Page 92 of Protecting Love

“How so?”

“She was composed and professional. Now she’s more skittish, stressed, and calling me from home is unprofessional. She knows that the contract is over. She asked for more hours and they told her no.”

“So you think you missed something? Or they are hiding something?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not sitting well. Should I just walk away because my job is done? Yes. I should. But I can’t. Did I miss something? Did I have it all wrong and caused people to lose their jobs?”

He shook his head. “Paris. Come on. You know how ridiculous that sounds. One file isn’t going to change the outcome of their business or your suggestions. I looked over everything you did and sent. Nothing appeared off from the end results.” He paused at her reaction. “You don’t have to look so shocked. What? You think I don’t understand your job?”

“Oh, get that smirk off your face. I know you do. With your background, I should have figured it. But I didn’t think you’d take the time to read it all.”

“I do my job well,” he said.

He’d read it, he looked for any angle he could that this was coming from MHT, but nothing stood out other than Rick’s words.

She leaned back in his arms. “You do a lot of jobs well.” She stepped back. “But today, I found this extra file, named the same as one I used a lot. I’m not sure how I missed it. It was sent months after and almost half the size, but it’s password protected.”

“What did you do?” he asked. “Tell me you didn’t call the company asking for the password.”

“I didn’t. I could have called Debra back, but I’d already played coy with her. I’m acting like I’m done with the job.”

“Which you should be.”

“I know. But I called Braylon. I worried maybe I missed something. I can’t let it go. He didn’t think this file was that big of a deal. At half the size, it’s not like there is more information I needed on it.”

“What was on the original file?”

“A bunch of things. Multiple spreadsheets, but mainly personnel. Titles, responsibilities, job descriptions. Things like that.”

“Let me see the file,” he said.

“My laptop is off,” she argued.

“Turn it on and let me see it.”

She moved out of his arms, her face scrunched up as if she was put out.

He didn’t care.

She typed her password, went to the file, he nudged her out of the way and clicked. “See, you can’t access it.”

“Do you have a thumb drive here?”

“Huh?”

“A thumb drive. I’m going to get a copy of it but don’t want you emailing it to me.”

She opened a drawer in her desk. “Let me check in the supply closet. No one uses those things anymore.”

He moved around her files some more, nothing else stood out.

She returned with a package that she was opening and handed it over.

He transferred the file and put it in his pocket.

“Are you going to try to crack the code yourself?” she asked.

“No. I’m going to give it to someone else who can do it. Just not sure how long it will take.”