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My biker chuckles against my head, his arms constricting in a tight hug. “I’ll be on my best behavior when it comes to your interest. I’ll only give you massive D from below my waist from now on.”
I laugh at his suggestive comment—it’s classic Chase.
Chase swats me playfully on my bottom before guiding us into the bathroom, where we rush to get ready for another hard day. At least I’ll go into this day with no more unwelcoming surprises from my horny biker.
CHAPTERTWENTY-NINE
SIMONE
True to his word, Chase doesn’t behave like a Neanderthal when we arrive at the financial firm. He escorts me to the top floor and makes sure I have everything I need before kissing the air at me and leaving me with Punk.
I continue to tackle the mountain of file boxes against the wall, going about my system with meticulous care. One day in, and I have several files pulled aside and recorded for discrepancies. Some are minor, others major, and some are beyond over the top. It would be impossible for any accountant to overlook. My piles are organized in gradients of increased severity, steadily increasing in volume.
I’m walking back and forth between the copy machine continuously, slowing down my production. Unfortunately, my need for the copy machine has me running into Cynthia.
“Morning, Simone. How is your day going? Any developments in the investigation?”
It’s a struggle not to tell her to piss off. “Good morning. The investigation is well underway, thank you. However, I’m not at liberty to disclose anything in the case until our team is ready to report our findings.”
Cynthia’s lips thin. “I suppose it’s necessary if funds are truly missing.”
Surprised by her response, I ask, “You don’t believe there’s been a breach?”
She gives a contrite shake of her head. “No, I don’t. My department would have caught any discrepancies.”
“You should have caught a pilfering operation,” I agree, with a slightly accusatory tone. Had I still been employed here, I certainly would have. Cynthia isn’t the best financial investigator. She’s a smooth talker, giving others the impression she’s up to par. But the reality is, Cynthia is as useless as a hole in the head.
I continue to make my copies. “Trent made a similar comment, saying something about upper management downplaying the issue.”
At the mention of Trent’s name, Cynthia stiffens. Her demeanor becomes frigid. “I wouldn’t concern yourself with Trent.”
Wow. Territorial much, Cynthia?“Avoiding him is impossible when I have to work with him on this case.”
Having noticed Cynthia is near me, Punk storms in our direction. “You need help, Simone?” He motions to the files in my hands, but I know his comment is referring to if I need assistance dealing with Cynthia.
Playing along, I hand him several of the files and head back to our space, with him close to my side. Back in the sanctuary of the conference room, Punk asks, “Was she harassing you?”
I shrug. “She low key told me to not involve myself with Trent.”
Cynthia passes the glass wall dividing us from the rest of the office space. Punk glowers at her as she turns to look at us. “From now on, if you make copies, I go with you.”
“She’s nothing to worry about,” I assure him. “We’ll avoid interacting with her until we need access to this year’s hard copies. I can handle a run in here and there.”
“I’ll be the judge of what’s best for your security while we’re here,” he interjects, with a clip. “Let me do my job, and I won’t interfere with yours.”
I glower at Punk, not appreciating his attitude. Though I understand he speaks from a place of knowledge. He wouldn’t be in the position he’s in if he wasn’t good at his job. Still, the bitch in me isn’t going to roll over and take it.
“Aye aye, Major Asshole,” I mock, with a salute. “Prepare yourself for a lot of walking unless you want to move one of those beast-sized copiers in here.”
Punk looks at the machine, rubbing his chin. “I got a better idea.” He reaches into his pocket for his cell, no doubt calling my biker. Punk gives a quick rundown of the situation, while I examine more files.
Within an hour, Chase has a military-grade laptop and tabletop scanner delivered to me, with a note saying:To make your life a little easier. — XX Chase
My work process moves faster with the use of the new equipment, and my feet are grateful for it. With my own copies of the files scanned into the computer, I’m able to sort the errors into a spreadsheet.
Using the security password the firm gave us on our first day, I login to the digital records to compare the hard copies to the digital records. Careful observation reveals patterns of funds being skimmed from many clients, with more withdrawals from client accounts heavily invested in the financial firm.
What’s bizarre is, some account transfers are better hidden, and others are downright blatant. Why wouldn’t a thief be consistent with how they’re moving funds? It’s controlled, then sloppy, almost like two different culprits are at fault. It’s a risky operation as is, why chance being caught?
