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I spilled out of the chair and onto the floor, pulling my legs under me.
It wasn’t a con. It couldn’t be.
Everything was real. He was the reason I breathed. He was the man who stirred my blood. The man who brought me back to life. Who kissed me. Held me. Loved me. Worshipped my body. Tested my sexual limits and explored the deepest part of my sensuality. I had given him everything. Opened everything to him.
It was not a con.
I squeezed my eyes together. My head hurt. I pulled my palms to my lips as one sob escaped after another.
It was not a con.
He said he loved me. That last day before he went out of town. He said it.
It was not a con.
I heard the whimpers as I cried on the floor. They didn’t sound like me. They sounded like a small child, missing its mother. Like a lost toddler frantic that it had been left behind.
No one had looked at me the way he did. As if we were connected from just one glance. One smile. Like all the kisses were the first and the last wrapped up in each other. Our bodies fit in a seamless rhythm.
He listened. We talked all night. I laid in his arms and talked about law. I talked about home. He challenged me to stick with the clinic on the worst days. He wanted me to apply for the faculty position.
It was not a con.
The notes. The texts. The places he took me. He shared his favorite memorial. He took me to the winery. We spent an incredible night together. And when I didn’t think I could find Lana, he helped me. That was the man I knew.
Who in the hell was Jeremy West?
I rubbed the tears against my wet cheeks. I didn’t know how much longer until Agent Kenneth came back.
The door opened and he walked in.
I knew I looked like a wreck, but I was past caring at this point. The agent had been the entire demolition crew.
“Have you had some time to think about my offer?”
I cleared my throat. “I have.” I struggled to my feet and took a seat across from him.
“And?” He looked genuinely interested.
“I want proof,” I demanded.
“What else do you need to know? West is dangerous. I’ve explained our case against him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t believe you. The man I know is not Jeremy West. If you can convince me he is a criminal, then I’ll comply. I won’t impede a federal investigation. But I’m not just going to take your word for it. I want proof, agent. I deserve that much.”
“All right. I’ve got plenty.”
He slapped the files on the table again. I jumped.
“We can start with Sarah Jamison.” He showed me her picture. “Twenty-five years old. Her father was a senator on the oil and gas committee. Mr. West had a relationship with her that lasted three weeks before he helped clean out her father’s assets in Qatar.”
He pulled out another picture. “This is Hannah Pauley. Also twenty-five. Her mother is the ambassador to Saudi Arabia. One month after she and West dated, the ambassador discovered a data breach in the classified files of oil reserves that were going into auction in her territory.”
I held my breath when he slapped another picture in front of me. “Here is Kathryn Jergen. Twenty-seven. Miss Jergen was the aide to the pharmaceutical committee. She and Mr. West were involved only two weeks when there was a huge buy out from two companies that were under potential investigation by the government. All charges in question by the feds were dissolved with the merger. Not a coincidence,” he added. “I can keep going.”
“I don’t fit any of those categories. I’m not privy to classified information or lucrative international financial deals. I’m not like these women.”
He held up a picture of Greer. My chest tightened. “Meet Greer Britt. Twenty-eight. Aide to the Senate Arms Committee. In charge of land and air weapons contracts vetting and research.”
