The Promise (The Protectors Book 4)

by Leeanna Morgan

  “No.” Matthew started walking toward the garden. He hadn’t told anyone that Ashley wouldn’t be coming back.

  Nathan followed him. “Apart from the FBI arresting the congressman and the woman who ran the charity, what else happened?”

  “Not a lot. I’m seeing Jacob Green later today. I’ve found a warehouse that looks great.”

  “For Jacob?”

  “For both of us. The Reaching High Foundation owns the building. If they’re open to selling the property, Jacob will run the numbers and see if it would be a sound investment.”

  “How on earth did you find the building?”

  “The Foundation operates a youth center from the ground floor. We went there last Friday.”

  “Is that the same youth center that Ashley wrote about?”

  “Yep.” Matthew opened the garden gate. “Someone’s been planting more seedlings.”

  “We spent a couple of hours out here yesterday before Toby got sick.”

  Matthew knelt on the fertile soil and picked some lettuce leaves.

  “How much lettuce does Sean need?” Nathan asked.

  “I’ve got no idea.”

  “Take as much as you like. These plants are almost past their best.”

  Once the basket was half full, they made their way across to the tomato plants. When they’d first been planted, Catherine helped tie the vines to bamboo stakes. Looking at the size of the tomatoes, the plants needed every bit of support they could get.

  “Do you want Cherry or Roma?”

  Matthew looked at the hanging baskets full of bright red Cherry tomatoes. “How about we take some of both? Sean can choose what he wants.”

  While Nathan picked the Cherry tomatoes, Matthew added half a dozen Romas to their haul.

  “You haven’t talked about Ashley since you’ve been home.”

  “I’ve only been back one night.” Matthew picked a cucumber and added it to the basket.

  “What happened while you were in New York?”

  Matthew studied the garden and the fields surrounding them. The ranch was as important to him as the air he breathed. It nourished his soul, made him glad to be alive, and happy to be away from New York. “I realized something I should have known a long time ago. Ashley won’t be coming back to live in Bozeman. Her life is in New York City.”

  Nathan dropped two handfuls of tomatoes into the basket. “She seemed to enjoy herself while she was here.”

  “It wasn’t enough to make her stay.”

  “She had other things on her mind. Maybe if she came back when no one was harassing her, it might be different.”

  “It wouldn’t. Have you heard from mom?”

  Nathan’s eyes narrowed. “She called me two nights ago. Dad has joined the local country club.”

  Matthew frowned. “I never imagined him as the country club type.”

  “Neither did I, but it sounds as though he’s enjoying himself. I’m here if you want to talk to someone.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I’d better take these back to Sean. Give the kids a hug from me.”

  “I’m sure you’ll see Catherine soon. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Matthew felt the weight of his brother’s gaze long after he’d left the garden. Saying goodbye to Ashley had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He didn’t know if his heart would ever be the same again.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Ashley’s fingers flew across her keyboard. She had a tight deadline and needed to finish her story.

  “I just got a text from Harry.”

  She peered around the edge of the partition separating her desk from Bonnie’s. “Are you talking to me?”

  Bonnie rolled her office chair toward her. “There’s a rumor going around that The Reaching High Foundation is selling the building we visited two weeks ago.”

  “What will happen to the youth center?”

  “I don’t know, but Harry’s heading there now. Want to come?”

  She looked at the mess on her desk and sighed. “I can’t. I need to finish this article by four o’clock.”

  “You’ve still got three hours. It will do you good to get out of the office. You’ve practically lived here since Matthew left.”

  Ashley would like to think Bonnie was exaggerating, but she wasn’t. Working had helped dull the ache of not having Matthew here. She didn’t know what was wrong with her. For three years, she’d been reasonably happy with her life. Missing Montana, her friends, and Matthew was the price she had to pay if she wanted to be a reporter.

  When she felt really low, she slapped a smile on her face and kept going. This time, it wasn’t working. “Can I meet you at the youth center? If I can’t make it, I’ll call you.”

  “Have you finished your first draft?”

  “I should have it done in ten minutes.”

  “Awesome. Harry will be here in fifteen minutes. That gives you enough time to finish the draft. You can edit it once we’re back.”

  Ashley bit her bottom lip. “How long will we be at the center?”

  “No more than half an hour. Anita, the youth center manager, is meeting us there.”

  “Okay. I can do that, but I can’t stay any longer. Can I ask a favor?”

  “Sure.”

  “I haven’t had lunch. Could you get me a sandwich from the cafeteria?”

  “Vegetarian, beef, or chicken?”

  “Vegetarian.” She handed Bonnie some money. “If you want to buy something for you and Harry there should be more than enough money.”

  “Thanks.” Bonnie reached for her bag. “Keep working. I’ll be back soon.”

  Ashley frowned at her computer screen, then started typing. This story was about the latest exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It wasn’t as groundbreaking as her story about Congressman Welsh, but it was still important to write a good story.

  Her phone rang and she picked up the receiver. “Ashley Fisher speaking.”

  “Hello, Ms. Fisher. This is Des Malone, the investigations editor for The Washington Post. Do you have a couple of minutes to speak to me?”

  Ashley stopped typing. “I do. How can I help?” Since her first story about Congressman Welsh had been published, she’d had calls from a lot of reporters, but not their editors.

  “I’ve read the series of articles you wrote about The Reaching High Foundation and Congressman Welsh. I was impressed with each of them. The reason I called is that we have a position vacant in our investigations team. If you’re interested, I could email you a copy of the job description and application forms.”

  Ashley’s eyes widened. The Washington Post’s readership was huge. “That would be great. Do you have my email address?”

  “It was on The Daily Times’ website. I’ll send it through now. Applications close this Friday.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your call.”

  “You’re welcome. I look forward to seeing your CV.”

  Ashley put the phone down and opened her emails. Her mind was working overtime, imagining what a job in Washington, D.C. would mean. She’d have to find an apartment and move her entire life to another city. She’d be a long way from Harry and Bonnie, but the opportunity to really prove herself as a reporter was huge.

  The email from Des Malone appeared in her inbox. She opened the first attachment and read through the job description. It was perfect. She’d be working with ten other reporters, as well as a rapid-response team.

  “Here’s your sandwich,” Bonnie said from beside her. “The line was out the door, but luckily everyone was in a hurry and didn’t dawdle. How’s the article coming along?”

  “Not much further than before you left.” Ashley peered over the partition walls surrounding her desk.

  “Everyone’s either at lunch or working away from their desks,” Bonnie whispered. “What’s happened?”

  “The investigations editor at The Washington Post called me. They have a position available in his team and he wan
ted to know if I was interested.”

  Bonnie’s mouth dropped open. “The Washington Post?”

  “Ssh.” Ashley held her finger to her lips.

  “Did he send you the job description?”

  Ashley pointed to her screen. “It’s here.”

  “That was quick.”

  “I know. I can’t believe he called me.”

  “You’re a great reporter—he’d be crazy not to contact you.” Bonnie’s smile disappeared. “You’d have to move. What would I do without you?”

  Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat. “We could call each other. It wouldn’t be the same, but we could make it work.”

  “You’re right. If you got the job, I could visit you. We could send each other lots of pictures and still stay in touch.” She looked at her watch and sighed. “Harry will be here soon. Are you ready to leave?”

  “Just about.” Ashley quickly gathered the papers on her desk and placed them in a folder. “I’ll take my laptop. If we’re caught in traffic, I’ll work on my story from the car.” With one last look at her desk, Ashley slipped her laptop into its bag and walked with Bonnie to the elevators.

  She pushed the job at The Washington Post to the back of her mind and thought about the youth center. If the Foundation were selling the building, she hoped they had a clause in the contract about keeping the youth center open. Without it, there was only a slim chance that the new owners would continue the programs.

  ***

  By the time Harry was near the youth center, Ashley was glad she’d brought her laptop. The traffic had been bumper-to-bumper for most of their journey. From the back seat of his car, she’d not only finished her story but edited it as well.

  “Finally,” Bonnie sighed. “I wonder what the traffic will be like in Washington, D.C.”

  “Are you planning a vacation?” Harry asked.

  Bonnie shook her head. “The editor of the investigations team at The Washington Post called Ashley. He asked if she was interested in applying for a job.”

  “Wow. That’s an incredible opportunity.” Harry’s gaze connected with Ashley’s in the rearview mirror.

  “I have to be offered the position first,” she said. “There’ll probably be a lot of people applying for the job.”

  “But not all of them would have received a phone call from the editor.” He turned left and pulled into one of the car parks reserved for the youth center. “Will you take the job if they offer it to you?”

  Ashley hesitated. “I don’t know.”

  “You’d be crazy not to take it.” Bonnie unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. “There will be lots of stories like this one in Washington, D.C. You might even meet the President.”

  “That’s pretty unlikely.”

  “You never know. Strangers things have happened.”

  Harry stood beside Ashley. “And an excellent example of that is the sale of this building. It’s hard to imagine the warehouse being used for anything other than a youth center. I wonder how the staff and volunteers feel about it being sold.”

  The entrance doors opened and Anita walked toward them.

  “We’ll know soon enough,” Ashley said.

  Harry shook Anita’s hand. “I didn’t know if we would be welcome. I’m sorry we left so suddenly the last time we were here.”

  Anita didn’t smile, but she wasn’t hostile either. “You had your reasons. At least the article on the center was positive. We’ve had a lot of support from people who didn’t know we were here. Hopefully, the next owners appreciate what we do in the community.”

  “So the Foundation is selling the property?” Ashley asked.

  “They will as soon as the FBI’s investigation is finished. I spoke with someone from the Foundation yesterday. The bank accounts are still frozen.”

  “How are you getting paid?” Harry asked.

  “We aren’t. Our next pay is due in four days, but no one knows if the money will go through.”

  “That’s terrible,” Bonnie said. “Can we do anything to help?”

  “Keep writing stories about the center. The more people that are aware of our situation, the more pressure it puts on the FBI to finish their investigation. I’m lucky—with my husband’s salary and some savings, we’ve got enough money to cover our rent and food, but other staff aren’t so fortunate. Most of the people who work here are looking for other jobs.” Anita opened the front doors. “Come inside out of this heat.”

  As soon as Ashley walked into the main activity room, she smiled. At least fifty children were working in different areas. “You’ve got a full house today.”

  Anita nodded. “There are another thirty kids in the sports area. Becoming famous is wonderful, but it has brought a lot more children into the center. It would be great if we had the funding to support them, but we don’t.”

  Ashley pulled out her notebook. “Can you tell us anything about the people who are interested in purchasing the property?”

  “The staff at the Foundation’s head office aren’t saying much. All I know is that a property developer has made an offer to purchase the warehouse and the vacant lot beside it. They say they want to keep the youth center operating, but I’m not holding my breath.”

  Harry took his camera out of its case. “That must give you some hope?”

  Anita shrugged. “I’ll wait until we know exactly what’s happening before I start celebrating.”

  “Can we look around and speak to some of the children?” Ashley asked. “I didn’t get a chance to interview them when we were here the other day.”

  “No problem. When you’re finished, come into the kitchen. We made cookies a couple of hours ago.”

  Harry grinned. “Sounds good to me.”

  He left with Bonnie, and Ashley headed toward the computer desks. If the children told her what difference the youth center was making to their lives, she knew it would make another great story. And later today, if she was really lucky, someone from the Foundation might tell her who had made an offer on the property.

  ***

  “You’ve been home for two weeks. You can’t mope around forever.”

  Matthew scowled over the top of his book at his brother. “I’m not moping. I’m reading.”

  Sean sipped his cup of coffee. “You haven’t gone anywhere since you got back from New York.”

  “It’s not as if we live in the middle of Bozeman. Besides, I like it here.”

  “So do I, but everyone needs to get away once in a while.”

  The front door banged open and Catherine rushed into the living room. “Uncle Matthew! Uncle Sean! Look what I’ve got.”

  Catherine skidded to a stop beside Matthew’s chair. She was holding a green cushion against her chest. “Ashley sent me this. Isn’t it cool?” She put her hand inside the cushion and a red worm poked his head out of the apple shaped fabric.

  Sean laughed. “Looks as though a worm’s taken a bite out of the Big Apple.”

  Matthew frowned.

  The front door opened again, and Toby ran toward his sister waving a bubble wand in the air. “Me, too.”

  “Wow, look at the two of you,” Sean said as he ruffled Toby’s hair. “You’re going to be busy.”

  “Mom’s got the bubble mixture,” Catherine said solemnly. “We had an accident.”

  “Spilled on the floor,” Toby said quietly.

  “Tabitha licked it and got sick.” Catherine nudged her brother.

  Matthew frowned. Their old cat didn’t usually go far from the barn. “What was Tabitha doing inside your house?”

  “She was in the barn,” Toby said. “I showed her the bubbles.”

  “She’ll be all right,” Sean said. “Tabitha’s eaten a lot worse than a few bubbles.”

  Matthew left his book on the coffee table. “I’ve got an idea. How about we make our own bubbles?”

  Toby held his wand in the air. “Yeah!”

  Matthew found the dishwashing liquid and squirted some into a tall
glass. “Bring your wand here, Toby. Let’s see if it fits.” He knelt beside the counter and waited for his nephew.

  Toby dipped his wand into the glass and grinned.

  “Well, done, little man. It looks as though we’re ready to blow some bubbles.

  Toby sucked in a deep breath and blew through the wand.

  Matthew moved out of the way as half a dozen bubbles flew toward him.

  Catherine popped the bubbles and grinned at her brother. “Make more.”

  Toby handed Matthew the wand. “Uncle Matthew’s turn.”

  Matthew lowered the wand into the bubble mixture. “Are you ready?”

  Catherine and Toby nodded.

  He blew a string of bubbles into the air and Toby squealed with delight.

  “More bubbles,” Toby said as Matthew dipped the wand into the slippery bubble mixture.

  The next bubbles shot toward Sean. His brother moved fast, barely missing two excited kids rushing toward him.

  Matthew added more bubbles to the mayhem, laughing as Sean balanced a bubble on his nose.

  “I thought I’d find everyone in here.” Nathan stood in the doorway with a grin on his face.

  “We runaway,” Toby said proudly.

  “It looks like it.” He held a plate toward his children. “I took your muffins out of the oven. Do you want to share them with Uncle Sean and Uncle Matthew?”

  Catherine nodded and turned to Matthew. “They’re chocolate. Would you like one?”

  Matthew left the bubble mixture on the mantelpiece. “I’d love one.”

  “Me too,” Toby said from beside his dad.

  Nathan handed Catherine the muffins and picked up his son. “We wouldn’t forget you. How about we go into the kitchen and make everyone a drink?”

  Toby snuggled into his dad’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Where’s mommy?”

  “She’s watching her favorite TV show. I left two muffins at home for her.”

  Matthew sighed as he followed Nathan and Toby into the kitchen. He’d always thought that one day he’d get married and have a family of his own. But the only person he’d ever wanted to marry was Ashley and she would never be his wife.

  Sean placed his hand on Catherine’s shoulder. “It sounds like Uncle Matthew needs a muffin.”