Filthy Rich Alpha - Virna DePaul Page 0,93
convinced them to wait for you in case you can talk him out. We’ll tell him you’re here but that you’re going to call him to communicate from an internal line. Sound good?”
“Sounds like it’s the best choice. ‘Good’ would be this over and me back with Cara.”
“Is she okay?”
“She will be. I’ll make sure of it.”
Deena smiled. “I’ll enjoy getting to know her now that she doesn’t think I’m a coldhearted bitch screwing around on my husband with you.” She faked a shudder. “As if.”
“You can get to know her eventually,” Branden said. “But after this, I’m taking her away and spoiling her rotten.”
Deena smiled, then her expression sobered. “All right, big brother, let’s get this done.”
They’d braced for a showdown of majestic proportions, but the reality of Gills’s surrender was relatively tame.
A half hour later, the man was in custody. All it had taken was for Branden to get on the phone with him, and Gills had immediately said he wanted a lawyer there to represent him before he came out. One of the best, he’d told Branden, as if he really trusted Branden to pick out good legal representation for him. Unsure what new game Gills was playing but willing to go along so that he could get Gills contained and back to Cara as quickly as possible, Branden didn’t hesitate to contact a well-known defense attorney with a long list of various financiers—many convicted but some acquitted—as clients. Branden stayed, then watched as Gills was unarmed and carted away by NYPD in the company of his new lawyer.
Branden wanted to interrogate Gills himself. Wanted to search his office and home in order to make sure anything that could embarrass or hurt Cara was destroyed. But he knew doing that would merely jeopardize the prosecution’s case against Gills and Sampson, giving them the means to cry entrapment or tainted evidence. So Branden did the next best thing. He contacted his own lawyer to work closely with the police and move for any protective orders necessary to ensure that anything found having to do with him and Cara was kept under seal.
“Branden!”
He turned at the sound of Deena’s voice.
“Mike’s on his way back. Sampson is in custody,” she said. “Mike said Sampson cried like a baby when they stopped him at JFK and said enough to implicate both him and Gills. There’s more work to do at D&M, but at least those two have been stopped.”
It was over. It was all over.
And Cara was safe.
Thank God.
“Thanks for telling me. Can you handle things from here? Because I want to get back to Cara, and we’re both going to take a few days off.”
“Go,” was all she said in return.
Fifteen minutes later, Branden strolled through the vast lobby of his apartment building, detoured around the indoor grove of ficus trees, headed for the penthouse elevators, and jabbed at the elevator button.
“Branden.”
Branden turned to see Mike Gaunt standing beside him, a nylon duffel bag over his arm.
“Mike. What are you doing here?”
“I just missed you at the office. I wanted to talk to you about some concerns I have about Sampson.” He patted the bag. “I have new information on the investigation. I was thinking we could have a cup of coffee. I understand if you’d rather do that at the office, but Deena mentioned something about you taking vacation time.”
The elevator finally arrived. He held a hand against the side of one of the opened doors, ignoring the beeping. He’d rather have a quick meeting with Mike now rather than go into the office tomorrow. He hadn’t been lying to Cara—he wanted to spend some alone time with her over pancakes and then he wanted to take her someplace special, someplace far from the city.
He thought of the residents’ lounge on the fourth floor. Two coffees, a fast look at whatever it was that Mike thought was so important, a request for a printed report instead of a lecture, and he’d be home free.
“Uh, I can give you fifteen minutes. But I have to contact someone and let them know I’ll be late. Can you hold that door?”
“Sure.”
Branden took out his phone and turned away from Mike to send a fast text to Cara.
Be there in twenty. Unavoidable bullshit delay. Sorry.
He stared at his screen, unable to deny the fact he’d been about add an automatic love you. Even during the intense emotions they’d experienced making love, they’d studiously avoided the slightest mention of that dangerous emotion so far.
Branden