Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(90)

And the FBI is definitely looking at it differently than I am.

“It’s not a bribe.” I shake my head over and over. It’s the only thing I can do. “I didn’t know. I . . . this is a total surprise.”

“If it’s not a bribe,” Noah says and pushes the first stack of paperwork across the table, where he’s remained seated, “then you’ll have no problem signing this right now. As is.”

Feeling like I’m walking through a fog, I rise from my seat and move slowly to the table. All I want to do right now is rush to Ryker’s house and chew him out. Tell him without spelling it out what he almost just risked for me. Kiss him and hug him and hit him and yell at him for paying off my bills, all the while swearing that I will pay him back.

Every single penny.

How does one read all this while being stared down by special agents? If I hesitate in any way, they’ll think I’m lying. If I don’t, I’m an idiot who trusts way too much.

“Is it all in there?” My voice is barely audible.

“Yes.” Noah nods.

“Immunity. Cleared of wrongdoing. Letter of recommendation for Lucy. Charges for the underage girls? Restraining and gag orders from the Prestons?”

“Technically, we can’t promise what the senator will or will not be charged with. That’s not something we can guarantee. We can only deal with what we won’t be charging you with,” Noah explains. “But I’d find the agency hard pressed not to file charges against him once those photos got out somehow.”

I nod, hearing what he’s saying but hating that there’s nothing concrete.

“And what about solicitation? He won’t be charged with it, right? Because if he’s charged with it, then my name will be in there somewhere.”

“We can’t make that promise either, about what he will or will not be charged with,” Abel reiterates.

My head flies up to Abel when he speaks.

“No deal,” I say.

“Told you this was all bullshit,” Abel says in disgust.

“You add solicitation, then my name will be publicized. It won’t matter if I have immunity or not—my name will be out. Ruined. Slung through the mud so that every reporter from here to kingdom come will dig into my past, uncover ghosts I’d rather remain buried. It won’t matter what’s true or not—they’ll report it all as fact.” My breath hitches, and my fists clench. “My chances to adopt Lucy will be taken away. I did all of this for that. All this risk. All this bullshit. All this . . . everything,” I yell, tears on my cheeks and fury in my voice, “I did for that little girl.”

I push away from the table and walk to the window. To the view of the boys playing their daily game of baseball. To the here, batter batter I can all but hear through the closed window when I see their lips move. My shoulders shake; my chest burns.

This was all for nothing.

All of it.

I’m going to lose her anyway.

“If you charge him with solicitation, the deal is off the table.” I turn to look at both of them.

“Do you have the proof?” Noah asks, and I nod. “Here? In the house?”

“Does the solicitation charge still stand?” I ask.

Noah looks at Abel, and I can’t decipher what the look says. “Answer the question,” Abel demands.

“You answer the question,” I repeat.

“You’re maddening,” Abel says in a huff, but that term almost makes me smile as Ryker’s voice saying it ghosts through my ears.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Christ,” Abel mutters and grabs the paperwork from the table. I move forward to watch him take a pen and X out a paragraph of the document. He initials the change and hands the pen to Noah, who does the same, before holding the pen out to me.

With my eyes locked on his, I take the pen, scan the paragraph that has been crossed out, and initial beside theirs and add a date beside it.

From there I proceed to take a seat and go word for word through the deal. I skip the standard boilerplate and focus on the specifics, despite their grumbling that it’s all there.

When I’m satisfied, I take a deep breath and throw up a silent prayer that I’m doing the right thing here, that I’m not missing some huge loophole that’s going to land me in jail, and sign my name.

I slide it back across the table with shaky hands.

“Now it’s your turn,” Abel says with an edge of impatience and a lift of his eyebrows.

I walk to my office, grab my own stack of papers from the top drawer of my desk, and return to the two agents sitting at my kitchen table.

“That’s the proof?” Abel asks with skepticism.

“Yes.” I push the call log across the table. The one I was originally given without any of my notes on it.

“What’s this?” He dismisses it immediately.

“It’s a call log.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Do you care to expand here?”

“That log was given to me some time ago. I didn’t know what it was, what secrets it held . . . just that it pertained to Carter Preston and that he’d be in a world of hurt if this fell into the right hands.”

“So you lied to us then about having something else on him?” Abel questions.