Page 41 of Sexting my Bratva Daddies

A vibration rattled my chest, and I realized I’d started growling. A new development since Peyton joined us in the bedroom. Control worked both ways, and she had the power to take mine from me.

She did so now, without even being in the room. Which meant I needed someone to help me find an explanation that would clear her name.

I pushed back from my desk and strode out the door. Peyton sat at her desk, nose buried in a stack of paperwork I’d given her after lunch. Her pen moved over the columns, a line forming between her eyes.

The papers were a test. One of the columns was wrong, but only by a tiny margin. I’d asked her to check for discrepancies.

I pushed open Misha’s door, crooked my finger, then moved into Leo’s office with Misha on my heels. “We need to talk about Peyton.”

Misha straightened. “What about her?”

“The escalation of shipments being intercepted started weeks after her arrival. They have increased since we began sleeping with her.” I laid out all of my information in a single line, all of it pointing at Peyton as our mole. I hated every word, but I put it out there, shoving all my emotions down and concentrating on what I absolutely knew to be true. “I have not caught her doing anything. Her computer checks have always come back clean. Unless she is a mastermind hacker who has transferred our files to another computer, I have no concrete data.”

Misha had started shaking his head before I made it halfway through my speech. He crossed his arms as I ended. “No.” Another head shake. “It is remarkably obvious that she is innocent.”

“Or she is a remarkable spy.” I forced the words out. I wanted him to prove me wrong, but I needed him to do it with facts to appease my analytical mind. “Just because she has been innocent about sex does not mean she is innocent in the rest of it.”

“You yourself said that you have no facts.” Leo stood and moved to the window, his favorite place to think. “I realize you despise working off emotion, but in this situation, our intuition is all we have. I do not think her capable of being a spy.” He gave us his back, his profile in stark contrast to the skyline. “The coincidence of the timing, and the fact that she has disarmed us completely by proving to be the anonymous woman we flirted with, does seem entirely too perfect.”

It was as close to a condemnation as any of us were willing to go without proof.

I checked my watch. Almost five. Our employees–Peyton included–would be leaving soon. The closed door loomed to my right, Peyton on the other side.

“We could question her.” Misha remained stone-faced.

Leo and I exchanged a look. We would not ask this of Misha.

Yes, he was our enforcer and had tortured and killed more men than I cared to think about, but we would never ask him to turn that on Peyton.

We did not torture for the sake of it, or to draw answers from those who might be innocent.

Far too many men had broken and told us what we wanted to hear, simply to make the pain stop.

I would not put Peyton through anything even remotely close to that. She was likely stronger than all the men Misha had tortured.

Breaking her was not an option.

Tension thickened the air in the room as no one responded to Misha’s words.

“The possibility of her being a spy is slim.” I rolled my neck, needing more than a shift in my stance to break the tension. My body tightened, the spring of betrayal coiling tight.

Leo remained at the window, his hands in his pockets. “The only reason for suspicion is the timing. She is the last person I would suspect, and I remember hiring several people that same week.”

“True.” Misha looked relieved, his face softening as he realized he would not be called on to torture Peyton. “My gut says she is not the spy.” He held up a hand. “I realize that is circumstantial evidence. But so is flaying her over the loosely connected fact of the shipments going missing at the time we hired her.”

Point taken. “Emotions are not going to help us here. Feeling that she is not the one will not change facts. Facts are what we need.”

“And we have none.” Leo turned. “But we have suspicion.”

“How do we proceed?” I asked.

A knock sounded on the door.

Leo gave me a look, and I shook my head.

We had no more meetings scheduled. No reason for anyone to come looking for us.

Leo dropped his head toward Misha, who glided toward the corner to take up a defensive posture. Once he was in place, Leo faced the door. “Enter.”