Page 135 of Exposé

"It's just... I don't have to explain myself to you, Ava. It wasn't a good time for that story, and you weren't bringing anything to the table with it."

I let out a harsh, biting laugh. "Who bought you off?"

Her eyes widened. "How dare you." She raised her finger to my face, her voice low and bristling. "I've been in this field of work before you were taking your first steps as a snot-nosed little shit. I'll be damned if I sit here and let you accuse me of being a sellout."

"The evidence is pretty damning, Whitney. Is this all you wanted to talk about because I have other things to do?"

I brushed past her.

Whitney's fingers wrapped around my upper arm. "I'm asking you this one time,please."

"My objective is to act in the best interest of the people. That includes putting my life at risk to let them know what's really going on. Is that still yours, or did they change when your pockets grew heavier?"

Her fingers fell from mine, her large brown eyes softening with a deep melancholy. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Me too."

27

Nate

"Thanks, Sable, I owe you one."

The elderly office attendant gave me a smile as I grabbed a brochure and walked out, my earbud playing the recording of Ava's last phone call with Liam, my nerves firing as his voice came over the speaker.

"Look, I don't want to get in the middle of your personal relationships..."

Then don't.

Stay out of this.

I swung my leg over my motorcycle as their conversation continued, tossed my attached helmet over my head, and froze.

“Ava, I think he put a tracker in your car.”

Shit.

My stomach tumbled, then strengthened as she balked at his suggestion, defending what semblance of a relationship we had—one that was about to get a whole lot more complicated.

"He's there, isn't he?"

Her voice shook as she responded. But when I'd walked out of the bathroom, her demeanor was anything but.

She played me.

"Well done, my little recluse."

If only she knew what I was about to do for her.

I fired up the motorcycle and switched to the next audio recording, my eyes narrowing as he walked her through finding the tracker, my hands tight on the bars.

The call ended with a smile on my face as I drove to headquarters with an equally dubious mission.

For the first time since I started my career, I lacked confidence in the mission.

We were supposed to be the good guys, not working to undermine the American people but to keep our national security airtight.

How is keeping his secrets part of that mission?

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