Chapter 9
Nine
T he grand end-of-year party for Ellison it was an opportunity. His Fairchild investigation pressed against the edges of his thoughts, but as he glanced at his watch, he allowed himself a small smile. He had a date to pick up.
Noah knocked on Ruth’s door, his knuckles rapping lightly against the wood. When she opened it, he grinned in surprise. Ruth stood there in gray sweatpants, a baggy hoodie, and a pair of Uggs. Her hair was swept up into a high ponytail, her face free of makeup. She looked at him with wide, amused eyes, one hand resting on the doorframe.
“Well,” he drawled, leaning against the door, “we’re both dressed for black tie, I see.”
Ruth rolled her eyes but laughed. “Give me thirty minutes when we get to the venue. I promise I clean up nice. Let me grab my stuff.” Her laugh echoed down the hall as she disappeared into her bedroom.
As he waited, Noah glanced around the space, when, unlike the other day, he noted the small, thoughtful details that made it feel like her. A stack of legal briefs sat on the coffee table next to a mug that read, Coffee Before Contracts . The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, calming and clean. He found himself smiling without realizing it.
The drive to Ellison & Grant’s parking lot was quiet but comfortable. Noah’s mind flicked between the task at hand and the woman sitting beside him. When they arrived, the glow of the large charter buses was already visible in the distance, their interior lights spilling out onto the pavement.
As Noah parked, his sharp gaze immediately caught sight of a yellow Hummer parked near the bus. His stomach tightened. Matt Brandt. The garish vehicle was as subtle as its owner, and its presence confirmed Brandt had already boarded one of the buses.
Noah placed their garment bags into the cargo hold beneath the bus before turning to Ruth. She hesitated at the steps, glancing nervously at the crowd already seated inside. Without a word, Noah offered her his hand, steady and reassuring. She took it, and his grip tightened slightly, a promise that he was there.
They found two seats halfway down the bus, slipping into the row as conversations buzzed around them. Noah’s sharp gaze scanned the passengers, and it didn’t take long to spot him. Six rows back, sitting on the aisle seat, was Matt Brandt. The man’s overly confident posture and slicked-back hair screamed arrogance. His predatory eyes flicked over the other passengers as if sizing them up.
“Got him,” Noah muttered under his breath.
Ruth shifted uneasily in her seat. “What?”
He turned toward her, his face softening. “Relax.” He winked, and though his tone was playful, his hand closed over hers briefly. His thumb brushed her knuckles.
She rubbed her chest. “Relax? Really?”
As their bus began to roll out of the parking lot, Noah leaned back, his posture deceptively casual. In reality, his mind was already working overtime. Brandt was within reach, but tonight wasn’t about confrontation. It was about observation. Play it cool, watch him slip, and let him hang himself.
He squeezed Ruth’s hand one last time, then let it go, his lips quirking into a half smile. “We’re in for an interesting night.”
Ruth nodded. “Interesting? That’s one way to put it.”
Noah chuckled.
* * *
The bus hummed steadily as it rolled along the highway, the low chatter of passengers creating a soft background noise. Ruth sat stiffly in her seat, trying to ignore the rapid thrum of her pulse. Noah, ever observant, leaned in slightly, his voice low and warm against her ear.
"Listen to me," he whispered, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her senses.
She glanced at him, curious but wary.
“Alright, here’s what I’ve got on Matt Brandt.” He interlaced his fingers with hers. “He lives at Aspen Ridge Condominiums, unit 14B. He’s got the usual social media presence—Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, all under his name or some professional variation.
“Academically? Nothing special. He was a mid-level student in high school, scraped by in college with a 2.9 GPA in political science, then managed a 3.1 in law school at Midwestern State. Not exactly top of his class, and not sure how that got him into Ellison & Grant. Still looking into that.”
Noah tapped his fingers on his thigh. “Now, this is where things get interesting. His personal life? A mess. Jessica Manning filed a restraining order against him—later withdrawn. Erin Hawthorne supposedly got a financial settlement after some workplace misconduct. Then there’s Paige Carrington. That breakup went public, with allegations of verbal harassment. Not a great track record.”
He leaned forward. “And then there’s the money. We’re looking at several unexplained payouts—$10,000 to $20,000 at a time—coming from private accounts. Some of those transactions line up with his time at Ellison & Grant, where, by coincidence, the firm’s petty cash account kept showing weird discrepancies. The amounts? Suspiciously close to the withdrawals he was making.”
Noah exhaled. “Now, no formal complaints have been filed against him—either in law school or at the firm—but the rumors are everywhere. Harassment, shady deals, HR concerns that got dismissed due to ‘lack of evidence.’ Officially, he’s clean. Unofficially? Brandt’s got skeletons, and they’re not buried as deep as he thinks. Clearly someone in the firm is protecting him. Any idea who?”
Her eyebrows shot up. "This... this is a day’s work?" she asked incredulously.
Noah smirked. “You’re not the only lawyer who knows how to work fast,” he said, leaning back with a self-satisfied grin.
Her head whipped toward him. “Wait, did you say lawyer?”
“Guilty as charged,” he teased, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “University of Chicago Law School. Top of my class. Well, almost. We’ve all got baggage.”
“You’re kidding.” Ruth’s voice was a mix of surprise and disbelief.
“Nope.” He chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Alex is an attorney too. Everyone in our division is. Helps when you’re investigating people like Brandt.”
Ruth blinked, her expression shifting rapidly between amazement and something softer, almost vulnerable. “That explains why you’re so... meticulous.”
Noah tilted his head, studying her face. “Meticulous, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is,” she said shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. She found Noah watching her closely. Then his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “So, how’s my personal portfolio? Am I hired?”
Ruth laughed softly. “Depends. Do you bill hourly?”
“Only if you want me to.” His tone was teasing, but his eyes lingered on hers a moment too long.
Before Ruth could respond, a shadow fell over them. She looked up, her stomach sinking. Matt Brandt.
“Ruthie,” Matt said, his tone dripping with exaggerated cheer. “You did tell me you’d be bringing someone. And who’s this?”
She watched as Noah stood slowly, his movements controlled, deliberate. “Noah Kandor,” he said, extending a hand. His knuckles whitened as he shook Matt’s hand.
Matt’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Ah, nice to meet you, Noah. So, what do you do?”
“Freelance consultant,” Noah replied smoothly, his tone neutral but his posture unyielding. “And you must be Matt Brandt. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Matt’s grin widened, his ego clearly stroked. “All good things, I’m sure.” His gaze flicked back to Ruth, lingering. “So, Ruthie, I’m glad to see you here. Wasn’t sure you’d make it after... you know... all the late nights at the office.”
Noah’s jaw visibly clenched. “Long hours build character,” he said lightly.
Matt chuckled, his laugh oily. “True, true. And Ruthie here is full of character. One of the best lawyers I’ve had the pleasure of working with. You’re a lucky guy.”
Before Noah could respond, Ruth asked, “Who are you bringing tonight, Matt?”
Matt smirked, clearly enjoying the attention. “Oh, just Jenna Shaw. You know, the anchor from Channel 6. She’s a... close friend.”
Ruth raised an eyebrow. “Impressive,” she said coolly.
The bus driver’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Folks, just a reminder to stay seated while we’re moving.”
Matt took that as his cue. “Well, I’ll leave you two to it. See you at the party, Ruthie. Save a dance for me.” He winked at her before sauntering back to his seat, his arrogance practically oozing into the aisle.
“Like hell,” Noah said under his breath. As soon as Matt was gone, he sat back down, his expression unreadable. He reached over and grabbed Ruth’s hand, his fingers lacing through hers. “You okay?”
She nodded, but her hand trembled slightly in his.
“You don’t have to be brave for me,” he said, his voice steady. “I’ve got you.”
Something about the way he said it, the quiet conviction in his tone, made her feel safer than she had in days. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Noah gave her hand another reassuring squeeze, his gaze never leaving hers. “Just stick with me tonight, Ruth. We’ll get through this together and maybe have some fun.”