pulled out his wallet. “But to avoid the hassle and bad press, I’ll cut you a check right now if everyone drops these ludicrous fabrications.”
“They don’t want a check. They want all of it,” I lied.
They didn’t ask for any of his money, but I was going to make sure they got it.
It was the very least he could do.
“All?” he cried through a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding. No. They have no proof of anything because there is nothing. I was willing to be generous to spare these troubled people, but that’s just insane.”
Pulling my cell from my pocket, I turned it so he could see the screen. “And there are more.”
“Who else has seen that?”
“No one… yet.” I took out an index card and handed it to him. “You need to wire everything in your accounts to those numbers. Every last cent from every last account.”
“No, I…” His words trailed off as I zoomed in on the picture. “Fine.”
Sweating and shifty, he worked his way through the list before sitting back. “Done. Now delete everything.”
I chuckled, but there was no humor in the cruel, cold sound. “You didn’t keep your end of the bargain.”
Not that it would’ve mattered.
“I did. Check my accounts,” he blustered.
“I said from every account.” I shrugged. “It’s too late anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Silence can only be bought for so long.” I checked my watch. “And since you decided keeping the money from your offshore accounts was more important, your time just… ran… out.”
Perfectly timed—because I was just that good and meticulous—his phone dinged. And dinged again. And again.
Grabbing it off the chipped side table, he swiped across the screen.
These are the times I wish I wore a hidden camera.
In slow motion, I savored the way his nervous fear morphed into horror.
I knew what he was seeing.
Screenshot after obscene screenshot after nauseating dick pic.
“How… How did you get all these…” he choked out.
“Victims seek help. Healing. And sharing their trauma is part of the process.”
“I’ll say I was hacked. That this is fake. Photoshop is capable of anything. Like that deepfake shit. It’s the work of an enemy out to get me. I’ll make it go away.”
I, I, I.
“This is your fault, you son of a bitch. You’ve ruined my life. You did this to me. I’ll fucking kill you!”
Me, me, me.
“Good idea. You’re already gonna rot in prison for the rest of your life, so adding murder won’t change much. On the plus side, at least it’ll be a short life. Bastards like you don’t last long on the inside.”
“I’m not… That’s not…” Frantically, he began redressing and gathering his shit. “I’ll charter a plane. If I get to the hanger soon—” The incessant ringing of his cell cut him off and his reality crashed over him. “It’s too late, isn’t it?”
“Yup.”
He collapsed onto the edge of the bed, weak and sobbing. “Who are you?”
“I’m the man who’s offering you an out.”
“You can help me escape?” Hope lit his face, and fuck, I was gonna enjoy snuffing it out.
“You could say that.” Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out an orange prescription bottle and shook it like a fatal rattle. “The permanent kind.”
“No. I’d never. No.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m guessing you’ve got about twenty minutes before they track your location, so whatever you’re going to do, you better decide fast.”
“I can run.” He bolted up and paced. “I have friends. They—”
“Will cut you off like the gangrene limb you are. I bet they’re already composing their statements against you.”
“I’m not going down for this. There are others. More powerful. I’ll flip on them.”
“You’ll still serve time. They don’t give immunity to pedophiles.”
He winced, as if the label hadn’t occurred to him. It probably hadn’t. Men like him rationalized and excused everything they did until, in their minds, they were blameless. Or even the victim. “I’ll figure it out. There has to be something.”
“There will be something… Your face and every single one of your dirty secrets splashed across news stations, papers, and websites as they investigate every breath you’ve ever taken.”
He continued pacing the room as he mumbled to himself.
I didn’t give a shit what he did. Even if he was breathing, his life was over.
But it’d be a fuck of a lot more satisfying to see him dead.
Crossing my arms, I leaned against the door and half-listened as he talked in circles to end right where he’d started.
Optionless.
He must’ve reached that same conclusion because his legs gave out and he dropped