Page 151 of Claim & Don't Tell

“We have time,” Mom says, guiding me to an open seat. “Start from the beginning.”

With a heavy sigh, I launch into all the horrible, embarrassing details.

Fifty-Four

BRADY

After finishing notes on the meeting I just had with John Wallace, I’m feeling better about what I’d done to try and get her the job. He’s treated her well, but I knew he would. Wallace and I go way back, and he owed me a favor. Turns out, when I called him to see if he needed an intern, he’d already lined up an interview with her. He hired her, and I’m certain it’s because she’s good at what she does. And if I gave him an extra nudge, so what?

Now that we all have a common goal—seeing Mosely behind bars—I’m even happier that she got the internship with Wallace’s firm.

I gather my things and spot a few missed calls and messages from Lock. He’s probably worried about the Thummel case. Sighing, I unlock the device and listen as I head out of the office.

Brady

Great. He sounds annoyed.

We need to talk. Some asshole from Mosley & Adams is here. Get home. Now.

Fuck.

My brow creases. That message ends as I close my door and lock it. I start the next message.

Goddammit, Brady. Get your ass home, now.

The message cuts off, and I listen to the silence, phone pressed to my ear as I struggle to breathe. My chest tightens. My airways lock up and numbness buzzes through me.

Lock is mad.

This is exactly what Quinn feared.

Rejection.

I hadn’t realized how much I feared it as well until the weight of it slams into me. I stagger and grip the phone, pulling it down to check for more messages. Just the two. He couldn’t even bring himself to say anything else.

“Fuck,” I growl and smash my fingers against the screen.

“Shit, they called you too?” Austin’s voice is filled with worry.

With a growl, I hang up on him.No. No fucking no.This can’t be happening. I dial Dylan and listen to the phone ring with dread pooling in my gut.

“I’m on the way now,” he says. “What do we do, B?” His voice shakes.

He’s scared. Austin is worried. Quinn is going to face that same backlash she experienced with her dads. I didn’t protect them. I told my pack I’d keep them safe, and I fucking failed. And it’s all Mosley’s fucking fault.

I’ll kill him.

“I’ll take care of it,” I say, glaring at the elevator doors.

“What? How?”

“By handling the root of our problem.”

“Brady—”

Decision made, I end the call and storm back to my office. It takes a minute to fire up my computer, but I have a dozen cease-and-desist letters prepped. My assistant already went home, so I grab the documents and run through the list of fax numbersfor everyone who repeated those stupid fucking lies Mosley told. I save the last letter for Mosley, deciding it might be best to personally deliver it to him after I make sure Quinn is okay.

I want to rush over and beat the shit out of him, but Quinn is my priority. Lock sounded so fucking mad, and I don’t want to leave her alone for long. Who knows what they’ve said to her. If they made her cry—I grind my jaw together.

---