Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(13)

“Hmm.”

“I assure you, sir, all information is kept completely confidential. Is this your first time calling a service?”

“Yes.”

“It’s quite common to feel a little anxious over it. I assure you, we’ll take good care of you.”

He pauses for a beat, combatting his anxiety. “Ryker Lockhart is the name.”

My shoulders sag hearing the name, but I shouldn’t be surprised considering this is the sixth call I’ve received like this in the last ten days. A part of me wants to tell the gentleman my client list is full and refer him out to another agency. Ryker’s sudden referrals make me feel like this is how he’s trying to cement his apology to me.

Doesn’t he get that sending me customers doesn’t take away from the humiliation and hurt he caused?

“Are you there?” the man on the other end of the line asks.

“Yes. My apologies,” I say as I pull into my driveway. “I’m driving and was distracted. I’d love to help you with your needs. Here’s how Wicked Ways works . . .” And then I explain the process of becoming a client, the website where he can fill out the beginning paperwork for the vetting process. I then go on to explain how payment is up front and that we provide an escort only for whatever event she’s needed for, that companionship is our service, and that anything that happens after that has nothing to do with Wicked Ways.

His chuckle rumbles through the line in response. “Convenient.”

“The truth,” I correct, toeing that fine line between what could land me in jail and what might save my ass.

“When do I get to see the girls?”

“After you complete the information online.”

“Seriously?”

“If someone referred you to us, then I assure you we’re worth it.” His sigh is drawn out. “Look, I know it’s a lengthy process, but I like to keep a certain standard as well as a guarantee of my clients’ confidentiality.”

“Which I’m sure your clients appreciate.”

“Most definitely.”

Another nervous clearing of his throat. “Ryker had only positive things to say about you.”

“Mmm.” It’s all I can muster as emotion clogs in my throat. “Please don’t hesitate to call with questions.”

“I won’t.”

“Your name so I can look for your information?” I ask, pretty convinced he won’t follow through with it, the nerves in his voice more than telling.

“Noah.”

“Thanks for calling, Noah. I’ll be in touch once you’ve filled everything out.”

When I hang up, I sit in the silence of my car for a bit and fight the sudden swell of sadness that overtakes me. With Ryker near, I felt more invincible than ever before. I knew I could earn money through Wicked Ways, pay off my debt, and then get custody of Lucy. The worry was always there, but the doubt I could pull it off diminished knowing he had my back.

And now? Now . . . I just feel vulnerable. I hate everything about the way it feels. So much so that once again I’m fighting my own resolve against picking up the phone and calling him.

With a resigned sigh, I get out of my car and head up the walk. I see the flowers and chocolates on my porch the minute I turn the corner. A groan falls out of my mouth, and a pang of grief hits me at the same time my cell rings yet again.

But it’s not the person I think I was hoping to see on my caller ID. In fact, I don’t know who it is at all.

With a sigh and a hunch that it’s yet another referral from Ryker, I answer the call. “Wicked Ways, this is Vee. How may I help you?”

“Just how wicked are your ways?”

I jolt at the voice and then curl my lip in disgust. I should have expected he’d call, but with each passing day, I thought less about it happening.

Guess who was just proved wrong?

“What? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles. “Oh, right. You didn’t expect it to be me, did you? Burner cell phones, letting men cheat on their wives for years,” he says in an announcer’s voice.

“Go to hell.” I end the call just as his laughter sounds off.

And then I hate myself for being weak. For not telling him to leave me alone or . . . Or what, Vaughn? For not telling him you have a damning log of phone calls that makes absolutely zero sense to you? That’s great. Threatening him with a paper someone else told you could bring him to his knees even though you don’t have a fucking clue what that something is?

I press my fingers to the bridge of my nose and close my eyes. Sure, I could threaten him with the pictures again, but would that do any good? Underage girls would probably get overlooked by other politicians and be buried by the news cycle within days.

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Vaughn,” I murmur to myself as I shake my head, a little dazed and a lot tired, on the front porch and realize I have no position of power when it comes to Carter Preston.

None.

I jump when my cell rings again. The same number. The same asshole.

My same cowardice.

Each ring only adds fuel to the fire of my temper.

My spirits wilt when he’s finally pushed to voice mail. Ten seconds pass before his number lights up my screen again like a stalker.

His audacity unnerves me. His refusal to give up even more so.