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I nod. “And we don’t end up in jail alongside him.” I glance at Mr. Wallace. “You did it—you found the smoking gun—but we have to be careful.”
“Guess I should call my lawyer.”
The day ends too soon,and I’m reluctant to leave work with our ongoing evil plotting. We found two more clients Mosley fucked over. This secret isn’t hard to keep. I, for one, can’t fucking wait for him to lose everything.
He’s such a dick.
Brady instantly agreed to help when I called him earlier, and I can’t wait to find a spare minute to thank him. He didn’t have to, but he did, and I love him all the more for agreeing. Now, all that’s left to do is let the clients know and help them all come to the right decision.
Mosley is going down.
I hum along with the music on the way home, dancing in my seat until I pull into the neighborhood and remember I have to suffer through a few more days of pretending. There are a few cars lining the road, and an unfamiliar one is parked just outside of the gate to our driveway.
Frowning, I study it as I wait for the gate to open. Maybe my stepdads invited a friend over?
Great. A new audience to enjoy my misery. Thankfully, the guys aren’t home yet. I quickly pull in and park, grab my purse, and head inside. The first scents that greet me when I push through the front door prominently belong to my mom and my stepdads. I cringe when I realize there’s a faint musk in the air.
Oh, gross. They totally had sex.
I wrinkle my nose and try to think about something else. Mr. Mosley has no idea what’s coming to him. That stupid smirk he wears is going to be permanently turned into a scowl. Orange is definitely his color. His sentence will probably be cushy—all those white-collar criminals practically go on vacation for eighteen months—but he’ll never do business as a CPA again.
I can almost smell how briny and putrid his scent will be when he gets the news.
Sufficiently distracted, I head into the living room from where I hear bits and pieces of conversation. That sour scent grows stronger, and a stone drops into the pit of my stomach. He can’t be here. He wouldn’t, would he?
Who am I kidding? Of course, he would.
Mosley knows Wyatt somehow.
Grinding my jaw, I step into the room, and the discussion draws to a sharp end. Mom glances at me, first with a scrunched face, then her features smooth and she smiles at me.
“Hey, baby. How was your day?”
“Good.” I glare at the back of his head. “Why ishehere?”
“Mosley was just leaving,” Lock says. Are his eyes glinting with anger?
Trenton is sitting rigid, muscles locked. And Wyatt, Wyatt shakes his head at me when I make eye contact.
I swallow and cast my eyes down.
No, no, no. I didn’t want them to find out this way.
“Right, of course. I’ve overstayed my welcome.” Sensing Mosley rising, I draw deeper into the room and far away from where he might pass. He releases a condescending chuckle. “I won’t bite, Quinn.”
“You should leave,” Mom says, voice hard as steel.
My head snaps up, and she’s glaring at my old boss, who simply glances around at my stepdads and nods.
“I trust you’ll do the right thing.”
The right thing? What is theright thing?
I hold my breath as he leaves, waiting until the door slams shut before turning and opening the window. Fresh air sweeps in and carries his disgusting scent out of the house. My hands shake, but I tuck them together and take a steadying breath.
It’ll be okay.
“Look, it’s not what it seems.” I turn around and find everyone’s eyes on me.
