“That’ll be fine,” Vaughn said, appearing pleased with this arrangement. “After working for the FBI for seven years, a seven A.M. start feels like sleeping in.”
“I think you can stop telling her that you work for the FBI, Roberts,” Huxley muttered under his breath. “She’s got it.”
Brooke was trying to hold back a smile, thinking she rather liked these two special agents, when Mr. Obstruction of Justice had to chime back in.
“What about the other part of the deal?” Cade asked.
Brooke looked over. “Getting Torino, Sanderson, and the undercover agents to the right tables, you mean?” She shrugged. “I’ll make it clear to the hostess where I want those two parties seated. I’m sure she’ll be suspicious, but she won’t say anything.”
“You seem awfully certain of that.”
“I’m the general counsel of this company, Mr. Morgan. If I ask an employee to keep something confidential, she will. Nevertheless, I’ll plan to stick around the restaurant on Sunday evening, just to make sure there aren’t any problems.”
“Thank you,” he said. “On behalf of both the U.S. Attorney’s Office and the Federal Bureau of Investigation, let me say how much we appreciate your assistance in this matter.”
“You’re welcome.” Brooke locked eyes with him, to underscore the significance of her next words. “And I trust that the U.S. Attorney’s Office will remember that appreciation, should Sterling Restaurants ever need a favor in return.”
Cade cocked his head at that, regarding her with sudden suspicion. “What kind of favor?”
Brooke sweetly threw his earlier words back at him. “Let’s just say that I’ll provide you with that information at the appropriate time.” She rested her elbows on the table, ready to get down to the nitty-gritty details of the upcoming task. “So. What else do you guys need from me?” she asked Vaughn and Huxley.
“Not much at this point,” Vaughn said. “We might have some questions once we get into the restaurant on Sunday morning, but we’re only bugging one table. That’s a pretty simple job. For the FBI.” He laughed when Huxley threw up his hands in disbelief. “Come on, I threw that one in just for you.” Then he pointed, remembering something. “Actually, I do have one question. Do you have security cameras inside the restaurant?”
Although Brooke wasn’t as familiar with the restaurants as a manager would be, she did happen to know the answer to that. Last winter, they’d caught a bartender on video who’d been swiping customer credit cards through a handheld device in order to steal the numbers. After firing the guy, they’d turned the evidence over to the police. “We do. I’m assume you’d like to catch Senator Sanderson and Torino on video?”
“As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words,” Vaughn said.
“The security cameras inside the restaurant are typically focused on the bar area and the entrance, but I can tell our head of security to make sure that one of the cameras captures whatever table you select for that night,” Brooke said. “Again, he’ll probably have some questions, but I’ll get around that.”
Huxley and Vaughn exchanged looks. “That would be perfect.” Huxley turned back to Brooke, his expression one of both surprise and gratitude. “Thank you.”
Brooke turned back to Cade, all business once again. “One thing, Mr. Morgan: I’ll need a subpoena for the video footage. Purely a formality, something we require anytime we turn over any sort of Sterling property to the authorities. I’m sure you understand.”
Cade’s tone was a touch dry, likely not enjoying the fact that she’d taken charge of “his” meeting. “I can get you a subpoena.”
They wrapped up their meeting after that, making plans to meet at the restaurant at seven A.M. on Sunday. “I’ll let the lobby guard know to expect you, so you won’t have any trouble on that end,” Brooke told them.
She walked them to her office door, where both Huxley and Vaughn shook her hand and thanked her again for her assistance.
Cade paused in the doorway. “I’ll meet you guys in the reception area,” he told the agents.
Brooke waited until the two agents had left before turning to face Cade. He was very tall—easily a good three or four inches over six feet—so she had to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. “Planning to threaten me with more federal charges, Mr. Morgan?”
He took a step closer. “You knew you were going to cooperate with us from the beginning, didn’t you?”
Actually . . . yes. Or at least from the point in the conversation when she’d realized that Sterling wasn’t in any legal trouble. Both the attorney and businesswoman in her knew that one did not lightly refuse to cooperate with the FBI and U.S. Attorney’s Office. Cade Morgan may have irked her, but there was no doubt that he was a powerful man in this city.
“I negotiate multimillion-dollar deals for a living,” she told him. “You may have your subpoena power and tough-guy speeches, but I’m not exactly a novice at the bargaining table. You got your bugged table at Sogna. All I wanted in exchange was an acknowledgement of the courtesies that Sterling Restaurants is extending the U.S. Attorney’s Office.”
Cade crossed his arms across his chest, the jacket of his suit pulling tighter around his broad shoulders. “For the record, I don’t believe I actually agreed to this ‘favor’ you asked for.”
“Nor did you disagree. Implied consent.”
He gave her a long look. “I can’t decide if you’re irritatingly self-assured or just . . .” He seemed to ponder this for a moment, and then shrugged. “Nope, I’ve got nothing else. ‘Irritating’ it is.”
Seeming to have settled this, he turned to go. “See you bright and early Sunday morning, Brooke Parker.”
Then he strode out of her office just as confidently as he’d come in.
Most annoyingly.
Four
“WELL, I THINK that was a very productive visit.”
Walking alongside Vaughn as the three men crossed the parking garage, Huxley concurred with his partner’s assessment. “Assuming Brooke can deliver on getting the hostess to seat everyone at the right tables, this should go off smoothly.”
Cade headed to the front passenger door of Huxley’s Range Rover. So it was “Brooke” now, apparently. Not surprising, seeing how she’d practically had both agents eating out of the palm of her hand.
They all climbed into the SUV. As Huxley started the car, Vaughn spoke from the backseat, continuing to sing the praises of Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants and the Sarcastic Quips.
“I liked when she offered to have the camera directed at Sanderson’s table. I would’ve suggested it regardless, but it’s great that she’s so willing to cooperate.”
Cade fought the urge to roll his eyes. Okay, so she was hot. Whatever. And pleasant enough to people who didn’t threaten her with obstruction of justice charges. Big deal.
“If only all lawyers were that agreeable to work with,” Huxley said. “It would make our jobs a hell of a lot easier.”
“So true,” Vaughn agreed.
A silence fell over the car.
“Although she didn’t seem to like you very much, Morgan,” Vaughn mused.
Yes, thank you, he’d caught that. “Somebody had to be the bad cop. Clearly, it wasn’t going to be either of you two.” And in fairness, that hadn’t been the role he’d expected the agents to play. Brooke Parker wasn’t a witness, or a suspect—they’d been approaching her in her capacity as legal counsel for Sterling. Which meant she was his responsibility.
But he had to give credit where credit was due: there were very few people who could essentially tell an assistant U.S. attorney to kiss her ass with quite that exact mix of sarcasm and charm. She’d even had Vaughn and Huxley cracking smiles with that one.