The last two years of my life have been filled with nothing but lies. I've been a pawn since the first day I met Beth.

  She's not a waitress. Or an aspiring singer.

  She works for the FBI. She's been investigating Johnathan for longer than we've known each other. Our chance meeting was anything but. Living together was a setup.

  All to keep an eye on me.

  So they could use me.

  The more Gina and Beth tell me, the angrier I get. My initial reaction was shock, but that wore off quickly.

  The one bright spot in all of this, if there is one at all, is that my parents know everything. They're not actually upset with me.

  They have multiple people working on the inside. Gina was one of three until she was fired from the campaign, throwing a major wrench in their plans. Setting them back.

  When Beth mentions the setback, Gina cringes. I have a feeling she's still in the hot seat for fucking up.

  My heart hurts by the time Beth finishes. All of this has been going on right under my nose, and if she'd never shown up, I'd had never known. I'd be as clueless as I was yesterday.

  I've been living in a dangerous environment and didn't even know it. I could have been his next victim.

  Yes, I knew he was involved in private matters. He spends a lot of time in his office working. I assumed it was campaign-related or private matters of the State. Senator bullshit. Confidential.

  I never would have guessed he was involved in something so sinister.

  "Tomorrow you're going to get on a plane and fly to Houston with Lang and Garcia. They have a meeting with the middle man Lang has been working with. His name is Mendez. He's working with us in exchange for a reduced sentence in the role he's played."

  "If you have him, why can't you just arrest Johnathan now?"

  They've been onto Johnathan for a while. Watching him, waiting for him to screw up. They need evidence of his involvement in a human trafficking organization before they can arrest him. Even though they know he's helped abduct at least two dozen girls.

  "Because he's not the only one we’re after. We'd like to figure out who's at the top of the food chain. In order to take the organization down, we need to go all the way up. Mendez claims he doesn't know who it is, but we have an idea. And we think Johnathan knows who it is."

  "I know who it is," a deep voice says from behind me.

  Turning, I find Garcia standing in the open doorway of the conference room.

  What the hell is he doing here? Is he one of them too? How did I not realize this?

  "Hey, babe," Beth says, sliding her chair across the floor and walking over to Garcia, planting a soft kiss on his lips. "You've got information for me?"

  "Yeah. It's Mayor Heath Lang."

  You could have heard a pin drop in the room as Garcia said his name.

  Johnathan's father. His campaign manager.

  A man of many talents, one of which is hiding his true evil. Like father like son, apparently.

  "What?" Beth's gasp echoes through the room. "Why do you think that?"

  "Johnathan wants to take out Mendez. He knows he's been compromised."

  "How?" Gina interrupts. "Lang hasn't met with Mendez since we brought him in. There's no way he could possibly know."

  "That's the point," Garcia growls at her. There's visible tension between the two of them. I'm guessing it stems from her lack of employment with my husband. "Johnathan just figured out Monica wasn't where she was supposed to be. He was told she was delivered to Mendez and that he left her with the head of the organization. Who's the only person who can confirm she's not where she should be?"

  "Oh my god. We've been looking in the wrong place this entire time."

  Beth frantically moves around folders on the table in front of her as Garcia continues.

  "Mayor Lang is the only person that spoke to Johnathan after I left him. The briefcase he took from the hidden room in his home office is still with his father. I searched the room while I was at the house, but there was nothing that could tie him to the organization. It has to be in that briefcase."

  "We need that briefcase before you get on the plane in the morning. I've already spoken with Mendez about tomorrow's meeting, but I'll call him again and brief him on the updates. Should we call Monica?"

  All eyes fall on Beth at the mention of Monica's name.

  My suspicions were right. She is alive. Not because Johnathan couldn't kill her but because Garcia intervened.

  "I'll call her and let her know what's going on. She's safer where she is right now. I don't want to have to move her if we don't have to." Gina leaves the room with a sense of urgency, her phone already pressed to her ear.

  "What can I do?" I ask, the words leaving my mouth before I've given them any thought.

  "Nothing," Garcia replies quickly. "You two will head back to the hotel. Act natural. Remember you haven't seen each other in close to a year. You should be happy and upbeat. Then, crawl in bed, go to sleep. Tomorrow I'll pick you up, and we'll go to the airport. He's going to want you to play the happy, devoted wife. I know it won't be easy after this afternoon, but you need to try. Pissing him off will only make things worse. I promise nothing is going to happen to you. We'll drop you off at the hotel before we go to our meeting, and Beth will pick you up and take you somewhere safe until this is all over."

  "Thank you," I reply. "For not leaving me in the closet this afternoon. For the gun when you thought I might need it. For protecting me. I'm not happy I was pulled into this without my knowledge, but I am grateful you guys have kept me safe."

  It's the truth. Partially. Unhappy is not the word I would use. Pissed. Irate. Furious. Nothing is going to change what's happening, though, so I might as well put those feelings on the back burner for now. I'll let it all out once this is over.

  "Nothing is going to happen to you, Amelia. I promise," Beth says, pulling me in for a hug.

  Why? Why is she hugging me? We're not friends. I don't even know her. I thought I did, and that's the biggest disappointment of the day. My best friend isn't who she claimed to be. Our relationship wasn't real.

  At the end of the day, I'm alone. Two of the most important people in my life aren't who they really said they were. My husband and my bestie.

  After this, I don't know where I'll go.

  My phone vibrates on the table, startling me. When I flip it over, Johnathan's name flashes across the screen with an incoming text. I stare at the message for a few seconds, reading it over and over again. He sounds like the man I met. The impostor who swept me off my feet. The man who tricked me into marrying him.

  A true example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

  When I don't reply, another text comes through. This one not as eloquent as the other, but it makes me laugh. Loudly.

  "He's texting me wanting to know when I'll be back. He said he'd send you to find me if I didn't reply," I explain, nodding in Garcia's direction.

  Garcia's face remains stoic. I was hoping for a laugh or a smile. Nope. He remains in character.

  "Good. As long as he still trusts me, everything is going to go as planned. You two should get going."

  Beth heads in the direction of the door, but I remain standing next to the table. Garcia pulls his phone from this pocket and gently taps on the screen a few times.

  "Go, Amelia. Please," Garcia says, tapping on his screen again.

  "Is that him?"

  "Yes."

  "Is he sending you to look for us?"

  "No. I'm giving him information on Beth. He doesn't trust her. He doesn't trust you. The only people he trusts right now are me and his father. Go back to the hotel. Pretend to be his wife. I promise you, this will all be over soon."

  Garcia never looks up at me as he speaks. His attention is solely focused on his phone, on his conversation with Johnathan. So I do as he asks, stopping beside him when a memory flashes through my mind.

  "Can you get back to the house tonight?" I ask.

  "Yes. Why?"

  I explain about the briefcase I found hidden in the closet. It may be nothing, but it could be important. I describe it and its location. Garcia promises to check it out as Beth pulls me from the room and out the same door we entered through.

  The rain is pouring down on us as we sprint back to the hotel. Once we're safely tucked in the elevator, Beth turns to me and pulls me in for a hug. I barely feel her slip the gun into the back of my pants.

  "Keep it hidden. You shouldn't have to use it, but I want you to have it just in case."

  "How did you take it from me earlier without me knowing?"

  "That's my job."

  "Right," I reply, stepping out of her embrace and leaning against the back wall of the elevator.

  Memories of all the fun we had living together, the trouble we caused, and our late night talks are all I can focus on as the elevator slowly climbs to the top floor. Just as it's about to slow to a stop, Beth pulls the emergency button and the elevator jerks.

  "What the hell!" I practically scream.

  "It wasn't all a lie," she begins, turning to face me with tears in her eyes. "You are my best friend, Amelia. I love you like a sister. I begged them not to use you once I got to know you. We spent two years together, hanging out. That was my assignment. Every day I prayed you wouldn't have to get pulled into this mess.

  "Then it happened. Garcia called. He had Monica. We needed to bring you in, to prepare you. I had my orders even though I didn't like them. It was my job to ensure you were put in the spotlight for Lang. You were his perfect type, but I still hoped he didn't want you. That he would overlook your beauty and charisma.

  "I was there that night. Hidden in the shadows in the back room. I heard you sing. It broke my heart to have to be the one to blow the amp. You sounded amazing. You were living your dream, and I was the one that had to take it away from you.

  "I know you're mad at me. I know you don't understand how or why I did what I did. One day I'll explain everything to you in more detail, I promise. For now, all I need for you to know is that our friendship means more to me than you know, and after all this is over, I'd really like to remain friends. To start fresh. I want to make this up to you if you'll let me."

  We're both in tears as we embrace the remainder of the ride to the penthouse floor. When the door slides open, Beth whispers in my ear, causing me to laugh loudly.

  "At least the sex is good," she says.

  Of course she would get me to laugh at a time like this. It's not until we walk through the doors that I realize why.

  He's standing there. Waiting for me. Waiting for us. He's clenching an empty glass in his hand, a contradiction to the smile on his face and the sweet sound of his voice.

  I can't do this.

  I can't pretend to love this man. To be happy right now. To want to be near him.

  So I excuse myself to change. In the two minutes it took us to sprint back to the hotel, our clothes still became soaked by the rain.

  Leaning my body on the door after I close it behind me, I resist the urge to bang my head against it. They made it sound simple, and I knew it wouldn't be, but I didn't give much thought to how hard it would actually be.

  Faking it.

  Pretending.

  Acting as if nothing is wrong. Acting normal.

  But really, do I have to act normal?

  We're fighting already. I can act somewhat elusive, ignore him, and keep my distance.

  Because if I were to be the doting wife right now, that would probably strike more alarm than anything. He had Garcia tie me up for fuck’s sake. He was going to lock me in a closet I didn't even know existed and leave me in that house to die!

  Nope. Not gonna be able to act like the good little wife I've been lately.

  Not. Going. To. Happen.

  He'll be lucky if I don't use the gun Beth gave me to shoot him after he falls asleep.

  Nine

  Johnathan

  The room is cold.

  I feel water dripping on my face.

  I hear glass breaking.

  The bedroom door slamming.

  My dream is ramping up, the storm crashing down on me as I lie in bed. I can hear Amelia calling my name, screaming at me. She sounds far away, almost lost, her voice filled with fear.

  And then I'm awake, face down on the floor, and it's damp.

  "Johnathan, wake up!" Amelia hollers from above me.

  When I roll onto my back, I see her crawling off the bed, running toward the closet. She's fully dressed and tossing my clothes toward me as I pull myself up.

  "What the hell?"

  I'm groggy. My head feels like it's floating in the clouds. Two drinks should not have done that to me. The last time this happened, I barely remembered the night before.

  "We have to get out of here. Something crashed through the living room windows, and rain is pouring in. Get dressed."

  Slowly, I manage to dress and grab my phone from the night table. By the time I'm ready to leave, Amelia is tapping her foot by the closed bedroom door, both of our overnight bags slung over her shoulder.

  Walking past her, I open the door and am immediately met with the force of the wind. It pushes me back a step, but I press on. Amelia takes shelter behind me, clutching onto the back of my suit coat, as we weave our way through the mess of broken glass and debris that now litters the main living area of the penthouse suite.

  Once we're safely in the hallway, I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Garcia. It's just after three o'clock in the morning. If the storm is as bad as I think it is, he's not going to be able to get here any time soon.

  "Yeah," Garcia's groggy voice is barely audible over the sounds of the wind pounding the hotel.

  "Hotel. Now." I state, pointing Amelia in the direction of the stairwell. We shouldn't ride the elevators. The chance the hotel loses power and we get trapped is high.

  "What happened?" he asks, sounding awake and alert suddenly.

  "We had to evacuate the penthouse. Something crashed through the windows. There's broken glass and small pieces of trees and shit everywhere. We're about to take the stairs to the main lobby."

  "Stay inside the stairwell until I get there. The lobby could be a disaster area as well. I'll pull up to the back entrance and call you when I get there."

  Sliding my phone back in my pocket, I open the stairwell door for Amelia and usher her through. Her hands are tucked in the front pocket of her sweatshirt as if she's hugging herself. The panicked look on her face makes me want to comfort her, to pull her into my arms and promise her that everything is going to be okay.

  That's what a good husband would do. One who married her for love. That's not me, though.

  When I place my hand at the small of her back, she quickly pivots away from my touch.

  She's still pissed.

  Of course she is.

  "Careful on the steps," I caution her. "I'd hate for you to trip and fall in those boots."

  A warning. To play nice. To act respectfully to me. It would be easy to make it look like she fell down the stairs. She was rushing and slipped. Missed a step in her haste. It would be her word against mine, and in the grand scheme of things… her word means shit.

  "Maybe you should go first," she suggests, stepping aside, allowing me to pass. There's no way she has the nerve, or strength, to push me down the stairs.

  Two flights down and the lights go out, the emergency signs kicking on, becoming the only thing illuminating the stairwell. A door opens on the floor above us, and footsteps come in our direction. Pushing Amelia against the wall and placing my body in front of hers, I wait for the intruder to show themself.

  I shouldn't have been surprised when Beth rounded the corner. Of course she would be the one person in the entire hotel who would find us.

  "Where's Amelia?" she asks, slowly descending the steps to the landing we're on.

  "I'm right here," Amelia replies, stepping out from behind me.

  "What are you doing here, Beth?" I ask, taking Amelia's hand and pulling her close.

  Beth needs to see that we're a united front. A package deal. She's not going to be able to come between us, no matter what Amelia and she may have talked about yesterday. I'm hoping Amelia was smart enough to keep her mouth shut about the activities of our day.

  "I came looking for Amelia. The hotel is calling all the guests and asking them to shelter in their bathrooms. When I asked if they had gotten in touch with you yet, they said you never answered your phone, so I went to check on you. The power went out right as I was about to get back on the elevator and head to the lobby."

  Her voice, although filled with concern, betrays her. Her story is fabricated. There's too much detail. Not to mention, the hotel wouldn't tell her if I was here or not. It's against their policy, and the confidentiality agreement they're required to sign before I check in.

  "We're fine, as you can see. Our ride will be here shortly. You can go back to your room."

  Amelia wiggles out of my grasp and takes the steps two at a time to stand next to Beth, directly under an exit sign. There's a defiant look on her face when she turns to face me, the red light from the sign making her sweet, angelic face appear evil.

  "We can't leave her here, Johnathan. She should come with us."

  "We have a plane to catch."

  "And Beth lives in Houston."

  Anger begins to bubble under the surface of my skin. Amelia's becoming more and more defiant. The last twenty-four hours is proof. The next twenty-four need to be different if she plans to see her friend again.

  "I drove down here, Amelia. I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine. I promise."

  Beth dismisses the idea before I have the chance to find a way to say no without sounding like an asshole. Not that I was going to be able to find a way or that I cared if I sounded like an asshole.

  "Well then, we should be going," I say, reaching my hand out so Amelia can take it.

  She doesn't. Instead, she hugs Beth, whispers something in her ear, and walks past me without looking back at her friend. She's a flight of stairs ahead of me the rest of the way to the lobby, never once glancing to see if I'm following her or not.

 

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