Chapter 8 #2
Neely Grace cleared her throat and Quinn saw that her eyes were on the conference room. “We don’t have long. Fill us in quickly. They’ll separate you both to interview.”
Nico looked at Quinn, so Quinn filled them in. She didn’t dumb down the tech, and was worried that she should have when Henry went a little glassy-eyed. She didn’t have time to explain further, because, sure enough, there was Briscoe standing in the door barking orders.
“Ah, so he’s the bad cop,” Neely Grace whispered. Quinn nodded. “He’ll take Nico. His ego will demand that he try to take down someone as powerful as Nico. That means we get the nice cop. For now.”
“Should you take Briscoe then?” Quinn whispered back. “The mean one.”
Neely smiled at her. “I appreciate that you think I’m the stronger attorney here, and I am. But my husband is way better at handling someone like him. Right now, I almost feel sorry for Briscoe.”
They walked into the conference room, but Neely had called it.
They were separated almost immediately. Mr. Corker took Quinn and Neely to the smaller conference room next door.
Quinn tried not to fidget as Mr. Corker, or Brenton as he said to call him, began to question her.
They ran through her background and how long she’d worked for Nico.
Neely stopped her from answering any questions in relation to the code.
“Brenton,” Neely said in a motherly way. “I know you said you’ve received complaints, but who has been damaged?” Brenton looked confused for a moment. “You need a victim, right?”
“Well, we had complaints, ma’am.”
Neely smiled indulgently at him. “So you’ve said, but what you haven’t said is if anyone was an actual victim? Has anyone come forward with proof of not being paid for their bet?”
“We’ve had several calls, ma’am.”
“Oh, Brenton, I know. You’re just doing your job and I can tell you’re very fair about doing your job.
However, you have yet to turn over any proof of, well, anything.
Where are these so-called incorrect tickets?
Where are the victims who didn’t get paid for their bets?
” Neely asked, this time with a little more force.
Quinn sat back and kept her mouth shut. The complaints had been true, but Neely Grace was correct—where were the people who had been harmed?
She and Nico made sure they’d paid out the correct bet, so no one was financially harmed.
And if they had called in the complaints, why didn’t Briscoe and Corker have the tickets or even the names of the people complaining?
Brenton cleared his throat. “They were, um, anonymous, ma’am.”
Neely stood up and Quinn automatically did the same. “Well then,” Neely Grace smiled warmly and held out her hand for Brenton to shake. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Brenton. Here’s my card. If you want to speak to my client again, please call me first and I’ll set it up. Quinn?”
Neely stepped back and indicated that Quinn should leave the room, so she did. She was so busy thinking of what everything meant that she almost ran into a very red-faced Briscoe.
“You know,” Henry said with a smirk. “I have a sure bet for you. You can’t lose. I bet I’m the GILFiest GILF to have ever GILFed.”
“Oh, honey,” Neely said indulgently. “Remember, Ahmed is a grandfather now. I wouldn’t take that bet.”
“Shhh, sugar torts. He doesn’t know Ahmed.” Henry winked at Neely as Quinn’s eyes darted to Nico’s. He wasn’t smiling, but there were crinkles of amusement around his eyes as Briscoe stormed off down the stairwell and Brenton gave them a little wave goodbye.
Henry turned to Nico, the smirk gone. “Told you not to doubt me.”
“Never again. Consider yourself my permanent back-up attorney.”
“And tell Olivia I can’t wait to slip her my briefs.”
Nico shook his head, even as a smile dared to curve his lips. “No way. I don’t have a death wish.”
“Did y’all figure out these were anonymous complaints?” Neely Grace asked as if her husband slipping his underwear to some woman wasn’t a big deal.
“Of course we did,” Henry answered his wife. “It buys you all some time to fix whatever is wrong. But they’ll be back. Briscoe has his sights on both of you. It would be a career maker to take down Nico Saccone.”
“He did let something slip,” Nico said, turning his attention to Quinn. “You were specifically mentioned in the complaint.”
The temporary relief Quinn had felt was now over. “Me? I mean, yes, it is my fault. But who would know that?”
“Exactly. Who knows you’re in charge of the betting program for my lounges?”
“Someone in the sports betting world,” Henry said out loud. “Rival companies?”
“I have a business trip that I’ve already pushed back a day. Neely Grace, Henry, can you look out for Quinn and my company here in Lexington while I am gone?”
“Of course.” Neely smiled, but Quinn couldn’t.
“Call Sebastian. Get your team here tomorrow and fix this. We both know it’s more than your job on the line. I’ll call you as often as I can and I want to be updated three times a day.”
“Yes, sir.” Quinn watched as Nico left with the Rooneys.
Juniper came out of hiding and looked at Quinn with pity. “Everyone is already talking about it downstairs. Apparently, the mean one stopped there first and put the fear of God into them to report any suspicious activity. Is there anything I can do?”
Quinn straightened her shoulders to psych herself up. “Yes, can you call Sebastian Abel and put him through to my office?”