Noah gagged, gasping for air. “What the fuck? What the fuck is wrong with him?”
“He has digestive issues.”
“Oh my God, it’s like he slaughtered a cow in his colon.”
They burst through the back door of the delivery bay and ran down the alley. A squeal of tires greeted them as the van pulled up. Liv threw open the door. “Get in!”
Mack jumped in first, followed by Noah, and lastly the Russian.
“What the hell happened in there?” Liv yelled.
Noah pointed at the Russian. “He farted.”
“Forget all that,” Hop growled from the driver’s seat. “Did we get it?”
Mack slumped against the wall of the van. “We got it.”
Noah hauled his laptop onto his legs, briefly let his head fall back against the wall so he could catch his breath, and then powered it up. He shoved the thumb drive in.
Mack looked at Liv. He wanted to put his arms around her but held off. She looked skittish again, worried. Probably it was because of what had just happened and had nothing to do with them, but he wasn’t going to take any chances.
“This is going to take me a while,” Noah said. “I need to go through all this shit and see what’s here.”
“Fine,” Mack panted. “The Russian needs a shower anyway.”
“False alarm,” the Russian said. “It was just a fart.”
The drive back to Mack’s house was quiet and tense. Noah carried his laptop into the house and set it up at the island in the kitchen. Mack handed out cold beers.
“How long?” he asked Noah.
“I don’t know,” Noah said, ignoring the beer. “Maybe an hour. Maybe twenty minutes. Leave me alone.”
Mack caught Liv’s gaze. “I’m going to go change my clothes,” he said, hoping she got his hint. The hint being, I’m going to take my clothes off, and it would be cool if you did too.
She didn’t or was just back to being standoffish. “I’ll wait down here,” she said.
But when he came back down ten minutes later, she was gone. He found Noah, the Russian, and Hop wearing matching expressions of oh shit in front of the computer.
“What?” Mack growled. “Where’d she go?”
“You need to see this,” Noah said.
Mack stomped over and looked down at the screen. “I don’t understand. Is this a list of former employees?”
Noah gulped. “It’s a list of women who’ve been paid off.”
And there at the top was a name he knew.
Alexis Carlisle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was just before closing time at ToeBeans when Liv walked in.
Alexis stood at the counter in her cherry apron, waiting on a woman who was super excited to get the day’s last cookies at half price. At the sound of the door, Alexis looked up and then waved with a smile. It died quickly on her lips.
Liv marched around the counter. “I need to talk to you.”
Alexis glanced apologetically at the customer, who was signing her credit card slip. “Um, can it wait?”
“No.”
Alexis asked the young man working the espresso machine to finish the transaction. Then she turned with an annoyed look to walk into the kitchen. The cook was cleaning the kitchen, so Alexis led Liv to her office. It was no bigger than a bathroom, with barely enough room for a desk, chairs, and filing cabinet. Liv had to wedge herself against the wall to shut the door.
Alexis crossed her arms. “Okay, that was seriously rude out there. What is going on?”
“I have the list.”
Alexis swallowed hard. “What list?”
“The list of people who’ve been paid off by Royce.”
Alexis paled and she shook her head. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I am not going to tell you anything.”
“Your name is on the list!” Her friend jumped at the sound of Liv’s shout. Liv didn’t have the time or patience to feel bad. “Why is he paying you? Why are you protecting him?”
A spark of fire lit up Alexis’s eyes. “I’m not protecting him!”
“You have a chance to help me expose him. Right now. And you’re not willing to do it. So I’m sorry, but that makes you no better than any of men who’ve covered up for him.”
Alexis slammed her hands on the desk. “How dare you! How goddamn dare you walk in here and say that to me? You have no idea what you’re talking about or what I’ve been through.”
Liv took it all in at once. The shimmer of rage tears in Alexis’s eyes. The tremble in her lip. The color in her cheeks.
“Oh my God,” Liv breathed, knees weakening, the adrenaline crash making her nauseous.