She nodded dumbly. He left, and she collapsed in her chair. For two years, she’d been working toward the promotion by taking on classes that no other faculty member wanted, mentoring extra students on their dissertations and writing as many papers as she could. She had even learned how to blog, working herself to the bone to make tenure. Now this! Her luck couldn’t be this bad, could it? What if the story was true? Emilia had been moodier than usual for the past several months. Kat had chalked it up to a medication adjustment, but what if...
She stood and made her way to the back entrance of the building, the one the students used to cut through the large quad area between classes. Opening the door just a crack, she peeked out. There was a man in a business suit with his back turned to her and a phone pressed to his ear. He wasn’t dressed for a college campus, but he didn’t have a microphone or camera, so she stepped out and walked over the grass to the faculty parking lot.
As she hurried past, she sensed him move. “Miss Driscoll?”
Ignoring him, she kept walking as fast as her legs would go. His footsteps fell heavily on the concrete path behind her, so she broke into a flat-out run. The parking lot wasn’t that far; she could make it. Keys were clipped to the side of her purse, and there was a can of Mace attached to them. Always keep keys and pepper spray within easy reach. Her fingers closed on the metal and she automatically unlocked her car, comforted by the beep. Her pulse raced, and her finger was on the alarm button. Thankfully there was no one next to the car. So close, only a few more steps. The car was within touching distance when she felt someone grip her elbow. She froze for a millisecond, but then her self-defense training kicked in. She screamed and whirled, instinctively pushing out with her hand. Go for the nose, eyes or throat.
The man in the business suit deftly stepped back before she could connect with his Adam’s apple. He held out his hands. “Miss Driscoll, I’m Alex Santiago. I work for Senator Roberts.”
Her chest heaved, trying to squeeze air into her lungs. He wasn’t even out of breath.
Kat put a hand on the car and willed her heart to calm down. She studied him while she struggled to gain control of her breathing. Hair dark as night, styled and tamed. Taller than her five-foot-four frame. Lean, but he looked like he had muscle underneath his well-tailored suit. Big, dark eyes, skin the color of sand. A firm jaw, high cheekbones, the hint of a five o’clock shadow. He didn’t look like the typical congressional staffer, but he dressed like one. Dark gray pin-striped suit, light blue French-cuffed shirt, red tie, an American flag pinned to the lapel. He was senior staff. If he was legit.
“It’s Dr. Driscoll.” Kat crossed her arms. He stepped back, his lips twitching into something that looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk.
“Dr. Driscoll, I’m sorry to scare you, but I need to talk to you. Urgently.”
He pronounced each word carefully, in the precise manner of someone who had had language training.
“And why should I talk to you?”
He put his hand in his breast pocket and removed a plastic-encased identification card. It was a federal ID that listed his name as Alejandro Santiago.
“We’re on the same side here.”
Really? I don’t even know what side I’m on. Definitely a Washingtonian. “How did you get here so fast from DC?” The capital was a three-hour drive away.
“CNN gave us a heads-up they were running the story.”
“Then why didn’t you give me a heads-up?”
“We didn’t know if you needed one. But we did try to reach you. No one answered your office phone, and we couldn’t find your cell number on such short notice. We even tried you at your home, but it just rang.”
Kat bit her lip. She vaguely remembered the phone ringing when she was trying to calm her mother. Usually only telemarketers called that number, so she’d ignored it.
“So what’s going on?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. The story caught us by surprise.” He raised his brows. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on what they’re saying.”
“Me? What does Senator Roberts have to say about it?” she countered.
“He’s in the air, on an overseas flight. He won’t be landing for another few hours.”
“You don’t have a way to reach him?”
“We have to wait until he lands.” His gaze shifted a bit and she narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed sincere enough, but no way was she trusting him.
“I’m on my way home to talk to my mother. Give me your card and I’ll call you when I have some information.”
“So you didn’t leak this story?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you give this story to the media?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like some crazy woman, desperate for fifteen minutes of fame?” His eyes roamed her body and she reddened. “This story is ruining my life. I want it retracted, and as quickly as possible.”
“Then you and I have the same goal. I’ll come with you.”
“That’s not wise, Mr. Santiago.”
“Alex. And I don’t think you have a choice.”
He pointed behind her. She turned to see no fewer than ten people rushing toward her through the gates that separated faculty parking lot from the street. This time there was no doubt who they were. Cameras were already flashing and outstretched hands held ominous-looking microphones.
“Give me your keys.”
She stared at him. He snatched the keys from her hand. “Get in!”
“Katerina.”
“Professor Driscoll?”
“Kat!” The crowd of reporters was now close enough that she could hear them screaming her name. All doubt erased, she ran to the passenger side and slammed the door shut. Alex already had the car moving before she buckled in. She clicked the seat belt in place just as he floored the accelerator, backing out of the parking lot. Instinctively, she grabbed the handhold on the ceiling. He reversed all the way to the gate. He had a hat on his head now, its bill pulled low.
“What’re you doing? This is a campus—there are kids around!” If they ran over someone, her career was over. A vision of the dean physically throwing her off campus like a rag doll filled her mind.
Alex changed gears and pushed the car onto the grassy knoll to avoid a crowd of reporters.
“Dean Gladstone will—” Her head hit the side window as the car lurched. He had hopped onto the sidewalk to avoid more media immediately outside the gates. Several people slapped the car as he pressed the horn and squeezed past them.
Kat turned to make sure no one was lying on the ground bleeding to death. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Are you crazy?”
“You’ve never had to avoid the bloodhounds before. Trust me, this is routine—for me and for them. Tell me how to get to your house.”
She wanted to tell him to get out of her car so she could drive home alone, but who knew what disaster awaited there. He seemed to have some know-how, so she gave him her address and he plugged it into his phone GPS while continuing to drive like a New York City cabbie. On second thought, maybe I’d better get rid of him now.
“I’m going to go a roundabout way to shake off anyone following us.”
She whipped around, but all she saw were regular cars in normal traffic on the small-town streets. Her head pounded. This had to be a dream. Like the one she’d had last night in which she’d shown up to class without her lecture notes and the students had laughed at her. It had to be. This was not real.
They arrived at her house to find it quiet. No media vans, no horde of reporters. Just the neighbor’s yippy dog barking behind the fence like he’d never seen her before.
“Shut up, Rex,” she muttered, stepping onto her front porch. She and her mother liv
ed in a small, brick-front town house with three feet of shared front yard between them and the neighbors. She keyed into the house with Alex right behind her.
“Wait here.” She motioned to the small living room with the flowered couch her mother had owned since Kat was a little girl. The woman refused to give it up. It was perfectly preserved under a plastic cover, Kat’s daily reminder of what her life would be if she didn’t change something. Once she got the promotion, she could move into her own place again and get more medical assistance for her mother. She could have a life. One that consisted of more than just taking care of her mother and working to get her career back on track.
Right now, she could barely afford to pay the rent on this place, let alone get an apartment for her mother. Emilia Driscoll hadn’t been able to hold down a job for over a year now. The move to Hillsdale had been hard on her, and Kat didn’t understand why. Her mother was from Virginia; Kat’s aunt lived a short distance away. When Kat had accepted the position at Hillsdale College, she’d expected her mother to be thrilled. Instead, she had mumbled something about the past coming back. At the time, Kat had wondered if her father was still around. It was the only thing that explained her mother’s reaction.
She went to the bedroom to find her mother still fast asleep. Kat closed the door and sat on the bed. Wisps of blond hair stuck to her mother’s forehead, so she pushed them back. Emilia had been a beautiful woman once, with long, flowing hair, bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks and a full body. Now her hair was thin and falling out. Her slim body was all bones. Kat could never get enough calories into her. She couldn’t let the media anywhere near her; they would eat her alive.
“Mom, I need you to wake up.”
Her mother moaned and turned away from Kat, but she shook her until Emilia’s eyes fluttered. “Katerina, what time is it? How long have I been sleeping?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the sunshine streaming through the window.
“Mom, it hasn’t been long. I’m here because there’s a problem. I need an answer to a very important question, and I need you not to lie to me, okay?”
Her mother sat up in bed and frowned. She was lucid and calm. Good—the drugs had taken effect. “Katerina, what is it?”
Kat swallowed. There was no time to ease into this. “Remember how you told me my father was a politician?” Her mother shrank back, her lips pressed tightly together. It was her normal reaction, but Kat wasn’t going to let her shut down this time. For once, she had a different way of asking the rote question. “Mom, is Senator William Roberts my father?”
Her mother paled and she clutched the bedsheet to her chest.
“Oh, no. It’s happened, hasn’t it? He’s come to take you from me.”
CHAPTER TWO
“I’M WORKING ON IT.” Alex bit his tongue, literally, to keep his tone polite. The Republican National Committee had been riding him ever since they figured out Roberts was going to be the make-or-break candidate for control of the Senate. The rest of the races were a foregone conclusion. Only a third of the Senate was up for reelection every six years. Virginia had been a predictable race, as Senator Roberts was well liked, but a new challenger had changed all that. Now the race was close. Tight enough to be within the polling margins of error. If Roberts lost, the powerful Senate would go to the Democrats.
“The senator needs to focus on his trip. Convincing the Egyptians to give us the technology is critical for the bill,” he told the RNC chair as calmly as he could. The senator didn’t need to deal with a media crisis. The whole point of his trip to Cairo was to get a firm commitment from the Egyptian government, which was not currently a friend of the United States, to turn over the specifications for new robot detectors that could clear IEDs. As an active senator, Roberts was both campaigning and trying to get his bill passed before the election. It was Alex’s job to make sure he was successful in both endeavors. IEDs were the biggest killer of American soldiers, so for every minute that soldiers were using old equipment, someone was dying.
“I’ll handle it. This isn’t my first campaign.” He stabbed the end button on his BlackBerry without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t distract the senator. The Egyptians had initially agreed to sell the technology for an exorbitant amount of money but were now reconsidering the deal under significant pressure from other Middle Eastern countries not to sell to the US. The senator was fighting overseas, so it was Alex’s job to deal with the battleground that was Washington politics.
This was a big ticket, his first national effort, nothing like the small-time campaigns he had been running. He was almost a Washington insider, not just—pull yourself up by the bootstraps, young man—hanging around the elite. No longer the token senior staffer, the one people turned to when immigration was the issue du jour. He wasn’t even Mexican. His mother was from El Salvador, a woman who legally immigrated. Yet that fact was often overlooked. All his life, he’d been around men in power. They saw him as the stereotypical son of the cleaning lady, out to work hard and make a name for himself. Good for you, boy.
The party leaders were waiting for him to fail. Senator Roberts had hired him when it was going to be a simple race. Still, he’d kept him on even though the party leaders were putting pressure on him to replace Alex. Those smug men. Alex knew that if he didn’t control this media nightmare, and fast, the RNC leaders would slap him on the back and tell him he’d fought a good fight, then give him a fatherly smile and suggest he go back to the minor leagues. You’ve made your mother proud, son. They’d blame him for the bill not passing, a bill they supported only because the Democrats were against it. Men like that always won. But he wasn’t a helpless kid anymore; he was a grown man who was going to fight back and beat them at their own game.
He rubbed his temples. His first thought had been that this had to be a woman looking for her moment in the spotlight, so he’d brought the campaign checkbook and the standard nondisclosure agreement to get the situation resolved quickly. But this was clearly not the usual deal.
First of all, CNN normally gave the RNC more notice for a story like this, hoping to barter for an even bigger scoop. This time it was a call for comment as they were going to air. Second, they refused to even hint at their source. No “senior White House officials” type of disguise to indicate where the story had come from. Third, the woman hadn’t given an interview. If this were the familiar get-rich-quick scheme, she would’ve been in front of the cameras talking about emotional damage. Her photos would be picture-perfect. Instead, they were using a mug shot from the college website, and the Twitter photos were even worse. Could this be the real deal? She’d seemed genuinely distressed when he found her.
He clicked on the BlackBerry again and eagerly read the email he’d been waiting for. The plastic squeaked as he sank deeper into the couch. It can get worse.
The bedroom door opened and Kat emerged, closing it softly behind her. She was even paler than before, and far more beautiful in person than in the pictures on TV. Her blue eyes were clear and expressive, her long blond hair haloing her delicate face. A naturally beautiful woman who would be stunning if she was done up right. Yet he could tell she wasn’t the type to make sure her nails were polished, hair blown to perfection and clothes immaculately pressed. She wasn’t someone you put in front of the cameras.
“So?”
He already knew what she was going to say, but he needed to hear her version of it.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
He raised an eyebrow then stood.
“I’ll help you make it.”
“No, you sit here. I’ll be right back.”
He thumbed through the remaining messages on his phone. He’d made a rookie mistake. He should’ve sent an unknown staffer to deal with this. Yet something about her picture had gotten his spidey senses tingling and he’d decided to deal with it himself. In hindsight, he realized that if the media found him he
re, in her house, the story would gain even more steam. He’d already taken a chance driving her from the college. Even with his hat, he couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t recognized him. Kat needed to make a statement, and soon. He didn’t have time for coffee.
Thankfully, Kat returned quickly with two mismatched mugs. She handed one to him. “I have cream and sugar if you’d like.”
He shook his head. He’d learned to drink his coffee plain black. Hard to deal with creamers and sugar packets while on the go.
“So?”
She sighed and leaned back into the squeaky couch, wincing at the sound. He expected her to take her time, but she got to the point. “The senator and my mother were married thirty-six years ago. Briefly. She left him then discovered she was pregnant with me. By then the divorce was final.”
His deputy, Crista, had just unearthed all this. The senator was such a public figure, having always put his life and family in front of the media, that Alex hadn’t bothered to dig much deeper before Roberts entered the national stage. Like the media, he’d thought the man was already well vetted and that any skeletons would have been dug up a long time ago. Another mistake.
Her face was now ashen, her eyes large and luminous. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and he saw waves in the liquid.
His leg jerked. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay. Except it wouldn’t. Her eyes shone and she stared into her coffee. Then a sound outside caught his attention. Great!
He flew to the window and pulled the drapes across it. She looked up, splashing coffee on her hands.
“What’s going on?”
“They’re here. You need to close all the blinds.” He kicked himself for not asking her to do that first thing.
To her credit, she didn’t let the panic clearly visible in her eyes overwhelm her. The cup clattered as she set it down and ran to the bedrooms. He drew the venetian blinds on the skinny window next to the front door, then walked into the tiny kitchen and did the same.
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