Page 51

FIFTY-ONE

Wyatt

“Son of a bitch,” I mutter, scrolling the numerous text messages coming in from Maverick. They’re all similar. Links. Several of them. Each one leading to articles or videos about Ember Lynn and her impending divorce. Information that, according to Maverick, none of them should have.

I open the first one and—holy fuck. I falter in my steps and come to a complete stop. An older man skids around me, turning around momentarily to toss me a dirty look. People are walking around me, some murmuring insults, while I stand in the middle of the sidewalk like an ass.

The Gazette lays out the entire timeline of events; everything from the first social media post that hinted Hollywood's favorite couple wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows to now. There’s a list of witnesses from our side, weaknesses in our case, and of course, more links, these ones leading to every video we had her delete from her social media.

We fucking told her the internet was forever, but of course, she thought she knew better. They always do .

This is going to cost us the case. No question. Not only is our entire argument being fed to her husband's attorney, but no judge is going to look at any of this and see a victim. If they do, it’ll be her husband, not Ember.

Fuck.

I pull up my recent call log and tap on Maverick’s name, hoping he’s not in a meeting and has some damn answers.

He answers his cell on the second ring, a loud thud echoing through the speaker. I can only guess he closed the door to his office, trying to give himself a little privacy. “Did you see those articles?”

“No.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, ignoring another dirty look. Two dirty looks. “I completely ignored everything you sent me and figured I’d call for some chit chat.”

His sigh is heavy. “I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit, Wyatt.”

I run a hand through my hair and get the hell out of the way before grandma runs me over with her walker. “I only clicked on the first one, but it was enough. How did they get our witness lists? They fucking outlined the entire case from our side. Anderson is going to have a field day. Whoever fed this information to the press handed him the fucking case. The same thing happened to Brantley over the weekend.”

“No idea. I just got off the phone with IT, and they’re already searching through employee emails and looking for anything that looks off. They don’t think we were hacked.”

I blow out a deep breath as I run a hand through my hair, then grip the back of my neck. Who the hell would do something like this? We don’t have any brand new employees. There’s no one we’ve pissed off recently. Well, except for Zach. After Brantley’s mantrum last week, he’s the obvious choice.

Except, he wouldn’t have access to these files.

And no offense to him, but I don’t think he’s smart enough to find a way into them.

I step back out onto the sidewalk, but am unfortunate enough to end up behind a group of young women. They’re probably about Kinsley’s age and judging by the squeals of excitement, the amount of time hands fly in the air, and the loud giggles, they’ve been doing a fair amount of day drinking.

Thank God she’d rather stay in than go out and party.

“Where the hell are you?” Maverick barks in the phone, and something slams down on his desk. Maybe his fist. Maybe a stapler.

One of the girls lets out an extra loud shout, and I fall back. “Not far from the office; I was going to grab a coffee.”

“Well, grab five for me. We could be here all night.”

“Who has access to those files?”

“Obviously, the three of us.” He pauses, and I can imagine him leaning back in his chair, feet propped up on his desk as his brain kicks into high gear. “Kinsley. James. A few of the senior partners. I think that’s it. No one else should be able to access that shit. It’s all password protected, and we have our own server.”

He continues, getting into some technical crap IT set up for us to keep all our shit protected, but everything he says fades into the distance. I feel like I’m in a tunnel. The people around me disappear; the excited girls are a thing in the past. Everything narrows down to a small table in the corner of the coffee shop, a table where Kinsley is having coffee with Thomas Anderson.

My grip tightens on the door handle, but I make no attempt to pull open the door. I’m not sure I can. My heart is beating frantically, my stomach dips, and everything inside me is twisting into tight little knots.

Kinsley takes a sip of her drink and leans toward Thomas, laughing at something he said.

It’s like I’ve stepped into an alternate dimension. What the hell is happening? In what world does Kinsley even know Thomas, let alone have coffee dates with the man?

And that’s when the little voice in the back of my head starts up. Thomas is the opposing counsel in both leaked cases. He’s the only one who would benefit from this goddamned disaster, and I wouldn’t put it past the fucker to have arranged it all.

He would need someone on the inside, someone with access to our server.

There’s no way…right? She wouldn’t do that…

“Wyatt, you still there? You disappeared on me.” Maverick’s concerned voice slaps me across the face. I have to tell him. I have to. As much as this could potentially destroy us all, they deserve to know.

“Yeah.” I cast one last look into the coffee shop, watch as Thomas passes something across the table to Kinsley, and force myself to turn away, but not before using my phone to snap a quick picture. “We’re not getting coffee.”

“Okay,” he says slowly. “What’s going on?”

A lump builds in my throat, and I struggle to swallow past it. “Kinsley isn’t in the office, right?”

“No, she ran out for an errand.”

“Yeah, well, she’s on a coffee date with Thomas.”

“Thomas Anderson?”

“The one and only.” I let out a curse and pick up my speed to get around a few slow walkers. “Fuck. They looked cozy with each other, Mav. Like they knew each other.”

“You’re sure? Did you talk to them?” He lowers his voice, and the phone muffles for a brief second. “Fuck, Wyatt. I need you to be sure.”

“Oh, yeah, I just walked over and asked how they liked the weather.” I let out a self-deprecating laugh, picking up the pace as our building comes into view. “No, I didn’t fucking talk to them, but I’m one hundred percent sure. Kins was wearing that same black skirt, the one with the slit in the back, and a peach blouse. He passed her something right before I left. Fuck. Hold on.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and send him the photo. It’s zoomed in and a little grainy, but you can still see it’s her.

Maverick is silent for a moment, his breathing easy while I feel like I can barely take in air. “That’s definitely her. Let’s see what IT has to say. I don’t want to jump to conclusions until we have some facts. They could have run into each other at the shop. This whole thing could be innocent. None of this sounds like Kinsley at all.”

“I really hope you’re right. I’m coming up. I’ll be right there.” I end the call but keep the phone tight in my hand as I slip into the open elevator. The ride up is quiet, a stark contrast to the thoughts running wild in my head.

Innocent or not, Brantley isn’t going to take this well. Not where Thomas is concerned. Not after he stole his fiancé right out from under his nose.

Maybe the evidence will lead us to someone else. Maybe this is all one giant misunderstanding. Maverick’s right—we do know Kinsley, and this is out of character for her.

Unless she was playing us the whole time.

If she was, we played right into her hand. She lured us in with the virgin auction, played with us like her personal toys, and then made us fall in love with her. At least, I assume the other two feel the same way I do. Or did.

Fuck, I don’t even know.

No one can be that cruel. At least, I hope not. If the computer trail leads back to her, not only did she cost us two cases, but our hearts. I can’t speak for the other guys, but I fell hard and fast for this woman. I just hope she didn’t deceive us.

As soon as the elevator door opens, I’m zipping through the lobby, and I don’t stop until I get to Mav’s office. Brantley is already there, pacing the length of it, his hand running furiously through his hair.

“There’s another article.” Maverick’s voice is flat, devoid of any emotion. “This one is about us. How we neglect our clients because we’re more concerned with spreading our secretary’s legs. There are pictures of all of us with her. Someone had to have been following us. Someone who knew exactly where and when we would be.”

My tongue is heavy, my mouth dry. “What about IT? Have they found anything?”

Brantley stops suddenly, turns around, and meets my gaze. His jaw is clenched so tight I’m surprised he still has teeth in his head. His eyes are hard, and his hands are fisted at his side. Fury is rolling off him in waves.

The floor drops out from under me, and I’m free-falling straight into my own personal hell.

“It’s her.” His voice is gruff, and he takes a deep breath, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it in a pile on the floor. “Everything goes back to her.”

Every moment I’ve spent with her flashes before my eyes. Every touch. Every whisper. Every goddamn thing I did to make sure she had everything she needed. She played us all for fools.

I fell in love with her, and she turned out to be nothing but a pretty liar.