Three Dirty Secrets (Blindfold Club #4) (35 page)

“Caroline knew.”

I swallowed thickly. “I met with her last month and asked her not to blow my cover in case you wanted to introduce us.”

“What you mean is you asked her to lie to me. What the fuck, Regan?” He took a step back, and the tiny distance was suddenly massive. “You should have told me.”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t know how close you were with Joseph.”

His face went blank. “Joseph. Oh, shit.”

“He’s been legit for the last six months. Don’t worry about him.”

My statement hung in the quiet, which I was sure we both hated now. Silas’s beautiful hands went to his hips, resting there. But then he abruptly went into motion, pacing the narrow space of the room as he tried to process.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped. “I wanted to tell you, but I’d been undercover for more than a year when we met. There are a dozen other agents counting on me.”

“Yeah,” he snapped. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry you felt you couldn’t trust me.”

Christ, his truth stung. It slashed at my heart. “I do trust you.”

He stopped pacing mid-stride, his back turned to me. “Not as much as your ex, though, apparently.”

“What?”

“He thought I was an agent, so you must have told
him
.” Silas turned and his hard expression sent my heart plummeting.

“That was completely different. We met when I was rehabbing from the gunshot. Matt didn’t have any ties to the club.”

Silas coursed a hand through his hair, leaving it disheveled. “You should have fucking told me.”

“I couldn’t.”

The fire of anger burned brighter in his eyes. “Yeah, you really could have.”

Even though I was woozy and still hooked up to the monitoring machines, I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and stood upright. I wasn’t as tall as him, but this was as close to equal as I could get. “I’m telling you that I
couldn’t
, Silas. The last man I cared about, when I told him who I really was, he fucking shot himself in the head.” I steadied a hand on the bed rail. “So forgive me for having some anxiety about telling you the truth.”

The fire subsided slightly and his expression softened. “Regan.”

“I wanted to tell you so bad. It’s such a huge part of who I am, but, Christ. I had to finish my op first. So even if you left, at least I’d have . . . something.”

Silas pressed his lips together and tore his gaze away from me, staring vacantly off. I was desperate to know what he was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “You’ve every right to be pissed.”

His voice was harsh. “You don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

I flashed back to the night in my apartment after I’d been betrayed by Matt. Hadn’t we had the same exchange? I stared at the cold tile beneath my feet.

“I can’t believe you kept it from me. Is that it?” Silas demanded. “Anything else you want to unload?”

I sagged back to sit on the bed, shivering in the thin hospital gown. “Bennett wouldn’t come to the club unless I got on the table.”

All the air burst out of Silas like he’d been punched. “You
fucked
him?”

“No, no! I had Payton negotiate the deal and then I backed out. That’s when it all went to shit, and Julius came in to save me.”

Silas took in the red ligature marks on my wrists, and his cold gaze worked its way up to meet mine. “He could have raped you. He almost killed you. You made that decision without including me, because if I’d known, I never would have let you do it.”

It was all true. My voice was shot, but it was just as much my emotions as it was the physical trauma. “I’m
sorry
.”

It was brutal under his harsh stare. The ball of guilt in my stomach had grown so large I couldn’t even swallow anymore. There wasn’t room for anything else. Silas returned to his frantic pacing, his footsteps the only sound. The tension was suffocating.

I couldn’t put it off any longer. “Also, my name.”

He froze, sensing what was coming. “Don’t.”

“It’s not Regan Wilson, it’s Andrea Adams. Regan’s my middle name.”

The room was colder than a blast freezer, and I shivered under his gaze. It was filled with disbelief. Or maybe disgust.

“Goddamnit!” He kicked the trash can. It slid across the floor and slammed into the glass door with a loud crack. The guard was in the room in an instant, but I threw a hand out, gesturing to stop.

“It’s fine,” I whispered to the guard.

He glanced warily at Silas, then back to me for more confirmation. Silas returned to his angry pacing, not giving any attention to either of us. He looked too lost in thought. The guard hesitantly returned to his post.

“Please,” I eked out. “Keeping this from you has been one the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.” He only continued his pacing, making me feel like I was going to lose it at any moment. “Say something.”

His expression turned to stone. “You said you gave your card to one of Bennett’s aides. Is it why you came to my showing?”

I struggled to answer. “It . . . was one of the reasons.”

“You
used
me.” His glare cut right to my bones. He held it for a single breath, then turned and stormed to the door.

It was barely a croak. “Where are you going?”

“You’re FBI, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

I launched to my feet. “Wait, Silas.” And then I said the phrase I’d never uttered to another person in my life. “Please don’t go. I
need
you.”

My words had no impact. His sneer remained unchanged. “You’ve been lying to me since we met,
Andrea
. I’m done.”

I watched him shove the door open and storm off, unable to chase after him. My legs wouldn’t cooperate, and my voice was too far gone to be heard, even as I yelled hoarsely after him.

I was crying when Shane came into the room. Everything was blurry. He shoved me into the bathroom with my clothes and ordered me to get dressed. I was still crying quietly when it was done, no matter how many times I’d cursed myself for the tears. It was awkward as fuck crying in front of a male coworker, even if he was my friend.

I finally pulled myself together on the car ride back to my apartment. “What do I do?” I asked Shane.

“About Silas?” He kept his eyes on the road, not looking at me. “Give him a few days. I’m sure he’ll come around.”

Shane’s body language suggested he was lying.

When we reached my apartment, I told Shane I was fine and he didn’t need to come up. I just wanted to be alone. The only person I could tolerate suffering in front of was the man I’d wounded.

I’d barely made it inside when my neighbor knocked on my door. “I got this package in my mailbox the other day. I think the mailman read the number wrong.”

It was a mailing envelope, and sure enough, my name and address were on the front. “Oh, thanks.”

She’d peered at me with an anxious look. My eyes were red, but she’d probably assume I’d just been crying. Which was true.

The packing slip had a note from Silas. “I couldn’t find underwear. Socks will have to do. Your feet are always cold anyway.”

They were yellow and magenta with alternating blocks, and within those blocks were snow cones. His playful way of getting me to wear a snow cone after I’d asked him not to tattoo one on me several months ago.

My head was throbbing, and the shooting pain had grown too powerful to ignore any longer. I was surprised the migraine had held off this long. The brief oxygen deprivation plus the stress were sure to have been a trigger.

I grabbed my purse and the package, went into my bedroom, and sat down. I tugged off my white socks, ripped open the plastic on the new ones, and slipped them on my feet. The comical, bright design mocked me as I loaded the cartridge on the injector pen. Whenever my hands shook, I looked at the socks.
I could do this.

When I was sure I had the dose properly loaded, I held the pen up to my bicep with my thumb positioned over the blue plunger. I didn’t even think about it. I slammed my thumb down, sinking the needle into my muscle, all while I stared at the pink fluffy cones with black straws and counted to five.

I retracted the needle. The pen was set on the nightstand and I collapsed backward on the mattress, letting the medicine shut off the pain receptors in my brain during the onslaught of the migraine, wishing it worked on emotions just as easily.

It’d been four days since the congressman had tried to strangle the life out of me. My throat still hurt, but it was a dull ache that I was learning to live with.

The media knew nothing of the story. We’d suppressed the information, so the only thing reported was Bennett had tried to kill a prostitute. There’d been no mention of the club.

Caroline held true to her word. Marquis had been caught yesterday hiding out in his aunt’s house in St. Louis. I took pleasure in knowing he was going to prison for a long time, and the District Attorney promised he’d push for the harshest sentence possible for both men.

I sat in the FBI conference room chair, fidgeting with my phone. I always kept it in hand, waiting for it to ring or a text message to pop up. Anything from Silas. But there’d been nothing. I was determined to give him time, but the silence was agony.

“You’ll need to make this quick,” Agent in Charge Biller said, breezing into the conference room. My boss sat down in the chair across from me and adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. His signature look. All the agents had worn fake plastic pairs on his sixtieth birthday as a joke.

Today I felt deadly serious. “What’s the plan with the club?”

Biller gave me a plain look, one that said nothing good was going to happen to the people who’d become my friends.

“Let me back up,” I said. “If my cover was still intact, what was the real timetable for the op? Did it run until I wanted out?”

He looked uncomfortable, his guilty gaze darting away. The operation hadn’t sat well with him from day one, but it was impossible to argue with results.

“Or,” I continued, “was the plan to bring someone else in when I requested a new assignment?” Because I was betting the operation was too valuable for the Bureau to walk away from.

“It’s a moot point. Your cover’s blown, Adams. We can’t get anyone else in now.”

“No, we can’t.” I leaned on my elbows. “But I can stay in.”

Biller’s eyebrows lifted in visible disbelief. “How’s that?”

“No one at the club knows I’m FBI except for Julius King. We have leverage. King may have immunity for his cooperation, but what about his people? He’ll keep me on to protect them from prosecution. If you put that offer on the table, he’ll take it.”

“You’re saying you want to go back?”

What I was saying was I would do everything in my power to save my friends. And I couldn’t admit it out loud, but the filthiest part of me didn’t want to let go, either.

I nodded slowly. “With full cooperation from King, yes. If I’m there, it ensures transparency.”

The muscles along Biller’s jaw flexed as if he were chewing on my statement. He muttered under his breath, “This operation is ridiculous.”

“It is, but we brought down a congressman. We’ve only had access to Bennett’s financials for three days, and how many payoffs have we discovered?” We finally had proof that Victor Bennett had taken bribes from a huge healthcare provider in exchange for favorable voting, and who knew what else we’d find as we dug deeper?

Biller’s scowl forced me to continue. “How many leads did we have in the Markovic case before I took on the assignment? We got someone on the inside.” It was something Biller had been trying to do for years. “My work will be a helluva lot easier if King’s handing over the information we need. I’ll still be available to work other cases like I do now. What’s the downside?”

“How about the part where we let a known illegal brothel continue to operate?” His voice was full of disdain.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that’s what we’ve been doing for the last year?”

His phone chirped. He glanced at the screen and the scowl intensified. “I’m going to be late.” He rose from the table, pushed his chair in, and then set his hardened gaze on me. “I’d rather this whole mess be done with.” He sighed. “But I’ll talk to the folks above and see what their thoughts are.”