by Kris Calvert
It’d been a hell of a couple of days, but I was glad to be back in the saddle and at my desk—even if it was to work thirty-six hours straight.
I clicked on my email half expecting a message from the financial company’s chief information officer offering me his first born to fix the hole now. Instead, I found a Google alert I’d set up.
I stared at the screen and rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t still asleep and clicked on the link to the Washington Post.
U.S. Human Trafficking Ring linked to Members of Congress
Anonymous tip forces officials to investigate the sale of humans to top officials in Washington, D.C. prostitution ring
By MAYNARD THOMAS
“Holy shit,” I said, stuttering through the words as a grin spread across my sleepy face. “He gave them the drive.”
Patrice came to my side, peering over my shoulder. “What’s up?”
“It fell,” I said slowly, turning in my seat to look her in the eye.
“What are you talking about?”
Standing suddenly, I kicked the chair from under my feet, taking her her face in my hands. I stared into her startled eyes for only a moment before combining all my angst, all the thoughts I’d had of her, all the stolen glances, all my dreams of us together, to kiss her as if my life depended upon it.
“It fell,” I repeated after coming up for air. “Like a thunderbolt.”
Kris Calvert is a former copywriter and PR mercenary who after some coaxing, began writing novels. She loves alliteration, pearls and post-it notes. She’s married to the man of her dreams and lives in Lexington, Kentucky. She’s Momma to two grown children and is also responsible for one very needy dog. When she’s not writing, she’s baking cupcakes.