by Misty Evans
“Well, honey, you did that.”
And, whew, she sort of liked the way he called her honey. What did that say about her since the man hadn’t bothered to hide his derision. I’m a total flake. Maybe so. But the flake had a job to do. Lightly, she touched his arm. “Let me make it up to you.”
For half a second, she thought she saw something very male and very, well, carnal, flit through his eyes. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling a little heat here.
But then he dumped the coffee, she hadn’t seen him even sip, in the garbage can and swiped his hands together, staring down at them for a second. Maybe checking for dirt. On top of paranoid, he could be a germaphobe.
“Quit stalling,” he said. “I saw you check your phone. Whatever intel you’re waiting on, if it doesn’t show up in fifteen seconds, I’m gone.”
He shoved up his jacket sleeve revealing a shiny silver watch strapped to his wrist. Analog, not digital.
Forget the cowboy hat. The scruffy look, calling her honey and a watch. Total panty dropper. He must have vetted her or something and found out she was wickedly turned on by men with watches. God’s sakes it was almost a fetish, but there was something so throwback about analog watches, she never could resist. Particularly large, masculine looking ones.
The watch. Not the man. Well, the man too, of course. Yeesh. It was all almost too much.
He stared down at the watch. “I’m timing you. You’re down to ten seconds.”
Ten seconds? Really? The guy was good. Her phone buzzed again. Rob. Still no Amy. Why did he keep texting her if he didn’t have any news?
“Five seconds, Ms. Denby and then I go write a blog saying the Chief Justice of the United States may have been assassinated.”
No! PR nightmare.
“Three, two…”
“I’ll make you a deal.”
“One.”
He looked up at her and smiled.
Could the man be any more smug? She should smack him. Pow. Just get it over with. He had her all kinds of worked up and she wasn’t even sure why. Other than the watch fetish. But that was something altogether different. That could be chalked up to restrained sexual energy because, seriously, she hadn’t gotten any lately.
And apparently needed it.
A vibrator could only take a girl so far.
“I’m all ears, Ms. Denby.”
All ears. Funny. At the moment, she wasn’t thinking about his ears.
She sighed and blew out a breath. She had to give him a lead. Something. Information was what he wanted. This she knew.
Until she talked to Amy, she couldn’t necessarily pony up what little she knew. That would mean trusting him. A huge leap for her considering her lack of faith in bloggers.
But, really big but here, he’d stuck to his word so far and hadn’t posted anything regarding the Chief Justice. That had to count for something. If nothing else, he’d done what he’d said he would.
Or wouldn’t do.
Pow. Mind-blown. She’d damned near confused herself there.
“All right,” she said, “I’m going to give you the name of a case, but I’m not sure what the relevance is. I haven’t had time to vet it yet. So, yes, I was stalling. My boss has been behind closed doors all night and I’m not sure what I have or if I should even be sharing it with you.”
“You’re nervous.”
“No, Hawk. I’m terrified. And worse, I’m going to trust you. Tell me I’m not wrong to do that?”
He inched closer. Typically when men did that it was a power play. A way for them to loom over shrimpy Hope. An intimidation tactic that hadn’t worked since grammar school thanks to her three brothers who took turns getting under her skin in order to teach her how to fight back after a mean girl had humiliated her.
She may have been small, but she was most definitely mighty.
Particularly when it came to men.
But, funny thing. When Hawk moved closer, despite the minimum eight inches he had on her, it relaxed her. Made her feel a little taller. Go. Figure.
Relaxed.
Scruff.
Watch.
The man was an orgasm waiting to happen.
And him without a wedding ring. Which didn’t always mean he didn’t have a wife somewhere, but he seemed like the type who’d wear a ring. Didn’t he? She couldn’t know that though. Men could be slippery that way.
Why was she even thinking about this when they had a dead Chief Justice to be concerned with? She shook her head. Crazy-making thoughts after a long, stressful day.
“You’re not wrong,” he said. “You can trust me. You may have noticed I’m a freak about my privacy. I protect my sources the same way. Whatever you give me, I’ll vet it. My readers expect that. And I’m not one of these bullshit bloggers wanting notoriety so they make shit up to start trouble. If you want to compare legit news stories that we’ve both broken, let’s do it. In the last three months, I broke the bribery of that congressman from Idaho, the misuse of power by the Secretary of Housing and Urban Development, and then, Miss Denby, there’s the jewel in my crown—”
“—The Attorney General scandal.”
“Bingo, babe. I have no problem starting trouble if it fixes a problem, but I won’t pull the trigger if I don’t have to.”
He leaned in a bit more and the overhead street light illuminated his face. Looking into those blue eyes, more grey than blue at the moment, the color of a stormy Atlantic Ocean, she believed him. For whatever reason, and it might be her downfall, but she didn’t think he’d lie.
“Here’s the deal,” she said. “I’ll tell you the name of the case, but you cannot do anything with it until I verify it. I know you’ll hate that, but I want to give you something. I don’t want you posting false information. The Chief Justice is dead and I need to protect his reputation, no matter the reason he died today. If you’ll agree to this, I’ll give you the name of the case. Obviously, you’ll be free to research it as well, but you cannot run even a hint of the name until I look into it.”
“And what do I get?”
“Besides the name of the case?”
“Yeah.”
Unbelievable. Think, think, think. “I’ll give you a thirty minute head start on the next big news release. You’ll get it first.”
Hawk rocked back on his heels, twisted his lips. He didn’t trust her. Why should he? She’d tried to stall him. She wouldn’t trust her either. She lifted her chin, made direct eye contact. “I promise you, you’ll get it first.”
“I want a time limit.”
Damn. “Oh, come on! You have to trust me on this.”
“Hey, who’s to say one of the networks won’t get something on this and break it first? Meanwhile, I’m sitting here with my thumb up my ass when I had a good scoop. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If the networks haven’t picked this up by then, we’ll revisit the deadline. Those are my terms.”
Considering her only other option was to walk away and let him run some wacky conspiracy theory about the Chief Justice, she didn’t have a choice but to accept his deal.
“Fine,” she said.
“Deal. Now spill.”
She let out a long breath. “Kenton Labs.”
“Pharmaceutical company. That’s the case about the patent, right?”
Smart man. “Yes. As I said, my source just gave it to me. Literally right before I called you. I know nothing about it other than what has come across my desk.”
“Which is?”
“That Kenton is battling with two other drug companies to protect its patent on Donazem. I don’t know all of the details, but the clerks believe it’s one of the most important cases this term. If the hearing is denied, it could set a precedent for all future hearings on drug patents.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll look into it. If I find anything, I’ll call you for a comment. Remember our deal, Ms. Denby. I’ll hang on to this for twenty-four hours. Stay in touch.”
He turned and walked away,
shoulders hunched, trying to blend in with the few pedestrians near the corner.
For now, she’d silenced him. Kept him from distributing some crazy conspiracy theory that had yet to be proven. Whatever that theory might be. Lordy, she had no clue what they were even dealing with.
All that was left was to break it to Amy that a damned blogger would get a jump on their next big release.
Chapter Five
At 9:15 Hope charged into the office, found the place still lit up with people slaving away. A small group of her co-workers hovered around the television mounted on the wall in the corner. Justice Turner’s photo adorned the screen as the news anchor spoke. From her vantage point, Hope couldn’t quite hear and wandered closer just as the anchor went to a video of a woman who’d been stuck on the bridge, but hadn’t witnessed the actual shooting.
“The entire incident is horrifying,” the woman said. “We were stuck for over an hour. Total logjam. Then I heard the gunshots and really panicked. I mean, we couldn’t move. We all could have gotten shot. Then some guy wearing a DDOT vest comes running up and takes the barricades down to get traffic moving. Just like that.”
Hope twisted her lips and tried to visualize the scene. If someone from DDOT was able to remove the barricades that easily, there couldn’t have been any major construction occurring. If that were the case, why the heck was the lane closed during rush hour traffic?
In D.C.
Way to snarl the morning commute. Flipping DDOT.
The on-site reporter mentioned that police had questioned the cab driver and everyone who’d witnessed the shooting, but so far no leads. Then she tossed it back to the anchor and Hope moved down the aisle leading to her desk, passing cubes where assistants cruised the internet or kept their heads down in an attempt to look busy and basically steer clear of Amy’s wrath.
At her cube, she dumped her briefcase just inside the wall and moved the four extra steps to Rob’s desk.
“Hey. What’s the word?”
Rob leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms and then ran his hands through his neatly cropped dark hair. “Nothing new. The cops haven’t found the shooter yet. The networks are all basically repeating what they reported earlier.”
“I heard.” She gestured to the group huddled around the television. “They’ve got CNN on. Can you imagine being trapped on that bridge and having some psycho start shooting? Fish in a barrel. Leave it to DDOT to close the lane during rush hour.”
“Yeah. All I know is we’re all sitting here waiting for some direction. Everyone is afraid to go home.” He jerked his head toward Amy’s office. “She’s back from her meeting. But it ain’t pretty. She nearly tore Rosalie’s head off ten minutes ago.”
Excellent. Truly, excellent.
Sigh.
“How’d it go with the blogger?”
“Fine. I think he’s actually legit.”
“He brought down the deputy attorney general, Hope. I think that’s pretty legit.”
“Meaning he’s interested in getting the story right. But he’s a nudge.” She scooted closer to Rob, leaned over his desk, getting right next to him so she wouldn’t be overheard. “I had to make a deal with him or he would have floated this crazy conspiracy theory to his readers.”
Rob hit her with a look. One that had him scrunching his nose. “What deal? We don’t have anything on this yet.”
“I know. That was the problem. I had to promise him a thirty-minute lead on our next big press release.”
Gagging sounds erupted from Rob. Hardy har. But what was she supposed to do? Just let Hawkeye—Hawk—run with it? She couldn’t do that. No way.
Rob opened his desk drawer, whipped out a tape measure.
What the hell was that for? “What are you doing?”
“I need to measure your cube for when I move in there.” He dumped the tape measure on the desk, sending it clattering across the top. “Have you lost your fucking mind? The Queen Bitch won’t just fire you, she’ll skin you, set your body ablaze and listen to you scream while dying.”
Didn’t that create a stunning visual? Well, as long as she had good shoes on, Hope would accept the punishment. All in a day’s work. “I know. I didn’t have a choice though. I had to stall him. And Amy wasn’t available to help me.”
“Denby!”
Hope angled back, arching just beyond the cube wall. Amy stood in her office doorway, her shoulder-length hair an unholy mess and her blouse twelve wrinkles beyond its limit.
Rob picked up the tape measure, slid the ruler out and let it snap back.
Fucker.
But, oh, she wouldn’t say that out loud. Good girls didn’t say fuck and she’d spent most of her life being a good girl. She pinched him. “Coming!”
Saving her the short trip to her cube, Rob handed her a legal pad and pen. “Let the games begin.”
“Shut up. Ass.” She swung from the cube, did her run-walk routine toward her boss. “Amy, I was just heading to see you.”
“Save it. What happened with the blogger?”
“That’s where I was.”
“Where?”
“Meeting the blogger.”
Amy’s head dipped forward. “Oh, Christ. Get in here, Denby.”
Following her boss, Hope stepped into the office and closed the door behind her. Amy cornered the desk, sat and glanced at the door.
“I hate closed doors. It’s never good when that happens.”
“No. It’s fine. I just wanted privacy.”
So my co-workers don’t witness my slaying.
Amy sat back and massaged her scalp. “When I woke up this morning, I was forty-eight. I feel a hundred.”
“It’s been a horrid day.”
She dropped her hands, let them rest on top of a stack of files on her desk. “That it has. What have you got?”
If ever there was a question Hope didn’t want to answer, that might be it. Like everything else, she’d find a way to put a positive spin on the experience. Consider it training for her rise to the White House when she’d be required to stand in front of the press corps and answer the really tough questions. Like how a blogger manipulated her into making a deal.
Hope sat a little straighter, shoved her shoulders back. Positive spin. “It turns out, the blogger is the guy who ran that series on the deputy AG last fall.”
“Shit.”
“It’s okay though. I stalled him.”
“Good girl.”
Yay, me. “But only for so long.”
“Are you going to piss me off, Denby?”
Boo-me. Hope held up her hand. “No.” Liar. “We can control him. He got a tip that the Chief Justice’s death wasn’t—”
“An accident. Sure. Right. These lunatics come out of their dark holes when a politically influential person kicks it. I’m sure this guy has all sorts of theories. Elvis lives. Aliens walk among us. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Not really,” Hope said. “He’s pretty normal.”
For a conspiracy theory nutcase.
“Then what’s his big tip?”
“His source claims it wasn’t a coincidence that the Chief Justice got held up on the bridge. According to the source he was about to deliver a ruling on whether or not a landmark case got a hearing.”
Amy angled her head and narrowed her eyes. Thinking. Probably looping the major cases before the court through her brain. “What case?”
“That’s what he wanted to know. He gave me until 8:00 PM to give him something that would debunk the tip. Which is why I left you ten voicemails.”
“Denby?”
“Yes.”
“It’s 9:30.”
“I know.” She held up her hand again. “Even with the blown deadline, he’s been contained.”
Amy pointed at her and made that clicking noise with her tongue that she always did when someone pleased her. “Good. How?”
“I poked around about what the case might be. I think it’s the Kenton Labs hearing.”
&n
bsp; “The patent?”
“Yes, ma’am. According to my source, the Chief was about to deliver a ruling on whether or not Kenton would get their hearing to extend the patent.”
“Who’s your source?”
Whoopsie. ”I can’t say. I’m sorry. It’s a credible source though.”
“You went to one of the clerks.” Amy waved it off. “Forget it. I know you won’t tell me. But if this turns into something, all bets are off and I’ll want that source.”
Boss or no boss, Hope wouldn’t give up Joel’s name. If she did, no source would ever trust her. “Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
“How’d you’d stall the blogger?”
Tricky question. Admitting she’d gone rogue and made a deal without her boss’s permission was new territory. Maybe she could dance her way around it, put it off until morning when Amy wasn’t in Bitch mode. But the only thing waiting would accomplish would be keeping Hope up all night anticipating the trouble she’d be in when she finally did come clean. Then that would spin out because Amy would demand to know why she hadn’t admitted it when they spoke last and then Amy would never trust her again and—splat—her career in D.C. would be over. She’d be lucky if she got a job as a stringer in some podunk newspaper in Idaho.
Not a great idea.
Unless the men wore cowboy hats and boots.
Ugh. Her stomach cinched. She fought off the discomfort and scooted to the end of her chair. “He’s kind of a slippery bugger.”
“Denby?”
“Yes?”
“Have I mentioned I’m extremely tired?”
Hope furiously waved her hands. “Okayokayokay. I’m just going to tell you and you can crucify me if you must, but he was threatening to unleash this story which would have caused major speculation about the Chief Justice and...and...” Rob’s comment about the stock market filled her head. “...think about the stock market! I mean, we don’t want to mess with that so I had to stop this guy.”
“Jesus, Denby. Are you on something?”
How incredibly offensive. “Of course not! I’m trying to explain why I did what I did.”