Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(75)

“Apparently you’re used to picking up your phone and making calls,” I say, assuming the call log I still can’t make heads or tails of shows his calls, even though none of the numbers match up to ones he’s dialed me from.

“You’ve got a mouth on you. I can’t wait to put it to good use.” Chills blanket my skin at the calm and cool way he makes the statement. “I’m back from my trip.”

“Good for you. I’m sure your wife is happy to see you.”

Another low and unforgiving chuckle rumbles through the line. “Ask your boyfriend about how that’s going. I’m sure he’d be happy to fill you in.”

“So that’s what this is all about? He’s representing your wife, so you think you get dibs on me?” I rise from my seat and move through my house, suddenly on edge. This conversation is as unexpected as his comment.

“No. That’s not what this is about. This is about how you have things I want.”

“So what? I hand them over and we’re even? I find it hard to believe you’d let me go at that.”

“You’d be correct.”

I shake my head and squeeze my eyes shut as I try to make sense of him. “So what are my options?”

“Hand over the pictures. The call log. The ten grand I paid Lola. And one night with you so I can collect my interest.”

“You’re dreaming.”

“That’s the American way.”

“I can’t do the first two. I’m not the one who’s holding the items. The ten grand was for services you screwed up. And you can forget about a night with me—”

“You. You. You. Did anyone tell you the first line in business is the customer is always right?”

“You’re no longer my client,” I state, trying to keep this away from him talking about me personally.

“He came to me, you know,” Carter says, his tone devious, his intent to cause problems more than clear. “You told Ryker not to, and he came at me anyway. It was a pathetic attempt to call me off, when he’s the one who gave me the okay in the first place. That alone will make it that much sweeter when I fuck him over.”

“I’ll be sure to let him know that. We’re meeting up for dinner after my interview with the Washington Post tomorrow,” I bluff.

“And I’ll be sure to call Chief Okawa down in Greenwich and tell him I happen to know where Vaughn Dillinger is.”

My bluff is immediately forgotten as my heart stumbles in my chest, but only because it stops beating momentarily. “What?” That’s not what I meant to say, but it comes out anyway. “You fucking—”

“Now you’re getting the hang of it. Fucking is indeed on the menu.” He laughs. “And I know you think you have shit on me, sweet Vaughn. I know you think you can play this game as deftly as me . . . but you can’t. Not a single thing will matter once I make that call.”

I don’t speak. Can’t. My stomach churns, and my heart is lodged so far into my throat that it’s all but suffocating me. I hate that my skin becomes coated with sweat at the mere mention of Greenwich.

“What do you want?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time.

“Call whoever you need to call to get my stuff. I’ll be requiring an NDA to be signed by the person doing the safekeeping. You’ll sign it, too, of course . . . and if you don’t, we both know how hard it would be for Lucy to lose who she considers her mother now. Jail is an awfully scary place for a pretty little thing like you.”

Go to hell.

“So I turn it over and then what?”

“We’ll see what kind of mood I’m in. How long you make me wait.”

“What?” He’s making no sense. “I’ll be giving you what you want.”

“Wants change.” He laughs. “Oh, I’ll reiterate the same thing I said before, but maybe this time you’ll actually listen. It’s best Ryker knows nothing about this little conversation. He seems to have a hero complex—how cute, trying to save the whore—but if he interferes again, I make the call. No warnings. No questions asked. I’ll call Priscilla in that little cubby where she sits in the back corner with her fake plants hanging from the ceiling. I’ll let her know where your money to pay down your debt really comes from. And of course, I’ll make sure Ryker goes down with you. The little audio recording I have of him doesn’t exactly paint him in the best light. Why do you think he’s been so obedient? He’s just as scared as you are.”

Without another word, he ends the call, and I’m left staring at the television. Splendor in the Grass is on, but I don’t remember a single scene.

And for the first time since the Hamptons, I understand Ryker. Why he did what he did. His need to protect me when someone threatened me. My need to pick up the phone and call Carter back to find out what he has on Ryker so I can try to help fix it owns my thoughts.

My urge to call Ryker and ask him myself.

But Carter’s threat was loud and clear, and the stakes are so much higher this time around. His mention of the detective’s name. His threat against Ryker. His admission that my handing over my blackmail material might not appease him.

All I can focus on is that I have no way out of this. Who knew coming to Lola’s rescue months ago would cause this domino effect in my life?