Fall Into You (38 page)

He rubbed a palm over the back of his neck, sweat starting to gather there. He wouldn’t
survive it. No, this had to be the way it went. Ending things was best for both of
them.

Movement near Charli’s table caught his eye, yanking him from his morose thoughts.
The man Charli had been interviewing shook her hand and stood. Charli was nodding,
obviously thanking him, and then waved him off when he attempted to pay for breakfast.
Her gaze shot Grant’s way for a brief second. He could almost feel the energy vibrating
off of her. She’d gotten her story.
Good girl
.

The guy left the restaurant, and Charli sat back down, making more notes. She glanced
his way and discreetly gave him the signal for five minutes, disguising it as trying
to get the waitress’s attention for a refill. They had agreed not to interact in the
restaurant on the off chance anyone was watching. They’d even taken separate vehicles
as an added precaution.

He made one final visual sweep of the restaurant, making note of any patrons that
seemed to be paying particular attention to Charli. But most customers had other people
with them. The few
loners seemed more interested in their laptops and cell phones than anything else.
So Grant tossed a few bills on the table and swigged the last of his coffee. Then
he slipped out the door to go scan the parking lot and make sure there was no one
waiting for Charli to leave.

After quickly walking by her rental car and checking that nothing looked amiss, he
made his way to his truck where he had a straight-shot view of the entrance of the
restaurant. He kept the door unlocked in case he had to act quickly like the last
time he’d watched her from afar. Hopefully, today wouldn’t be a repeat of that nightmare.
But at least this time, he’d be more prepared.

If he could get her past the next few days, she’d be able to relax a bit. Once her
story broke, there’d be no reason for anyone to keep working so hard on keeping her
quiet. At least that’s what he hoped. Regardless, he wouldn’t leave her unprotected
anytime soon. Even if she no longer wanted him in her life, he had friends he could
pay to keep guard for a while.

And he’d definitely get an alarm system installed for her.

An alarm. Before he could stop it from happening, the unwanted memories filled his
head, like old friends you couldn’t close the door on.

He’d made that promise to his wife, too, when they’d gotten their first house. They’d
just moved off his family’s property and into their new home in the suburbs to make
room for the baby. The neighborhood had been new, quiet, well-to-do. In one of their
discussions about things to add to the house, Rachel had asked if they could get an
alarm system put in since she’d heard some news story about a rash of break-ins one
town over.

Grant had thought she was being paranoid about living in the “big city” after country
life, had playfully teased her about it. She’d always been the overly cautious type,
and pregnancy had put that trait into hyperdrive. He’d assured her that they were
safe. If anyone
ever broke in, he had a gun and knew how to use it. He would always keep her safe.
But a few weeks after they’d settled in, they’d become the next victims. He’d woken
up in the middle of the night to the sound of breaking glass and had shoved Rachel
into their closet—a fatal mistake. He’d been stupid and prideful. The fucking man
of the house protecting his own.

When he’d reached the bottom floor, he’d caught the thief in the living room. Pulling
the gun and thinking he had everything under control, Grant had confronted him. But
the guy had been hopped up on drugs, fearless, and had launched himself at Grant,
stabbing him in the shoulder right before Grant pulled the trigger.

The knife slash had been a nonfatal blow; the robber hadn’t been as lucky. And Grant
had thought everything was going to be okay. He’d won.

Only then had he heard Rachel’s shriek and realized he’d failed to consider the most
crucial thing of all—the thief may have not been alone.

Grant had propelled himself upward on adrenaline alone, but it’d been too late. The
man’s partner had dragged Rachel down the stairs after he’d heard the gunshot, had
seen his brother dead on the floor of the living room. And had lost it.

Rachel’s wide, terrified eyes had met Grant’s a moment before the man had pressed
a gun into her back and pulled his own trigger. Grant had fired back, getting the
guy in the chest, but all had already been lost.

Grant had cradled his wife in his arms, telling her it was going to be okay, begging
her not to leave him. But by the time the police had arrived, she’d lost too much
blood. Rachel and their unborn son had died at the bottom of the staircase. Because
Grant hadn’t taken her seriously, hadn’t protected her like he promised her he would.

If not for his mistake, they’d probably both still be here today.
Rachel would’ve opened her craft store by now. His son would be in school, playing
sports, maybe learning how to ride horses with his daddy…

Grant pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, the grief threatening to bust through
every pore. He hadn’t cried since the funeral. Part of him believed he’d cried so
much when it’d happened that his lifetime allotment of tears had been used up. But
as he sat there in his truck, moisture touched his cheeks. He swiped at the tears,
gritting his teeth as he tried to reel in the waterfall of emotions pounding him.

He couldn’t afford to lose it right now. He had a job to do. He forced his attention
to the clock, trying to focus. Charli had said five minutes and it’d been ten. Her
car still sat a few spots away, so he knew he hadn’t missed her come out. She was
probably caught up in finishing her notes. But Grant wasn’t in the mood to take chances.
Five more minutes. If she wasn’t out, he was going back in.

He hadn’t failed a mission since that night with his wife, and he didn’t plan on doing
so now.

Charli quickly jotted down a few more notes from her interview. Rodney had given her
pay dirt. Not just an admission that he’d received cash payments while playing for
the university but names of who he knew to be involved—including some pretty prominent
businessmen and politicians in the area. But more important, he’d told her he suspected
the university’s dean had known the cheating was going on. The dean was well liked
and a local celebrity. If those people could be implicated, the story was going to
be huge. A career-making kind of scoop.

Finally. She was going to get her shot.

“Mind if I join you?”

Charli’s head snapped up, the familiar voice startling her. “Pete? What the hell are
you doing here?”

“I’ll take that warm greeting as a yes.” He gave her a cat-who-ate-the-mouse smirk
and slid into the other side of the booth. He nodded toward her notebook. “Got some
good stuff today?”

Instinctively, she dragged her notebook closer to her on the table, and glanced over
to where Grant had been sitting. But of course, he wasn’t there. She’d sent him the
signal to go outside a few minutes earlier. “Just working on the piece about Valley
High School.”

“Bullshit,” he said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. “I saw Rodney
walking out of here. You finally got him to talk, didn’t you?”

Her stomach turned sideways, a sick feeling rolling over her. How would Pete even
know what story she was investigating or why Rodney was important? Unless…

“You
fucking
prick.”

“Always so crass, Beaumonde. Didn’t your momma teach you any manners?”

It took everything she had not to jump across the table and throttle him. “Yours didn’t
teach you breaking and entering is a crime?”

He drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s not breaking in when you leave a spare
set of keys in your drawer at work. It was just…entering.”

She grabbed her purse, her skin crawling being this close to the man who’d scared
her out of her house, run her off the fucking road. He could’ve killed her. She moved
to scoot out of the booth.

“I wouldn’t leave so fast, Charli,” he said, the humor fading from his voice. “I have
something you may want.”

He dropped a thumb drive onto the tabletop. She stared at it, the small thing seeming
to loom between them. “What is it?”

He smiled, way too pleased with himself. “An audio file starring you.”

Her brow knitted.

“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” He pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket
and touched the screen.

Voices spilled from the small speaker. Very, very familiar voices.

I’m about halfway to coming, where are you, sweet Charlotte?

Wishing I was there. Touching you.

Charli gasped, reaching for Pete’s phone, but he held it out of her reach. “Turn it
off.”

Are you wet for me?

Perhaps.

How much privacy does your office allow?

Charli looked around, mortified that anyone might hear, but luckily the restaurant
was loud enough that they hadn’t drawn anyone’s attention yet.

Pete laughed and touched the screen, halting the embarrassing recording. “I have to
admit, Beaumonde. Listening to you on that call was kind of hot. I didn’t think you
had it in you. But I knew you were up to something on the phone when I saw you were
all flushed and breathless when I stopped by your office.”

Anger rocketed through her, but she forced herself to stay calm, to not let him know
how bad he’d gotten to her. “You’re a sick bastard, Pete. I’m sure the jail psychologist
will have a fucking field day.”

“Oh, there will be no cops. You can’t prove I broke into your house.” He folded his
hands on the tabletop, as if they were discussing next week’s meeting agenda instead
of criminal acts. “This can all be resolved quite neatly actually. You give me your
interview notes, the signed statement Rodney gave you, and let me take credit for
breaking the story. And…you step out of the running for the anchor position. Do those
two things, and you get your recording back. I’ll erase the copy on my phone and you
can have the thumb drive.”

“No fucking way. This is
my
story and that anchor job is mine.”

He shrugged. “All right, well, I’m sure Trey and the board would love to hear what
their reporter is doing at work on their dime. You won’t have to worry about not getting
the anchor position anymore
because you’ll be fired and have no references to find something else.”

She balled her fists, ready to throw more punches at him, but as his words sunk in
she realized he had her in a goddamned corner. What she’d done at work had been completely
unprofessional. If they doubted how seriously she took her job now, she’d blow any
shot at being seen as a professional if this came out.

But if she turned over her notes, Pete would get the glory. And the job.

The only chance she had at someone believing her was Trey. He’d known she was chasing
this particular story. Maybe she could explain to him what had happened. They had
a friendship. Surely he could keep the information about the phone sex to himself.

Charli took a deep breath and grabbed the thumb drive. “I want to watch you delete
it off your phone.”

Pete’s expression lit with smug triumph. He hit a few buttons and the file was gone.
She shoved her notebook across the table and stood. “Only a fucking coward would stalk
and blackmail someone to get a promotion. It’s really kind of pitiful. You know how
much better I am than you are, and you don’t have the balls to compete on an even
playing field.”

He scoffed. “The playing field is never even, Beaumonde. If it were, one of us would’ve
had that sidelines position. You gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Right. ’Cause almost killing me out on that road would’ve been worth a promotion.
You’re a goddamned psychopath.”

A line formed between his brows. “Almost killing you?”

She shook her head. So now he was going to play innocent? “Come near me ever again,
and I’ll make that punch from the other day look mild.”

She stalked out of the restaurant, her head about to explode. Fucking punk. He couldn’t
even man up and get his own damn story. If he’d put half as much energy into getting
his own scoop as
he had trying to hijack hers, he’d probably have a promotion already. All she could
hope was that Trey would take her side and not accept Pete’s story.

The sunshine blinded her as she stepped into the parking lot. She pulled her sunglasses
from her purse and found Grant walking her way from the other side of the lot. He
halted when he saw her, a glimmer of relief crossing his features. He must’ve been
on the way to check on her since she’d taken longer than five minutes.

They had agreed not to interact in case anyone was watching, but now that Pete had
outed himself, she had no reason to be covert. He turned to go back toward his truck,
but she followed him over. “Wait, we don’t have to play strangers anymore.”