Page 48 of A Secret and a Lie
He smirks. “Of course.”
I’m not even sure why I asked. No one moves quieter than he does, which made him an obvious choice for the FBI, especially after he told the CIA to go fuck themselves.
He passes me the tablet, and I glance down at the screen to find a mirror of Genevieve’s phone, complete with tracking. “You’ll be ableto read all of her texts, listen to her calls, track her every move…hear her client sessions, everything she does, so long as she has her phone.”
Since there was nothing in her financial record and our lessons are over, this was my next move. People are reckless with their technology, so I’m praying I can catch her exchanging money for sex or discussing her client list. Something,anything.
My next step would have to be even more invasive.
I scrub a hand over my face, going straight for another scotch. I knew this had to be done, but fucking hell, why didn’t I consider that I might be able to hear her client sessions. I would quit this op—and the FBI—today if I thought it would solve my problems, but Genevieve Watts has made herselfmyproblem. I don’t trust her with anyone else. I have to be the one to take her down, even if that means torturing myself in the process.
Is this some kind of Dom thing?I should look into that.
Her pain should belong solely to me. Her pleasure should come only from me. Her smiles and tears are mine, and I’m growing less inclined to share them by the day.
I lift my once abandoned scotch to my lips as Drake comments, “You’re in too deep.”
“No fucking shit,” I mutter, turning to face him, leaning against the table. How else do you explain that I used FBI resources to access her credit card statement to learn that she buys baked goods and pastries on a bi-weekly basis from that spot on M Street so I could surprise her with her favorite foods tonight? That had nothing to do with gaining information from her either, even if that’s how I explained the bakery expense to Jackson.
He’s relaxed, bringing the bottle to his lips with two fingers scissored around the neck. “You’re compromised. You need out before you aren’t able to complete this job.”
“No.” That’s not fucking happening.
He sighs, shaking his head. “She’s a criminal, Ford.”
I snort and glance away. “Yeah, well, so am I.”
I didn’t mean to divulge that, but it hangs between us like a dead body from the rafters, heavy and rancid.
Silence swirls for a minute, before he states calmly, “Killing on government orders does not make you a criminal. You know that.”
Idon’tknow that. Shifting my attention back to him, I take a steadying breath and shrug noncommittally. I’m punished most nights for my actions, seeing the blood on my hands in my dreams, soaking my body in sweat as I relive each murder. If I’m honest, I envy the way Drake handles the weight of his actions, seeing this as simply a job without repercussions. Generally, he’s always coped better than I have, though, so this is nothing new.
Rubbing at the back of my neck, I move to take a seat in the chair while he continues to fling arrows at the board. “I fucking kissed her.”
He scoffs. “I know.”
I frown. “How?”
“You’ve got thatI just ate someone’s facelook. Plus, you’ve got a little lipstick on your jaw, and on your mouth, and your—”
Rolling my eyes, I hold up a hand. “I got it.”
Wiping a hand over my mouth, I find my fingertips stained faintly red. Smearing the lipstick across the pads of my fingers, I smile.
Drake shakes his head, looking at me like a lost cause as he takes a sip of beer. “Man, everyone knows you don’t kiss the sex workers.”
Who iseveryone, exactly?“How the hell would you know that?”
He lifts his beer to his lips again. “I’ve seenPretty Woman. I have a sister.”
None of that shit makes sense to me, but he seems confident. Could he be right? But Genevieve didn’t stop me.Why not?
As I try to put these pieces together, he circles back to our original topic. “Kiss her all you want, but don’t forget that you’re going to arrest her at some point, Ford. You need to sort your shit. Don’t fuck this up.”
Meeting his eye, I state confidently, “I won’t.”
Genevieve
