Reveal (Wicked Ways #2)(93)

“I don’t deserve this.”

“But you do. I’m sick of watching you work yourself to death. Sick of seeing you worry over what will come of it. Wonder what it will be like after you get it all paid off. Well, now it’s the after. Now it’s your turn to do and be and live for yourself.”

“Ryker.”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“I’ll pay you back.”

“I won’t accept it.”

“I’ll find a way.”

“I want—no, need—you to know something. I pulled the trigger on this way before whatever happened the past week or two happened.” Spit it out, Lockhart. “Yes, I was worried that you were going to break up with me, but I don’t want you to think that I did this to buy you into staying.”

There’s silence on the line, and I immediately feel like a dumbass for making the comment.

“You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.” She laughs. “Did you hear that, everyone?” she shouts out and laughs again. “He did it a while ago.”

“Um . . . am I missing something?” I ask, thoroughly confused.

“Nothing and everything.” A giggle that sounds part hysterical. “Ryker Lockhart?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” Her voice is barely a whisper, but those three words hit me as if they were spoken through a megaphone. Loud. Unapologetic. Genuine.

And after the events, her actions, and everything that I don’t understand, I sure as hell didn’t expect to hear that.

I clear my throat. It’s all I can do, because it feels like something is stuck there momentarily. “Vaughn.” Her name is a murmur on my lips. “You surprise me at every turn. Please don’t ever change that.”

“I promise. And I didn’t tell you that because you paid off my bills, because I have every intention of paying you back.”

“If you believing that is the only way you’ll accept the funds, then yeah, sure. Whatever you say, dear.” I laugh, and fuck if it doesn’t feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders I didn’t even know was there.

“Don’t mock me, Lockhart.”

“Yes, madam.”

“Ah, so very clever.”

“I try.” I glance up to the house in front of me. “Was this what you wanted to talk to me about when I get home?”

“Yes and no. There’s just . . . we’ll talk when you get here.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh, hey. Tell me something,” she says.

“What?”

“Are you still representing Carter Preston’s wife?”

Her question completely throws me for reasons she couldn’t even know.

I think of the drama this week at work. Bianca revoking my representation in the oddest conversation ever.

“No. I’m no longer representing her. Why?”

“No reason.” Her tone is indifferent when mine is anything but.

“Why did you ask? Is Carter causing problems for you? I can cancel this meeting and be back—”

“Carter’s always causing problems,” she says with a laugh. “It would be stupid for you to jump to my rescue every time he did.”

“Is he bugging you? I can have Stuart—”

“I’m fine, Ryker. Better now that I talked to you. I promise.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Goodbye,” she sings the word out.

And just like that, the woman who has had every part of my life in an uproar over the past week ends the call as easily as she owns my heart.

She loves me.

Whew.

I shake my head and smile, then pick my phone back up and dial.

“What’s up, boss? Need something?”

“Keep an eye out for Vaughn, will you?” I ask Stuart, her comment about Carter sticking in my head.

“Will do. My load is light. You want me following her or just checking in?” he asks.

“Whatever you think is best. He’s been too quiet for my liking.”

And she loves me. I have to protect her at all costs.

“Ten-four.”

He ends the call, and I’m left looking at the one thing left I have to do.





CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Ryker

James Dillinger’s house stands before me.

It’s quite the spread. There’s no masking the Dillinger money when it comes to this structure. And inside is even more impressive than the outside when the hired help lets me in and has me wait in the formidable foyer.

“Is he expecting you?” the woman dressed all in black asks.

“No. Just a quick visit, really. I was in the area waiting to catch up with his nephew, Chance, and thought I’d stop by to let him know about a little shared connection I discovered.”

“Oh, how sweet of you. He doesn’t get many visitors these days who aren’t here to try to pick that brilliant mind of his, so I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to see someone and not feel obligated to discuss complex dynamic systems or capital theory.”

“Hmm,” I murmur, not caring in the least. The fucker doesn’t deserve any visitors.

I look around the place as I wait. It’s stuffy and stately, and I have a hard time picturing Vaughn and Samantha here as young girls. There’s no way this cold place could have given them an ounce of the warmth children need. Not at all.