“Be there in five. Bring your laptop.”
The call ended and my Bluetooth shut off, the sound of classical music circulating the airwave of my car again. I turned the steering wheel and made a U-turn at the light, going back to the café. We pulled up at the same time, me in my Jaguar, and Quinn in his Mercedes-Maybach S600. The guy had made a killing exploiting celebrities and reaped the benefits quite openly with his extravagant purchases. He had a different car for every day of the week and mansions in three different countries; all of them worth more money than I’d probably ever see in my lifetime. He gave his keys to the valet, walking around the back with an oomph in his step that made women’s heads turn. He was a cocky motherfucker. Rightfully so. His smile was wide as I approached and he leaned in to give me a side hug.
“My man,” he said.
“Just when I was starting to think the world may be a peaceful place,” I said, backing out of the hug. “The devil himself calls me up.”
Quinn chuckled. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”
I shook my head, smiling as we walked into the café and walked toward the table in the upper right corner. We always sat at the same one. Even when I came in without him, I saw him at the same one.
“Do you lease this table?”
“Basically,” he said, smiling. I could tell there was something more to his smile, but didn’t ask. Quinn had a don’t-tell policy, and while he’d shared private things about his life with me in the past, he tried to avoid getting personal with anyone.
“What do you have for me?” I asked after we each ordered our food and drinks.
His brows rose as he sat back in his seat, and lifted the glass of water to his mouth. “How many clients do you have right now?”
He loved playing a game of cat and mouse before handing out cheese. I ran through my mental catalogue, knowing he wouldn’t meet me to give me bullshit stories about closed cases. He knew what high-profile divorces I was working on. With the media, it was impossible for anybody not to know. Something about the gleam in his eyes made me uneasy. I narrowed my eyes a bit.
“I’m not in the mood for games today. The pictures you sent me the other day were nothing.”
His expression turned serious as he set the glass of water down. “How much is Nicole Lane worth to you?”
My heart dropped. I stared at him for a long moment. “Her name is Nicole Alessi, and she doesn’t have a price tag.” I paused, feeling at odds with the situation for once. “Are you printing a story?”
“Not yet. I knew she was yours so I wanted to bring it to you first.”
Mine. Clearly he didn’t know the half of it if he was so nonchalant. I intended to keep it that way. He reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a USB, setting it on the table and sliding it across.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Compromising pictures.”
My throat tightened. I swallowed past the knot sitting there. I didn’t want to ask what kind of pictures they were. I took the USB from the table and put it in the pocket of my jacket. My chest burned in that spot.
“How’d you get it?”
Quinn shot me a look. “How do I get anything?”
“Who’s shopping this?”
“You know I can’t give you a source.”
Slow, hot anger started to burn through me. “This isn’t . . .” I stopped talking when the waitress came by and put the plates on our table. “I can’t have somebody shopping naked pictures of her right now.”
“It’s not just her that’s naked,” he said, taking a bite of the steak he ordered while I nearly choked on mine.
“What?”
Quinn nodded slowly. “I wanted to bring it to you first.”
“Who else has seen this?” I asked, taking the USB out and reaching for the laptop in my briefcase.
“No clue,” he said, shrugging. “As far as I know, I’m the only one. I usually get first dibs on things like this.”
I inserted the USB and waited for the items to load. Without even clicking and enlarging, I could already feel the burning anger returning. My ears felt like they were on fire. I was undoubtedly staring at a semi-naked Nicole sitting in front of Gabriel Lane. In the next picture, her head was thrown back, his mouth on her neck. I felt bile rise in my throat. I hadn’t expected for it to bother me as much as it did, but the longer I stared at the image, the hotter my blood simmered. I knew it was her ex-husband. I knew she was with me now. Sort of. But fuck, it hurt seeing her with him. It hurt knowing her lips, lips that belonged to me, were on his just short days, maybe weeks before they were on mine.