Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(81)

“There’s something about the way he is when he’s with you.”

“When he’s with me?” I ask, my skin crawling at the thought of them watching from afar somewhere. How they could see us interact but not hear a word. How they might assume what they want through the silence.

For some reason, that seems like more of an invasion of privacy than the phone tap.

“Your driveway. How he watched you in the lobby of the Four Seasons when you met with one of your girls the other night. How he—”

“No more!” I hold my hand up to stop him, because his words just sucked all the oxygen out of the room for me. I struggle to breathe as I think of them surveilling him. Me. Us.

As I think of Carter watching me when I didn’t know it.

What other places has he sat and spied on me from afar?

“Did you think we pulled you in here on phone calls alone?” Abel asks with condescension in his tone.

I meet his eyes and pull myself together as best I can while my thoughts swirl and my world spins counterclockwise. I glare at Abel and his arrogance and then look back at Noah with a lift of my eyebrows, silently asking him to continue since I can’t seem to find my voice.

“When Carter interacts with you, it’s almost as if he has to one-up you. Always prove he’s better and in control, and what better way for him to show he’s smart and conniving than to brag about it.”

“That’s a stretch, Noah.”

“Well, you better get flexible,” Abel says and leans forward, “or we’ll proceed with processing you down at the station.”

Asshole.

“So I do this, I get him to admit to it, and then what? What happens to me? Am I just collateral damage again? You use me and then throw me to the wolves?”

“It’s not like that,” Noah soothes.

“It’s exactly like that.” I throw my hands out and stand to pace the room again. “I’m your bait and then your chum to feed to the press when they need something to sink their shark teeth into.”

“It’s not like you have a choice in the matter,” Abel says, and I swear he takes pleasure in rubbing my nose in it.

I close my eyes and hate that one tear escapes. That I give them a show of weakness. That I have my hands cuffed in a way I never expected.

“Look, Vaughn, all we need is proof,” Noah says after shooting his partner a look. “We have nothing to tie Carter to Alpha Pharmaceuticals. No phone calls. No emails. No anything.”

“Except for his sudden change of heart in the vote and a mysterious two million dollars in his account,” I say.

“Exactly.”

“And the check for two million that he wrote out,” Abel says.

“What?” I ask, at the same time realizing that he’d originally said the cash moved in and out of Carter’s account. I just assumed it went into another one of his accounts. “Who’d he write the check to? Is it someone who helped him throw the vote?”

“You tell us.” I meet Abel’s stare when he speaks, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

“There is one connection between the head of Alpha Pharm and Carter Preston,” Noah says.

“Who?”

The look they exchange has hairs standing up on the back of my neck.

“Ryker Lockhart.”

I can’t hide my reaction this time as I sputter in response. “What?” I all but laugh in disbelief.

“A two-million-dollar check was written to one Ryker Lockhart a day before the vote was defeated,” Abel says.

I study him, I hear what he’s saying, but I don’t believe it. “You’re saying you think Ryker was a part of this? That’s comical.”

“Ah, she’s blinded by love. How cute.” Able nudges Noah.

“Ryker hates Carter Preston.” I spit the words out, but I hate that doubts seep and creep into my mind. The you-owe-me’s of the pool house conversation rule my mind.

“Can’t hate him too much if he’s paying him that kind of cash,” Abel says, hitting his stride, his disgust so palpable the room is weighed down with it.

“I’m serious. I know him. It—it was a retainer. Has to be,” I say, each word escalating in pitch. “Ryker is representing Carter’s wife. She’s filing for divorce. That has to be where the check came—”

“A two-million-dollar retainer? A woman who hires a lawyer but never actually files papers? Paid to a man who represented the CEO of Alpha Pharm during his own divorce, no less? Sounds like the Prestons have Ryker sitting on the money for a bit before taking it back . . . less some fake billable hours that Ryker charges them, of course. I mean, he deserves a fee, after all, since he is taking on some of the risk and all but cleaning, laundering—whatever you want to call it—their money until any heat they feel subsides.”

“He’s rich. He doesn’t need to risk something like this for money,” I say, trying to explain it to myself more than anyone.

“Powerful men like to play God. They get drunk off the feeling of it. You know that more than anyone, Vaughn.”

I’m numb. My mind is a mess, my heart even more so.

“Yes, Vaughn, you just might have been used here. Two men who like to play games. Two men who pretend to be at odds to make sure they are not connected in any way possible. Two men—”