Fistful of Roses (What a Woman Wants, Book 1) (21 page)

Gigi had hit the fan. She still couldn’t talk about it without throwing things.

“Ms. Hanson, what is your association with Cardon Simmonds, owner of PacificCorp?”

The AG had asked her a question; his lips had been moving as he stared at her.

He seemed frustrated, brows lowering, face tightening. “Ms. Hanson, did you hear the question?” the AG asked.

She nodded. “I don’t have an association with Cardon Simmonds. I have never met him and would not know him if he walked in here and slapped me,” she responded. She winced as her raw throat forced out the words.

“What’s wrong with her?”
His
voice came from somewhere beside the AG.

Sophie hadn’t realized he or Hayden Bent would be there; it’d been a shock. Self-preservation kept her from looking at Ryan.

She trembled, felt her knees quake. Her hands twisted in her lap, and when she noticed, she placed them under thighs.

Greg spoke up, bless his heart. “She’s got laryngitis,” he said, clearly affronted.

“Yeah, right.” This from Hayden Bent. “Just another delay tactic. Does she have a doctor’s excuse?”

Now Hayden Bent, she looked at. Every ounce of hate she could muster she threw into every look she gave him. He did nothing but raise an eyebrow each time. That notched eyebrow gave her some measure of the “hell yeah, you bastard” bravado she needed to get through this farce.

They were magnanimously giving her an opportunity to save herself from prosecution. She’d almost snorted when Greg had told her that, his voice and look disbelieving. His sarcasm had been a balm to her frayed nerves. It had gone a long way toward helping her realize at least someone believed in her.

The FBI had gone all out to make it very official. Apparently corporate espionage involving the sale of one of the government’s satellites was big-time. There was even a federal judge in the room to witness the proceedings. Toss around words like treason and Uncle Sam got squirrely.

Greg huffed, and she placed a restraining hand on his arm. He grabbed her hand and patted it before placing it in her lap. “She doesn’t need a doctor’s excuse, Mr. Bent. Now, shall we get on with it? If you don’t like the sound of her voice, perhaps you should leave the room.”

Bent grunted at that.

She shivered, the ache in her chest intensifying for a moment. Ryan’s stare was heavy, accusing. That he had the power to hurt still was surprising. She thought she’d stopped feeling completely the night he’d charged her and found her guilty, not allowing her even a second to explain.

“That’s enough,” the judge at the head of the table cautioned.

Sophie kind of snort-wheezed, barely keeping the horrified laughter from bursting from her lips. She’d never done an illegal thing in her life, but here she sat under suspicion in a room with a federal judge, the US Attorney General, and the FBI.

Unbelievable
.

“Ms. Hanson, Cardon Simmonds, of PacificCorp, has stated that he received detailed reports from you on the ATC Pentagon deal for the WetComm satellite. That information allowed his company, PacificCorp to bid higher than ATC and in essence, steal the satellite out from under Mr. Locke and Mr. Bent. Did you pass information to Mr. Simmonds regarding this deal?” the AG asked.

“No,” she responded. She’d never even
seen
that bastard Cardon Simmonds. And she’d never passed information.
Never
.

“Are you calling Mr. Simmonds a liar?”

She glanced up at the AG. “Yes.”

“Ms. Hanson, Mr. Simmonds produced a memory stick that had your fingerprints on it. The home computer you surrendered to Agent Holloway at the FBI also contained both the WetComm and the PacificCorp deal files. Mr. Simmonds has said he received the information on bids and potential clients for the device from you. He went even further and said he made payment, to you, for the information.”

“He didn’t get anything from me. And I’ve never received any money from Cardon Simmonds. I don’t know the man,” she bit out.

“He’s the owner of PacificCorp, Ms. Hanson. Does that refresh your memory? You wrote the deals, Ms. Hanson, how is his name escaping you?”

Greg sat forward, anger in the lines of his shoulders. He’d automatically championed her, and if she was honest with herself, she’d needed that. He’d not looked at her in censure; he’d just taken the information she’d given him and done what neither the FBI, the AG, nor Ryan had bothered to do … a thorough investigation. And he’d warned her today wasn’t going to be easy.

She placed her hand on his arm again and shook her head. He opened his mouth, closed it, and nodded. “His name sounds familiar in the context of my experience writing the PacificCorp deal for Mr. Bent. However, I have never met Mr. Simmonds, nor have I passed information to or received money from him.”

“Who is Gavin Cardwell, Ms. Hanson?” the AG asked with a sly smile.

“My brother. And his name is Gavin Hanson now,” she croaked out.

“Somebody give her some water, goddamn it. Her throat hurts.”
Ryan
. She saw Hayden Bent look askance at his best friend.

She refused to look at him. His voice shook her, and she cursed herself. Some nameless person handed her a bottled water, and she drank greedily. It helped, but the doctor had said she might never recover full use of her voice. She’d damaged the cords, he’d said, and they may not repair themselves.

“Do you know if Mr. Hanson, formerly Mr. Cardwell, has had any dealings with Mr. Simmonds?” the AG asked.

She looked him in the eye. “I don’t know what my brother does or who he does it with. He’s not been welcome in my home for some time now.”

“But he was in your home on the night of October 24, 2012, was he not, Ms. Hanson? And please be careful how you answer. If you’ll recall, Mr. Ryan Locke of ATC was there and is willing to testify to the fact that you and your brother had an altercation.”

She never looked away as she reiterated, “I don’t know what my brother does or who he does it with. Mr. Locke is right, though, my brother was in my home that night. He pushed his way in, attacked me, and was tossed out by Mr. Locke, for which I was grateful.”

“Well, I don’t think you have to worry about him attacking you any time soon. Your brother’s in jail now, Ms. Hanson, but he paints a much different picture about what you know versus what you don’t. He says he got the memory stick from your house sometime after your altercation. He says you left your key under the mat for him to come right in and take the information. He further reports you knew about it the entire time. He’d asked for help in getting the information to exchange for money and you agreed.”

“Objection, Your Honor. It’s speculative and hearsay. If her brother is offering her up as the sacrificial lamb, she has the right to confront him,” Greg said respectfully.

Bless his heart. He was a small man with more guts and brains than body, but he’d signed on to represent her without a second thought and zero money down.

“We aren’t at trial, but I’ll sustain your objection, Mr. Bodie,” the judge said with a deep breath. “Mr. Copeland, we aren’t trying Ms. Hanson at this point. This is a discovery mission. Keep it moving.”

“Ms. Hanson, you worked on the WetComm satellite deal for Mr. Ryan Locke and Mr. Hayden Bent, correct?” There was something in the AG’s tone that put Sophie on alert.

She nodded.

“Out loud, Sophie,” Greg whispered.

“Yes.”

“Did you take any work home after being instructed that this deal was to be kept in-office and on-site for ATC?”

She rubbed her head, the pounding there increasing exponentially. “I did, but that was after I was instructed by Mr. Locke to get the final proposal ready no matter what it took.”

The AG nodded and steepled his hands on the desk in front of him. She didn’t know him personally, but in that moment she hated him.

“So you went against company policy?”

“I got the report finished as Mr. Locke, the co-owner of ATC, instructed. And, yes, it took me working from home to get that done,” she responded.

“Did you work on that project over a secure connection?”

That trickle of fear was back. “No. I didn’t even consider—”

“So you worked on a classified deal, at your home, on an unsecured connection?”

Where in the hell was he going with this? Her shoulders dropped. “I guess I did.”

He leaned forward. “You guess, Ms. Hanson, or you state unequivocally that you did?”

“I did.” It was her heart that dropped this time. She went cold, folded into herself. She’d made a mistake. She’d been careless and her brother had taken advantage.

“Well if you’re willing to work on an unsecured connection, dealing with classified documents pertaining to national safety, who’s to say you wouldn’t pass off a memory stick?”

And there it was. He’d used her own words to trap her.

“You know what?” Greg stood at this point, patted her on the shoulder, and turned to the AG. “I’m not going to listen to you lambaste my client. She did as she was instructed by her boss. If you had proof that any of the rest of this happened, we wouldn’t be here. If you have sufficient proof, charge my client, and we’ll see you at trial,” he finished with a huff.

He turned to her and waited. She looked down at the table and fought the urge to scream. Her brother had betrayed her. Taken classified information from her computer and sold it to the highest bidder. She’d never have thought him capable of such an act. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart enough; that’d never been an issue for Gavin. But his lust for easy money had more often than not led him astray. She knew that firsthand.

Her brother had known who she worked for; he always kept in touch with Gigi. Had he concocted the plan to sell information or had he been approached by Cardon Simmonds? Did it even matter anymore what his reasons were?

Greg had gone over this with her many times after he’d investigated and come up with a theory as to how the bid information on the satellite had gotten into PacificCorp’s hands. She’d tried to understand everything he’d laid out, but her mind refused to cooperate with the linear thinking, and there continued to be so many unknowns. Her heart still refused to believe her brother could betray her so deeply. Now she was in danger of losing her freedom because of his treachery.

“You can’t just leave. We aren’t finished—” the AG stammered out.

Greg pulled a folder out of his briefcase and then snapped the case shut before he shrugged. “Your Honor, the Attorney General has yet to disclose the information he has on this case to my office. As this was a discovery meeting for both sides and we requested the information a week ago, I have to infer that the AG has no sustainable information about any crimes that may or may not have been committed by my client. Since it appears that neither the FBI, the AG’s office, nor ATC can do an adequate investigation, I saw fit to do my own. I’ve included my findings in this folder. Hopefully it will clear up any misunderstandings the aforementioned parties may be experiencing.” He tossed the folder on the table before him and held out his hand for her.

She stood finally and watched as Ryan, too, gained his feet. There was a look of confusion on his face. Their eyes met. She felt skewered, beaten up, abused in the worst way, and still her damn traitorous heart only wanted him.

“You can’t—” the AG began.

The judge intervened. “He can and he has, Mr. Copeland. Now I would suggest you get him the information posthaste and make a determination about whether there are charges to be filed against Ms. Hanson. I’m giving you a week to handle this matter.” He stared hard at the AG and then turned to her attorney. “Mr. Bodie, do you by chance have another copy of that investigation you performed?”

“I do, Your Honor,” Greg replied and pulled another folder from his briefcase before handing it to him.

“We’ll consider this meeting adjourned.” He tapped the gavel on the conference table.

“Let’s go, Sophie,” Greg urged.

She couldn’t move. Pinned by Ryan’s gaze, she was held there by her pain and his betrayal. He hadn’t believed her. He hadn’t even given her a chance to explain.

It began then, a hot, curling anger that blossomed in her stomach and worked its way up her body. Her head cleared and she looked at him, really looked at him, for the first time in over two weeks.

She’d given him everything inside of her, had let him take the most important thing she’d ever owned—her heart. Her eyes must have communicated something because he said her name and came around the table, a look on his face that she didn’t even try to understand.

She’d been a stupid woman, but that ended now. She turned to look at Greg and said, “Let’s do.”

“Sophie!” Ryan called, but the rest of what he said drowned out by the door closing behind them.

It didn’t open back up. They made it out of the building without incident.

“You did great in there,” Greg praised as he settled her in the car.

She gave him a smile. “No, you did. And who knew the word ‘lambaste’ could be used with such fervor? I’m impressed.” She took a deep breath. “Thank you, Greg.”

“I’m a wordsmith.” He shrugged and gave her a rueful grin. “It’s what I do. I think I should thank you for letting me take your case. Once your Mr. Locke gets a look at my report and does a little research on his own, I’m sure no charges will be filed and we’ll both be monetarily compensated. You’ll be able to move forward.”

She shook her head as she buckled her seat belt. Money was inconsequential at this point. She’d already lost what mattered most.

* * * *

Earlier he’d watched her place her hand on her attorney’s arm and something violent had slithered through him. Sure, he’d still been thinking her a liar, but she was
his
liar. For her to even consider touching another man? Yeah, the action had sent white-hot pokers of rage into his heart.

Then he’d picked up the binder of information her attorney had thrown on the table and he’d felt that anger redirect itself. Could he beat his own ass?

“Goddamn it, Hayden. I fucking told you. I told you she wasn’t mercenary. Do you realize what I’ve done?” Ryan took a weary breath as he gazed out at the night sky.