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Kingsley grunts and takes a deep breath. “Fine. Half up front, half after the information is delivered.”
“I know the gig,” I reassure him.
The billionaire doesn’t bother with a thank you or a goodbye, which I’m used to with him.
I shake my head. What the hell was that about? I’ll have to look up this Clementine later. I have a feeling this is personal for him. Interesting.
Setting my phone on the kitchen counter, I make my way to the living room, where Gemma is set up with her laptop, headphones, and mic. I stand in the doorway, leaning against the wall and watching my adorable woman work on her podcast. I love seeing her eyes light up when she gets something right and how she nibbles her bottom lip and squints her eyes when she’s concentrating.
My girl senses my presence and peers up at me with green eyes and a bright smile.
I sit beside her on the couch, scooping her up and placing her in my lap. “That’s better,” I murmur as I bury my face into her and breathe deeply. I love her strawberries and cream scent mixed with something uniquely Gemma.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says, even as she melts against me.
“You love it.”
Gemma nods, sighing so sweetly.
“How’s the editing going?”
“Soslow,” she answers. “I’ve been trying to upload the audio from the outro I recorded, but it’s taking forever.”
“That’s weird. How long is the clip?” I mentally go through all the reasons for a slow upload process or file expansion.
“That’s the thing. It should be no more than thirty seconds. Maybe forty-five.”
“Huh. Can I see it?”
Gemma leans over and grabs her laptop from its spot on the coffee table. I rearrange Gemma on my lap so she’s holding the computer in front of us. I right-click on the file in question, surprised to see it’s nearly twelve hundred megabytes instead of the ten I would expect from a clip that short.
She sees it, too, and her eyebrows furrow as she leans forward to examine the screen.
“Do you know why that file is so huge? Like, a hundred and twenty times larger than it should be?”
“I mean… the only thing I can think of is that I must have forgotten to shut the recording off after the last outro take?” Gemma chews on her bottom lip, concentrating on the timeline of events. Her narrowed gaze widens, and her green eyes pop out as she realizes something. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “I think I recorded everything that happened during the raid.”
It’s so soft I almost don’t hear her. “What?”
“I was recording my outro that night but kept messing it up. I thought I finally got a good one at the end, but now I remember it was still messed up. I was interrupted by something before getting the chance to record again.”
“Okay, I’m tracking,” I tell her, brushing some of her wild red hair behind her ear.
“I was interrupted by the cops banging on the door and demanding my father cook for them exclusively.”
It takes me a second to realize what that means. “Holy shit,” I whisper.
“Yeah,” Gemma says, equally as hushed.
“You have proof. Everything you told Blade yesterday, all the incriminating evidence… you have a tape of it. Holy shit,” I say again.
“So, that will help take the dirty cops down? For good?”
“I’d say it certainly doesn’t help their case. I can export the audio file to a thumb drive and have Officer Jake listen. Maybe he can identify the voices.”
“Good idea!”
Gemma sets the computer down and hops off my lap, making me irrationally upset. I don't like being in the same room as her without touching her in some way. I growl when I see her bend over and shuffle through her bag, presumably looking for a thumb drive.
