Page 175 of House of Cards

The rawness in his voice forms a pit in my stomach.

“Myles and the others suspected her from the start. Kept telling me something was off.”

I can hear the self-loathing in every word, and despite my anger, something in my chest tightens.

“I knew they were right. Knew it in my fucking gut. But she was...” He stops, jaw working like he’s chewing on glass. “She was so good at making me forget everything else.”

Dread slowly consumes the bitter anger that had been festering inside me the past few days.

The way he speaks about her, like she was a drug he couldn’t quit, makes something ugly twist inside me. Jealousy, maybe. I doubt he treated her the same way he treated me.

This Michelle woman got to experience something I can only dream about. A true relationship with Smith.

Trust, respect…possibly even love.

All I got was non-stop torture and one lousy bubble bath—and even that ended in tears. Oh, and who could forget how he let my brother die without losing a wink of sleep?

“What happened?” I ask, hating how pathetic I sound, but desperate to get my answers so I can get the fuck out of here and go back to grieving in private.

Smith sits forward and pours himself another drink from a crystal decanter. His hands are steady, but he tips the decanter too fast, amber liquid pouring out in violent, angry glugs.

“She was kidnapped. That’s how they made it look, anyway.” He takes a long pull of his drink, like he’s trying to drown the memory. “They snatched her on the way to a private function. Left a note with instructions, and one of her fingers.”

Just like Ricky.

My stomach tightens. “Jesus.”

“Five million, or they’d keep sending body parts.” His voice is flat now, emotionless, like he’s reading from a police report.“The exchange was in a warehouse. Looked abandoned, but Elonzo had snipers all over the place.”

Smith’s eyes finally meet mine, and what I see there makes my blood freeze. “It wasn’t an exchange, Zoey. It was a hit.”

I wrap my arms around my chest, trying to ward off the chill. My black sweats are doing a shit job of keeping me warm, though.

“Soon as they had the money, Elonzo told me to shoot Michelle…or he’d kill every last one of my men.”

I open my mouth, but what the hell am I supposed to say?

“When I hesitated, he killed Marcus.” There’s something in his tone that makes my skin crawl. A darkness that suggests this story doesn’t have the happy ending I’m hoping for.

“He would have killed them all, then her, then me. And that’s exactly what would have happened if I’d taken you through there last night. He’d have told me or you to kill Ricky and then started shooting, anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” I murmur, lifting a hand when Smith throws me a hard look. “Not for sure. We could have tried. We could have?—”

“I’m not done.” His calm words cut through my own frantic voice easier than a shout ever could.

Smith sets his glass down and looks directly at me. His eyes could have been made of glass, that’s how empty and lifeless they are.

“When they took Michelle, it wasn’t a kidnapping, Zoey. It was a pickup.” Each word drops like a stone into still water. “Elonzo told me Michelle worked for him. That she’d been collecting information about the Devil’s Den for months.”

The room seems to tilt around me. “She was a spy?”

“She was a lot of things. Spy, seductress, liar.” His voice turns savage. “But most of all, she was fucking good at her job. Good enough to fool me completely.”

I can barely breathe. “She betrayed you.”

“She picked me. Studied me. Told me everything I wanted to hear. Did everything I wanted her to do.” Smith’s hands clench into fists. “She was perfect. The perfect lie.”

The pain in his voice is raw, devastating.