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Authors: Diane Kelly
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continued to add weight to the stack, eventually settling on seventy pounds. Not bad at all for an out-of-shape woman who’d just completed chemo. Then again, maybe carrying around those extra pounds for all these years had been a workout in itself.
Encouraged by Lu’s success, I pushed myself especially hard that day, leaving the gym tired and sore but with much of my sexual frustration relieved.
Lu and I parted ways in the parking lot. She waved the class schedule she’d picked up at the front desk. “The Zumba class sounds like fun. Let’s try that tomorrow.”
“Anything you say, boss.”
* * *
Since Nick was working at Guys & Dolls tonight, I spent the evening at my kitchen table, reviewing the financial information in the file Agent Ackerman had given me. My cat Annie napped in my lap, occasionally digging a claw or two into my thigh as she repositioned herself.
GSM’s bank statements provided a wealth of information, showing the sources of funds coming into the account and detailing where those funds had gone. I determined how much money had been distributed to each of the four Tennis Racketeers and compared the data not only to GSM’s corporate tax returns, but also to the Racketeers’ individual forms. I traced the amounts to the printouts from GSM’s accounting records, too.
The bulk of the distributions had been improperly classified to the corporation’s expense accounts and wrongfully deducted under the guise of rent, depreciation, and maintenance costs. Only a small amount had been reported to the Racketeers as taxable wages and dividends. The Racketeers had also run a multitude of personal expenses through the corporate account, all of which had likewise been improperly classified as business operating costs.
By my calculations, GSM and the Tennis Racketeers had understated their federal income tax liabilities by at least two million dollars. Add penalties and interest and the frauds owed Uncle Sam a cool three mil.
The mortgage fraud was bad enough, but these bastards had treaded on my turf now. They better watch out. IRS Special Agent Tara Holloway was on her way to collect.
chapter nine
Bank on This
The following morning, I stepped into Nick’s office. He’d worked late at Guys & Dolls again last night so we hadn’t been able to spend the evening together as I’d hoped. Luckily, he’d be at the club when I arrived for my first shift tonight. Having him nearby would be nice, even if we’d have to pretend not to know each other.
Nick sat in his chair, a silver belt buckle featuring the Dallas skyline gleaming atop the navy pants and white dress shirt that concealed his six-pack abs.
“I’ve got a little something for you,” I said.
He slid me that chipped-tooth smile that never failed to make me swoon. “If that little something is what I hope it is, close the door, take off your clothes, and give it to me right now.”
“It’s not that. ” Too bad, huh? I held up the bag from the sporting goods store. “But it is something you can slip a body part into.”
He arched a curious brow and took the bag from me, reaching inside and pulling out the gloves. He slid them on, wiggling his fingers to test them. “They’re perfect. I could land Jaws with these. Maybe even Shamu.”
“Glad you like them.”
He cocked his head. “Nooky would have been better, but for now I’ll settle for the gloves.” He gestured for me to close the door. “Come here. I’ve got some sugar for you.”
No need to ask me twice. I nudged the door closed and all but flew to his chair.
He pulled me down onto his lap, nuzzling my hair. “Damn, you smell good enough to eat.”
Well, then. Slap some butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! “It’s my new wild jasmine conditioner.”
“Nice,” he murmured, pressing his lips against my neck just under my ear. He moved forward, his warm mouth under my chin now.
God, that felt good. How long had I yearned for a moment like this?
Encouraged by Lu’s success, I pushed myself especially hard that day, leaving the gym tired and sore but with much of my sexual frustration relieved.
Lu and I parted ways in the parking lot. She waved the class schedule she’d picked up at the front desk. “The Zumba class sounds like fun. Let’s try that tomorrow.”
“Anything you say, boss.”
* * *
Since Nick was working at Guys & Dolls tonight, I spent the evening at my kitchen table, reviewing the financial information in the file Agent Ackerman had given me. My cat Annie napped in my lap, occasionally digging a claw or two into my thigh as she repositioned herself.
GSM’s bank statements provided a wealth of information, showing the sources of funds coming into the account and detailing where those funds had gone. I determined how much money had been distributed to each of the four Tennis Racketeers and compared the data not only to GSM’s corporate tax returns, but also to the Racketeers’ individual forms. I traced the amounts to the printouts from GSM’s accounting records, too.
The bulk of the distributions had been improperly classified to the corporation’s expense accounts and wrongfully deducted under the guise of rent, depreciation, and maintenance costs. Only a small amount had been reported to the Racketeers as taxable wages and dividends. The Racketeers had also run a multitude of personal expenses through the corporate account, all of which had likewise been improperly classified as business operating costs.
By my calculations, GSM and the Tennis Racketeers had understated their federal income tax liabilities by at least two million dollars. Add penalties and interest and the frauds owed Uncle Sam a cool three mil.
The mortgage fraud was bad enough, but these bastards had treaded on my turf now. They better watch out. IRS Special Agent Tara Holloway was on her way to collect.
chapter nine
Bank on This
The following morning, I stepped into Nick’s office. He’d worked late at Guys & Dolls again last night so we hadn’t been able to spend the evening together as I’d hoped. Luckily, he’d be at the club when I arrived for my first shift tonight. Having him nearby would be nice, even if we’d have to pretend not to know each other.
Nick sat in his chair, a silver belt buckle featuring the Dallas skyline gleaming atop the navy pants and white dress shirt that concealed his six-pack abs.
“I’ve got a little something for you,” I said.
He slid me that chipped-tooth smile that never failed to make me swoon. “If that little something is what I hope it is, close the door, take off your clothes, and give it to me right now.”
“It’s not that. ” Too bad, huh? I held up the bag from the sporting goods store. “But it is something you can slip a body part into.”
He arched a curious brow and took the bag from me, reaching inside and pulling out the gloves. He slid them on, wiggling his fingers to test them. “They’re perfect. I could land Jaws with these. Maybe even Shamu.”
“Glad you like them.”
He cocked his head. “Nooky would have been better, but for now I’ll settle for the gloves.” He gestured for me to close the door. “Come here. I’ve got some sugar for you.”
No need to ask me twice. I nudged the door closed and all but flew to his chair.
He pulled me down onto his lap, nuzzling my hair. “Damn, you smell good enough to eat.”
Well, then. Slap some butter on my ass and call me a biscuit! “It’s my new wild jasmine conditioner.”
“Nice,” he murmured, pressing his lips against my neck just under my ear. He moved forward, his warm mouth under my chin now.
God, that felt good. How long had I yearned for a moment like this?
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