Hard to Handle (6 page)

“Because! I think there is a real story here,” she insisted passionately. “I know a couple of million dollars is not a big deal in the scope of the full city budget, but that's not the point! How are vendors allowed to overcharge the city that much without someone knowing about it? And if it's happening, why would anyone hide that from the rest of the city council?”

“Well, if that's what you think, then you did the right thing, sweetheart. The job of a journalist is to uncover the truth, and that's not always easy or convenient. But the key is to focus on the truth, not what you want to find,” her dad stated with deep seriousness.

“So you're saying I might be wrong?” she asked, confused.

“It's not about being right or wrong. It's about pursuing the facts, wherever they lead,” he patiently explained. “As long as that's your true intent, you'll always be doing the right thing as a journalist. And sometimes that comes with consequences.”

Kaylee let his words soak in for a couple of minutes as she silently tried to figure out how they applied to her current situation.

“Looks like you have some decisions to make,” her dad continued as he drained the last mouthful of rich, golden scotch from his glass. “In the meantime, tell me again about the conversations you had yesterday at city hall?”

“Why?” she asked with some concern. “I told you, Dad, I spoke to three people from a few departments of the city comptroller. But they were just basic questions about processes and regulations. I did ask a couple of people straight out if they knew about companies that over-billed. But that's it. I would never harass anyone or make threats. That's just a lie!”

“Sweetheart, I know that,” George insisted, patiently tapping her knee. “I just wanted to understand what happened, that's all.”

She let out a deep breath, suddenly very exhausted.

“Why don't you get some sleep?” he continued. “I know you're disappointed about moving from city politics to the society page, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. It's also an opportunity to broaden your experience.”

Kaylee nodded and tried to smile, but it looked more like a painful grimace.

“Thanks, Dad.”

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

“Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a quick call to make before I'm off to bed also,” George stated. “I'll see you in the morning.”

While Kaylee finished her wine and made her way upstairs to her childhood bedroom for a dreamless sleep, she didn't realize that her father was calling Fortis to start an investigation into corruption at the
Baltimore Journal
.

CHAPTER 6

By Monday, Kaylee had a calmer attitude about the whole situation. Her dad's words had given her a new perspective. While she didn't regret pursuing the story on potential vendor abuse at city hall based on the information Rosalie had provided, three weeks was enough time to pursue that truth, and there was nothing to show for it. Following the facts had led to nothing, and now it was time to accept the consequences and move on. How bad could it be to write for the Arts and Culture pages? The Clement family was connected to many influential people in Virginia, D.C., and Maryland, so her new assignments might actually be fun.

She also spent time searching her feelings about Evan and their engagement. There was something missing from the equation, something that should be a critical part of a relationship for two people who were about to get married. Was it passion, intimacy, the need to feel completely connected to your partner both emotionally and physically? None of those things had ever been huge in their relationship, but up until recently, Kaylee had considered that a positive thing. That was why they got along so well, and easily tolerated a long-distance relationship while Evan was working overseas. That was what allowed her to focus on her education and career, versus the many other women in her circle who could only think about china patterns and babies.

But more recently, as the date of the wedding inched closer, comfortable and easy started to feel like ambivalence and detachment. While Kaylee knew that she loved Evan, she could no longer confirm that she was
in love
, and she instinctively knew that Evan wasn't either.

Once she came to terms with that fact, there was only one answer. When Evan returned from Europe at the end of the week, Kaylee was going to end their engagement. Their parents would be upset and disappointed, but ultimately they would also see that it was the right decision.

Feeling lighter than she had in months, Kaylee went back to work with new determination. She spent the morning and the lunch hour doing research and reviewing previous articles written by other staff reporters. She had a meeting with Jason that afternoon when she was expected to pitch story ideas for her first few stories. The meeting went smoothly, though Jason seemed a little distracted and impatient. At first, she thought he might still be annoyed with her about the complaint from the comptroller's office, but he barely responded to her story suggestions, except to nod occasionally while repeatedly checking his phone. Kaylee left his office thirty minutes later feeling relieved that he was not about to penalize her with micromanagement or additional scrutiny.

The next couple of hours were uneventful. Kaylee worked quietly at her desk, taking notes and planning her schedule to attend various social and community events. She also sent a text message to Rosalie, suggesting they meet for coffee or lunch that week so they could catch up on things. It would be an opportunity for Kaylee to let her friend know that she was no longer assigned to city politics and therefore would not use the budget information shared weeks earlier.

At about quarter to four o'clock, she went to the bathroom, which was located on the opposite side of the floor beside one of the staircases. Though Kaylee was distracted while leaving the facilities, reading emails on her cell phone, she paused after pushing the exit door open a crack. Jason Holt's voice was low, but her name rang clear in the narrow pathway as he walked by.

“Stone has been shut down. I told you on Friday . . .”

Kaylee closed the door and paused there for several seconds, processing the words while her heartbeat started thudding hard in her chest.
Shut down?
What did that mean? She slowly pushed the bathroom door open, listening intently for Jason's voice or any sign of where he had gone. The hallway to the bathroom was empty and quiet. Kaylee looked at the exit to the staircase on her right, then crept over and pushed on the heavy door so it opened slowly just a little, then leaned in close to listen for any sound. He was in there, maybe one flight down and speaking in a nervous, urgent tone, but too quiet for her to hear all the words.

“I did what you asked.... When?” he demanded, clearly frustrated.

Seconds later, his footsteps echoed loudly, suggesting he was moving again. Kaylee quickly let go of the door and rushed back to her desk, trying her best to look normal. She looked around her work area, but no one else seemed to notice her flustered, agitated state. Only about sixty seconds passed before Jason emerged from the hallway, walking with determined steps toward his office, which was not far from her desk. He was no longer on the phone, but his eyes were fixed on its screen as he tapped actively at an application. Kaylee quickly looked at her computer, holding her breath as he passed by. She glanced over her shoulder when he disappeared into the office and out of view.

“Jason, do you have a second?” It was Albert Thompson, one of the staff photographers, walking up to the editor's door. “I need to show you those pictures. They're due in production within the next five minutes.”

A moment later, Jason walked out and followed Albert across the room. Kaylee noticed right away that he did not have his cell phone. She looked around. Everyone else in the office seemed to be going on about their business. She stood up, taking her phone and a few sheets of paper with her, and walked to Jason's office. A quick glance over at Albert's desk told her both men were sitting in front of his computer screen, intently focused on the images displayed. Kaylee took a deep breath and walked into the room, immediately spotting Jason's cell phone, face up on the desk. As she approached it, the device vibrated with a message notification and the screen lit up to display the message.

Kaylee paused to look back at the office entrance, listening to see if she could hear anyone nearby. Then she quickly opened the camera app on her phone and took a picture of Jason's cell phone screen, capturing the message details.

“What are you doing in here, Kaylee?” Jason demanded in a harsh voice.

Kaylee quickly turned around, placing the papers in her hand over his cell phone.

“I was just dropping off the first draft of the central library article,” she improvised in a calm voice, quickly walking past him and out of his office.

“Kaylee!” She closed her eyes tight and took a deep breath before turning back around. “These pages are blank!”

He now stood behind his desk, accessing his cell phone with quick taps.

“Sorry! I must have grabbed the wrong ones,” she explained with an embarrassed smile. “I'll bring them in a sec.”

“Just email it,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand, his eyes still glued to the small screen.

Kaylee nodded, then rushed away, barely breathing as she stopped at her desk just long enough to quickly pack up her laptop and power cord into her tote bag. Then she rushed to the elevators with her cell phone still clutched in her hands. She was about to press the call button when she caught a glimpse of Jason as he emerged from his office and looked around the floor. Afraid he was looking for her, and somehow knew what she had done, Kaylee almost ran to the staircase by the bathrooms and rushed down the eleven flights of stairs. It wasn't an easy escape while wearing a fitted white shirt and a black narrow knee-length skirt in black pumps with four-inch heels. By the time she pushed through the heavy doors on the ground floor and out to the alley at the side of the office building, she was sweating and her thighs felt weak and rubbery.

She paused for only a couple of seconds, trying to get her bearings and decide what to do next. Figuring that, if Jason was going to come after her, he would probably assume that she would go onto the main street at the front of the building, Kaylee decided to go through the back parking lot and find her way to another street. Then she could stop somewhere safe and decide what to do next. She was making her way through the alley in a slow, painful jog, looking back over her shoulder continuously, when her heel caught on the edge of uneven concrete and her ankle twisted painfully. Kaylee went flying forward, her cell phone tossed into the air as she instinctively reached out her hands to stop her fall. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, but she could not stop the momentum. Her shout of painful surprise echoed against the brick walls.

* * *

“I got you,” Sam said as he wrapped his arm around the woman's waist from behind just before she would have hit the ground. He had easily fallen to his left knee, with his other leg bent at a right angle, and pulled her body so it landed against the firm brace of his right thigh.

“Arghhh!” she moaned in a softer tone, awkwardly reaching out for something to grab on to while looking around wildly. Her elbow knocked him hard in the nose before her right arm hooked around his neck in a choking grip.

Sam held her more securely for another few moments, allowing her to calm down before she could do any real damage to his body. Then he looked down at her face, partially covered by tousled black hair. Deep dark brown eyes stared back at him, open wide with apprehension and sparkling with flecks of gold. Her silky, russet-hued skin was dewy, and her cheeks were darkly flushed. Full, soft lips were parted slightly from her shallow, rapid breathing.

“I got you,” he repeated softly, unable to think of anything else to say. The woman just stared at him for another few moments until a door closed somewhere nearby. She sat up quickly and tried to stand, but Sam immediately felt her freeze with a sharp gasp.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, using his arm and legs to ease them both upright. She barely reached his shoulder, even in stiletto heels.

She remained silent, but her slender frame rigid as a board. He looked down to see that she was on only one foot; the other was obviously swelling up.

“Your ankle?”

She nodded, clenching her jaw hard and obviously trying not to express her pain.

“Okay. I'm going to carry you to my car,” he explained softly. “It's just a few feet away in the parking lot.”

She nodded again, then held her breath and gripped her tote bag as he easily lifted her into his arms.

“My cell phone!” she gasped as they started through the alley, pointing behind them.

“I'll come back for it.”

“No! Please. I need it,” she insisted, gripping him tightly around his neck with both arms.

Sam retraced his steps and lowered her next to the phone so he could pick it up.

“Thank you,” she whispered as he handed it over and lifted her into his arms again.

“I'm Sam, by the way,” he said easily, barely noticing her weight. “Samuel Mackenzie.”

Their eyes met again, and he could tell she was trying to assess if he was dangerous or not. Sam gave her a small smile, softening his usually stoic expression.

“Don't worry. I'm harmless,” he continued, trying further to ease her obvious nervousness. “To a bonnie, injured lass, anyway.”

Her brows quirked.

“Well, that's a relief,” she replied, smiling wide and revealing glossy white teeth, the two front ones slightly longer than the others. “Kaylee.”

“Nice to meet you, Kaylee.” They reached his black SUV, which was parked against the wall next to the back entrance of the
Baltimore Journal
. “I'm going to sit you down in the passenger seat, okay? Then I'll have a look at your ankle.”

Kaylee nodded and allowed him to put her down inside the car.

“Sam, is everything good?”

The question came as a young man with coppery-tanned skin and long, wavy dirty-blond hair walked over to the truck. He was dressed similar to Sam, in a dark fitted shirt and utility pants, and stopped next to the passenger door.

“Kaylee, this is my colleague, Raymond Blunt,” Sam said as he gently lifted her left leg at the knee so he could inspect the ankle more closely by running his hands over the bone. “It's swollen, but not broken. Likely a slight sprain. I'll take you to the medical center. You'll want to wrap it up and keep it elevated with some ice.”

“No, that's okay,” she insisted, looking around. “It's starting to feel a little better, so I'll just take care of it at home. It will probably be fine in a few hours.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “It's no bother.”

Kaylee looked between them, obviously embarrassed to be causing a fuss. “Yes, I'm fine. I've obviously interrupted your work—”

“Not at all,” Raymond interrupted with an easy smile. “We were just finishing up here.”

“See?” Sam said. “I'm completely at your disposal. And you can't drive in this condition anyway.”

“I was going to take a cab,” Kaylee explained, looking down. “I'm just a few blocks away so I usually walk to work.”

“Then I have no choice,” Sam declared as he gently lowered her leg so she could sit back in the grey leather seat. “I am honor bound to assist you home.”

“There's no point in rejecting the offer, Kaylee,” Raymond added when it was clear she was about to protest. “Sam here can be a little stubborn. And don't worry—you are completely safe in his hands. I can personally vouch for him.”

“And who's going to vouch for your judgment, mate?” Sam shot back, sardonically.

“Dude, you're not helping,” Raymond quipped, raising his hands dramatically

Sam snickered, but was pleased to notice that their banter seemed to amuse her. She looked much more relaxed, and less likely to hobble away in fear.

“Seriously, Kaylee. You could not be safer than with this guy, despite his scary demeanor,” Raymond continued. “But here is my business card, in case you're still concerned. Just call me if he steps out of line, and I'll handle him.”