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Neither Punk nor I say a word. We’ve already said too much, although this could benefit us. Sometimes it’s best to let a suspect speculate on how much we know.
“Me? Steal from the firm?” Cynthia eyes the bathroom exit, looking to escape our accusation. “Ridiculous!”
My thoughts exactly, but I stay silent. The guys are convinced she’s our prime suspect, and I’m willing to entertain the idea. She had access to the client files, had the means to wire the funds elsewhere while covering her tracks, some covered better than others. All we’re doing is following the lead.
Cynthia covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a smile forming on her glossy lips. The act proves fruitless. She bursts with laughter, throwing her head back as she cackles. Her laughter carries on longer than normal, making me sweat with apprehension. Punk tenses, shifting his body to put himself between me and Cynthia.
Her laughter dies abruptly, eerily. Her lips curl into a smug smirk, giving a dainty shrug of her shoulders.
“Good luck proving my guilt.”
She shoulders her way past us and out of the bathroom.
CHAPTERFORTY-TWO
SIMONE
Following the altercation with Cynthia in the women’s restroom, I was too unsteady to stand without aid. Seeing Cynthia react violently over something I had absolutely no control over and being on the receiving end of it was worrisome. The exchange left me light-headed and nauseated.
“Let’s have a seat. I’m afraid you may faint in the elevator with the drop in pressure,” Punk suggests softly. He wraps an arm around my waist, escorting me back to the conference room, where I sink into a chair.
“Thank you,” I choke out, with gratitude. “Chase? I need him.”
“Sit tight, Priss.”
Punk takes his cell out of his leather cut. I vaguely hear him explaining to Chase what occurred in the bathroom with Cynthia, as well as the altercation with Trent this morning that possibly triggered Cynthia’s attack. My mind has shut down, blocking out the last fifteen minutes. Maybe it’s my way of protecting myself.
Something similar happened after my ordeal with Luca. And Chase was there to soothe me, hold me, even kiss me. He knew what I needed in that moment and provided it.
The only difference this time is, I want more than cuddles and kisses. I need an outlet, preferably one filled with pleasure. My body is begging for a release only Chase can give me. My tense muscles won’t relax until I’m filled with his warmth, until his skin is pressed against mine.
It’s a few minutes before Chase comes barreling into the room, along with Butch.
My biker rushes to my side, kneeling in front of me. His eyes are wild, running from the crown of my head to the tip of my heels, as he examines every inch of me.
Gently, he cradles my face in his large hands, tilting my head up enough to inspect the marks Cynthia left on my throat. He squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head. “This is my fault.”
My hands wrap around his wrists as I shake my head. “No. It’s not.”
“It is,” he rasps with pain in his husky drawl. “I should have turned cheek when Trent fucked with my hog. Had I ignored it, he wouldn’t have caused a scene in the conference room, setting off Cynthia.”
“Stop. This is no one’s fault but Cynthia’s.” I lift his chin with my fingers, pressing my lips to his. It feels good, not enough to take the edge off, but a brief reprieve. I lean into him, searching for more comfort.
Chase deepens the kiss, his hands holding my head in place to avoid hurting me. “Are you in pain?”
“A little,” I admit. “Some ibuprofen, and I’ll be fine.” Not true. I need him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to stop it from happening.”
“The only way you could have stopped Cynthia is if you had the gift of foresight. No one expected her to assault me in the bathroom.”
“Why would she?”
I recap the conversation Cynthia and I had leading to the attack, stating she didn’t believe I was here with good intentions for the audit, but to steal Trent back.
Chase clenches his jaw. He glances over his shoulder at Punk. “How much of your altercation with Trent did Cynthia witness?”
“Most of it.” Punk pauses, rubbing the back of his neck. “The woman has been obsessed with Simone’s movements since we started this case, constantly walking past the conference room to peer in on her. Approaching her at the copy machine when she thinks I’m not watching. Her stalking behavior has increased with Trent’s increased interest in spending time with Simone. It’s all connected. I’m sorry, I didn’t sweep the bathroom before letting Simone enter alone. I’m fucking angry with myself.”
