Chapter 22
Juniper took one look at Quinn when she walked into work Thursday morning and grabbed her arm, dragging Quinn to her office and closing the door. “Tell me everything!”
Quinn shook her head, but her smile told the whole story. Juniper squealed. “I’m so happy for you. He’s such a nice guy. I know the media says he is, but we all know a good PR person can turn a sinner into a saint. It’s great to see it’s true.”
“It’s very true. I spent all evening with his friends and they were also lovely. I felt as if I was part of their group instantly.”
“That is so rare,” Juniper said, before glancing out the windows and sighing. “Asshole and assholier are here.”
Karson, Neil, and Archie were in matching puffer vests holding to-go cups of coffee.
“This is like a horror version of those small-town Christmas movies,” Quinn muttered.
The elevator opened and Quinn cursed. A frowning Corker and a grinning Briscoe walked into the office with a woman behind them.
They scanned the area, and when Briscoe’s eyes locked on hers, she knew trouble was coming.
It didn’t help that her old team filed out of the conference room to watch.
“Miss Kennedy,” Briscoe said with that type of grin that said he was toying with her and loving it.
“A little birdie sent us something overnight. It’s security footage of you hooked up to the computers running the bets at the lounge.
It’s clear manipulation of the system.” He leaned forward and smirked at her. “Told you I’d get you.”
Quinn went to argue, but the woman stepped forward. “Miss Kennedy, I’m Detective Andrea Braxton. Please stand up, turn around, and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest.”
Quinn was frozen. She heard her old team commenting and filming her, but she couldn’t move.
“I’ll call Nico,” Juniper told her as Detective Braxton pulled back her arms. Quinn felt the cold steel close around her wrists and fought off a panic attack.
Quinn nodded as her cellphone began to ring. She heard Juniper answer it as Quinn walked by her old team. All three had their phones out filming her arrest. This didn’t make sense. She fixed the issue. There was no victim. There was no illegal betting or money made. How was she arrested?
“Yes! They’re arresting her,” she heard Juniper say as Juniper got onto the elevator with them. “I’ll tell her. Okay. I will.” Juniper hung up Quinn’s phone. “Helena says not to say anything except to request your attorney. Quinn, did you hear me?”
Quinn managed to nod.
“I’ll call Nico and Knox. Don’t worry, Quinn!” Juniper called out as Quinn was escorted out of the elevator.
“No,” Quinn said quickly. “Don’t call Knox. He has a game to prepare for.”
That was all she could say before Detective Braxton pushed her head down so she didn’t hit it as she got into the back of the cop car. “You have a great assistant,” Detective Braxton told her as she began to drive off.
“I want my lawyer.” Quinn repeated what Helena told her to say and then didn’t say another word. Instead, her imagination spiraled into jail time, how she was embarrassing Knox, and how she was letting Nico down.
Quinn was fingerprinted and her mug shot was taken.
She couldn’t even cry. She was in shock, numb, and terrified.
This couldn’t be her life. She wasn’t a criminal.
Then she was escorted into an interrogation room.
The handcuffs were taken off and she absently rubbed her wrists as Briscoe and Corker took the seats across from her.
Detective Braxton leaned against the two-way mirror and crossed her arms.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Briscoe asked.
“I want my attorney.”
Detective Braxton moved as if she were going to leave, but Briscoe kept talking.
“Fine. You can have your attorney. I won’t ask you any more questions.
Brenton,” Briscoe said, turning to Corker.
“Let’s start the seizure of all of Miss Kennedy’s assets.
She won’t need them sitting in jail. This is just Kentucky law, wait until the Feds get her. ”
Quinn felt her lower lip wobble, but she refused to break down in front of this man.
Braxton opened the door and stood waiting for Briscoe and Corker to leave.
Corker stood, but Briscoe just leaned forward.
“Give us Nico Saccone and we’ll make sure you have some money left when you finish your jail time. ”
“Briscoe, let’s go,” Braxton snapped.
Quinn didn’t watch Briscoe leave. Instead, she kept her eyes locked on the table as tears filled her eyes. A few minutes passed and the door quietly opened. A box of tissues and a cup of water were placed in front of her before Detective Braxton slipped back out of the room.
Quinn didn’t know how long she sat there, sniffling, crying, and mentally spiraling before the door opened and a knockout of a woman strode in.
“Quinn Kennedy?” she asked. She had on four-inch heels, the kind with the red soles, and a fitted suit that showed off a slight baby bump.
Her make-up was flawless and her lips matched the red soles of her shoes.
“I want my lawyer,” Quinn mumbled and went back to staring at the table.
“Good job! I wish all my clients were so smart.” The woman took a seat across from her and held out her hand. “Olivia Townsend-Fox. Your attorney.”
“Where’s Neely Grace?” Quinn asked, hesitant to trust anyone right now.
“She and Henry are in court at the moment. I’m Nico’s attorney and he asked me to fly here and take care of you. That is, if you want me.”
Quinn looked up from the table then. “I can see why Henry wants to get in your briefs.”
Olivia smiled and shook her head. “That man is a menace, but does wonderful things for my self-esteem. Neely Grace is a saint. Now, Quinn, how badly do you want me to make them cry for arresting you?”
Quinn’s lips quivered in an almost smile. “Badly. Briscoe is a bully.”
“Then don’t say a word and let’s have some fun. These pregnancy hormones are in overdrive. It’ll make me feel better to make someone cry.”
Quinn really looked at the beautiful woman. “You’re serious.”
“I’m always serious when it comes to advocating for my clients. If some tears are shed, it’s just that much better.”
“You’d love my best friend. She’s an international lawyer in New York.”
Olivia cocked her head. “Who? I know most of the big ones.”
“Helena Diakos.”
Olivia tossed her head back and laughed. “Big D! She’s fantastic. Of course, I know her. Well, now I have to make him cry, like a lot, or Hel will never let me live it down.”
Olivia stood and strode across the room before knocking twice on the door. A couple of minutes later, Detective Braxton, Briscoe, and Corker entered the room. Braxton was observant, Corker passive, and Briscoe arrogant.
Olivia took the seat next to Quinn, leaned back, and crossed her legs. “Briscoe, how much money do you have so I know the amount to put in my civil lawsuit against you for harassment of my client?”
Briscoe turned red as he leaned forward, trying to intimidate Olivia. “I don’t know who you are coming in here and threatening me.”
Olivia slowly leaned forward. She reached one red nail out and tapped the metal desk right in front of Briscoe.
“I’m the attorney who is going to take every penny you have for doing shoddy investigating, harassing my client, and forcing a charge against her because you’re too incompetent to look at the situation from any other angle than the one you want.
You think you’re going to uncover some giant illegal gambling operation with Nico Saccone at the head of it all.
You want the fame and accolades for taking down a very rich, very powerful man.
You’ll even railroad my client in order to do so.
So, you want to know who I am? I’m the woman who will embarrass you, cause you to lose your job, and make sure your name is splashed in the headlines for all the wrong reasons.
You’ll be a disgrace. Or, I’m offering you a chance to actually do your job and investigate the right people for a change. ”
Olivia leaned slowly back and stared him down. Poor Corker was forgotten.
“What do you mean by shoddy work?” Detective Braxton bristled. “I reviewed the file. There’s plenty of evidence.”
Olivia turned and cocked her head at Detective Braxton. “Look again. Deeper.”
The door opened and an officer stuck his head in. “Ma’am, we have an issue out here.”
Quinn could hear a commotion in the hallway. “Out of my way, sonny, or this broom will go where the sun don’t shine.”
“Miss Lily?” Quinn gasped as suddenly the Rose sisters came into view.
“Freaking hell,” Braxton cursed. “You’re from Keeneston?” she practically accused.
“She’s one of ours,” Miss Lily said, storming the room with her two sisters and Agent Warner right behind them with an amused look on his face. “What do y’all think you’re doing here?”
“I’d like to know that, too.” Agent Warner had his hands in his pockets, but his expression was serious now.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Briscoe shouted as he jumped up from his chair.
Braxton shook her head at Briscoe and turned to Agent Warner. “I’m sorry, this is a closed interview. Please take your utensil-wielding grannies to the waiting room.”
“These utensil-wielding grannies did what you should have done, detective.”
“And what’s that?” Braxton asked a little annoyed but resigned to a Keeneston morning.
Warner pulled his hand from his pocket and flipped open his badge. “Called the lead investigator when you brought in my victim, especially considering this, at its core, is a federal case.”
Briscoe cursed. Braxton looked confused. “Which office are you from?”
“FBI Lexington. Ryan Parker is my boss. I just moved here two weeks ago.” Warner smiled at Braxton and held out his hand. “Ty Warner. Sorry we’re meeting this way.”