Free Wicked Solutions by Havan Fellows Page B

corresponding information.
A knock on the door had Brad standing up straight.
"Answer that." Wick kept scanning the unread emails.
"But?" He nodded to the computer.
A few keystrokes and Wick had a movie theatre's site up. "What? I'm searching for a movie for our date night…" He purposely eyed Brad up and down then cracked a smile. "Princess." He angled the screen toward the door.
"Funny." Brad rounded the desk and answered the knock.
A tall blond man wearing a crisp business suit that accentuated a perfect physique strode confidently into the office. Wick trained his gaze on the movie theatre website so he wouldn't be caught eyeing the goodies this stranger possessed.
"Brad, I just heard what happened. I want you to know I don't believe the rumors. There is no way that you would ever share those stats with LexinCorp."
"Thanks, Ned."
"So, who's your friend?"
"Oh, this is W—"
Wick cleared his throat loudly. "I'm a good friend of Brad's. In fact I've decided to take him to a movie tonight, you know, lobotomize his brain for a couple of hours so he can forget this mess being dumped on him." He ignored the hand stretched out to him and clicked through the movie listings as the conversation continued. After a few more well wishing comments passed, Ned left and once again he was alone with Brad. He swiveled the monitor back to its original position and went back to work.
"Well, nice to know that I have one friend left here." Brad rested against the desk and half-smiled at Wick.
"Yeah. Nice guy." Wick mumbled as he clicked the mouse again, paused, then rapid fired three more clicks. "Hey, you said his name was Ned? That wouldn't be Ned Harris, would it?"
"That's right, Ned Harris. Why?"
"Because you were just blind carbon copied in on an email sent to him from LexinCorp. Nothing incriminating or major, mind you. Interesting, though."
Chapter Two
    Biting into another chicken wing, Wick listened to Brad ramble on. The gist of it was the same old story. A small fish growing exponentially bigger, with no reasoning behind it, triggers the big fish to automatically assume that there is a traitor in its midst. Insert some overpriced under-talented private dicks to stick their noses in it and miraculously sniff out the leak. And the stench amazingly seemed to drift off Brad.
    Unfortunately for all involved, Wick never believed in the easy answer. Considering the private dicks had only been on the case for a day before pointing fingers at Brad, well that was just a little too convenient in his opinion.
    He nodded at the appropriate times. Brad wasn't aggressive enough to backstab his company, but the higher ups wouldn't care about that. They just wanted a scapegoat, if they could spin it to make them look sympathetic to their clientele and appease their stockholders, all the better.
    Had it crossed Wick's mind that Brad might be guilty? Sure, but there was a reason they were exes, Brad's sheer lack of follow-through with anything. So the thought came…then left.
The email that Brad was blind copied on proved, to Wick at least, that he was a pawn in this game. Hell, he probably wasn't the only pawn either, and definitely not the important one at that.
The waitress came to refill their drinks and winked at Brad. "You're in a little late for lunch today, honey." She nodded in Wick's direction, "You sure do like them spicy." Smiling, she walked to her next table.
Wick raised his eyebrow at Brad, "Am I your hot tamale of choice today?"
"Oh…um…I usually meet a friend here for lunch a couple times a week." He ducked his head, but not before Wick saw his cheeks redden.
"Really?" He tossed the bone into the basket. He knew from their past relationship that Brad liked to work through his lunch hour. So to have lunch with someone that often…
"Do tell."
"Not much to tell. I met Clifford at the gym a few months back. He was stalking me," he chuckled nervously, "Evidently I kept grabbing the machines he wanted right before he did. We chatted it