Page 33 of The Billionaire's Wife

“Yeah. I take it you don’t?” I didn’t love categorizing my faith as “Jesus stuff,” but that didn’t seem like the hill to die on right now.

“Not really. It’s hard to go to church and tell people you help with forgery and money laundering.” She offered a tight smile. “It’s not like I didn’t know I was crossing lines. I never pretended to be, I don’t know, Robin Hood or anything. But I honestly did try to make sure my clients weren’t hurting anyone.”

I held my tongue. I didn’t see what she’d gotten into as a victimless crime. I understood the rationalizations she’d made, but I disagreed with them wholeheartedly. At a minimum, she’d helped people avoid paying their taxes, which in the long run hurt everyone. I didn’t love taxes. I certainly thought that there were areas where they’d gotten out of control, but the government had to be funded somehow, and I liked this option better than the others available. Plus there was the whole render to Caesar thing.

Faith blew out a breath. “I’m too far gone now, anyway. Even if I can get the cartel off my back, I know I blew my chance with Jesus.”

“That’s not a thing.” I glanced over at her before checking my mirrors and shifting lanes. Maybe it was my paranoia, but I didn’t like the way one of the cars behind us was acting.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t blow your chance with Jesus. He loves you. He loves all of us. If you confess your sin and repent and ask Him to help you change, He’s going to do that.”

“I already did that, though. In high school. I meant it at the time, I really did. But life got hard, and it was like He didn’t seem to care—He sure wasn’t showing up like I needed Him to. So I handled it. Even though I knew I wasn’t doing what God would have wanted, I had to survive. Like I said, I blew my chance.”

I saw her shoulders jerk up and fall.

My heart hurt for her. “Do you think I never sin?”

“Not anything big.”

“Jesus doesn’t see big or little. It’s just sin or no sin. Humans are the ones who try to rate sin on a scale. God can’t tolerate any sin because He’s holy. So believers have to keep confessing and repenting and allowing God to change us. It’s not a one-and-done thing.” I glanced in the rearview mirror. The same car was hovering two cars back. We were nearing our exit. I didn’t think they could cause mischief between here and the FBI. And then once we were there, they wouldn’t be able to follow us. They’d know our destination. But that was it. So it would be okay.

I hoped.

Faith didn’t respond. Maybe that was just as well. I’d come perilously close to a sermon, which was never my intention. Mom and Dad had always been believers in loving people to Jesus. I tended to agree with that approach over all the other options.

I waited until the last possible moment to slide over three lanes to the exit. The car I was worried about attempted to follow, but couldn’t get through the traffic. I allowed myself a brief smile as we slowed at the end of the ramp and waited for the light to turn. That was even better. They could look at the exit we’d taken and make some guesses about where we were headed, but it didn’t automatically mean the FBI.

The rest of the trip was relatively short. I didn’t see any suspicious cars. No one cut us off or T-boned us in the middle of an intersection. All the things I’d been half-worried about the whole way here.

The building itself was fairly nondescript. If you didn’t know better, you might think you were pulling up to a standard office building. I couldn’t have said what I expected, but it wasn’t this. There were even visitor spaces near the front doors.

I pulled into one of those spots and turned off the car before looking over at Faith. She’d gone pale. Maybe paler was the right way to phrase it. She twisted her fingers together in her lap.

“Hey.”

She jolted and looked at me, eyes wide.

“This is good. You taking a good, first step toward being able to live the life you want. The life God wants you to live.” I hesitated before reaching over and covering her hand with my own. I ignored how cold her skin was and squeezed. “I’m with you every step of the way, okay? Promise.”

Faith made a fractional nod.

She didn’t look convinced, but I wasn’t sure how I could prove it other than continuing to do what I said I’d do.

I squeezed her hand one more time, then pushed open my door. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

“Right.” With almost robotic movements, Faith climbed out of the car and closed the door. She crossed her arms around her middle.

“Come on.” I smiled, praying that she’d see the encouragement in it, then I started toward the doors.

The glass was tinted, so I could only see the reflection of us as we neared the entrance. I paused to let Faith catch up, then pulled open the door. The first glimpse of the lobby showed the security I’d been expecting. There were bag scanners and X-ray arches to walk through all before you could even get to the reception desk to state your business. Even after that, there were turnstiles that needed a badge to operate.

“ID please.” The guard by the nearest bag scanner held out her hand.

I reached into my pocket for my wallet and slipped my driver’s license out, then handed it over. The guard looked at my ID, her eyes darting up to my face several times as she did so. Then she took a tablet off the scanner table, used her fingerprint to access it, and scrolled on the screen. “Last four digits of your social security number?”

My eyebrows lifted and I rattled them off.

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