Authors: Pamela Clare
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Romance, #Suspense, #Contemporary
Reece spotted his friend through three sets of twelve, but his mind was exactly where Miguel had said it was
—
all over Kara.
He’d done his damned best to get a good night’s sleep
—
a stack of boring reading from the Capitol, a cold shower, his right hand. But every time he had closed his eyes, he’d seen the look of shattering bliss on her sweet face as she’d come, caught the delectable scent of her skin and the musk of her arousal, and heard her astonished gasp
—
that little feminine cry
—
when she’d come again. The knowledge that he’d been able to do that for her more than made up for the fact he hadn’t even gotten out of his jeans, much less into her.
While grappling with his ravenous appetite for her all night long had been tough enough, worrying about her safety had been far worse. Time and again he’d heard that harsh, hate-filled voice in his mind. It had made his skin itch, made him want to hit someone.
Hurt us, and we’ll destroy you
.
The man’s words and his voice had niggled at Reece, had eaten at him, had jabbed at his mind like a splinter.
“Hey, man, can’t you count?” Miguel glared up at him, his dark face red from exertion and covered in sweat.
“Whiner.” Reece lifted the barbell into its rest and bent down to retrieve his water.
Miguel sat up, reached for his towel. “Man, she really has you tied up. I’ve never seen you this bad before.”
“Yeah.” It was the truth.
But where was it all going? Reece had no idea. His feelings for her were running hot and thick and fast, but he had no clue where they were leading him and no idea what she felt for him. It was like racing down a winding mountain road at night
—
without headlights.
“Are you sure you should be getting involved with her? Maybe she’s more trouble than she’s worth.”
“She hasn’t had very good experiences with men, Miguel. The man who fathered her son dumped her when he found out she was pregnant. She has trouble accepting anything from me. She thinks she has to handle everything on her own.”
Miguel shook his head. “You deserve someone without so much baggage. I’d hate to see you get hurt.”
Reece tried not to feel irritated with his friend and changed the subject. “Ready for another set?”
“I need to hit the showers. My niece is celebrating her
quinceañera
next weekend at our place, and my wife wants me home to fix every damned thing in the house before relatives start arriving. Thanks for the workout.” Miguel was a family man with an enormous extended family, and Reece had always admired the way he put his wife, children, brothers,
sisters, and cousins first in his life. Hardly a weekend went by where something wasn’t happening at the de la Peña home.
“Same to you.”
Miguel turned to go but then stopped. “You want to come help out? It will be better for you than skulking at the Capitol or living like a hermit up at your cabin. It will take your mind off her, and I bet you can talk Hilaria into making her enchiladas.”
Reece was about to accept when the idea came to him.
His cabin
.
He yanked off his gloves and headed straight for his locker and his cell phone. “Miguel, you’re a damned genius.”
K
ARA TIGHTENED
the screws that held the hook in place on her deck. “Okay, pumpkin. I think it’s ready. Now we get to pour the seed in.”
After Connor had awoken from his nap, they’d made a trip to the Wild Bird Center and bought a couple bird feeders and seeds so they could watch birds from the kitchen table. Connor seemed just as amazed as Kara to learn that birds might well be the direct descendents of dinosaurs, and Kara had thought it a great opportunity to introduce him to something new. She’d had enough room on her credit card to buy a child’s guide to birding that had bold, colorful photos of common backyard species in Colorado. With any luck, the topic would hold his attention for at least a week.
She lifted the plastic five-pound bag of mixed seeds and tore a little opening in one corner. “I’ll hold the bag, and you pour.”
Connor grasped the bag with his small hands and tilted it so seed skittered down the acrylic tube of the feeder. “Is this what birdies like for breakfast, Mommy?”
“That’s what the man at the store told me. I guess we’ll have to see.”
They’d just hung the feeder on its hook when the phone rang.
Kara tried to ignore the way the sound made her heart lurch and her stomach drop to the floor. That bastard had no power over her. None.
She’d called customer service at the phone company first thing this morning, but her new number wouldn’t be in operation until Monday. Until then, she’d let her answering machine take her calls. She’d be damned if she’d give him another chance to frighten her.
“Now we wait and see which birds come to feed here. Do you have your book?” She opened the sliding glass door and heard a man’s deep voice leaving a message.
Reece.
Connor heard him, too. “When is Reece coming over again?”
“I don’t know, sweetie.” She forced herself to walk calmly to the phone, lifted the receiver, and turned off the machine. “Hi, Reece.”
“You’re screening your calls. Good.” The protective tone of his voice wrapped itself around her like a warm blanket.
“The guy isn’t much of a conversationalist anyway.” She tried to make light of it, but the joke fell flat.
“How are you and Connor doing?”
“We’re fine. We went to see the dinosaurs this morning, and Connor was my tour guide.”
“That sounds like fun for both of you. Does that mean you’ll quit beating yourself up for missing the trip yesterday?”
How did he always manage to zero in on her sore spots? “Maybe.”
“You’re a wonderful mother, Kara.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say. Only she knew how often she fell short.
“I’ve got something to ask you, and I’d like you to listen to everything I have to say before you answer me.” Did he sound nervous?
“Okay.” What in the world was this about?
“My father and I built a cabin up above Estes Park. It’s
surrounded by aspen. There’s a little creek running through the property. There’s no phone, no television, no fax machine, but there’s running water, two fireplaces, and most of the time even electricity.”
“Sounds wonderful.” It did sound wonderful, but why was he telling her this?
“It’s my little corner of paradise, and I’d love to take you there. President’s Day is a week from Monday, and I’d love to spend the three-day weekend with you at my cabin. You seem like you could use a little time away from it all, and so could I. But more than that, I need to spend time with you.”
He wanted her to go away with him for a weekend. He wanted
—
no, he’d said he
needed—
to spend time with her. They would be alone in the mountains, no distractions. They would end up having sex. Oh, yes, they would. Given what just being near him did to her, it would be inevitable, unavoidable, like the force of gravity.
Is that what she wanted? And if she agreed to go with him, what would come of it? Her life was full as it was. What he described sounded suspiciously like getting involved, and with the Northrup story getting hotter she didn’t have time to be involved with anyone right now.
That was what her brain said.
But what her mouth said was, “I’d love to.”
“You’re welcome to bring Connor. Of course, if you want me all to yourself, I’ll understand.”
K
ARA MADE
the phone call immediately. “Hi, Mom. Please tell me you’re free next weekend. I really need you to watch Connor for a few days.”
“Well, I had planned to attend a workshop on spirit-centered aging at Naropa. What’s going on? Is everything all right?”
“I’ve been invited up to a friend’s cabin for the weekend.” She might as well tell her mother the truth. “Actually, it’s not a friend. It’s a man.”
“A man? It’s not that gay guy you were pretending to date for a while, is it?”
“No, Mom.” Between her mother and Holly, Kara would never be allowed to live that down.
“Well, who is it? Do I know him?”
“You might have seen him in the paper. It’s Senator Reece Sheridan.”
“Oh! Oh, God! I’ll cancel everything.”
K
ARA HIT
stop on the remote and flicked on the conference room lights. “That’s it.”
Syd spoke first. “Jesus Christ.”
“How did the source manage to get this footage?” Joaquin’s face showed the same astonishment and disgust Kara had felt Sunday afternoon when she’d finally taken time to watch the tapes.
“The source carved a hole in the bottom of a plastic thermos, tucked a video camera inside, and aimed the lens out the hole.”
Joaquin shook his head. “Man, that took
cajones
.”
Tessa flashed her trademark smile, though she looked tired. And no wonder. She’d been up all night covering a S. W.A. T. raid. “At least now we know where the dust is coming from.”
Kara nodded. “Everywhere.”
The videos, taped over a period of days, seemed to show the entire plant, inside and out. No matter where the whistleblower had pointed his lens, there was dust. Piles of choking, caustic CKD that blocked catwalks; clung to railings and ceiling girders; and gathered beneath stairs, on top of machinery, in doorways. In some places it looked to be almost four feet deep. As the video showed, all it took was a gust of wind to pick the stuff up and carry it out the door and off-site to places where people were farming, raising children, breathing.
And then there was oil. Oil leaking from machinery into
pools on the floor. Oil sitting in abandoned drums in corners. Oil drums rusting in the irrigation ditch, floating in a dark, iridescent scum.
“Is there any chance the whistleblower could be arrested for filming this?”
“Possibly, if they want to claim he was giving away trade secrets. But I doubt Northrup will take it that far. It would only give the company more negative publicity. For now the source is resettled out of state, hopefully far from any harm caused by the health department leak.”
“What else have you got?” Tom thumped his pencil impatiently on a copy of today’s newspaper. Leave it to him to find discussing a human being’s safety tedious.
“I’ve started sorting through the documents I picked up on Friday. IT has put together a spreadsheet that will enable me to sort them by date, type of document, author, recipient, and certain keywords. I can log in from home, so I’ll be able to work on it in the evenings and on weekends. Even so, the trick is going to be cataloging them all quickly enough to keep the story moving forward. Seven thousand pages is a lot of reading.”
Tom frowned. “You need an intern.”
“I don’t trust interns. I need someone I can rely on.”
Tessa raised her hand. “I’ll help.”
“I really appreciate the offer, but your plate is already full enough, Tess.”
“It’s nothing a gallon of coffee won’t cure.”
“Count me in,” said Matt.
Sophie smiled. “Me, too. Show us what you want, and we’ll be all over it.”
“McMillan, it looks like you’ve got yourself a crew. How about your state source?”
“I called several times this weekend, left several messages. I think someone has cold feet. Still I’m grateful for the warning. Without this person’s help, Northrup would have gotten away with handpicking which documents we received, and the whistleblower might be exposed to danger.”
Tom’s pencil tapped. “Anything else?”
Kara took a deep breath and looked Tom straight in the eye. He was going to love this. “Yeah. I don’t want to make more of this than it is, but someone keeps threatening to kill me, and I’m pretty certain it’s someone associated with Northrup.”
Kara recounted the history of the phone calls she’d received and how they’d started after she’d filed her open-records request with the state, which, she now knew, had contacted Northrup right away. Leaving out any mention of Reece, she also told them about how the calls had escalated until she’d called the police and how she hadn’t been able to give them any useful information.
Tom interrupted her. “You were right to keep it to yourself. If the cops starting making phone calls to Northrup, it opens the door for Northrup’s CEOs to find out exactly what you know and where this investigation is leading. And it will generate police reports, and the two big papers get a hold of it and will unleash their armies. You’ll be in a race to break your own story.”
“Then again, you can’t break a story if you’re dead.” Tessa glared at Tom.
Kara could have hugged her.
Tom’s retort was razor sharp. “Novak, you know these threats never amount to anything. McMillan has just allowed this guy to get under her skin. The last journalist killed in Colorado was exposing lunatic white supremacists, not greedy businessmen. No one with half a brain would attack a journalist. McMillan knows that.” Then his gaze shifted to her. “But if it makes you feel safer, McMillan, talk to security.”
Kara had known he would make her feel like a fool. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
K
ARA HURRIED
to her desk, juggling a dozen file folders, a turkey sandwich, her cell phone, and a fresh cup of tea. It was two in the afternoon already. In four hours, Reece was coming to take her to his cabin for three days. And right now all she could think about was lunch. “So a bag house filters the air to keep dust from being released into the environment?”
Mr. Marsh’s voice crackled with static, but she could still make out his answer. “That’s right. So if it’s not working, the dust escapes.”
“It looks like it hasn’t been working for quite a while.”
“That’s right. It wasn’t running right the whole time I was there—more than two years.”
“I really appreciate your answering all my questions. You’ve been a big help. Are you and your family feeling safe and settled?”
“Yeah. My wife is happy to be back in her hometown, but I don’t like it when I’m between jobs like this. Makes a man feel useless when he can’t provide for his family.”