Hot Asset_21 Wall Street

by Lauren Layne

  “Thank you,” I say, feeling unexpectedly touched.

  Sabrina holds up a warning finger. “No hugging. No crying, either. Save those tears for the table.”

  “Right,” I say, shaking out my hands. “I’ve been practicing my fake crying on command like you instructed.”

  “Verdict?”

  I waggle my hand. “Fifty-fifty chance of waterworks.”

  “Good enough. If all else fails, let your chin wobble so he thinks you’re trying to hold back tears. That’s nearly as good.” Sabrina glances at her watch. “Okay. It’s go time.”

  In the two days since we’ve hatched our plan to catch Jacob Houghton and Steve in whatever they’re up to, I keep waiting for the nervousness to set in—keep waiting to lose my nerve.

  Instead, I feel . . . determined.

  These men cost me my job at the SEC, they cost me my opportunity at the FBI, they are trying to send someone I care about to jail. I never thought I’d say it, but the system isn’t working. I could escalate above Steve’s head, sure, but without proof . . .

  “Thanks for meeting me here early,” I say.

  She smiles. “I would’ve, even if Ian hadn’t demanded it.”

  “He did?”

  “It’s killing him that he can’t be nearby, but if Jacob sees him, the plan goes to hell. Jacob doesn’t know me, so”—she blows me a kiss—“I’ll be at the table just behind you guys.”

  I nod. “Okay.”

  “You ready, then?”

  I blow out a breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

  “Okay, you go out first. Our reservations are at the same time, but I’ll be fashionably late to mine so you and Jacob get seated first. You need anything, I’m there. Matt and Kennedy, too.”

  “We’re the Avengers,” I say with a little smile.

  She pats my cheek affectionately. “I love that you’re such a dork.”

  A few moments later, I’m standing at the hostess desk, waiting in line to give them my name.

  “Thanks for joining us today, Ms. McKenzie,” says the willowy hostess. “Looks like you’re the first to arrive. Would you like to wait for the other member of your party before being seated?”

  “No need!” comes a jovial voice from behind me.

  Had I not practiced this moment with Ian a dozen times this morning, I might have stiffened. Instead, I paste on a deliberately shy smile and turn to face him.

  Jacob Freaking Houghton.

  For some reason, I expect him to look different, knowing what I know. Or rather, suspecting what I suspect. But he’s the same. Same bland grin. Bland features. Bland suit. Bland everything.

  “Lara, how are you?” he asks, kissing my cheek. “Hanging in there?”

  Well, that answers that question. He knows I’m no longer employed by the SEC.

  I let my hands wring like a damsel. “Well, um . . .”

  He sets a hand on my shoulder. “I know. Let’s sit down. Get a drink and something extravagant for lunch. My treat.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Houghton,” I say with obvious release.

  “Anytime, Lara. And please, call me Jacob. I think we know each other well enough for that.”

  Sabrina’s coming out of the bathroom as we head to our table, but she sails past both of us as though she’s never seen us before. I’m pretty sure Jacob glances at her “day cleavage,” but it’s little more than a male heterosexual checking out great boobs. He certainly doesn’t seem to recognize her as the notoriously elusive Sabrina Cross, which works well for the plan.

  He holds out the chair for me, and we both settle with our napkins and menus. I’d deliberately picked a business-causal place for us to meet that’s nice enough for him to accept but not so fancy he’ll think it’s an odd choice for an unemployed SEC investigator.

  “I was glad to hear from you,” he says after he’s ordered a bottle of white wine for the two of us. “I was just telling Whitney last night that I was sorry to hear you were no longer with the SEC. She so enjoyed getting to know you at Steve’s wedding. We both did. And Steve always spoke so highly of your work.”

  I fiddle with my napkin and look down at my plate, noting out of the corner of my eye as Sabrina sits at the table directly behind Jacob, along with a tall woman with a sharp nose and even sharper gaze. I’m careful not to let my attention linger on them, instead waiting quietly as Jacob does the whole taste-and-swirl routine with the wine.

  After the waiter moves away, Jacob lifts his glass. “To new beginnings.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” I say, careful to infuse just a bit of desperation into the statement. I take a tiny sip of the wine. Jacob takes a drink as well—and not a small one. Excellent. Liquid lubrication is exactly what this conversation needs in order for the plan to work.

  “So, Lara,” he says, starting to set down the glass but taking another sip of the wine instead. “I’ll admit, I was surprised to get your call. I’ve always enjoyed your company, but you’ve been so careful to keep a slight buffer—understandably so, considering what I do and what you do.”

  “Did,” I correct. “What I did.”

  “Right.” He gives a sympathetic smile.

  I take a deep breath as though gathering my courage. “It’s actually . . . Well, it’s your relationship with Steve that made me think of contacting you.”

  He nods encouragingly. “My brother-in-law was your boss a long time. I don’t think he’ll mind my telling you he was sad to lose you, Lara.”

  “I’m hoping that’s the case,” I say with a small smile. “In fact, I was hoping you might be able to intervene on my behalf.”

  He sits back and studies me. “You want your job back.”

  Hell no. But what’s one tiny lie on the quest for justice . . .

  “I made a mistake,” I say in a rush. “I acted rashly, and I’m worried he won’t listen to me. But I thought maybe if you talked to him . . .”

  Jacob gives me a friendly smile. “Why don’t you tell me what happened—your side of it.”

  I set my elbows on the table, burying my face in my hands. “I was such an idiot. I can’t even talk about it.”

  He reaches across the table to touch my arm. “Lara. Talk to me. Let’s not forget you helped my wife safety-pin her dress after a few too many Pinot Grigios at Steve’s wedding. Whatever is said here stays between us.”

  You wish, asshole.

  I drop my hands back into my lap and take another deep breath. “Okay, it has to do with the case I’ve been working on.”

  “Ian Bradley’s case.”

  I see Sabrina straighten just slightly behind Jacob at hearing Ian’s name.

  I nod. “It was . . . Well, I really shouldn’t say, but . . .”

  “I know it was high-level,” he says dismissively, taking another sip of wine. The waiter swings by to refill it. “That’s what made you quit?”

  I bite my lip. “Okay, here comes the embarrassing part . . . While I was working on the case, I sort of . . . Well, Ian—I mean, Mr. Bradley . . . He’s got this way about him, and even though I was investigating him . . .”

  “You fell for him,” Jacob says, his voice just a bit more careful than before.

  I give a small smile, letting my shoulders rise and fall. “I thought I did. I couldn’t find any dirt on him, and I told Steve as much. That’s why I didn’t recommend we move forward with a formal investigation. I didn’t know Steve was going to take over and move forward with the case anyway.”

  Jacob sips more wine but says nothing, so I keep rambling.

  “The thing is, I really thought I was doing the right thing. I wanted so badly to believe Ian was innocent. But now . . .” I close my eyes. “Now I wonder if I didn’t find anything because I let myself get distracted. Let him distract me.”

  The irony is, most of what I’ve just said is true, even if it’s part of a bigger lie. I really did worry Ian was trying to distract me. I really did worry that I was letting him get under my skin in the way a better SEC investigato
r wouldn’t.

  But I’ve also learned that’s not the part that matters. What matters is that Ian is one of the good guys. He didn’t break the law, and he didn’t betray me.

  He wouldn’t. He’s better than that.

  Jacob leans forward, eating up my line as we knew he would. “What happened?”

  Showtime.

  I take a shaky breath as I summon forth watery eyes. “I just learned that Ian’s cheating on me. I quit my job for him, and the bastard’s a liar.”

  “Oh, Lara,” he says with a sigh. “Guys like that are amoral trash. Let me talk to Steve. He’ll understand when I tell him that Ian seduced you to trip up your case.”

  I give an embarrassed wince. “But I don’t really want Steve to know that I slept with the guy I was investigating. Then he’ll never hire me back.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He gives a small smile. “Let’s just say he might be more aware of Ian Bradley’s shortcomings than you think. How are things with you and Ian now? Have you broken things off?”

  I shake my head and wipe my nose. “He doesn’t know I know about the other woman yet. A friend saw him out last night, all over some girl. I know I need to confront him, but—”

  “What if you didn’t?”

  I blink. “I can’t keep dating a cheater.”

  “You could if you wanted to get back at him.” Jacob lifts his eyebrows.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jacob takes another sip of wine. “I told you that you could trust me. Can I trust you?”

  “Sure, of course,” I say, the picture of confusion.

  “Ian Bradley isn’t a good man, Lara. He’s the worst kind of Wall Street cliché—arrogant, womanizing, filthy rich even by Wall Street standards . . .”

  “Yes, but is he a criminal?”

  “Guys like that don’t get where they are by being innocent. Surely you’re not that naive, no matter how good-looking the guy is.” He smiles, as though to soften the chastisement, and takes yet another sip of wine.

  “You’re right,” I say with a self-deprecating slump. “The whole J-Conn thing felt dirty, but I couldn’t get a single person to come forward to testify.”

  Jacob leans in with a smug expression. “Couldn’t you?”

  I give him a puzzled frown. “I don’t understand. There’s nobody except . . .” My eyes go wide. “Oh my gosh. You were Steve’s confidential informant?”

  He spreads his arms to the side with a rueful smile. “Guilty. I’m sorry Steve couldn’t tell you. We thought it’d be best to keep it under wraps as long as possible, given his and my connection.”

  My mind is racing. Even though we knew—or at least had a darn good hunch—Jacob was the source, hearing him admit it makes me slightly nauseous. I glance at the back of Sabrina’s head, her stillness telling me she heard everything. Even better, the woman she’s with seems to be listening, too.

  “Do you think it’ll hold up?” I ask. “It’s your word against his . . .”

  “What if it wasn’t just my word?” He takes a sip of wine. “What if it was our word?”

  “But I never found anything. You actually have information.”

  “Eh.” He gives what I’m sure he imagines is a charming, boyish grin and shrugs a shoulder. “I may have exaggerated the depth of my knowledge.”

  “Does Steve know?”

  “Sure, he knows. He gets a fat check for playing along.”

  I fiddle with my napkin to hide my barely contained fury at the man across the table from me, as well as the man who was my boss. My mentor. “What would I do?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe you heard him bragging about the whole thing to a friend. Maybe a former J-Conn exec mysteriously shows up in his list of contacts, which you find on his phone.”

  I stare at him wide-eyed. “I couldn’t.”

  “Sure you could,” he says, filling up my glass even though I’ve barely touched it. “You get your job back. Ian Bradley gets what’s coming to him.”

  I sit back in my chair with a little laugh. “I can’t believe it. All this time, I thought I was missing something, but you don’t actually have anything tying him to J-Conn, do you? You and Steve set him up.”

  Jacob gives a cocky wink. “Sure did. The man’s slick, but not nearly as smart as he thinks he is.”

  The moment is so quick, so subtle, I think maybe I’ve dreamed it, but the way Sabrina turns her head slightly tells me I haven’t.

  Jacob Houghton just confessed to framing Ian for insider trading—with Steve’s help.

  I shift my legs, purposely dropping my napkin.

  A minute later, all hell breaks loose.

  33

  IAN

  Week 5: Thursday, Lunchtime

  Later, when I recall the look on Jacob Houghton’s face when I approach his table, I’ll laugh. In the moment, however, I only have eyes for Lara.

  I reach for her immediately, my hand finding her back as she stands, turning to face me with obvious relief.

  “What the hell?” Jacob sputters.

  “No,” Lara says with an angry hiss, lifting a finger to him. “You don’t get to be outraged. You set him up.”

  “He cheated on you!” Jacob says incredulously. “And you’re defending him?”

  “I don’t cheat,” I interrupt in a warning tone. “Not in my professional life or in my personal life.”

  Jacob makes a scoffing noise. “Right. You’re a regular Boy Scout, I’m sure.”

  “You lied,” Lara says, seething. “You and Steve both lied.”

  I press my palm more firmly against her back to steady her, even as a part of me would love to see her lunge at Jacob, as I sense she’s itching to do.

  Jacob laughs. “Oh, Lara. You’re worse off than I imagined. He wound you around his finger, then sent you in here for a confession.”

  “This was my idea,” she says, giving him a steady look.

  “Huh,” he says, looking surprised. “I can see why Steve always thought so highly of you. But, no matter.” He picks up his glass and finishes the rest of his wine. “It’s my word against yours, and nobody’s going to believe a suspected criminal and his—”

  I take a menacing step toward him, and his eyes go wary.

  “Girlfriend,” he says in a begrudging tone that tells me it wasn’t his first word choice.

  “Actually,” Sabrina says, standing up from the table behind Jacob. “It’s your word against ours.”

  Jacob whirls around. “Who the hell are you?”

  She waves a hand. “Oh, I don’t matter. But may I introduce Dana Keller? She’s a journalist with the Wall Street Journal.”

  The story-hungry reporter stands with a gleeful smile. “You know, when Sabrina said she had a scoop for me, I thought it might be just another executive with pervy tendencies. But this is so much better.”

  Jacob pales and looks ready to puke. “I don’t know what you think you heard, but—”

  “Oh no, it’s not what she thinks she heard,” Sabrina purrs. She picks up a small black recording device from the table. “It’s what she knows she heard.”

  “That little guy’s state of the art,” Dana says proudly, pointing at the recorder. “Picks up every whisper, even in a noisy restaurant like this.”

  As Jacob stares in disbelief at the device, Kennedy and Matt amble over from the other side of the restaurant. “Everything good over here, Lara? We noticed you dropped your napkin,” Matt says in mock concern.

  “All good,” Lara says, waving the napkin like a white flag.

  Jacob lets out a horrified laugh, turning to Lara. “You knew they were there. You had this all planned. What was the signal, drop your napkin and they call Ian?”

  “Text, actually,” Kennedy clarifies. “He was waiting outside.”

  “Hmm, maybe with a little less wine you might have checked your surroundings,” Sabrina says, picking up and inspecting the half-empty bottle in the ice bucket.

  “You set me up,” Jacob snarls
to all of us.

  “Sucks, doesn’t it?” I say, meeting the other man’s gaze head-on. He’s too much of a coward, though, and after a beat, he looks away.

  “The only difference is, you deserved it,” Lara says quietly to Jacob.

  “It wasn’t just me,” Jacob says, obviously moving past denial and straight to bargaining. “Steve is just as guilty. The guy’s up to his eyebrows in gambling debt and agreed to do just about anything for a price.”

  “Oh, we know,” I say. “My attorney, Vanessa Lewis, marched into the SEC offices to notify Steve’s boss of the situation within moments of Lara dropping that napkin.”

  He stares at us, aghast. “Just how many people were involved in this setup?”

  “Just my lawyer and the people you see here,” I say casually, picking up Lara’s wine and starting to take a drink. “Oh, and my assistant and the SEC enforcement officers who should be here any—”

  “There they are!” Matt says in a singsong tone.

  We all turn to see Kate pointing two stone-faced suits in our direction.

  “Wow, all sorts of things happened with that napkin drop,” Dana Keller says admiringly.

  Jacob ignores her, all his attention on me as the SEC agents approach the table. “You slept with my wife,” he says, his voice quiet. Defeated. “My wife.”

  For a split second, I feel almost sorry for him. If I’ve learned anything through this whole ordeal, it’s that a woman can turn one’s life upside down. Then I remember he wanted to send me to jail because of it.

  “I didn’t know she was married,” I say, meeting his gaze. “Something I’d have been glad to tell you if you’d just manned up and talked to me about it.”

  He frowns. “Whitney didn’t—”

  “No,” I interrupt. “Whitney didn’t mention you. Nor was she wearing a ring. I know because I’m not an asshole—I check. She knew she was having the affair, but I sure as hell didn’t.”

  “Did she know about your plan?” Lara asks Jacob. “Or did you decide to take Ian down without bothering to get all the facts?”

  His stubborn silence and angry scowl are answer enough.