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I feel my heart breaking. It’s absurd because what Kyle and I shared was so short-lived. But it felt so real. My heart started to want more.
Foolish girl.
“You and fucking Dean Walsh set this shit up from the beginning, right?”
“Wait, what?”
“Cut the bullshit, Riley! Don’t pretend like he wasn’t behind this with you.”
“He was … he is,” I insist. “But it’s not like that. I was never workingwithhim. He-He’s blackmailing me.”
“This is fucking rich,” he laughs. Again, there’s no humor. “Do you truly expect me to believe that?”
“Yes, because it’s true. I never asked Dean Walsh to walk into my life. He just showed up one day and started making these demands. He …” I trail off because I don’t want to admit the last part.
“Let me guess. He used your past of conning Brendan Chastain against you?” He quirks an eyebrow.
“Yes, that’s exactly it. How did you know?”
Kyle’s eyes darken considerably. “He’s been trying to contact me for weeks now,” he explains. “He showed up at the hospital where I was like a fucking stalker to tell me about you.”
I shake my head. “The hospital. Are you hurt?” I check him over, wondering what he’s talking about.
“Don’t fucking act like you give a shit about me,” he barks. “Chastain told me about the money you stole from him. What was the name you used? Carissa Carlyle? Of course, I didn’t tell him he’s an idiot for even believing a name like that.”
He takes a step back and looks me up and down.
“Guess he’ll believe anything once he’s fucked you.”
I bulge my eyes and shake my head adamantly. “I never slept with Brendan. I—”
“Don’t say his goddamn name!” he barks. “And don’t expect me to believe a damn thing that comes out of your mouth from now on.”
I clamp my mouth shut because, at this point, I wouldn’t expect him to believe me. It’s obvious he’s not open to hearing my side of things. Kyle believes whatever lies Brendan Chastain made up about me.
But I did lie to the man. I’m guilty of that. I don’t have much of a leg to stand on. Despite that reality, I have to try to explain myself.
“Kyle, I know whatever Brendan told you doesn’t look good. And yes, I did run a con on him. Just like—”
“Your father?”
His question stops me in my tracks. A lump forms in my throat.
“What? You didn’t think I would find out you’re the daughter of Wallace Martin?” He chuckles. “My father’s dead,” he says in a mocking tone. “Isn’t that what you told me?”
“He is dead to me,” I retort.
“Yeah, well the state of California has him marked as very much alive. Inmate number 12345-068, also known as Wallace Martin Sr. Serving a twenty-year sentence for bank fraud,” Kyle says before he walks over to the kitchen aisle and slams a folder down onto it.
“That’s just one of the many crimes he’s serving time for. Not to mention credit card fraud, impersonating a police officer, and more.” He pauses and looks me in the eye. “He taught you well.”
“I’m nothing like my father,” I argue.
“Aren’t you? Sleeping with any and everyone to get what you want.”
“I never slept with Brendan Chastain! Or Dean Walsh, or anyone else that—”
“What about me?” he yells so loud that I jump.
