rather be with right now.

  I look back at the house behind me and hope to never see it again.

  Fuck that. I will see it. In fact, I’m going to buy the place when the old buzzard dies, and then I’ll burn it to the ground.

  For Samantha.

  For Vaughn.

  For Lucy.

  Demolishing to ashes a past that never should have been would be worth every goddamn penny.

  “Thanks for the offer, Chance, but I have a sour taste in my mouth after my meeting.”

  “One of those fuckers you’d like to wrap your hands around their neck to shut them up?” He laughs.

  “Exactly. One of those.”

  “So that’s it? In. Out. Done?”

  “I’m sorry, but yes, that’s it.”

  “Just like the college days. Nothing changes,” he jokes.

  Interestingly enough, everything has, though. My thoughts flash to Vaugh
n and the long drive home. To how I can’t wait to see her and look in her eyes knowing I’ve taken one more step so that she never has to worry about that prick again . . . even though I’m not even sure I’ll tell her.

  Now Carter’s threat holds no weight.

  “Hey, Lockhart? You still there?”

  “Yeah. Sorry. I was just staring at a piece of real estate I have my eye on.”

  “Here?”

  “Mmm. Yes.”

  “Lots of gorgeous places to buy.”

  “Not this one. I’ll raze it to the ground.”

  “Really? Here in Greenwich?” His shock would be even greater if he knew what I was looking at.

  “Yep. Here in Greenwich.”

  “So you’ll be back, then?”

  “Someday, yes.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Vaughn

  “So that’s it?” Ella asks me, her grin beaming, her enthusiasm borderline annoying.

  “I guess so.”

  Shouldn’t I feel excited? I made this—Wicked Ways—into something that someone else wants. Something they are paying handsomely for. Shouldn’t I be proud of that?

  I am.

  I’m just exhausted in ways that no one can ever understand. There will be no more looking over my shoulder constantly. No more fear I’ll mix up who I am with the wrong person. No more hiding the money and trying not to trigger interest by the police despite all the precautions.

  But it’s also a little bittersweet. Despite all the cons, there was something about being Madam Vee, something about running the business, that was empowering.

  I smile at Ella. “If all goes as planned, it will be official by the end of next week. Upon your wire, I will transfer my book of business and everything else with it to you.”

  “That’s great,” Ella says. “And the legal paperwork?”

  I think of Ryker and the shock that’s going to be on his face when I ask him if he can help me write up the contract selling my assets to her. I don’t know why the thought fills me with even more pride.

  “I’ll get the paperwork drawn up. You can have your lawyer look at it beforehand.”

  “Perfect.”

  “I think it would be smart to hold a joint conference call with all my ladies. That way they can see that I support you and your success, and so they don’t have to worry about how things might adjust as ownership changes.”

  “I think that’s a great idea. Thank you. I’ll look at my calendar when I get back to my office and let you know some dates that work for me.”

  “Sounds good.”

  She reaches across the table and shakes my hand. “Do you mind me asking . . . why sell now when you’re just starting to make a notable name for yourself?”

  “Sometimes you just know when to quit.” I stand from the table. “And it’s time to quit.”

  I think of my immunity deal. How I’m walking away, hopefully unscathed. How you can only tempt fate—and the law—so many times before you end up being caught.

  “I admire you for walking away.”

  With one more smile and a bittersweet tug on my heart, I exit the bar.

  Ironically, it’s the same one I met Ryker in that first night. I think of the nerves I felt, of the anger I held, and of the fear I had upstairs in the hotel room.

  So much has changed since that night in so many ways. All for the better. All for the future.

  It feels so strange to walk across the hotel lobby. To feel relief and not have the weight of the world resting on my shoulders.

  Sure, Ryker paying off my bills will put me in a better standing with social services. Add to that the letter the FBI said they’d be providing today on my behalf. Adopting Lucy is far from a done deal, but for the first time since I started this process, I feel like I might just be seeing the light of day.

  Now to head home and wait for Ryker to tell me he’s back in town so we can celebrate all these things. And maybe I’ll be able to do a little explaining about what was going on that he didn’t know about.

  That’s assuming I get the all clear from Special Agent Noah that everything I provided them with panned out.

  Desperate to get out of this costume and wig for what might be the last time, I enter the elevator to head to my room, where my Vaughn clothes are.

  Even now, even with immunity, I still feel the need to be cautious doing the change-in-the-hotel-room thing.

  Old habits die hard, I guess.

  Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I keep my head down in the elevator and scan through the emails on my phone. Emails on an account I’ll no longer have to care about.

  People exit floor by floor, ding after ding.

  “I can’t remember the last time I saw you dressed like this, Vee. It’s truly stunning.”

  I jump when Carter’s voice hits my ears and more so when his hand slides into the crook of my arm. I immediately try to yank it away, but his grip holds firm.

  “Uh-uh-uh. Not so fast. You and I have a few things we need to discuss.”

  The elevator car is empty. The panic coursing through me is almost debilitating.

  “Go to hell.”

  His chuckle is low and unforgiving, and I yelp out as he tightens his grip hard enough to leave bruises. “Don’t cause a scene, and I’ll play nice.”

  He pushes me off the car when the door opens and steers me to my room. “Key,” he demands.

  I stare at him and don’t obey.

  I yelp as I’m slammed up against the hotel room’s door, my arm twisted against my back, my face pressed to the cool wood. My vision goes white for a beat from the pain as the heat of his breath hits my ear.

  “Pretty please, Vaughn. Be difficult. Give me a reason to punish you more than I already want to. Your cry is my aphrodisiac.” He slides a hand over my ass, and I try to buck him off me, but he yanks my arm farther up my back in response. “The fucking key, Vaughn.”

  My purse is ripped off my neck, the thin strap snapping without much force. His body is pressed against mine, but he manages to open the door with his free hand. I fall forward as it gives, and I land on my hands and knees on the floor.

  I scramble up immediately but not before the door is slammed shut. “I warned you, Vaughn. I have eyes everywhere in this town. I know everything. I have a snitch in the courthouse. Immunity in exchange for goods on me? Really? You sold me out to the fucking feds? And I thought we were so much closer than that.”

  My back is against the wall farthest from him. The moment is so very similar to the first time I faced him down in a hotel room, but this time the stakes seem so much higher. So much more damaging.

  My eyes scan every damn thing in the room around us to see what I can use as a weapon.

  “I wouldn’t even attempt it,” he warns as I see the phone on the nightstand, the lamp I could swing, anything and everything.

  “What do you want?” My voice betrays me. Fear woven into false strength.

  “Oh, you know what I want. We both know that. I’m over playing the games. You tried to hurt me today. Now it’s my turn to hurt you. And apparently time is of the essence, since someone will be knocking down my door to serve warrants soon.”

  He smacks his hands and rubs them together before starting to undo his belt as he moves toward me.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  Ryker

  “Where are you?” Stuart’s voice comes through the speaker on my car.

  “Stuck in this goddamn traffic. The Midtown nightmare on this goddamn island.” I slam on my horn, frustrated with my lack of movement and tired of driving. “It’s like the universe is—”

  “The Chatwal. Now.”

  And there’s something about his tone that doesn’t have me bristling at being ordered around and silences me immediately.

  “Stuart?” So much is loaded in his name, but I already know.

  Vaughn.

  It has to be Vaughn.

  I lay on my horn and cut across traffic as best as I can. A cacop
hony of horns explodes in response, and if I had ten fucks to give I still wouldn’t give any.

  Five blocks away.

  “She was in a meeting in the hotel. Dressed in the wig. I watched her for a bit and ran to use the head when she was wrapping up. I need it now!” he orders someone on the other end of the line and then sighs out a Fuck when all I hear is an I’m sorry, sir. “The manager. Get him.”

  “Stuart, what the fuck is going on?” Visions fill my head of some bastard manhandling her. She was dressed as Vee.

  “I caught a glimpse of her getting on the elevator. Carter slid in right before the doors shut.”

  Dread drops through every part of me.

  Four blocks.

  “Where the hell are they, Stu?”

  Thoughts. Visions. The worst. All fill my head, and I can’t even venture to think that I’m the one responsible for this. That I’m the one who threw her to the wolves for a client who was playing games with me somehow from the get-go.

  “I don’t know. I’m trying to get a manager to let me know if either of them has rented a room. It’s not exactly the easiest fucking thing to do here.”

  “Bribe them. I don’t care how fucking much. Do your goddamn job and bribe them!” I shout the words even though I know it’s not his fault.

  There are muffled sounds on his end of the connection as he tries to bargain with the desk clerk.

  Three blocks.

  “They’re looking through their database right now.”

  “Tell them to go fucking faster.”

  He has her.

  My fucking God, he has her.

  I swerve the car into the first valet podium I see and throw a hundred-dollar bill at them before taking off down the street in a full-on sprint.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Vaughn

  “The FBI knows I’m here,” I lie as I try to move left and then right, but I know my back is against the wall, and that’s the worst place it can be.

  His eyes are dark, his body unimpressive but definitely more powerful than mine as he closes the distance.