Page 89 of Exposed

I almost forgot this was a part of the deal. I want to do everything I can to help take down Dex and everyone who works for him. I forgot that being a confidential informant came with a sliding pay scale depending on the information.

The amount of cash wiped the rant clean out of me. It’s not enough to live on for a year, but it is enough for me to pay bills for the next month and a half. And since King stocked my refrigerator and pantry with more food than the two of us could possibly eat, I have enough left over to hit the thrift stores, should I so desire.

But who has time for that when there’s a fake wedding to plan and a fake baby to prepare for, while having real, mind-blowing sex with the man who fictionalized your fake life, all while working on the side for Uncle Sam?

Not me.

So knowing there’s a little padding in my bank account is a relief.

My real bank account. Not the money laundering ones with my name on them. I want nothing to do with that money.

King even swung by my bank for me to deposit it after he loaded me up into a different government car. I was too happy about my payday to lament the fact we switched our rides upjust in casesomeone from the cartel spotted us.

That hasn’t stopped King from paying as close attention to the rearview mirror as he has the road in front of us.

I try not to think about anyone following us as he breaks into my jumbled thoughts. “A little backstory before we get there. Have you heard of Senator Silas Scanlan?”

I look from the side mirror to King. “Please don’t tell me a senator is involved with Dex.”

King shakes his head. “Not that I know of, but given the fact he’s my brother-in-law, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Your brother-in-law is a U.S. Senator?”

King changes lanes. “Yep. The crooked senator from Illinois. The news blew up last week about campaign fraud. Lake wanted to get Willa out of town until the media calmed down. They’re going home tomorrow, which is why we’re here. I’ve seen them a couple times coming and going.”

Guilt floods me. “Because of me. You’ve been too busy dealing with my drama to tend to your family. I feel horrible.”

“Your drama is my case,” King reminds me before throwing me a glance. “I might’ve been sleeping in my own bed instead of yours, but I still would’ve been working. Lake is used to me working. She should be happy we’re in the same country.”

“I’m hogging you from your sister and niece. Even Trippy. That’s not okay.”

King exits the highway, and we come to a stop at the intersection. He turns his attention fully to me. “Here’s the thing, I need you to be prepared for what you’re about to walk into. She’s tried to fix me up with people for years, but I refused. Bringing you here for dinner might be the highlight of her year. And considering hermarriage is tainted by the poison of politics and seems to get worse with every anniversary, I’m not kidding.”

“King, we only met last week. The situation between us is intense, which has created…” I wave my hand between the two of us. “This. You don’t have to introduce me to your sister, and you definitely don’t have to pretend that this is anything more than it is.”

He studies me for a moment before the light turns green, but says nothing as we move through the intersection and toward one of the older neighborhoods of Miami.

These homes were built in another era. Not as old as The Pink era, but more likeThe Golden Girlsera. They’re from another generation with sprawling ranches on big lots that are hard to find in southern Florida.

And King says nothing as I take in yet another part of Miami that I’ve never experienced since I moved here.

“King—”

He holds up a hand to shut me up. “Hang on. I’m not going to talk to you until I can look you in the eyes.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He takes another turn and drives clear to the end of the block before he swings into a long drive next to an F-Type. He pulls out a cell, touches the screen a few times, and the garage door magically goes up.

“It means I need to focus when I address your issue.”

“I don’t have an issue that needs to be addressed.”

He pulls into the garage next to a minivan that looks like it’s over twenty years old, kills the engine, and shuts the garage door behind us. He finally turns to me in the darkened space. “You definitely have an issue.”

There’s something about being trapped in the dark garage that makes me lower my voice. “Okay, fine. I have a lot of issues. Brax and Micah informed me today that none of them would beworked out anytime soon. That I’m in await-and-seeholding pattern until Dex or someone in his organization messes up. Meanwhile, you and I are to be married a week from Saturday. But not the real you, the fake you, but to the real me. I’m trying to wrap my head around a wedding date that’s less than two weeks away with a wiretap and pole cameras and praying the bad guys cooperate so this nightmare doesn’t last until the end of time.”

“Those are not the issues I’m talking about. I’m talking about you and me.” He motions between the two of us, but it really feels like he’s mocking me. “Thisthing,as you describe, that isn’t anything more than it is.”

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