by Lea Griffith
“But he was in your home on the night of October 24, 2012, was he not, Ms. Hanson? And please be careful how you answer. If you’ll recall, Mr. Ryan Locke of ATC was there and is willing to testify to the fact that you and your brother had an altercation.”
She never looked away as she reiterated, “I don’t know what my brother does or who he does it with. Mr. Locke is right, though, my brother was in my home that night. He pushed his way in, attacked me, and was tossed out by Mr. Locke, for which I was grateful.”
“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about him attacking you any time soon. Your brother’s in jail now, Ms. Hanson, but he paints a much different picture about what you know versus what you don’t. He says he got the memory stick from your house sometime after your altercation. He says you left your key under the mat for him to come right in and take the information. He further reports you knew about it the entire time. He’d asked for help in getting the information to exchange for money and you agreed.”
“Objection, Your Honor. It’s speculative and hearsay. If her brother is offering her up as the sacrificial lamb, she has the right to confront him,” Greg said respectfully.
Bless his heart. He was a small man with more guts and brains than body, but he’d signed on to represent her without a second thought and zero money down.
“We aren’t at trial, but I’ll sustain your objection, Mr. Bodie,” the judge said with a deep breath. “Mr. Copeland, we aren’t trying Ms. Hanson at this point. This is a discovery mission. Keep it moving.”
“Ms. Hanson, you worked on the WetComm satellite deal for Mr. Ryan Locke and Mr. Hayden Bent, correct?” There was something in the AG’s tone that put Sophie on alert.
She nodded.
“Out loud, Sophie,” Greg whispered.
“Yes.”
“Did you take any work home after being instructed that this deal was to be kept in-office and on-site for ATC?”
She rubbed her head, the pounding there increasing exponentially. “I did, but that was after I was instructed by Mr. Locke to get the final proposal ready no matter what it took.”
The AG nodded and steepled his hands on the desk in front of him. She didn’t know him personally, but in that moment she hated him.
“So you went against company policy?”
“I got the report finished as Mr. Locke, the co-owner of ATC, instructed. And, yes, it took me working from home to get that done,” she responded.
“Did you work on that project over a secure connection?”
That trickle of fear was back. “No. I didn’t even consider—”
“So you worked on a classified deal, at your home, on an unsecured connection?”
Where in the hell was he going with this? Her shoulders dropped. “I guess I did.”
He leaned forward. “You guess, Ms. Hanson, or you state unequivocally that you did?”
“I did.” It was her heart that dropped this time. She went cold, folded into herself. She’d made a mistake. She’d been careless and her brother had taken advantage.
“Well if you’re willing to work on an unsecured connection, dealing with classified documents pertaining to national safety, who’s to say you wouldn’t pass off a memory stick?”
And there it was. He’d used her own words to trap her.
“You know what?” Greg stood at this point, patted her on the shoulder, and turned to the AG. “I’m not going to listen to you lambaste my client. She did as she was instructed by her boss. If you had proof that any of the rest of this happened, we wouldn’t be here. If you have sufficient proof, charge my client, and we’ll see you at trial,” he finished with a huff.
He turned to her and waited. She looked down at the table and fought the urge to scream. Her brother had betrayed her. Taken classified information from her computer and sold it to the highest bidder. She’d never have thought him capable of such an act. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart enough; that’d never been an issue for Gavin. But his lust for easy money had more often than not led him astray. She knew that firsthand.
Her brother had known who she worked for; he always kept in touch with Gigi. Had he concocted the plan to sell information or had he been approached by Cardon Simmonds? Did it even matter anymore what his reasons were?
Greg had gone over this with her many times after he’d investigated and come up with a theory as to how the bid information on the satellite had gotten into PacificCorp’s hands. She’d tried to understand everything he’d laid out, but her mind refused to cooperate with the linear thinking, and there continued to be so many unknowns. Her heart still refused to believe her brother could betray her so deeply. Now she was in danger of losing her freedom because of his treachery.
“You can’t just leave. We aren’t finished—” the AG stammered out.
Greg pulled a folder out of his briefcase and then snapped the case shut before he shrugged. “Your Honor, the Attorney General has yet to disclose the information he has on this case to my office. As this was a discovery meeting for both sides and we requested the information a week ago, I have to infer that the AG has no sustainable information about any crimes that may or may not have been committed by my client. Since it appears that neither the FBI, the AG’s office, nor ATC can do an adequate investigation, I saw fit to do my own. I’ve included my findings in this folder. Hopefully it will clear up any misunderstandings the aforementioned parties may be experiencing.” He tossed the folder on the table before him and held out his hand for her.
She stood finally and watched as Ryan, too, gained his feet. There was a look of confusion on his face. Their eyes met. She felt skewered, beaten up, abused in the worst way, and still her damn traitorous heart only wanted him.
“You can’t—” the AG began.
The judge intervened. “He can and he has, Mr. Copeland. Now I would suggest you get him the information posthaste and make a determination about whether there are charges to be filed against Ms. Hanson. I’m giving you a week to handle this matter.” He stared hard at the AG and then turned to her attorney. “Mr. Bodie, do you by chance have another copy of that investigation you performed?”
“I do, Your Honor,” Greg replied and pulled another folder from his briefcase before handing it to him.
“We’ll consider this meeting adjourned.” He tapped the gavel on the conference table.
“Let’s go, Sophie,” Greg urged.
She couldn’t move. Pinned by Ryan’s gaze, she was held there by her pain and his betrayal. He hadn’t believed her. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain.
It began then, a hot, curling anger that blossomed in her stomach and worked its way up her body. Her head cleared and she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in over two weeks.
She’d given him everything inside of her, had let him take the most important thing she’d ever owned—her heart. Her eyes must have communicated something because he said her name and came around the table, a look on his face that she didn’t even try to understand.
She’d been a stupid woman, but that ended now. She turned to look at Greg and said, “Let’s do.”
“Sophie!” Ryan called, but the rest of what he said drowned out by the door closing behind them.
It didn’t open back up. They made it out of the building without incident.
“You did great in there,” Greg praised as he settled her in the car.
She gave him a smile. “No, you did. And who knew the word ‘lambaste’ could be used with such fervor? I’m impressed.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Greg.”
“I’m a wordsmith.” He shrugged and gave her a rueful grin. “It’s what I do. I think I should thank you for letting me take your case. Once your Mr. Locke gets a look at my report and does a little research on his own, I’m sure no charges will be filed and we’ll both be monetarily compensated. You’ll be able to move forward.”
She shook her head as she buckled her seat belt. Money was inconsequential at this point.
She’d already lost what mattered most.
* * * *
Earlier he’d watched her place her hand on her attorney’s arm and something violent had slithered through him. Sure, he’d still been thinking her a liar, but she was his liar. For her to even consider touching another man? Yeah, the action had sent white-hot pokers of rage into his heart.
Then he’d picked up the binder of information her attorney had thrown on the table and he’d felt that anger redirect itself. Could he beat his own ass?
“Goddamn it, Hayden. I fucking told you. I told you she wasn’t mercenary. Do you realize what I’ve done?” Ryan took a weary breath as he gazed out at the night sky.
It was as dark as his soul, as barren as his future. It seemed that future could be as broken as her beautiful voice. How the hell had that happened? He’d ached with every word she’d spoken, the biggest part of him wanting to snatch her up and take her away so her could care for her. Ease her.
The file from her attorney had outlined everything. It had included her bank statements, credit purchases, monthly expenses. It had included a private investigator’s research into her movements for the last year, her acquaintances. It had included pretty much every damn thing she’d done for the last twelve months. It had also included detailed information about Gavin Hanson and Cardon Simmonds and their interactions. Phone records verified Sophie had never spoken with Cardon Simmonds, while Gavin had, frequently. Everything in that damn file had vindicated Sophie and vilified her brother and Cardon Simmonds.
The FBI had confirmed everything in the report. With the exception of working on the deals while not on a secure connection, she hadn’t done a damn thing wrong, except trust him. Her brother had used her, stolen the information from her, probably the same night Ryan had found her door unlocked, and then he’d sold it to Cardon Simmonds. How her brother had ever come into contact with Simmonds to begin with was still somewhat of a mystery. Simmonds may have known of Gavin’s relationship to Sophie or it may have just been fortuitous. Scum usually stuck together—it was a relatively small pool people like Simmonds and Gavin swam in. They were both in jail now. They’d both have to answer for treason and corporate espionage charges. You didn’t fuck with Uncle Sam’s property and get off lightly.
Hayden sank into the chair opposite Ryan’s desk and hung his head. “I’m so fucking sorry, bro. The only thing I could think was that she was going to hurt you. I let it blind me to everything else.”
Ryan looked at Hayden, remembered the young boy he’d been, how even though he’d been two years younger than Ryan, the other man had taken care of him. They’d been inseparable—Ryan the tiny kid who refused to stop baiting the bigger boys and Hayden, his protector.
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezed his eyes closed. “I didn’t piece it together either. I just assumed she was as guilty as that initial information made her look.”
Hayden pushed up off the chair and rolled his shoulders. “The AG dropped the investigation on Sophie once he filed charges against Simmonds and her brother. The satellite rights are ours again. Simmonds is going to be in jail for a long time. I called Chalmers and thanked him for the half-assed intel he gave us. I may have threatened to beat his ass next time I see him.” He walked to the door and turned to gaze at Ryan.
Ryan saw his friend’s reflection in the plate-glass windows and turned. Hayden looked miserable. Ryan cared but at the same time, didn’t. His best friend’s itchy trigger finger and inability to trust anyone, ever, had cost Ryan his heart. No, that wasn’t entirely true. Ryan was the one who’d messed up. This was all on him.
“Yeah?” Ryan asked.
“I’m going to go see her, tell her—” Hayden sighed.
“Tell her what, you’re a tool and I’m a bastard for not trusting her? Nah, at this point, she’s not going to listen to anything either of us says.”
“It’s my fault. I have to try,” his friend said.
“I said no, Hayden. Leave it alone right now. Leave it all alone.” Ryan turned back to gaze out at the black Atlanta sky.
Two weeks ago, he’d been inside her, their future as bright as the sun, and forever hadn’t been long enough.
He clenched his jaw as he heard the door shut behind Hayden.
Fuck. Forever was now looking like a mighty long time.
Chapter 18
“You can’t just pack up and leave, Phie. What will I do without you?” Gigi said as she swigged a Coke filled with peanuts.
Sophie grunted and ripped the packing tape on the final box of her stuff. “Yeah, G, ’cause it’s all about you.”
“Yeah, it is. How about I move out to California with you?” Gigi tipped the bottle back and chomped on the Coke-flavored nuts.
“You’re welcome to, but Pops would be desolate,” Sophie pointed out. “Besides, I’ll visit and you can visit me.” She pushed the last box to the corner of her living room.
Everything was packed and ready for the movers. They were coming early tomorrow morning for the boxes and furniture. Her flight was at one tomorrow afternoon. Sophie had gotten a job at a security firm in San Diego and was moving. There’d been no problem finding a job with her degree, but she’d been worried her experience with ATC would prevent her from ever working in this profession again. At least with another security firm.
But find one she had, with a small start-up. She was looking forward to working again. It had been three weeks and her savings were trashed. Greg had told her a monetary settlement had been made to her by Ryan Locke and Hayden Bent, aka ATC, but she’d told him to keep it or give it to charity.
She didn’t want their money. They could shove it right up the crack of their asses and puke green for all she cared.
“Earth to Phie,” Gigi singsonged.
She shook her head. “What?”
“I asked if Pops and I can take you the airport tomorrow.”
“I’d appreciate that,” she replied. And she would. Her budget was tight for the next few months. She’d used the last of her savings to grab a small loft apartment in San Diego and pay the movers.
“Okay then.” Gigi grabbed her coat and purse. “You sure you don’t want to go out tonight? I’m not happy about you moping around here the entire night.”
Sophie laughed, but it was rusty. “I don’t mope, and yes, I’m sure.”
Gigi hugged her. “Your voice still has that after-sex-sexy going on. All right then, we’ll be by to pick you up around nine tomorrow morning. Call me if you change your mind, yeah?”
She followed her best friend to the door. “Yeah, but I won’t, so don’t hang by the phone.”
She saw Gigi out, ordered Chinese from Mu Lan’s, and sat on a box to wait for the order to arrive. It’d be the last time for a while she’d get to have the best damn Chinese food in Atlanta, and she was going to break open that final bottle of Hogue Genesis Cabernet Sauvignon to go with it.
It wasn’t a celebration, but it was a nod to new beginnings. Two months ago, she’d been a completely different person, taking care of her dying mother and struggling to make ends meet. Then she’d fallen in love, lost her mother, and eventually lost her heart.
Ryan Locke sucked ass.
The doorbell rang and she sighed as she walked to the door. She hoped she could find a Tinker Bell doorbell in California.
She opened the door. “Thanks, Chen, I—”
It wasn’t Chen.
Oh, hell to the motherfucking no. She could deal with anything but him. She started to close the door. He stuck his foot in, and she slammed it just a bit harder than she normally would. He winced, but didn’t move his foot.
“I deserved that,” he said in a solemn voice.
Fuck your solemnity. Fuck you.
She looked up at him between the crack in the door and the jamb. There were a whole mishmash of feelings rumbling in her belly, but she refused to bow to them. He’d broken her. Her heart she could’ve gotten over … maybe. But breaking her soul?
&
nbsp; She didn’t think she could heal from that. Stupid, stupid man.
But she was finished with being a stupid woman. “What do you want, Mr. Locke?”
He winced again. Her heart thudded and anger pierced her. Anger at him, herself, hell, all of it.
Then he said the words that three weeks ago, she’d have died to hear. “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”
She steeled her spine, carefully blanked her face. She’d not evade this one. She’d put it to bed and leave it far behind. Her sanity demanded it. “I appreciate that.” She nodded. “Was there anything else?”
“Can I come in?” His voice was hesitant, but still so beautifully deep it made her heart spasm.
“I don’t think so. There’s nothing for you here,” she said in an even tone. “Now if you’ll leave?”
“I can’t leave, Sophie,” he replied, and it seemed forced from him.
He sucked with apologies. Oh well. Hold on to that anger, Sophie. Hold on tight.
“You don’t have a choice, Mr. Locke. I believe we have concluded our business, and as I said: there is nothing for you here.” Her voice cracked at the end. Stupid voice.
“I’ll stand here as long as I need to until you listen to me.” His face was a mask of determination, brows lowered, gorgeous, lush lips thinned.
She nodded. “Okay.” He shifted, took a small step backward, and she slammed the door, throwing the lock before he could turn the knob again.
She leaned against the door, breathing heavily, hand on her chest. God, she hurt. Nothing should hurt this much. How could he have done this to her?
She heard him walk off her porch and she headed to the kitchen. She may not get her Chinese. Better to open that Cabernet right now, toss back a few glasses and get shit-faced enough to forget her current circumstance. She poured and tipped the glass back, draining half before she set it down and took a deep breath.
“You really should get a new lock for that door. An infant could pick it,” he said from her kitchen entryway.
She squealed and knocked over her bottle of wine as she turned. She reached for it, already mourning the liquid draining to the floor. The bottle rolled off the counter and she picked up the glass instead, ready to wield it as a weapon. Wine sloshed on her hand and it pissed her off that much more.