Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(38)

“I need to know about her past,” I state, giving him the go-ahead to give me more information about one James Sanders.

The man we found who lives on the outskirts of Greenwich in a house he’s upside down in. And besides hoping his dick had rotted off for what he did to Vaughn’s sister, I didn’t allow myself to know much else.

“So either you want to royally fuck her over, or she’s the one.”

He could have sucker punched me and I wouldn’t have been so surprised by his words. “What the hell are you talking about?” I part laugh, part look around the room like a paranoid mess.

Stuart’s chuckle fills the line, and he was just added to my shit list. “I’ve never seen you like this before. You’re passionate about your clients—about getting what you need to win in court . . . but, Ryk, this is a whole next level.” I can all but hear him shrug. “That tells me she means something to you. Either you’re spooked and need to know her skeletons to make you shit or get off the pot when it comes to taking things further with her in the relationship department . . . or you’re not spooked and someone is fucking with her. In that case, have mercy on their souls.” His matter-of-fact tone resonates. The words he says with it even more so.

“Maybe the answer is that it’s a bit of both.” I don’t expect to give him an answer. That’s not my style. But he’s probably the closest thing I have to a friend, and I can’t take the words back.

And lucky for him he keeps his mouth shut, because his words reverberate loud and clear and knock loose truths I’m not sure I want to acknowledge. If I do care about Vaughn and she finds out I’ve ordered this invasion into her privacy, I’m the asshole who’s snooping. I’m the jerk who is suddenly a creep and is beyond reason. But if she never finds out because I charge in to save the day on a white horse behind the scenes, then isn’t the risk worth it?

I’ve already done enough to fuck with her. I’ve already screwed up. It’s my job to try to make it right the best I can—and this is the only way I can think to do that. To protect her. To make sure no one else can come after her if Preston sets his bullshit in motion.

“Just get me what I want, Stu.”

His laugh fills the line. “Sure thing. But, uh . . . do we need to have a talk about how committing a felony would ruin your law career?”

“I’m well aware.”

“Then maybe you should stop thinking about murdering whoever the fuck it is you’re thinking about hurting.”

“Nah. I’m finding great pleasure in using my imagination.”

“I’ll get on it.”

“Thanks.”

When I hang up the phone, my eyes veer to the door Vaughn walked out of the last time I saw her, and my thoughts come back to her as well.

What the hell does Carter Preston have on her?

Revealing who she really is and messing with her livelihood, I get. The fear of social services finding out and her losing the chance to adopt Lucy, I completely understand. But what in the hell is she not telling me about her uncle?

She’s a grown woman. He can’t intimidate or manipulate her now. I get that the chains of a past like that are strong and the thought of him could be debilitating, but there’s something else going on.

Something else that has her spooked.

If only I could get her to talk to me.

If only I could get her to trust me again.

If only I could win her back.

Way to fuck things up, Lockhart.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Vaughn

“It was a good night,” I agree with Melissa. It’s well after two in the morning as our heels click on the concrete floor of the long hallway that leads to Apropos’s exit.

Large tips always help to make it a good night.

Hands not grabbing your ass make it even better.

I glance down at my Wicked Ways phone and notice a text from the new client, Noah, and I slow down to read it. I received all the information you sent my way. I’d prefer to meet face-to-face before we proceed. I like to know who I’m doing business with.

With a sigh and a shake of my head, I slip my phone back into my purse. The last thing I want to do right now is don my Madam Vee getup and meet with a client who is already proving to be high maintenance before he even goes on his first date.

“You okay?” Melissa asks with concerned eyes, and I realize I’ve stopped walking and that she’s done the same in turn.

“Yeah. It was just a text. A bill collector,” I lie. “It’s just been a rough couple of weeks.”

“But I thought you had a man now,” she says and snaps her fingers in a Z shape.

“Ha. Hence the rough couple of weeks.” I laugh, all while hating the notion that she thinks I’d let a man pay my bills for me.

“Does he treat you right?”

I nod. “Yes. Of course. It’s just . . . complicated,” I murmur and roll my eyes in jest.

“We’re talking about a man here, aren’t we? They are as complicated as they are simple.”

“Very true,” I laugh, but the pang hits me just as hard as her words.

I miss him.

It’s been a little over three weeks since the Hamptons. Since I thought the stars were aligning and maybe—just maybe—there might be a little bit of happiness for me. Since the pool house and Carter Preston and the threats that could upend my world.