Or…and this was the thought that kept me up at night…what if I had gotten raped and now saw what the world didn’t want me to see? What if this was how it had always been, but it took trauma to force the false reality away? Lies on top of lies on top of more lies. People who lied with no rhyme or reason. People who lied simply because they could. I gulped, suppressing my fears and tears, and pressed my ear against the door once more.
“He got married and had a baby,” Jameson said. “Fuck, Nick. I didn’t know this is what you meant when you said you had a story you were sending me. If I report on this I’ll be ostracized—” Jameson was abruptly cut off. I heard shuffling and then the sound of a large weight being thrown against the wall.
“You’re weak,” Law growled. “What kind of example are you setting for your baby? You have a duty to the republic. You’re supposed to be keeping the politicians in check. I expect to see this shit in the papers.”
“Don’t tell me what to do Law,” Jameson growled back.
“Don’t make me tell you what to do! Grow a pair and do it on your own!” What sounded like a slam followed Law’s words, and then silence. I kept my ear pressed to the door for another minute, but neither said a word. When I heard shuffling of feet, I quickly turned and walked away. I no longer wanted to meet with Jameson, at least not then. There was too much to think about.
As I made my way to the elevator, my mind was reeling. If Law was working with Morris, then why would he want my story out? I had been certain he was working for Morris. Everything pointed to that. His
clandestine meetings with Becca were just the cherry on top of the shit sundae.
So why say he loved me? Why help get my story out? I skipped the elevator and took the staircase, taking the steps two at a time. Law was a liar, that much was clear. In my experience, people only lie when they either have something to hide or when they want something done. Neither scenario ends up well for the person being lied to who, in this instance, is me.
I waited outside the building until I saw Jameson leave. After months of following Morris, I’d gotten pretty good at tailing people. Four hours after the confrontation with Law, Jameson left the building. He boarded the metro and I followed the train for ten stops.
Jameson walked a few blocks until he arrived at a quaint brick house with a picket fence. A fucking picket fence. I hopped out of my car and rounded on him before he could reach the front door.
“Jameson,” I said to his back. He jumped, startled, and turned around. I wasn’t totally certain of my plan, but Jameson was mixed up in my shit. He very clearly had ties to the Mormon church, and even more clearly, Law. It was obvious now that Law was twat monkey number one in my life. If Jameson had any answers to questions that needed answering, I was going to find out.
Or, I was going to silence him before he did something destructive.
“Miss DeGrace?” Jameson asked, turning around to face me. “What are you doing here?”
“What the hell are you planning?” I spat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Jameson set his briefcase down and gave me a curious look.
“I know who you’re working for,” I replied. I was getting pretty sick of all the confrontations. It was like my life had devolved into a shitty film noir. Still, it seemed like it wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Not as long as Morris lived and breathed, anyway. Jameson squinted, pretending to be confused.
“I repeat,” Jameson said. “What are you talking about?”
“Cut the shit, Jameson.”
Jameson folded his arms, sighing. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t report your story. I can give you a list of others who might be able to, but I’ll be honest, they probably won’t.” I opened my mouth to respond when I heard the voice of a person I’d hoped had fallen into a well.
“Nami?”
I spun around, glaring at Law. “Why are you here?” When I’d seen him leave The Times, it had taken all of my willpower not to run up and demand an explanation, or shove him into an open manhole. Why me? Why didn’t he just leave me alone? Why did he choose me to torment? My heart burned at the mere thought of him.
Why had he made me fall for him?
“I could ask you the same thing,” Law said. My eyes widened in surprise and then anger.
“I have a perfectly good reason to be here,” I said, indignation burning my tongue. I looked at the both of them, scoffed, and walked down the porch steps to leave. I felt dirty, having fallen for their tricks, but at least I could say I wouldn’t fall for them again.
“Wait.” Law grabbed my arm as I walked past him. I tried to shake him off but he wouldn’t let me budge. “You need to let me explain, Nami. Last night wasn’t what it looked like.”
I glowered up at Law’s gorgeous amber eyes. I hated that even now he made me ache. The memory of our sex was still burned in my soul. Just looking at him I remembered the way he felt on my skin and tasted on my lips. I hated him for lying, but I hated myself so much more for falling for it. I’d let myself go thinking Law would catch me, and instead I’d landed on more jagged rocks. Even more so, I hated myself for continuing to clutch on to the feelings. As if Law’s betrayal wasn’t still fresh and bloody, there was a part that clung to the cliff he’d thrown me off.
I was such a fool.
Looking away, I scoffed. “So Becca Riley wasn’t in your room?”
“No,” Law said steadily. “She was.”
I yanked my arm free from his grasp. “Then it was exactly what it looked like.”