Sweet Vengeance: Ladies (Iron Orchids Book 14)

by Danielle Norman

  Sunday looked over at Olivia dejectedly. But Olivia's mouth was wide open, her eyes practically bugging out. Then in she was out of her chair and shouting, "Oh my god, you won! You won!"

  Sunday's heart raced, sweat beaded across her forehead, and excitement rose inside her. For just a second, she was ready to jump and join in the celebration, but then she turned an annoyed scowl to Olivia. "What? I didn't win."

  "I know. But you thought you did for a second, didn't you?" Olivia laughed.

  "You're such a bitch.” Melanie laughed.

  "Oh, shit, get a load of this," Sunday hollered from behind her computer. "Someone finally came forward and gave a tell-all on that recluse billionaire, Alex Ruehle. Apparently, he has lots of women, and they all know about each other."

  "And they don't care?" Adeline asked.

  "No. Doesn't seem like it," Sunday confirmed.

  "If they don't care, then neither should we, let's move on." Melanie huffed.

  "Wait, wait." Sunday held up one hand. "It's his pet names for the women that people are freaking out over. They have a hierarchy, and the one with the most seniority is called Clam One. The next is Clam Two."

  "Did you say clam?" Adeline slid one hand down her long ponytail.

  "Yep. And they know it, and they refer to themselves as it. He has five in total. Well, maybe four now since it was Clam Five who gave the tell-all."

  "Can you imagine being called Clam?" Adeline asked. "Or worse, having your man say, I'm going to eat that clam, Clam."

  "So, if he screws up and calls Clam Two Clam Three by mistake, is that a clam jam?" Olivia asked.

  "No, I think if Clam Three shows up when it is Clam Two's time, then it is a clam jam, sort of like a cock block." Olivia was laughing so hard she could barely get the words out. "I wonder what he bought them for Christmas. The finest Eau De Clam Juice?"

  "Pearl necklaces?" Olivia offered.

  "Go, let me read in peace." Sunday smiled at her friends.

  "Hey, this is some funny shit right here, they should add our commentary in those gossip rags." Adeline walked over and gave Sunday a hug. "Besides, you don't read in peace. You always read aloud. Normally, we just don't bother commenting. This was really too good to let pass."

  "If we can get Sunday off the computer for five minutes maybe we can discuss . . . I don't know, work?" Melanie asked.

  "Fine. You have my undivided attention. Shoot."

  "Let's all vote on the Camden case. Who is in favor?" Melanie raised her hand.

  "Me." Sunday raised her hand.

  "I am," Adeline agreed.

  "Me," Olivia concurred. "We won't be chasing a philanderer for once. It will be a nice change of pace."

  "Okay, sounds like this is a go. What all do we need to get done?" Melanie asked. "I'll head over to Barrett's." Barrett Huxley was an attorney, and he handled all the clients they took on. He was also a very close friend of theirs, and they trusted him completely. "I'd like to get his input on what protection we will need if we start going through client information."

  "Umm, he has a phone, Mel," Olivia teased, but we all knew Melanie wanted to have hot-monkey-sex with him. She would never admit it, but she did.

  "I think we need to go ahead and get over to Camden Financial and do some tailing, let's find out where father and son go when they aren't at the office," Olivia added. "Adeline you agree?"

  "Yep." Adeline nodded.

  "I'll set up the meeting with Traci so we can talk to her about getting access to her computer systems. I could hack them, but I'd rather not go that route if I can avoid it."

  "Why?" Mel asked, tilting her head to the side.

  "Do you have any idea how hard Cayman banks are to get into? I would have the Feds storming this place before I even caught sight of the first firewall. No thanks."

  The girls all smirked.

  "Fair enough. Let everyone know when the meet is set up for."

  With that, everyone got to work.

  To: TraciC@camdenfinancial.com

  From: Sunday@ladieswholunch.com

  Subject: Let's have lunch

  Traci,

  It was great running into you the other day. I'd love to catch up, maybe over lunch? How does Bougainvillea Country Club sound? Can you make it tomorrow, let's say at eleven thirty?"

  Hope to see you soon,

  Sunday

  To: Sunday@ladieswholunch.com

  From: TraciC@camdenfinancial.com

  Subject: Re: Let's have lunch

  Sunday,

  Perfect. See you then. Should I bring anything?

  TC

  To: TraciC@camdenfinancial.com

  From: Sunday@ladieswholunch.com

  Subject: Re: Re: Let's have lunch

  Just your checkbook, you're paying, right? Ha ha!

  Sunday

  The Bougainvillea's restaurant looked like the kind of place Sunday and her friends would visit . . . frequently. That was when they were in their work clothes of stilettos, skirts, and pearls. If anyone saw the ladies while they were at home, this was the last place they would belong. The Bougainvillea Country Club prided itself on its posh interior, gilded handrails along the stairs, and cascading chandeliers, all of which the ladies got to enjoy for the bargain price of twenty-five thousand dollars a year . . . each.

  They considered it part of their charade, keeping up their facade for work to come across as innocent women. Simple entrepreneurs. If the club ever decided to install metal detectors, the women would be screwed because strapped to Olivia's thigh was her baby Glock, to Adeline's thigh was her Smith and Wesson 9 mm. Melanie and Sunday preferred to wear their guns at their backs. Sure, it meant they had to wear a jacket, but Sunday just couldn't get used to wearing her gun on her thigh.

  Sunday noticed the way Adeline's hand lightly rested at her thigh as she walked. "I wish that I could do it, I do. Every time I try to walk with my gun strapped to my thigh, I squeeze my butt cheeks so tight that I look like I have a corn cob stuck up my butt."

  "What the fuck are you talking about?" Olivia coughed as she asked.

  "I was just thinking about how envious I am that you two are able to wear your guns on your thighs, that's all. I'm always too afraid that my garter will slip, so I walk with my legs squeezed closed."

  "Maybe Olivia should have that problem, closed legs are the best birth control," Adeline said.

  Olivia lightly punched Adeline in the arm. "Ha ha, fuck you, I'm not pregnant."

  "By the way Sunday, the garter holster straps around your thigh with Velcro, it is pretty secure," Adeline reminded her.

  "Tried it."

  When the host made his way over to them, they tugged on their demure personas and smiled at him. "Miss Prescott, your guest is already waiting at your usual table."

  "Thank you, Jerry." Sunday smiled and allowed him to lead the way. She tried to keep her head up but not make eye contact with the other patrons, which was impossible since the girls always tried to be cordial.

  "Sunday, dear, how are you?"

  "Mrs. Sawyer, I'm fine." Sunday leaned over and gave the older woman a kiss on her cheek. "Did you have a great eightieth birthday?"

  "I did. Thank you for the lovely flowers you four sent me."

  "We are happy that you liked them," Olivia added. "Did your daughters make it down to see you?"

  "No. They are so busy, you know?"

  "Yeah, funny how people can't find time when someone is alive, but they can when someone is dead. Then they wonder what more they could have done. Hello, they could have gone and visited them, the lazy, no-good assholes," Adeline hissed into Sunday's ear.

  "Shhh." Sunday pushed Adeline back before she said something that Mrs. Sawyer heard.

  "You shush, that woman couldn't hear a cannon go off."

  "If you'll excuse us, Mrs. Sawyer, we have someone waiting for us," Melanie, ever the professional, said.

  "Of course, you girls have a nice lunch."

  "Thank you, we will." Sunday
leaned down and kissed Mrs. Sawyer on the cheek again before winding through the dining area and to their table. Traci stood as they approached. "Mrs. Camden, hope we didn't keep you waiting."

  "Oh, no, it was fine. I enjoyed watching you all interact with that lady."

  Adeline patted Sunday on the back. "I guarantee if we searched Sunday's purse, she would have a small assortment of greeting cards for different occasions and stamps in there, just in case she learns someone is sick or it is their birthday."

  "Hey, there is nothing wrong with a nicely written thank-you note, and who doesn't love getting a birthday card in the mail?" Sunday defended.

  Everyone turned and stared at her before they stared cracking up laughing.

  "What? I'm serious."

  "We know you are. That's what is so funny. It's this kind of shit that makes you, well, you. I wouldn't trade you for all the money in the world." Adeline squeezed Sunday, letting her know she sincerely meant it, and then they all claimed a seat at the table.

  Olivia passed out menus. "Let's order, and then we can talk business," she said. "If you haven't been here before, the chicken salad is to die for."

  When the waiter arrived, they ordered, and then Melanie brought out her notebook and flipped to the first page of notes. "Mrs. Camden--"

  "Traci, call me Traci please."

  "Very well, Traci. We want to go over everything to make sure that we are on the same page. Our mission is to discover what is going on within your company, no matter who is behind it. We want to ensure that the business is protected or at least you are and in such a way that you are financially secure for the rest of your life. Does this sound about right?"

  A weight on Traci's shoulders appeared to have been lifted, "Yes, exactly."

  "Your case is going to require us to take a different approach."

  "Different how?" Traci asked.

  "For one, we would like to get Sunday into your company to see what she can dig up. She has the computer skills to access the needed information and will be able to uncover if something more is going on within the company. We understand that you believe your husband is behind all of this, but you said it yourself, we can't be blinded by anything," Olivia finished.

  "Do you have a position in your company that I could fill? Something that would give me access to computers?" Sunday asked.

  "I can bring you in as my temp assistant. Mine is on maternity leave, so no one will question it."

  "Perfect." Melanie marked that line item off the list. "Now, if your husband is traveling, we will want to follow him and see what he is up to. All travel expenses will be exact cost to you, is that all right?"

  "That's fine, I have no problem paying that."

  Their food was dropped off, and once the waiter was out of earshot, Melanie turned to Traci. "Are you okay with Sunday starting tomorrow morning?"

  "Sure. How about we meet at seven at the office so we can go over things before anyone comes in at nine?”

  "I'll meet you then," Sunday agreed before she took a bite of her lunch.

  Sunday

  Traci had told her that no one got in until closer to nine, but she still felt a bit on edge about someone walking in and catching her in files she had no business viewing.

  She had already installed keylogger programs to all of the computers and was in the middle of uploading a worm that would work its way through all mathematical figures and pull files where the math didn't add up. What she had gotten done was a drop in the bucket of what still needed to be accomplished.

  Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, so she closed out of the program, stopping the upload in progress, before discreetly tugging the jump drive from the tower. She hated regular PCs, but she was used to working on them since any business that dealt with the government used a standard operating system. Since Camden Financial dealt with the FDIC, they fell into that category. Why they couldn't at least upgrade to a new model was beyond her.

  She was in the process of trying to figure out if her old keyboard, which wasn't some holdout from the Jurassic period, would be compatible with the system when someone rounded the corner.

  "What are you doing?" A deep voice barked.

  Sunday internally congratulated herself for listening to her instinct and looked up. The man's eyes were as unsteady as the ocean waters and as blue as the Aegean Sea.

  Sunday popped up from her chair and stuck out her hand. "Hi, I'm Sunday, I'm Mrs. Camden's new assistant."

  "No, you aren't."

  "I'm not what? Sunday or Mrs. Camden's new assistant?"

  The man looked at her without cracking even a hint of a smile. "Listen, I don't care how much my dad is paying you, the answer is no. Go home, you're fired."

  Sunday tilted her head to the side and wondered if the man had been hit in the head or something. He wasn't making any sense.

  "I don't know who your dad is, I didn't ask you any questions, and you don't have the authority to fire me."

  That about covered everything, and Sunday smiled as his scowl deepened.

  "I'm your boss."

  She barked out a laugh. "No you aren't. Mrs. Camden is. She hired me." When his attitude didn't thaw, she let her expression settle into one of annoyance. "I will be sure to tell my boss--who, again, isn't you--how welcoming you've been. Now, get out of my way before I file for harassment."

  He didn't back down or move so Sunday could pass him, which made her want to throw her stapler, which was also from the Jurassic period, at him. "Make sure to tell my mother, Traci Camden, that her son, Bennett Camden, is here for the morning meeting."

  Well, fuck.

  "She told me that her son's name was Bo. She also told me how nice he was, so clearly, you are not him."

  "And Bo is the nickname for Bennett."

  The smug look he gave her had her hands clenching into fists. She should have known the guy had a nickname before she even walked in the door. Her job was information, so how the hell had she missed this? She hadn't even thought to look up a picture of the guy so she would know him on sight. It was sloppy, and she knew it.

  "Bo, I see you've met my new assistant, Sunday." Sunday glanced over to see Traci standing behind them. Bo turned around at the same time.

  "Yeah, you could have warned me." He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on each of her cheeks.

  "What? And miss the screaming match you two just got into? Not a chance. I need an assistant who isn't going to be run over by the men around here."

  "Well, you found one."

  Sunday raised an eyebrow--though, neither Bo nor Traci saw it--because that sounded like a compliment coming from the raging asshole standing in front of her. Maybe she was the one who had taken a blow to the head.

  "Sunday, could you hold my calls for a bit?"

  "Absolutely." Sunday smiled and took her seat as Traci led Bo into her office.

  Once they were out of sight, she banged her head on the desk. When she was done, she hit it once more just for good measure and then grabbed her phone.

  Sunday: Holy shit, I may end up getting fired.

  Melanie: What did you do?

  Sunday: I just met Traci's son. He's a dick.

  Adeline: What did he do?

  Sunday: He tried to fire me.

  Adeline: Want me to beat the shit out of him?

  Melanie: Calm down. Adeline, stay put. Sunday, ignore him. He isn't why you're there, and she isn't going to fire you.

  Olivia: Pay close attention to the son, maybe he's in on it with the dad.

  Sunday: That's a thought. Back to work.

  Sunday returned her focus to the computer and resumed the upload of the worm, answered calls, took messages, and generally tried not to be bored out of her mind. Eventually, the door to Traci's office opened.

  "Sunday, I've explained to Bo that you're with the temp agency and will be here until Jenifer comes back from maternity leave. When you are ready, come on in, and I can show you more on the computer."

 
; "Yes, ma'am."

  Traci stepped back into her office, but Bo didn't leave like Sunday expected him to since his meeting with his mother was obviously over.

  He gave a head nod to the computer. "What are you doing?"

  "Traci had me organize her calendar."

  "No, that." Bo pointed to the jump drive.

  "That's mine. I'm writing a book."

  "Put it away, we aren't paying you to write a book." Sunday wanted to take back all the times she had wished she were invisible. If she were, then Bo would have just moved right along and not bothered her.

  Sunday decided the best way to get rid of him was probably to play up the stereotypical dumb blonde even though she was far from stupid. She grabbed an end of her hair and twirled. "So, you go by Bo?"

  "Yes, but you may call me Mr. Camden."

  "Oh. Very well, then you may call me Miss Prescott." Sunday stuck out her hand. "We got off to a rocky start, let's try again with manners this time." Sunday studied his face. The way he held back from any sort of niceties put Sunday on edge, but she wasn't here to make friends. She was here to get information, and if Olivia was right and Bo was involved in some way, then it would be easier if he didn't hate her.

  Bo studied her, but he didn't smile.

  "Mr. Camden, what is it that you want?"

  "I want to know what you're up to, why you're really here. It will save me the trouble of keeping an eye on you."

  "Are you wanting me to quit? Fine, I will finish my day here, do what I promised your mother I would do, and then the temp agency can send someone new tomorrow."

  Bo took one step back. "Fine. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to jump to conclusions this morning. I'm sorry, I truly am. I don't want you to quit. My mom needs your help."