Chapter 30

Thirty

"I heard back from The Ripped Bodice," I tell Ash later that night after Noah and Kiki have left. Since I didn't want Leah or Bea to know about the blackmail scheme, I'd come up with the somewhat ridiculous story of how I wanted to have the souvenir footage for my digital scrapbook.

If they thought I was weird, they were kind enough not to say so. Unfortunately, there wasn't a security cam inside or outside. "So dead end there," I tell Ash as we're snuggled in bed together.

He turns on his side, tugging the sheet down as he does. "Noah thinks there may be another possibility." He traces his fingertip over my bare breasts as he talks.

"Oh?" I'm trying very hard to make my voice sound normal. "Like what?"

"He made some calls. There's an art gallery across the street, and the odds are good they have security cams. Depending on the angle and how often they record over the old video, we might get lucky."

"Lucky," I say, my voice dreamy. And not because of security cams. "Despite everything, I've felt pretty lucky lately."

"Have you?" His finger teases my nipple, and I bite my lower lip as I manage to make an affirmative noise.

"I feel pretty lucky myself these days."

I start to speak, freeze, then try again. "Kiki thinks we're good together."

"I've always liked that woman."

"I realized we never really worked out what happens after you transfer the money."

His fingers stop moving. "What do you mean?"

I roll over, then straddle him. We're both naked, and I'm sitting below his waist, his cock pressing against my rear.

"If you're planning on having a conversation, you need to know this position isn't exactly conducive."

"Good," I say, then bend forward to brush a kiss over his lips. "It occurred to me that we never talked about what would happen when you got your three million back."

"I might not," he says.

"You will. Did you see your kitchen table? No blackmailer's going to be a match for the power of that tech."

He chuckles. "I hope you're right." His eyes narrow, and he cocks his head. "Or maybe I don't."

I laugh. "It occurs to me that it's not just about the money. It's about the timing as well. You can get repaid the cash, but I still owe you for pulling this all together quickly enough that my secrets don't get splashed to the world."

A grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "I couldn't have made a better argument myself."

"Once the videos got out, they'd be in the world forever. It's not like our bad guy can call them back."

"My three million is the gift that keeps on giving."

I nod. "And so…"

He puts his hands on my hips, and I rock against him, sliding down with each thrust until my very wet core is sliding over his very hard cock.

"So, I think that means I owe you a debt that can't ever really be repaid."

"And you know what that means, Ms. Bernstein?"

"Tell me."

"You're mine," he whispers, cupping my head and pulling me down for a kiss. "You're just going to have to stay mine forever."

"Oh, hell yes," Noah says around eleven-forty-five the next morning. "Finally, a bit of luck. Luck being a somewhat loose and amorphous term," he adds, presumably so that I won't squeal and get my hopes too high.

We've all been up since before dawn, trying to solve the riddle of who I'm about to pay before we have to actually make the payment.

So far, there's been nothing, so Noah's announcement—whatever it's about—is definitely squeal-worthy.

I look between him and Ash, both of whom are sitting at the breakfast bar behind their open laptops. I'm standing in the kitchen sipping coffee. Kiki's on a plane to Manhattan where she's meeting with some Broadway producer about a part in a musical. I've apologized to Noah about eight thousand times, but he assured me that this is the way their life works, and if she gets the part, he'll move up there for the duration. "Trust me," he'd said earlier, "I don't need to be there for the audition. And she doesn't want me there right now anyway. Believe it or not, she still gets nervous about that stuff."

"Really?" That little bit of insight into a woman who lives her life in the spotlight makes me feel better. If she can be nervous about singing—which is what she does for a living—then it's perfectly rational for me to be a wreck today as we try to find the low-life scum-puppies who are blackmailing me.

"So how are we lucky?" I ask now. "Did we catch the bad guy?"

"Getting closer. Look." Noah signals me to come stand behind him. Ash is already sitting next to him, and he stands now so that he can put his arms around my waist as we both look at Noah's monitor.

"What am I seeing?" It's a grainy, time-stamped video of a person—probably a man—crossing a street, then slipping into an alley and disappearing from view. He seems to be wearing a cap, so there's no way to tell if his hair is light or dark.

Ash gives my hand a squeeze. "He could very well be the guy who put that QR code card in your gift basket."

I twist around to look at him. "Wait. What? How?"

"The art gallery," Noah says. "This footage is from one of their exterior cameras."

The video is playing on a loop, and I watch more closely as the man—this time, I'm sure it's a man—crosses, pauses, and disappears into the dark. "The alley he turns into is the one behind the bookstore," Noah says.

The guy in the vid is wearing a white tee, and although it's grainy and there's no other person in the frame to compare him to, when I look at his shoulders in comparison to his hips, I have to think the shoulders are pretty broad.

"Agreed," Ash says, when I tell them as much, and Noah nods as well.

"Is there a front view of him?"

"I've got one more feed to check," Noah says. He taps some buttons, and the current video is replaced by another. It's the same action—the man crossing the street, then disappearing into the gray behind the Ripped Bodice—only this is from a different camera, so the angle is slightly different. Now, it's clear that he's wearing a ball cap, but unlike the first video that entirely hid his hair, this time a tuft sticks out at the side. The tape is black and white, but the tuft is light, so probably blond or very, very light brown.

"This is good, right? I mean, this could really help us find him."

The men exchange glances. "It's a start," Noah says. "But we don't have a face. It won't be easy."

"There's something familiar about him," I say, still staring at the screen and that tuft of hair. Those shoulders. The way he moves. Something . But I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Finger!" I say the word in the same moment that I see the truth. "Look. Look ," I repeat, poking at the monitor. "See? He's twisting a ring."

I glance between the men, expecting grins and high-fives. Instead, they simply gape at me.

"Martin Street. He works at Upper Crust. I'm positive."

"Holy shit," Ash says, his voice low. "You two nailed him."

I'm giddy as I look between the men. "What do we do now? Send in a team, right? He can't possibly be the only one involved."

"We keep with the plan," Ash says. "We make sure you're right. We transfer the money. And we trace it."

I nod. Digital tracking. I still don't understand it, but I trust these men.

"You're sure about this?" Ash asks me, coming to my side and taking my hand. "There's always the chance he'll have time to release those videos. Or whoever's working with him will. Odds are good they're already cued up. It's just a matter of pushing a button and making them go live. You're strong, baby," he says, pulling me close. "But strong or not, you shouldn't have to live with those videos out in the world. Anne shouldn't have to, either."

"If I back away, they win by default," I say. "And I think Nikki and Damien would agree. Anne and I aren't the ones who did anything wrong." I manage a little shrug. "Do I want the videos released? No. Am I willing to risk it to catch the people who are doing this? Yes."

I bite my lip as I look at Ash. "Should I call and talk to Nikki and Damien?"

He shakes his head. "You know them well, just like you said. And so do I. Besides," he adds with a grim half-smile. "We're going to nail the fuckers, and those videos aren't going to see the light of day."

I squeeze his hand. "I believe you," I say. I mean it with all my heart, too. But the truth is, if I'm wrong—if those videos are released—I'll survive.

When this started, I wasn't strong enough. But I've learned a lot about myself these last few days with Ash. Now, I am strong enough.

"You're amazing," he says, then takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And we're going to take Martin and the rest of them down."

"Damn right, we are."

"Come on, then," Noah says, and Ash and I go sit with him at the table. I take my phone out and scan the code. A moment later, a site pops up. It flashes an animated graphic of fire from which a newly forged sword emerges. Then the words: Remember the rules.

Those words fade, and others pop up: Beware the razor's edge.

I must make a sound, because both Ash and Noah look at me, brows furrowed.

"Baby," Ash says, tucking my hair behind my ear. "You've gone completely pale. What is it?"

But I can't answer. Right now, I can barely stand.

"Bree." I hear the rising anxiety in his voice. "Bree, talk to me."

Somehow, I manage to form words. "It's a quote," I say. "From Reveries ." I look between the two of them, their expressions making clear they don't understand. "My book. "They're quoting my book."

"Assholes," Ash whispers, his arm tightening around me as the quote disappears and transfer instructions pop up. "They just had to twist the knife. Are you okay?"

I nod, numb, as Noah starts working his magic. Ash kisses my cheek, then does whatever one does to set up a transfer of three million dollars from one account to the other.

But it's not necessary anymore. I'm certain I know where that money is going. All we're doing now is proving it.

As I hug myself, he looks to Noah. "Ready?"

Noah holds up a finger, taps something on his keyboard with his other hand, then says, "Now."

My entire body goes stiff, as if I'm preparing for some sort of explosion. But nothing feels different at all. It's over, though. That much I know. Because the instructions on my phone morph into a video of fireworks that fizzle out with a message in a curly-que font: Thanks for playing!

The sick fucks are actually having fun. And Kari—oh, god, Kari. I'd thought she was my friend. And the truth feels like a knife through my soul.

I hug myself as I start to pace, trying to keep the anger and betrayal from bursting out and splattering all over the room.

How could they do this? How could I not have seen this coming?

My mind is reeling, my thoughts going everywhere. But one thing stands out from the melee—I want them caught. Imprisoned. Exposed. I want them to know just how not funny this whole thing is.

Because it's not about the money. Not anymore.

It's about the betrayal.

I don't realize I'm crying until I feel Ash's arms go around me. I turn into him, burying my face in his chest and simply sob as he leads me back to the table, pulls out a chair, and settles me on his lap.

For a few blissful moments, we sit like that, him stroking my hair and telling me that the ordeal is almost over while on the other side of the room, Noah's tap, tap, tap on the keyboard harmonizes with the drip and sizzle of the coffee maker. I tell myself I should say something, but saying it would make it real. And maybe Noah's trace will prove me wrong—oh, how I hope I'm wrong.

Then I hear Noah's low whisper of, "Oh, yeah, you fucker. We've got you now."

Ash sits up straighter, and though I try to stand—his legs must be numb—he just pulls me closer. "Tell us you have him."

"Marty Road," Noah says. "That's the holder of the receiving account. Pretty damn close to Martin Street, don't you think?"

My entire body sags. "It's him," I whisper. "It's him and Kari and Maggie."

Ash's brow furrows. "Bree?"

I draw a breath. "He's been hanging out with Kari and with Maggie. Kari's Rory's ex. She dated him before I did. And she's at the heart of all this."

Noah cocks his head. "How do you?—"

"She's the one who introduced Rory to me," I say, cutting him off. "And we were close enough that I let her read the very first draft of Reveries, before I'd even started to edit it."

I keep going, feeling numb as I explain how that version included a lot of things that changed in later drafts, including a quote that Kari had loved: Love is a blade; beware the razor's edge.

No one else read that version of the manuscript. Not my agent. Not my editor. Not even Aria. And the line was completely different in the next draft. That second version stuck, and it's what's in the book: Love is like a sword. Do not test the well-honed blade.

As soon as I tell that to the men, Noah gets on the phone. I know he's calling the authorities, but it doesn't matter now. We know who was involved. We'll get those tapes before the friends-who-are-my-enemies can release them.

And as Ash's arms tighten around me, I let myself sob as the horror of my friend's betrayal crashes over me like waves in a storm.

"Hey," Ash whispers, drawing me from an uneasy sleep. I blink, then sit up, realizing that Ash must have moved me to the sofa after I'd cried myself to sleep.

"How long?—"

"You had quite a nap," he says, handing me a mug of coffee. "Over five hours."

"Kari?"

"They just took her into custody. Maggie, too." He goes on to tell me that Noah coordinated with the authorities, and they pulled in Martin Street within an hour after the money hit his account. Then he ratted out Kari and Maggie and two other guys who'd helped with the tech surrounding both the videos and the money transfer.

"Bree?"

"What? Oh. Yes. I'm okay," I say, sitting up. "Numb. Disheartened. I don't really know Martin, but Maggie was just an obnoxious reporter. I never would have thought she'd do something like this. And Kari—" My breath hitches. "Kari was my friend."

"No," Ash says. "She wasn't."

He stands up, then bends over to pick me up. He cradles me in his arms as he carries me to his bedroom, then strips off my shoes and the sweatpants of his I'd put on this morning since I wasn't about to wear Nikki's dress for even one more day. He leaves me in an over-sized tee, then puts me in bed and pulls the covers up to my chin. I sigh, then curl up into a ball.

I want to protest that I just woke up, but the truth is I'm still drained. And when he climbs into bed from the other side and moves close enough to put his hand on my hip, I know that right now, this is exactly where I need to be.

We stay like that for at least two hours, half-sleeping, half-touching. I think we both want more, but we each feel fragile.

As for me, I feel exhausted, too. Not from sleep deprivation, though. Exhausted from life. From disappointment. From the loss of a friend, and from the withering loss of my own trust in myself. Because I never saw it coming. Not from Rory, who started it all. Not from Kari, who I believed was my friend. Not from Maggie, who I knew was reprehensible. Even knowing that, I was blind.

What the hell is wrong with me?