Chapter 40
JORDAN
I feel like I’m in a TV show, and part of me wonders if I should have gotten Libby to get a hidden camera on this for the show.
We’d probably get tons of extra viewers if we teased that I was part of an FBI sting to bring down Bryce Hayes.
I do have a button camera so the FBI can see what I see.
Maybe they’ll give us some of the footage.
I don’t have an earpiece, though, since we don’t want Bryce tipped off at all before he sees me.
The agents can hear everything that goes down from my phone, and they’ve given me a code word, wolf, to use if I feel like I’m in danger and they haven’t picked up on it.
Agent Porter is nearby, looking like a different guy in a T-shirt and baseball cap, earbuds in both ears, and tapping away at a laptop in front of him.
Like I thought, he blends in with his average guy looks.
Caleb is back in the surveillance van, at least two more agents are at tables surrounding me at strategic points, and the waiter at our table is an agent as well.
If Bryce shows up, there’s no way he’s slipping past these guys.
He’s a couple minutes late to the diner we agreed to meet at, but I try not to worry that it means he won’t show.
Bryce is desperate for money; that’s obvious, since he agreed to meet me.
He wouldn’t turn down a chance to get half a million dollars from me, and I’ve assured myself that nothing in this diner looks amiss.
The only time Agent Porter and I have even looked at each other was when I came in and sat down.
He gave me a head nod in greeting, and I returned it.
Otherwise, I’ve been staring at the window, and he’s been “working.” There’s nothing suspicious to suggest we’re working together, or that I’m working with anyone else in this restaurant.
I don’t even recognize any of the other agents here.
“Are you ready to order, sir?” the waiter/agent asks, making me look up from the menu I was pretending to read.
I put it down and make eye contact with him. “I’m waiting to meet someone. Can I get a Coke while I wait?” That will give him a reason to return to the table to check up on this.
“Sure thing.” He pockets the notepad he’d pulled out and disappears into the kitchen. I force myself not to look over at Agent Porter for an update. Have they spotted him outside yet?
My phone rings. It’s the unknown number from last night that Bryce texted me from. I pick up. “Where are you?”
“Can’t make this too easy,” he says smoothly and with an arrogant chuckle. I can’t believe I ever thought this guy was stand-up. He’s slick as a snake. “In case you were lying to me about working with the FBI.”
“I told you I wanted to keep Baylee out of it. Have you already forgotten how protective I am of my sister? They’re going to make me prove she wasn’t involved if they see those documents you have and drag her name through the mud even more.”
Bryce grunts, like that doesn’t sound compelling enough for me not to go to the feds. Guess guys like him don’t understand real love.
“Besides, the FBI isn’t going to let me give you a beating before I give you the money,” I growl.
That’s something he’ll probably understand—how much I want to give him a beatdown.
“Ask Mitchell about that. See if he remembers from high school what I did to him for messing with my sister. And I’ve gained fifty pounds since then. ”
“Then you won’t care if I change things up,” Bryce says. He goes on before I can interrupt that I’m going to walk away with the money. “There’s a park about two blocks south. Meet me there.”
“How do I know you’re actually going to be there?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed.
“I need that money.” His voice takes on a coolness that belies the coldhearted man beneath the charming exterior. “I’ll be there.” He hangs up.
I don’t look at Agent Porter as I stand and throw five bucks on the table, then hoist the backpack full of money over my shoulder.
Well, full of real money on top, should Bryce check, and fake on the bottom.
I don’t even bother texting Caleb about the change in plans.
The FBI is monitoring everything anyway, and sending a text right after Bryce calls me would look suspicious if he’s watching me. And he’s probably watching me.
I leave the restaurant and look around. I spot the park he’s talking about and head in that direction.
As I’m checking the street before I cross to the next, I see Agent Porter exiting the restaurant from my peripheral vision.
He turns the opposite direction as me. He must believe Bryce is watching too. We’re so close. No need to spook him.
If worse comes to worst, I can take Bryce down myself and hold him until the FBI shows up. Probably not protocol, but unless he’s done some serious bodybuilding since the last time I saw him, I’ve got more than fifty pounds on him, not to mention several inches in height.
I walk quickly to the park, then stay on the sidewalk as I enter it, choosing a bench nearby. I sit down, scanning the area around me, looking for Bryce. A few minutes go by, and nothing. I clench my fists. What game is Bryce playing now?
I’m bouncing my leg up and down when my phone rings again.
Bryce.
“I’m not playing this game,” I snap.
“Me either,” he says coldly. “I’m not taking chances. Drop the bag in that trash can and walk away.”
“Not what we agreed to.” I give a dark laugh. “The deal was I get to face you. If you’re not coming, you’re not getting your money. In fact, my next stop is the FBI. I’ll have them get up on this phone and see how close they can get.”
“Thought you said you didn’t want Baylee involved. You just going to throw her to the wolves like that?” His returning laugh is soulless. Man, I hate this guy.
“We both know that’s not going to hold up to serious scrutiny, right, Bryce?
” I challenge. “You just want the money. The only reason I’m here is to try and keep her out of this completely, like I said, but yeah, walk away and see what I do.
” I’m losing hope that he’s going to show up, and I pray that at least this conversation is enough for the FBI to close in.
That’s one thing Bryce doesn’t know. Caleb is probably tracking him right now.
I hope Bryce is close enough for me to see the FBI arrest him.
There’s silence on the line, and it lasts long enough that I pull my phone away from my ear to see if the call is still connected. It is, so I put it back to my ear and wait patiently.
A car door opens nearby, and I look up to see Bryce stepping out of a small, blue sedan.
He’s wearing a dark hoodie even though it’s still warm in Houston in October, and his hood is pulled up over his Astros baseball cap.
He’s also wearing sunglasses. I hang up and start walking toward him.
I’ll let him have this one last moment of safety thinking he can grab this bag from me, hop back in his car, and speed away.
He only takes two steps away from the car before he stops. When I get within a few feet of him, I slide the backpack off my back and toss it toward him.
He eyes me as it lands at his feet. “Not gonna punch me?” he says, his tone mocking.
I glare at him. “Got something way better in mind.”
His jaw clenches as he lifts the backpack. He quickly checks inside, shoulders relaxing when he sees the money, like he thought I got him out here to hand him a bag full of newspaper or something. He sifts through the top stacks and then zips the backpack up, satisfied.
“And what would that be?” he asks. There’s triumph in his voice, and I almost laugh at it.
“This.” I take a step back.
Agent Porter comes from behind me, a figure I saw advancing casually in the window of Bryce’s car. He’s got his gun drawn now. Three more agents surround us, all with guns drawn on Bryce.
“Get on the ground!” Agent Porter shouts.
Bryce looks around him frantically, but there’s no escape.
“Get on the ground!” Agent Porter repeats, and a couple of the agents echo him from behind Bryce.
“Can I make him?” I ask, smirking. I catch a snort from Agent Porter as he advances another step on Bryce.
Bryce finally complies, kneeling and then lying, stomach down, on the sidewalk. Agent Porter keeps his gun drawn, while another agent, a woman dressed in exercise gear, gets down to handcuff him. Another agent, the waiter from the diner, pulls off Bryce’s sunglasses and the baseball cap.
Bryce glares up at me. “Baylee’s going down for this.”
Then someone else strolls up to stand next to me.
“Unfortunately for you—no,” Caleb says. “Man, you picked the wrong family to mess with.” He chuckles lightly, as though seeing a guy get taken down by the FBI in a random Houston park is an everyday thing for him.
“I’ve already traced the creation of those accounts you opened in Baylee’s name and gotten webcam footage of you creating them, along with an IP address at your house at two a.m. So, yeah. I think she’s good.”
Bryce clamps his jaw shut.
Caleb crouches down next to Bryce while they search him.
“I’m the best there is, Bryce Hayes, and the thing is—if you hadn’t tried to blackmail Libby Bennet’s husband, we probably wouldn’t have caught you.
I would’ve never been brought in. Tough luck, man.
” He clucks his tongue and stands back up, turning to me.
“Taunting the perps is always my favorite part.”
I take Caleb’s hand, shaking it vigorously. “You really are the best.”
He claps a hand on my shoulder. “Nobody messes with my family—and that includes a lot of people these days.” He tips his chin back toward the restaurant. “Come on, let’s go grab lunch.”
“Sorry,” I apologize. “I’ve got a jet waiting to take me home.” I look over at Agent Porter, who’s watching Bryce as they pull him to standing. A couple dark SUVs have approached the scene, lights flashing. “Am I good to go?” I ask him.
He nods. “I’ll catch up with you later if we need a statement.”
With that, I wave at him, then Caleb, and take off at a jog for my car. I want to get back to Libby as soon as I can.