Page 72 of The Arrangement

“I don’t want to say it on the phone. Can I come over?” Hisbaritone voice was quiet across the line. I took a moment to pull the phone away to look at the time; it was past 10:00 pm.

“Yeah, that's fine.”

“I’ll be there in ten.” The call went dead, the beep telling me that he had hung up. Sighing deeply, I ran my hand down my face, the thundercloud of emotions from the long day eating me alive as I slowly processed everything that had happened, how Georgia had happened.

Fuck. I was so fucked. It was working, wasn’t it? The sex, the work; I was up by over 23%, which might not seem like a lot, but it was even more than when Natalie and I had collaborated. What was it about her? Why did my skin seem to light up on fire whenever she touched me? Why was it hard to breathe when she was around?

And why couldn’t I forget the way her touch felt, or the way she felt wrapped around me in the still of the night?

I had never been in love before, and I hadn’t planned to start now. Love was never something on my mind; I had so much to do and so many people to take care of already that the thought of adding another to that list made my head hurt.

But it was like Georgia had wrapped herself around my heart and refused to let go. And despite everything, I yearned for her. Not just her body or those sweet sounds she made when I finally slipped inside of her but the way she laughed, the way her hair smelled when I kissed her neck, and even the cat that I had somehow weaseled into good graces with.

Exactly ten minutes had passed when I heard a loud knock on my door, drawing me from my thoughts as I unlocked it and a harried Fletcher slipped in without so much of a hello.

“What is so important that you need to talk to me tonight?” I demanded, locking the door behind him just as quickly as to ward out the cold November air that seemed to seep in through the cracks of the old building.

Fletcher looked around, sweeping the area with an undeniable tension lining his features. “No one else is here, right?”

I drew my arms out. “No, there is no one else here at ten at night, Fletch. What the fuck is going on?”

Instead of answering me, the tall brunette took off his jacket and gestured to the seat next to him as he sat.“Sit down.”

Narrowing my eyes, I sat, leaning forward on my elbows and fixing him with a hard stare. “What the fuck is going on, Thomas?”

His Adam's apple bobbed at the way I said his first name; the only time I tended to do so was when I was mad at him. He and his father shared the same last name, and there was no love lost between the two.

“I have something to tell you, and I’m not sure how you’ll react.”

Well, this wasn’t off to the best start. I was silent, urging Fletcher to continue but refusing to speak again until he revealed why he had shown up at my house like he did.

Slowly, Fletcher reached a hand into his inside coat pocket and withdrew something flat. Without another word he set it down on the table, pushing it towards me.

I hesitated, watching him carefully as I turned over the object and going pale as it was revealed to be a badge—a U.S. Marshals badge, to be more precise.

“What the fuck is this, Fletcher?” I asked softly and with steel in my voice as the glint of the golden badge glared off of the overhead lighting in my dining room.

“I took a position with the U.S. Marshals over three years ago.” He paused, the muscle in his jaw working as he considered me across the table. “I’ve been assisting on an inside mission to uncover wire fraud, money laundering, racketeering, and coercion.”

Sitting back and trying not to look as affected as I was, I just focused on my breathing as more and more information assaulted me. With everything that had occurred in the past forty-eight hours, I wasn’t sure if I could be surprised or attacked any more than I had been.

I had been wrong.

“Fletcher, you have been working for my grandfather for well over a year.” It was like I was reminding myself, not him.

With that, my best friend leaned over and drew in a deep breath. “I have been. But I also have been working as an undercover agent as awitness in the case of the U.S. Federal Treasury against The Quinn Foundation.” He said it in one breath, with his grey eyes locked on mine as if he wanted to make sure that it hit home.

“What the fuck do you mean?” I felt my hands turn into fists as the air stole from my lungs. “Explain it to me like I’m fucking five.”

Thomas Fletcher II had the decency to look apologetic as he ran a hand through his hair. “Seb, your grandfather has been on the government's radar for well over ten years, but he’s smart and made the right connections so that we could never bring a suit against him. Nothing concrete, at least. When the agency found out about my connection?—”

I stood quickly before I even realized what I was doing as my chair skidded against the old wood floors. “Connection? You mean your friendship with me, you fucking asshole?”

Fletcher didn’t rise to meet me; he only kept his demeanor calm and collected as he raised his hands. “Yes. Our friendship. They knew that we were friends and that it would be easy to get myself into his organization, and it wouldn’t raise suspicions if I were suddenly around.” He set his hands back down on the table as I let my fists uncurl beside me. “Coming back home after three years, getting a job with my old college roommate? It was easy to explain. I wouldn’t have to assimilate my way into the community; I was already a part of it.”

I deflated, my body falling back into my chair. It was as if my body couldn’t take any more hurt or betrayal than it had been subjected to in the last few days.

“What do you want, Fletcher?” Deep down, I knew what he wanted, and it wasn’t something that I could give him. Not without hurting my family. Fuck my grandfather. I couldn’t care less about that old man. But Maria? And had I seen anything or anything that could implicate me in any way?

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