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“Yeah?” Agent Colehorn snaps, like he wants to pummel the guy for daring to say his name—or half of it.
“Your, uh … girl has been blowing up Agent Mason’s phone. He’s tied up, so he wanted me to tell you.”
Colehorn pulls his phone from his pocket, glaring at it. “Fuck,” he hisses, squeezing the button on the side. It must have died. “Wait,” he orders the rookie, who is putting forth a gallant effort at vanishing. “Which one?”
“What?” the rookie returns with a gulp, tacking on, “Sir,” as he stumbles backward.
“Which fucking girl was blowing up Mason’s goddamn phone?” Colehorn wails.
“Oh, um, Maryann.” The young guy scurries away, and as he does, the planets align.
Holy shit. That conversation Gage and Liam had on the plane shortly before I discovered the information about my father smacks me in the face.
“This is like fucking gold,” Gage says, ticking off a handful of names. “Armstrong, Glines, Mason, Stewart, and motherfucking Cole. That asshole. Racketeering, extortion, and he fucking framed his mistress’s husband. Christ.” A high-pitched whoop warbles out of him, and he swipes some tears away from his face—evidently finding a whole lot of joy inside this book. Blackmail must be the way to his heart. “Forget jail time.” He snickers. “Doubtful Maryann knows about this shit. She’d fucking murder him.”
That’s my winning strategy. I set down my garbage coffee and strut toward Colehorn without hesitation. He catches sight of me, his eyes narrowing in question. To that, I smile and wink. I might not know much, but I know when I’m about to clinch a final play.
Rex is following behind me, his shoes squeaking on the floor in a chorus with my clacking heels. He’s barking hushed warnings at me, but I’m in too deep. I raise my hand to him in a silent reprimand to stand down, which he complies with. I’m not usually so demanding.
But when you have the hand, you go all in.
“Hey, Cole,” I say in greeting. My tone is friendly, but his spine snaps rigidly at the use of his nickname.
“What can I do for you, Celeste?”
I chuckle. “I knew you seemed familiar.” That’s a bluff. His nickname is familiar, but that’s it.
He must buy it because he takes his turn to utilize silence, which is a wise move at this juncture. I won’t be deterred though.
“Anyway, I was just thinking about what could make this whole mess with my parents go away. You were right. I do have something.”
“Great,” he stammers, glancing behind me and past Rex, who is stationed a few yards back. Colehorn is probably gauging whether my representation will be joining us. No need. “Should we go take a seat?”
I shake my head. The hallway is a far better place for this discussion—no cameras. “This won’t take long. Hypothetically, if I knew of a high-ranking official, like a federal agent, who had incidents of racketeering and extortion, would that be enough to cut a deal on behalf of my parents?”
His teeth grab at his lower lip, folding it in. “You know who we’re after. That’s the only deal I’m interested in.”
“Ahh. Protecting your own. I get that.” It’s exactly what I’m doing. I shift my weight as though I’m prepared to retreat, but twist back on my heel at the last second. “What if I knew that a federal agent committed those crimes and also cheated on his wife and framed his mistress’s husband? Hypothetically, of course.”
He glowers at me, half steaming, half prepared to pass out. Yeah. That’s my answer.
“It seems to me,” I continue, with all the confidence of someone prepared to bring down the house, “that information like that might secure the freedom of my parents and Richard Long and his associates. Don’t you think?”
“You’re threatening a federal officer,” he snarls. “I could put you away for that.”
“Was I?” I shrug, blinking my best Bambi eyes. “Prove it.”
I may be Liam’s Ace. But that was fucking checkmate.
CELESTE
A knock raps on my bedroom door. When I open it, my father looms in the dim hallway, suit on, hands shoved in his pockets.
“We need to go. Gather your things.” His delivery is steady, but his face is stricken. Solemn.
My breath hitches, excitement coursing through my bones. “Are you taking me home?”
His lips pinch on the word home. I suppose that’s the purest example of how things have shifted. Another instance was when he thanked me for securing the release of him and my mother last night. He didn’t ask how I’d pulled it off. We both understood I couldn’t tell him.
