Page 11 of Wicked Games
“That’s enough out of you, Agent,” Richard said.
“I hate to spoil the image you have of my slutty behavior, but Trent is just a friend. We both had too much to drink and passed out.” I held up my hand when Kiphart started to comment. “Don’t believe me? You can talk to the manager of my building and ask to see the footage from the security cameras.”
“We’re done here,” Richard said tersely. He pulled out a card and slid it across the table. “Requests to speak to him again will go through me. We’re leaving, Ryder.”
“One last thing,” Marshall said just before we reached the door. I paused and turned to face her. “Does the name Lucien Clarke mean anything to you?”
“No, I don’t recall meeting anyone who goes by that name.”
“Let’s see if you recognize his face? I don’t have a dick pic in the file, unfortunately,” Kiphart said snidely. I seethed and started to walk toward him, but Richard put his arm out to bar me from making the biggest mistake of my life. Kiphart sneered as he pulled out a picture from the file and held it up for me to see.Déjà vu.“I can tell by your reaction you do recognize this man. Why don’t you please take a seat so we can chat a little longer?”
I returned to the chair I’d just vacated and flopped down on it. All of the fight had left me. “I knew the man as Sebastian Deveraux. In your photo, he’s speaking to my ex-boyfriend and the guy he’s dating now. Their names are Archie White and Oliver Knight.” Interesting how some cameras were tampered with but not others.
“You have a history with this man, don’t you?”
I nodded in disbelief then spent another hour baring my shame and humiliation to them. After I finished, the two agents left the room presumably to discuss what they wanted to do with me next. They must’ve decided there wasn’t enough evidence to hold me because they turned me loose. I was numb by the time we exited the federal building. I left my car in a parking garage two blocks away and was glad to see the rain had let up a little while I was inside getting interrogated. I knew I should call my parents, Iris, and Trent right away, but I wasn’t ready to talk to them. I needed time to process what I learned.
Lucien Clarke.The name somehow suited the man better than the alias he presented to me. The agents weren’t willing to share any details about him, so I knew nothing more than I did when he left me in Cairo.
I paused at the corner and waited for the crosswalk signal to change. The traffic light turned yellow, and the approaching traffic slowed down. Suddenly, a black Aston Martin came to an abrupt halt in the crosswalk in front of me. Startled, I took a step back. The passenger window rolled down, and I was stunned to be looking into the dark eyes of my tormentor.
“Get in the car,” Lucien Clarke said in his clipped British accent.
RYDER’S EYES WIDENED IN ASTONISHMENT, and his mouth fell open in a silent gasp. Maybe his gasp was audible, but it was hard to know when the asshole in the Honda behind me repeatedly laid on his horn. Ryder’s shock turned to rage, and he took another step back.Honk. Honk.
“Get in before you cause a big scene that neither of us can afford right now.”Honk. Honk. Honk.
I knew Ryder was going to refuse me when he glanced up and down the sidewalk looking for someone to call out to, but the police had already focused their energy and resources on blockades at the museum and directing traffic near the football stadium where an NFL game was taking place.Honk. Honk. Honnnk.
I decided to go with another tactic. “I know you have questions, and I’ll answer every single one of them. Get. In. The. Car.”Honnnnnnnnnk.“That’s it,” I said, reaching for my seat belt. “I’ve had it with rude Americans.”
Ryder opened the passenger door and got in before I could unbuckle and get out to deal with the prick behind me. “Go!”
“Put on your safety belt,” I teased, putting the car in drive and hitting the gas. “I really wish you would’ve let me pound the piss out of the guy.”
“I thought you didn’t want to create a big scene,Lucien?” I tried not to show my reaction to hearing Ryder say my real name. How long had I wanted to hear him say it? During sex, afterward while holding him in my arms, or through the phone telling me how much he missed me when we were apart? “Are you surprised I know your name? You’ll be happy to know the FBI knows it too. It seems like your crimes have finally caught up to you. Good luck getting away with it this time, you duplicitous bastard. I should call 9-1-1 right now.”
“You can call the authorities, but it won’t do you or them any good. I didn’t take the wine vessel, and they can’t prove I did. Besides, I won’t answer your questions if you turn me in.”
Ryder wanted to counter me but couldn’t. If he wanted to turn me in, he would’ve done so immediately. “You sure picked a flashy car to drive for a man wishing to remain undetected.”
“It’s very fast,” I countered wryly. Ryder wasn’t in the mood for small talk and didn’t reply. “Where are we going?”
“I’m not the one behind the wheel. All I know is we’re not going back to my apartment. It’s never worked out well for me.”
“Ry—”
“Save it,” Ryder snarled. “I don’t know why I didn’t scream loud enough to raise the dead when I saw it was you in the car. Maybe it’s morbid curiosity, or maybe I want the fucking closure your previous disappearance acts never gave me. Regardless, whatever we’ve had between us is over after today.”
“We can go back to my hotel room.” I could feel the scathing look Ryder gave me.
“Like that’s ever worked out better for me. You must think I’m a fool.”
“No, I don’t,” I said quickly. “We just need someplace private we can talk.”
“Since when did we start talking?”
“Ryder, I—”