Page 84 of Web of Lies
That's it.
I lean back, roll my shoulders, and throw my arms up in the air. "I'm done," I say with victory in my voice as I sink into the chair with a heavy sigh.
"Good job," Kyle says from behind me.
I spin in my chair and find him sitting on the sofa, head down, focused on the broken-down guns spread across the coffee table. Metal pieces glint under the lamp as he cleans each part, checks the action, then sets it in a neat line.
"Now I just have to program the timer," I say, resting my chin on my hands and leaning against the chair's back. "Send Hunt a copy, and contact Jackson." Even saying his name makes my stomach twist. It's the last thing I want to do, but it's the most important part. If he buys the setup, we're in. If he doesn't, then all of this was for nothing.
Kyle puts down the part he was cleaning and leans back against the couch. "So how are you going to contact him?"
"Either a message or a call." I twirl a strand of hair around my finger, already dreading the thought.
"I'd go with the call," he says without hesitation.
"Really? But a message would be safer."
"Safer, maybe," Kyle nods, tilting his head. "But think about how it'll sound. A message is cold and detached, and it could come across as if you're buying time. On the phone, you can control it. Sell him on the fact that you've got everything and you need to see him now."
I catch my lower lip between my teeth and nibble on the soft flesh. He isn't wrong. A message can be ignored or twisted, but a call can't. Even thinking about it makes my stomach twist, and dread crawls up my throat. Still, Kyle knows what he’s talking about. He's been in this line of work longer than I have. He knows how people think and how they react under pressure. And if I want Jackson to believe me, he needs to hear it in real time, unfiltered.
"What if my voice gives me away?"
Kyle leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Then you use it. Nervous works in your favor here. He'll think it's because you're scared of him, not because you're lying. Just don't ramble."
A sigh slips from my lungs, and I tilt my head, my cheek pressing against my knuckles. He makes it sound simple, like it's just a call to the pizza joint down the street to order dinner. Usually, this wouldn't faze me. I've made similar calls before, where my job was to manipulate someone into slipping, to pass along information, or to set things up for someone else to take action. But this is different. This isn't me running backup behind a screen. This is about me. About my life and future. One wrong word, one shaky breath, and he'll know. As much as the thought makes me want to throw up, Kyle is right, though, that a call is the more convincing method.
"Okay, a call it is." My fingers drum against the back of the chair.
I turn back and close the laptop with a soft click before my gaze falls on my phone lying face up beside me. "Okay," I murmur, this time more to myself, before reaching for my phone.
As I push away from the desk and stand up, the chair screeches against the marble floor. My legs feel stiff and heavy, as if they don't want to carry me. Yet, with slow steps, I start pacing theroom—around the desk, past the sofa, and through stacks of papers and Dumpster’s toys.
My thumb hovers over the screen, brushing along its edge until it comes to life, and Jackson’s number appears in my hidden contact list. In a whisper, I repeat little mantras, half pep talk, half prayer.You’ve got this. It's just a call. You’ve lied before. You’ve pulled this off before. You can do it.
"Riley." I stop mid-step, glancing over my shoulder to find Kyle rising to his feet and closing the distance between us in a couple of steps. "You can do this. I believe in you."
My gaze shifts toward the large window, where I find our reflection blending with the colorful lights of the city at night. I draw in a sharp breath and hold it for three seconds before releasing it with a sigh. Without wasting another second, I swipe across the screen and press his contact. My pulse pounds in my throat as I lift the phone to my ear. With each unanswered ring, my chest tightens and my breath catches in my throat.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then it clicks, and for a beat, there’s nothing but silence until finally a voice I know all too well echoes from the speaker.
"Riley, to what do I owe the pleasure at this late hour?" Jackson asks.
My stomach twists, bile rising in my throat, but I swallow hard, forcing it back down. At the sudden warm weight of Kyle's hand on my shoulder, my gaze flickers to him, and I find his brown eyes staring at me.
"You got this," he mouths, his voice nothing more than a breath, and I nod.I got this.
"Jackson, it’s been a while," I say, gripping my phone.
"That it has." He chuckles, the rumble in his voice dripping with amusement. "Honestly, I'm shocked. I thought you'd abandoned us completely."
"I didn't abandon you," I say, turning away from the window and Kyle to walk back toward the dining table. "I've been working. Quietly. It took longer than I thought, but I have what you wanted."
