Page 12 of Insidious Threats

“Right, but we’ve initiated a proceeding against WACB, not Mr. Delone. Sharing his financial condition won’t embarrass the tv station. Right?” Naya pressed.

“You didn’t seek discovery about the television station’s fiscal health,” ATJ shot back.

“Do we need to?” Sasha asked.

“No.” Gabe Parente’s voice was loud, clear, and calm. “No, you do not. Amanda, I’m sorry to do this, but I have a specific duty to WACB.” He swallowed audibly, then said, “WACB has the ability to pay out the full one million dollars right now. In fact, we placed that amount in an escrow account back in August when it became clear that there was going to be a delay. We’re just waiting for the go-ahead from California.”

“California being Mr. Delone?” Mickey asked.

“Or ATJ.”

“Sure, or ATJ,” Mickey agreed.

Sasha interjected, “Assuming this escrow account is interest-bearing, our client is obviously entitled to any interest earned during this delay in payment.”

“Obviously,” Gabe agreed, risking an anxious glance at ATJ, whose face was a thundercloud.

Maisy hid a grin.

“I have to confess, folks, I don’t understand why we’re here.” Mickey spread his hands wide, a gesture Sasha recognized as his ‘let’s be reasonable’ opening gambit. “Everyone seems to agree that Maisy Farley is entitled to a million dollars. That said, there’s no need for discovery into Mr. Delone’s finances.”

Maisy’s grin thinned. Naya’s eyebrow hit her hairline. And Sasha nearly did a spit-take with an ill-timed mouthful of coffee.

“Mickey—” she managed after swallowing the liquid.

But ATJ interrupted her interruption. “I came here with authority to propose a solution that I think will satisfy everyone—Ms. Farley, WACB, and Mr. Delone—without requiring any further discovery, financial or otherwise.”

“We’re all ears, ATJ.” Mickey motioned for her to continue.

“Mr. Delone is prepared to transfer the full payout to Ms. Farley immediately on the condition that she never mention him or any of his businesses or other interests publicly again. So, not on her podcast and not if she ends up getting a real media job somewhere.”

Maisy’s nostrils flared, and Sasha rested a calming hand on her arm.

Mickey swiveled his chair toward them. “How’s that sound?”

“No,” Maisy answered instantly in a flat voice.

“No?” Naya hissed.

Sasha focused on keeping her expression neutral. “Mickey, we need a moment to discuss this new offer with our client.”

“Sure thing. Let’s reconvene in ten minutes.” Before they were out of the room, he’d turned back to Gabe and was telling him about his latest adventure with a water hazard at Oakmont Country Club.

8

Gar was deep into the dreaded late-afternoon slump when his phone’s shrill ring startled him. Okay, he was sleeping. He raised his head from the pillow he’d created with his arms and wiped the drool from his chin. He spared a wild-eyed frantic glance around the bullpen, hoping against hope that Antonia hadn’t wandered by and seen him zonked out. He’d never hear the end of it.

The phone chirped again and he grabbed it.

“This is Gar.” His voice was thick with sleep. Maybe his caller wouldn’t notice.

“Gar, this is Brian Rosen returning your call.”

Brian Rosen? Gar rubbed his eyes and tried to focus.

“Oh, right. Hi.”

“Did I wake you?” Rosen laughed at the notion.