Hearing the whole story just made Brooke feel . . . bad. For once, she thought she’d actually prefer another oops-I-hired-a-murderer moment. At least with that one, she’d been able to laugh eventually.
“Dave’s in pretty bad shape,” Keith said. “As soon as I confronted him, he started crying. Sobbing, actually. I think part of him is relieved to have gotten caught—he keeps saying he feels terrible for doing this to Ian. I assume you want me to call CPD and let the police handle this from here?”
Brooke tiredly ran a hand through her hair. That would be the normal procedure, yes. And she knew what would happen from there: two Chicago police officers—likely detectives from the financial crimes unit given the amount at stake—would show up at the Stadium Club, throw Dave Lyons in handcuffs, and then would very publicly escort him out of the restaurant.
Unless . . .
She debated for a half second, and then thought about whether she would pick up the phone and call Cade if they were simply friends and not sleeping together. When she decided that, yes, she would, that put an end to her hesitation.
“Hold off for a couple of minutes, Keith. Let me make one call before we bring in the cops.” Brooke hung up with the VP of security, then dialed a now-familiar cell phone number.
“Ms. Parker,” Cade answered, his voice low and rich. “An actual phone call instead of a text message—I’m honored.”
“I have a favor to ask of you. Work related.”
Instantly, he turned more serious. “What do you need?”
“We caught one of our general managers stealing,” she said. “To make a long story short, he’s confessed to everything and we’re turning this over to the police. For various reasons, I’d rather not make a spectacle of the guy’s arrest. I was wondering if maybe you had, you know . . . a guy at the Chicago Police Department who could handle this quietly.”
Cade seemed amused by her question.
Of course he did.
“Yes, I have a guy,” he said teasingly. “You’re in the eighteenth district—you want to talk to Sergeant Joe Ross.”
Brooke quickly jotted this down on a piece of paper. Secretly, she was in awe of the fact that Cade had come up with a name so easily, but given the already-quite-healthy size of his ego, she’d rather go jogging naked through Millennium Park in her red high heels before admitting that.
“I’ll give him a heads-up that you’ll be calling,” he continued. “I don’t know where the GM works, but if your goal is to handle this quietly, I wouldn’t do the arrest at the restaurant. Your best bet would be to bring him to Sterling’s corporate office. Sergeant Ross will be in plain clothes—if it’s a voluntary surrender, and it sounds like it is, he can escort the guy out without handcuffs and put him in an unmarked car. Doesn’t get much quieter than that.”
No, it didn’t. “This is very helpful,” she said in all sincerity. “Thank you.”
“Have I impressed you again, Ms. Parker?” he asked coyly.
She smiled for the first time that day. “Maybe. Then again, it has been a really strange afternoon.” She exhaled raggedly, thinking about the not-so-fun task ahead.
“You sound tired,” Cade said, his voice deepening. “Long day?”
The words slipped out of Brooke’s mouth before she thought about them.
“Long year.”
* * *
EARLY THAT EVENING, Brooke stared out her window, looking at the people below as they shopped, met friends for drinks, or headed off to dinner reservations. And then there were the couples, leisurely walking hand in hand, who seemed to be simply enjoying the Michigan Avenue scene with no particular plans at all.
She wondered what it felt like to be one of those people.
“I see that you’re still leaving the front door unlocked when you’re alone.”
Brooke started, hearing the voice. She turned around and saw Cade standing in her office doorway, looking as handsome as ever in another one of his tailored suits. His dark brown hair was a little mussed, presumably from being outside, and her first thought was that she wanted to sink her fingers into it and get him mussed even more.
She cleared her throat.
“I see you’re still sneaking up on people when they’re working,” she said. “And for the record, I’m not alone. Ian’s here, too.”
Appearing somewhat appeased by this, Cade stepped into her office and shut the door behind him. “I thought I’d see how things went with the arrest. Did everything go okay with Sergeant Ross?”
“Sergeant Ross was very professional and discreet. Thank you again, for that.”
“Why the need for discretion?” Cade asked curiously. He sat on the edge of her desk. “I would’ve thought you would relish the idea of publicly setting an example of someone who stole from the company.”
Normally, yes. “I heard the guy was sobbing. I’ve hung out with his wife a few times . . . I guess I just wanted to do something.” She leaned her head against the chair. “I don’t know how you hear these stories every day, Morgan. Clearly, I would make a terrible prosecutor.”
“Probably.” He reached out and ran his thumb along her cheek. “But I like your soft spot, anyway.”
Their eyes met and held until Cade spoke. “You look burned-out. Maybe you should call it a night.”
She looked at the clock, and then stared at him in bewilderment. “At six thirty?”