White Lies (Book 1)

Nathan's Worst Nightmare

Nathan's Worst Nightmare

I could only stare in stunned silence, pressing disconnect and trying to take in the scene in front of me. Not only was Peter seated in the van, but there looked to be an entire taskforce with him. Five or six police officers, heavily armed and protected. Watching me. And there was Peter amongst it all, in his plain clothes. The odd one out in this bizarre vignette.

"What in the fuck, Peter?" was all I could manage.

"Get in now," he beckoned me. "We don't have much time, and there's a lot to explain to you before we get there."

Before we get where?

"What are you doing here? Who set you up to this?" I demanded as soon as I made my way inside. I was pushed towards a seat between one intimidating, hard-ass cop, and another. The atmosphere in the van was charged – and as I found myself speeding down the strip, I started to sweat.

Why was Peter in a van full of cops? In the middle of Nevada?

He rolled his eyes. "The reasons for being here have nothing to do with you. Though I was unimpressed by your sudden departure, I find it particularly insulting that you've known about Noah's whereabouts all this time without telling me. You running off and chasing after him hadn't been part of our deal."

"What? What do you mean? Is this a joke?" I exclaimed, swerving myself around and glaring at everyone in shock. "I haven't got a clue where Noah is! I gave you his phone so that you could find him. And I did that because – well, I've had some shit of my own to deal with, Peter. Your investigation notwithstanding. So why have you kidnapped me in a van full of cops?" The driver of the vehicle was also in uniform, and seemed entirely unfazed by what was happening through his rear view mirror.

It seemed as though everyone was in on something. Everyone except me.

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but was stopped by a very important, serious-looking woman. The only other person who wasn't armed and uniformed, but who wore a long coat with a gold badge attached to the lapel.

A high-ranking detective.

"I'm going to stop you here, Peter," she interrupted, stepping in and taking charge. To my immense surprise, Peter acquiesced and blended into the background.

The woman then turned to face me. "Nathan, I'm Agent Leah Jenkins, and I've been authorized to oversee the investigation into this missing persons case. Since you last spoke with Peter, I've taken over all matters relating to the kidnapping of Robert Blight and Jennifer Hockley, including any and all private intel gathered by all hired persons within Peter's investigative circle. I'm aware of your private involvement in this case, as well as the involvement of Jesabel Griffin. I'm also aware that the private plane you boarded to McCarran International Airport landed at quarter past ten in the evening two days ago, that the customs agent in charge of your aircraft was a woman named Julie Brach, and that you have been staying at the Bellagio under the name of James Ericson. Is all of this information correct so far?"

Wait – what is happening? A kidnapping?

I couldn't speak. My mind was spinning. There was no way in hell that any of this could be real. Here was an FBI agent sitting across from me, in a vehicle full of armed cops – and with the man who had vouched against any police involvement from the very beginning. Peter. Jesabel had lied for him, had committed perjury to the police and to the whole world, in order to cover his sorry ass while he did his own half-hearted digging.

And yet here we were. Peter had sold us out.

I could only stare at Peter in disbelief. And with deep, deep rage. "You fucker," I spat. He couldn't meet my eyes. "What the hell happened to not involving the cops? You've told them everything, haven't you? You've thrown Jesabel under the bus. You made her lie and give false evidence – and now it's all going to bite her in the ass! I can't fucking believe you! Why?"