Brand picked up a fry and pointed it at Zach. “Let me know when that happens, okay?”
“Deal.”
Brand chewed thoughtfully on a couple of fries. “Damn good,” he said with a satisfied sigh.
“Right?”
“So how are you doing? Really?”
Zach smiled. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brand wanted to ask more, but he hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to push Zach too hard. And given the dreams of Zach he’d had the night before…. Damn. Why did he feel like a bull in a china shop? Probably because of what Zach said that morning. It was a mistake—mine entirely. It won’t happen again.
The words didn’t ring true—you didn’t need to be a reporter to figure that one out. Zach had wanted him last night. The apology was bullshit, meant to make Brand feel better and put distance between them. Safe distance. There was something holding Zach back, and Brand didn’t think the something was about him.
“Listen, Zach,” Brand began. “About last night, I—”
“I told you, it was my fault. I shouldn’t have put you in that situation.” Zach picked up his hamburger and took a bite, avoiding meeting his gaze.
“I wanted it.” He’d never been good at beating around the bush. Better to get the crap out of the way and deal with the truth, even if it hurt.
A muscle in Zach’s cheek twitched as he set down the hamburger and wiped his lips with his napkin.
“I wasn’t kidding about asking you on a date, and I’m not kidding now. There’s no fault. Nothing to apologize for.”
Zach finally looked up, his expression unreadable. He didn’t look surprised, and he didn’t look uncomfortable either. It was as if he’d flipped a switch and shut off all his emotions.
“Am I reading this wrong?” Brand pressed. “What part of what happened last night was a mistake?”
For a long moment, Zach said nothing. Then he said, “I shouldn’t have tried to start something I wasn’t prepared to finish.”
“Fair enough.”
“I like you,” Zach said. “You’re a good guy. Talented too. I watched the piece you did on the nursing home—the one right after Florence? Not bad.”
Interesting. So Zach had looked him up. That made him feel pretty good. Zach wasn’t just dismissing him as a kid with a crush. “But?”
“I don’t do relationships.”
Brand’s chest tightened. “May I ask why?”
Zach shrugged. “I’m happy the way things are.”
Brand knew enough to let it go. He intended to persuade Zach otherwise, but pushing the issue wouldn’t help.
“I appreciate the company,” Zach added, clearly sensing Brand’s disappointment. “I enjoyed tonight. Last night too.”
“So you’re saying you won’t kick me out if I show up at your office,” Brand quipped, hoping to dispel a bit of the tension.
“Pretty much.”
Just friends. Better than being blown off. “I can live with that.”
“Thanks.” Zach smiled.
Chapter Eleven
“I KNOW, I know,” Brand said without looking up. “I just clicked Send on the copy you were waiting for.”
“Slacker.”
Brand’s mouse slipped off the pad and onto the floor. “Zach? When…. How…?”
“Your director let me in.” Zach raised his eyebrows and grinned.
“So much for protecting me from the paparazzi.” Brand retrieved the mouse and hoped he didn’t look as flustered as he felt.
Zach laughed and held up a large envelope. “Thought you might want to take a look at these with me.”
“These?”
“Kelly from the clerk’s office called to say their computers are back up. I figured walking this over was easier than scanning everything.” Zach pulled out a stack of documents and set them on Brand’s desk.
Brand tried not to smile as he flipped through the pages. It would have taken Zach all of two minutes to scan and email the pile. The TV station was a ten-minute walk from the River Watch’s offices. “Another lawsuit, huh?”
Zach nodded as Brand read through the complaint. “Same old tune, but this one’s from 2016.” The facts were nearly identical to the Remingtons’ case, even though the name of the builders was different.
“Have you looked the homeowners up?”
“Yep. Moved to South Carolina. I left a message, but I doubt they’ll return the call.” Zach tapped the defendant’s name. “But Quality Builders? They’re still in business. Their agent for service of process is an attorney out of Wrightsville Beach.”
“And you want me to go with you?”
“My gut tells me this story has legs,” Zach explained. “I can barely keep up with publication deadlines as it is. I could use another brain right now, someone to keep me asking the right questions, maybe even follow up on a lead when I’m too slammed.”
Brand smiled. “Decided I’m not so bad after all?”
“Don’t push your luck.”
“I’d be happy to work with you on the story.”
Zach grunted, but he didn’t correct Brand.
“So when do we check Mr.”—Brand glanced at the Secretary of State printout—“Haynes? Why does that name sound familiar?”
“Same agent for service of process as Euclid Builders.”
“No kidding. Let me guess. Same guy registered for Vanguard?” Brand asked.
Zach laughed. “How did you guess?”
“YES,” BRADLEY Haynes confirmed two hours later, “I’m the registered agent for Quality Builders. What’s this about?”
“What do you know about a lawsuit filed in New Hanover County alleging Quality Builders’ shoddy construction was the cause of a home collapse during Hurricane Matthew?” Zach set a copy of the complaint on Haynes’s overly neat desk. The ten-minute delay before Haynes’s assistant had shown them into the office hadn’t been a coincidence.
Haynes shrugged. “I’m the agent for service of process for the corporation. I receive copies of legal documents filed. It’s my job.”
“And the allegations?” Zach pressed.
“I don’t know anything about them.” Haynes shifted in his seat, but his expression remained unchanged.
“Who would know more about the case?” Brand put in.
“I’m not at liberty to say.” Haynes smiled. “Attorney-client privilege. I’m sure you understand.”
“How about similar allegations against Vanguard Builders? Or Euclid Builders?” Zach asked.
“I’m afraid my answer’s the same.” Haynes stood, wearing the same plastered-on smile. “I’m not at liberty to discuss any details.”
“Thanks. If you think of anything”—Zach handed Haynes his business card—“I’d appreciate a call.”
“Of course.”
“NOT EXACTLY illuminating,” Brand said as they got back into the car. Outside, the sun was beginning to set over the water.
“I didn’t think it would be.”
“Shaking the tree to see what falls out?” Brand asked.
“Better than sitting back and waiting until I get the results of the Public Records Act request.” Zach buckled his seat belt and sighed. “Although by the time the documents come in the mail, Quality Builders will probably close up shop.”
“I’ve got a friend in private practice in Raleigh,” Brand said as he pulled onto the highway. “She used to work for the attorney general’s office representing the Department of Revenue. Knows her way around the state databases. I’ll ask her if she can dig up anything on Mr. Haynes.”
“Can’t hurt.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Brand saw Zach glance at him, then back out the window, where the sunset was a deep red on the horizon. “How about we get something to eat?”
“I probably should be getting back to….” Zach continued to watch the sky, and Brand guessed he was still thinking about the night before last.
“We can discuss next s
teps.”
Brand’s words had the desired effect. Zach exhaled audibly and smiled. “Sure.”
“Good deal. Shuckin’ Shack work for you?”
“That’d be great.” Zach glanced at Brand again, but this time he didn’t immediately look away.
Brand forced himself not to grin. He’d give Zach as much space as he needed, but he wouldn’t give up either.
Chapter Twelve
AS HE dipped a fried clam into cocktail sauce, Zach couldn’t help but notice how Brand’s tan suit skimmed the contours of his body and accentuated his broad shoulders. Sitting across the table from Brand made it difficult to focus on the food.
“I’m glad you came along,” Brand said as he dipped a shrimp into melted butter.
“You thought I’d make up an excuse.” He nearly had when Brand asked about dinner. He knew Brand had made the dinner invitation about work to make him more comfortable, but now that they were here, Zach felt completely at ease.
“The thought did cross my mind.” Brand popped the shrimp in his mouth and butter splashed the lapel on his jacket. “Shit.”
“Here, let me help with that.” Zach ripped open one of the Wet-Nap packets the waitress had left on the table and dabbed the fabric. This close, he got a heady whiff of Brand’s aftershave. Bergamot and citrus. Nice.
Brand’s Adam’s apple bobbed and color rose on his cheeks. Far too endearing, not to mention dangerous. Zach finished quickly and pretended not to have noticed Brand’s response, if only to hide his own. Zach’s body certainly didn’t need to be convinced that Brand was a beautiful man.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Zach sipped his beer—the only drink he’d be ordering. “Been there, done that a few times.”
“You don’t miss the suit at all, do you?”
Zach shook his head. “I thought I would. I used to love buying a new suit. And when the network started paying to have them made for me… I felt good wearing something that fit me so well.” He smiled. “You don’t seem to mind too much.”
“Used to. I hated anything that reminded me that how I looked was even relevant to how well I did my job.” Brand sighed. “Nothing’s as simple as it seems when you’re a kid.” He paused for a moment, then added, “It’s part of why I thought you were so cool, years ago.”
“I’m not now?” Zach deadpanned.
Brand looked mortified. “I didn’t mean…. Of course you are.”
Zach touched Brand’s forearm. “I was teasing.” He chuckled and shook his head. “I’ve never felt particularly cool.”
“When you showed up at my high school assembly with your T-shirt and jeans and that diamond stud…. You were the coolest guy I’d ever seen.”
“You were seventeen.”
“It’s harder to impress a kid,” Brand pointed out. “Oscar Wilde was my hero. News anchors weren’t even on my list.”
Zach snorted and shook his head. “Nice to know I’m still cool.” He’d always hated being a celebrity. He’d only wanted to be a reporter.
“I’m making you uncomfortable, aren’t I?”
Zach shrugged. He’d made his peace with that part of his past, at least. “It feels like a really long time ago.”
“You don’t like to talk about it.”
“No.” Zach took a deep breath. “But when I told you I hated all of it—the job, the city, the life—that wasn’t entirely true.”
“I figured as much.” Brand’s gentle tone reminded Zach of his smile—sympathetic and kind.
“I made some bad choices in my life… things I’ll always regret. But taking the local anchor job?” He shook his head. “The first few years were great. Maybe the best years of my life.”
“But you left. Why? Did someone out you?”
He’d wondered when Brand would ask. He’d opened himself up to the question by not shutting down the topic. But for some strange reason, he was okay with that. “No. Pretty much everyone knew I was gay, although the tabloids sure enjoyed jumping on that piece of garbage.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard all the rumors.”
Zach nodded. “I didn’t give a shit about them.”
“Then why…?”
“It’s not important,” Zach said. “All you need to know is that I did it to myself. And no, it wasn’t drugs either.” Why did he care that Brand knew that?
Brand put his hand over Zach’s. “I don’t believe it’s not important. But it’s your truth and your story to tell. And if you ever need someone to listen….”
Zach forced a smile and nodded. Brand’s hand felt surprisingly good, and he didn’t get the sense Brand pitied him, which made him feel even better. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” Maybe it had been long enough now, because the knot in his gut that always appeared when he thought about New York seemed a little smaller, almost manageable.
Almost.
“I’d better get back to the office. I still have a few things I need to finish before I can send the paper to the printers.”
“No problem.”
Brand had to know there wasn’t anything at the office at nine o’clock at night that really had to get done, but Zach appreciated Brand not calling him on it. “Thanks for coming with me today.” He’d been enjoying working with Brand on the story, even if he wasn’t going to tell him so outright.
“You’re welcome.” Brand picked up the check. “My treat.”
“Thanks. Next one’s on me.” He spoke the words before he realized what they sounded like. “So we can work on the story together.” Totally lame!
“Of course.” Brand grinned. “Just business.”
“Right.” Zach laughed in spite of himself.
“And if you change your mind….” Brand flagged down the waiter. “My mom tells all her friends I’m quite the catch,” he added with a self-deprecating smile.
Zach had no doubt Brand’s mother was right. At this rate, Zach was going to have a hard time not finding out for himself.
ZACH SPENT Saturday at the office editing the rest of the stories for the next week’s edition of the paper and taking care of the pile of receivables and bills he’d been ignoring.
The rest of the weekend he gave himself off, instead cleaning the apartment and rewarding himself by reading the New York Times and the Washington Post on the balcony. He woke Monday morning more rested than he’d been in weeks, but with a new week of deadlines that loomed. He needed some exercise to keep focused.
He fed Arlo before heading over to the Riverwalk to jog. At five thirty in the morning, it was already nearly sixty degrees, and the forecast called for a high of seventy. Another beautiful day in paradise. This time of year in New York, he’d have been bundled up or headed for the treadmill instead of another outdoor run.
Even with the mild weather, in mid-November there weren’t many people out before sunrise. Zach passed a man walking his dog as he rounded the turn at the convention center on his way back toward his apartment. He smiled and waved and the man waved back.
He’d just about made it to the Cape Fear Community College boat-building school when someone jumped out in front of him, knocking him onto the boardwalk. Something in the man’s hand flashed beneath the streetlamp.
A knife?
Zach shot back to his feet—the last thing he wanted was to be on the ground when someone was coming after him with a weapon. “What do you want?” He held his hands up in front of him, palms facing his attacker, ready to respond.
The man lunged with the blade. With his left hand, Zach grabbed the man’s outstretched arm above the wrist. Then, with his right hand, he pushed the man’s hand back so the blade pointed back at him.
“What the—!” the man shouted as Zach twisted his wrist and threw him to the ground before pulling the weapon from his hand. Zach kicked the knife away and twisted the man’s arm behind him. With his free hand, he pressed and held the button on his Apple Watch and dialed 911.
“911 operator. What is the nature of the emergency?�
�
“I’m on the Riverwalk. Someone just attacked me with a knife.” Zach tightened his hold on the man, who tried to wriggle free.
What a way to start the day.
Chapter Thirteen
“YOU’RE HERE earlier than usual.” Kendra grinned at Brand from his office doorway. “It’s barely six.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” He’d told Zach he wouldn’t bother him immediately, but more than a day had passed, and he wanted to see Zach so badly he was about to explode.
“Want to get a drink after work today?”
“Sure.” It’d keep him from being tempted to call Zach.
“Meet you at Craven’s at six?”
“You got it.” That’d give him a chance to review the edits of the story scheduled to air that night with time left over to put the finishing touches on his pitch for a series of reports about the hurricane’s impact on local schools. He was pretty sure Kendra would bite, but he’d learned it was better to cover all the angles before he floated a concept.
He’d barely touched the outline when his cell phone buzzed. “This is Brand.”
“Brand, it’s Jesse.” Jesse Freeman, a New Hanover County sheriff’s deputy, often helped him out with stories.
“Hey, Jesse. Don’t suppose you want to join me and Kendra at Craven’s this evening? Kendra’s—”
“I’d love to, but Wilmington PD’s asked us to help with a situation on the Riverwalk near the community college docks. That’s why I’m calling so early.”
“What’s up?” Brand grabbed his notebook and a pen.
“Nothing really exciting. At least it wouldn’t be, except it involves a local celebrity. He was jumped by someone wielding a knife and managed to disarm the guy.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He scribbled down the location, about a mile from the TV station. “Who’s the celebrity?”
“We were talking about him last week over drinks. Zach Caldwell? The guy who runs the local pap—”
Chasing the Story Page 6