Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(77)

Just as we pass the bank of elevators, I’m more than startled when he tightens his grip on the inside of my arm at the same time as someone takes my other one. It’s the freckled man from the bar.

I try to jerk my elbows away as fear and panic and confusion course through me. “What—”

“FBI,” Noah says beneath his breath, flashing a gold badge he holds in the palm of his hand. “I suggest you don’t fight us.” I stiffen my arms as my mind tries to catch up with how this is happening. With how I’ve let this happen.

“This is a mistake—”

“All we want to do is talk,” the freckled one says as they both steer me toward the elevators.

They push the button to summon the elevator. One of them nods at a couple who glance our way. Another pulls out his phone as if he’s reading messages.

But me? I stand between them with my pulse pounding so loudly in my ears that I don’t think I could hear a thing if they said it. My legs feel like they are going to give out—my knees act as if I have no tendons holding the joints together.

My chest hurts in the elevator. My hands tremble. My breath is shallow and doesn’t draw in enough oxygen to give my body what it needs. My head swims to the point I feel like I’m going to faint.

“Steady there, Vaughn,” Noah murmurs as we exit the car, and the sound of my name on his lips—the fact that he knows who I really am—makes my breath catch. “Here we are.”

Within seconds, Noah and Freckles have me in a hotel room much like the one I rented for myself to get ready in. “Would you like something to drink?” Freckles asks as he motions for me to take a seat on the couch.

“No. I’ll stand,” I murmur, my feet needing to move.

“I suggest you sit,” Noah says as he takes a seat in the chair across from where I slowly sink down. In fact, there are two chairs—one for each of them—set up opposite the couch.

They had this all planned out.

Something about that has tears springing to my eyes, and I fight them back. “What’s going on?” I ask, knowing that I can’t play innocent when Noah’s been to the client access portal on my website, but I try anyway.

“I’m Special Agent Noah Barnes, and this is Special Agent Abel Grossman,” Noah says as Abel tips his head in acknowledgment, “and you’re in some serious trouble.”

“But you said you were a referral. You said—”

“I lied.” There isn’t an ounce of remorse in his tone.

The tears I fought well up and spill over now. But as soon as the first two fall, I shove them away and straighten my shoulders. “I’d like to call my lawyer, please.”

“It’s probably best if we don’t involve anyone else yet,” Abel says as he moves about the room.

“I don’t care—I want my lawyer,” I assert.

Noah chuckles as I feel a rivulet of sweat streak down the line of my spine. “Solicitation, moving money offshore—”

“I don’t have the slightest clue how to move money offshore!” I all but shout.

“You seem to be getting your money from somewhere, then, because we know Apropos doesn’t pay you enough to make the big payments you’re making against your debts.”

“I don’t have—I’m not—”

He whistles a long, low note. “Those all hold pretty tough penalties.”

“Jail time,” Abel interjects. “Lots of jail time. In fact, Lucy wouldn’t even get to see you anymore. Time would pass, and her memory of you would fade, and eventually she’d think of you like her mother—a ghost she can’t quite remember but can’t quite forget either.”

The claws of panic close around my throat as my synapses fire again at the mention of Lucy. At the fact that they know enough about me they can even say her name.

I struggle to breathe. To not throw up. And then I realize they want something from me. What? I have no idea, but this is too coordinated, and they were too patient when I canceled time and again on Noah, for this to be an ordinary bust.

“Wicked Ways only sells time, companionship,” I say, repeating my company line. “Anything that happens after the money is exchanged isn’t—”

“Save me from your bullshit lines,” Abel says and laughs. “Ain’t no one got time for your lies.”

“I want my lawy—”

“Who’s your lawyer?” Noah asks.

“Ryker Lockhart,” I say as calmly as possible.

Abel’s laugh rings out and startles me. “Not a chance in hell.”

“What do you mean?” What’s wrong with Ryker? “I want my lawyer.”

“Not one who has ties to this case you don’t,” he says.

I stare at him, eyes narrowed, pulse pounding. “What do you mean, ties to the case?”

Abel looks at Noah and says, “To think we could tie this up with a pretty little bow all at one time.” Noah laughs.

“What does this have to do with Ryker?” I ask again, every one of my senses in overdrive.

“We’ll get to that,” Noah says, and the sound of his Sprite can cracking open as he lifts the tab fills the room. He takes a sip and then sets it down before squaring up his papers on the table. When his theatrics are done, he leans back and stares at me much the same way Abel is.