Wicked Fortune (Wicked Nights #5)

Chapter 23

TWENTY-THREE

I hold my breath, then lean closer, straining to hear. Had I really heard him say Gardner ?

And even if he did, was he talking about Jenny? Maybe he was talking about an actual gardener. After all, the studio grounds are gorgeous. There must be dozens of gardeners on payroll.

Or maybe I’m trying too hard.

Or maybe I need to quit guessing, keep listening, and try to gather some facts.

I bend over, putting my ear closer to the crack. I still can’t make out the actual conversation, though. Just a few snippets of sentences about budgets and financial reports.

“—cost overruns for three consecutive quarters.” That’s Matthew’s voice, and it’s easy enough to hear, probably because he’s clearly irritated. “—reconciliation this quarter.”

Whoever is with him responds, but I can’t make out his actual words.

“Dammit, Joel, we can’t … women … lock it down.”

I hear the sound of shuffling paper, then another voice, presumably Joel’s. “… same page … international … channels.”

I don’t know exactly what they’re talking about, but my stomach’s starting to twist in response to the very, very scary thoughts that are forming in my mind.

I tell myself this isn’t happening. My mind is just spinning off into a bad place. A very bad place considering that fears of human trafficking are filling my head.

But there’s no way that the Matthew Holt who touched me so gently and made me feel so special could be involved in something as heinous as that.

Then again, I know better than most how someone who seems perfect can turn out to be the worst kind of vile.

Oh god, oh god, oh god…

“… tell Elias the next time I set a meeting, he needs to get his ass to my office,” Matthew’s voice says, sharp and controlled. “He’s … down … fucking soon.”

Elias Trent. He’s the head of Talent Relations, the department that organizes the meet-and-greets. And Joel Carradine is a relatively new hire in that same department, having joined only about three months ago.

My stomach does a clenching number again. I don’t want to think about what all this means. I really, really, really don’t want to think about it.

But my brain has other ideas, and I stumble away from the door as Bree’s voice comes back to me. “The alien guy said she might be right for some roles they were casting in London.”

The “alien guy” whose initials are E and T.

Elias. Trent.

No. Please, no .

But my mind is already spinning. Misallocated money. Scandal. International stuff. And I’m kicking myself for not thinking of it the first time I heard that name.

Was Elias Trent shipping girls off to London for auditions? Or was that a cover and he was really sending them for something else? Because I’ve watched enough movies to know that’s a recipe for human trafficking. And Liam Neeson is never around when you need him.

Except this can’t be right. There’s no way the Matthew I know could be involved in something like that.

Except maybe he could. I want to believe that we connected—that I understand who he really is. But maybe I’ve only seen what he wants me to see.

I’ve read enough about him to know that he pursued his dream with ruthless intention. Hell, he’s said as much in his interviews.

But how ruthless? And why? Money? He’s got plenty of money.

“—auction next week. The club … Maida Vale.”

I frown. I went to London with my parents after high school, and our hotel was in Maida Vale.

So there was going to be an auction in London?

“Not like … clusterfuck.” Matthew’s voice is as sharp as a knife, and I want to scream with frustration. Just lay it the fuck out for me. Say the words to make me certain that this isn’t what it sounds like.

Or—dammit—to make me certain that it is.

“—tomorrow’s event,” Joel says, and I think he must have turned away because he’s much harder to understand. I press my ear to the crack, then snap back when I hear “Jenny.” At least I think I do. Maybe it was Minnie. Or even Kenny or Penny.

I’m not sure.

Except in my gut, I know with absolute certainty. They’re talking about my friend. My dead friend.

An innocent woman who got caught in a horrible net.

And though it makes me sick to even think it, I’m terrified Matthew was at the heart of whatever horrible scheme reeled her in and got her killed.

So what the hell do I do now?

I spend the rest of the morning in my office, pretending like I’m getting work done. Matthew only pops his head in once to tell me he has to drive out to Redlands to deal with some trouble on a shoot that’s currently over-budget, and that he’ll be gone the rest of the day.

I nod and smile and tell him to drive safe and I’ll see him in the evening. And then—once he’s closed the door behind him—I put my head on my desk and tell myself I don’t really know anything, and the tears pricking my eyes are for pussies. I’m not allowed to freak out until I’m sure. And I’m not sure yet.

But I will be. I’ll do whatever it takes to figure this out, and the first thing I’m going to do is check out Joel Fucking Carradine. From what I know he hasn’t been with Hardline that long. But there he was in Matthew’s office. If this were a movie, that would be because he’s shifting jobs, moving from the outside into the inner circle.

And I figure since this is a company that makes movies, I could do worse than using movie lore to figure out what’s going on.

Which is why I end up back in front of the same Human Resources clerk I met on my first day. Only this time, I need the file for Joel Carradine. For my boss, of course.

“Here you go,” she says, returning with a thin file. “But didn’t he already look at it? The log shows Mr. Holt reviewing the digital file a few weeks ago.”

I shake my head, confused. “I’m new. I didn’t know personnel files were in the system. He, um, just asked me to get it.”

“Well, just take it. He may have a reason for wanting the hard copy. But here,” she says, handing me a piece of paper. “That’s the instructions on how to access the system. If you’re his PA, you may be doing that a lot. And it’s easier than popping down here all the time.”

I thank her, then take the instructions and the file. Then I hurry back to the office and log onto the system. Sure enough, with the access code I have as Matthew’s PA, I have full access to the files of everyone who’s ever worked at Hardline. And that includes seeing the electronic trail of everyone who’s taken a peek.

Pretty cool.

Even though I have the hard copy, I almost click on Joel Carradines’s file, figuring that I can print anything of interest. But I stop myself. If I can see who’s accessed it, so can Matthew. And just in case I’m wrong about him— please, please don’t let me be wrong —I don’t want him to know I’ve been poking around.

And even if he’s as pure as Ivory soap, I don’t want him to ask me what I’ve been doing. I want to trust him—but I have to be smart.

And right now, being smart means considering the worst.

I pull out the small notebook I keep in my purse, then label a page with “JC.” I’ve just flipped to Joel’s resume when my cell rings. I grab it, see it’s Clive, and answer with, “I’m right in the middle of something.”

“Meet me for lunch.”

I check the clock. It’s already twelve-fifteen. “I can’t. Seriously, I need to get through this project before?—”

“I want to talk to you about the party,” he says, his voice oddly stressed. “You know. About why we were there.”

“Oh.” A chill like cold fingers crawls up my spine. “I’m, uh, working on exactly that right now. And I’m kind of under the gun. Can’t you just tell me?”

“Can’t. I’m bringing a friend, and he wants to meet in person.”

“Clive …” I’m sure he can hear the irritation in my voice. Why the hell is he telling other people about it?

“Trust me. You need to hear about this now.”

I nod, thinking. “Okay. But I don’t have much time. I’ll call down and leave your name with the gate. Meet me in the tower lobby. Bring some takeout.”

“Got it. You’ll need to leave Jonah Tucker’s name, too.”

“Will do,” I say, wondering why that name sounds so familiar. “What time?”

“We can be there in fifteen.”

“Perfect,” I say, thinking that gives me enough time to at least skim Joel’s file.

Once Clive’s off the line, I turn my attention back to the resume, but I’m having a hard time focusing. My skin feels prickly, and my heart’s beating just a little too fast. It’s excitement. And it’s fear. I’m close to something—I’m certain of it. And Jenny’s letter is what started it. “Thanks for kicking my ass into gear,” I whisper. “I promise I’ve got your back now.”

I feel a little chill and tell myself it’s Jenny giving me a hug from wherever she is now. A thank you for trying. And a promise that she’ll help keep me moving in the right direction.

With that thought—and Bree’s voice in my head chiding “ way, way, way too woo” —I turn my attention back to the resume.

Joel Carradine’s one smart guy. No doubt about that. Third in his class at Harvard Law, then a cog in some big law firm before moving to the legal department of an international production company with projects at most of the major studios in the US and overseas.

According to his list of skills, he’s worked in international talent recruitment, cross-border negotiations, and even crisis management.

Each line seems normal enough, but the more I read, the more things feel slightly off. I can’t put my finger on it, but I also can’t shake the feeling that the seemingly innocent list of job skills hides something sinister. But I’m not an expert. Not by a long shot.

With a frown, I flip to the next page of the file. He was hired by Elias Trent and interviewed only by Trent. Considering he was hired as Trent’s second in command of the Talent Relations department, that doesn’t surprise me. I doubt that Matthew even saw the man’s resume before pulling it for review.

And why did he pull it in the first place? Hardline has thousands of employees. There’s no possible way—and no reason—for Matthew to review every resume. That’s why there’s a corporate chain of command.

I’m pondering that question when the timer I’ve set on my phone goes off. I snap photos of the resume, figuring that’s safer than making a photocopy.

Then I put the folder together and rush out of the office with a quick wave to Lila and a promise to hurry back after I grab a bite.

I drop the folder back at HR, then continue down to the lobby, just in time to meet Clive and Jonah as they stride into the building.