Page 58 of Baby Take Me Home

He scowled. “Gee, thanks. Rule number two, we’ll give you a secure cell phone that you’ll keep on you at all times. If it rings, it will mean there’s an emergency. You’ll pick it up and you’ll do exactly what I say, no questions asked.”

For once, I didn’t make a joke about his ordering me around. This could literally mean life or death. I nodded soberly. “And the third rule?”

“Rule three.” He leaned close and gave me a sweet kiss on the lips. “When this is over, we’ll have a much longer talk.”

I grimaced. “I thought we agreed to move on from last night, seeing how I’m almost single-handedly bringing down Calder.”

“We didn’t agree, but that’s not the topic of the conversation we need to have.” He stood and walked to the door, which he held open as he waited for me to follow. “Jensen will be ready for you in the SCIF,” he said as we stepped into the hallway. “I’ll join you shortly. I just need to check in with Samantha.”

We went a few steps in opposite directions, him toward the stairwell on one side of the hall and me toward the other.

“Hey, TJ?” I called. We both stopped and turned. “Whatdoyou want to talk about when this is over?”

“That off-the-record conversation we started last weekend.” He turned and left.

I mulled his words as I headed for the SCIF. I was halfway down the stairs when I realized he meant the phone call where he’d told me he was falling for me.

“Fuck me,” I muttered, realizing I was looking forward to our conversation, which could only mean one thing.

TJ wasn’t alone in his feelings. I was falling for him, too.

PART5

THE ACE REPORTER JOB

CHAPTER 24

Ashlee

By early Sunday evening,28 hours into writing the article that would expose a diplomat’s husband, an international crime syndicate, and a sitting US senator, I stepped into Jayne’s office, closed the door behind me, and sank into a chair.

“What the hell am I doing?” I asked.

She was already pouring something into a clean, white mug. She slid it across the desk to me.

I picked it up. “What is this?” I sniffed it, then blinked as it cleared my sinuses.

“Rum. Really good stuff. I keep it locked in a drawer for emergencies, and if you report me to HR, I’ll never share it with you again.”

I set down the cup and stretched my arms over my head. “I need to keep a clear head.”

She pushed the rum back in my direction. “What you need is a few hours of sleep. This will help you wind down. Don’t shake your head at me and don’t argue. Everyone else has napped at least once.”

I glanced through her open office door out to adjoining cubicles where the three other writers and I had set up our workstations yesterday after our initial meeting. The copy editors and fact-checkers, working in unison with us as we sent them finished pages and they sent them back marked up with red, had desks a few feet away from ours, but they spent most of the time huddled in the conference room down the hall.

“Everyone’s wide awake now and dinner will be here soon,” I argued. “And I came in here to ask what you think. You’re the only one who has read every word we’ve written thus far.”

She sighed and leaned back in her high-backed office chair, then stretched her neck from side to side. When she was in editor mode with her tight chignon, serious blue eyes behind think-rimmed reading glasses, and pale skin, she always made me think of a librarian who never saw the sun. Since librarians have been some of my favorite people since I fell in love with libraries at the age of six, I liked her instantly when I started working at the paper eight years earlier. Her incisive editing, supportive nature, and sailor’s vocabulary she trotted out when under duress, had made her my fast friend.

“Dinner will be here in two hours,” she said. “If you promise to lie down on one of the sofas in the break room between now and then, I’ll share my thoughts.”

She wasn’t wrong about me needing rest, as was evident from my stiff muscles, itchy eyes, and dull headache. Besides, my three sections were nearly completed. After a quick power nap, I could turn my attention to integrating the other reporters’ finished sections into the larger article. While I waited for them to complete their remaining sections, I would begin writing the 500-word article that would be released as both a teaser and a summary. All of which would be easier after some rest.

I picked up the mug of rum. “Deal.” I took a sip of the liquid and a trail of heat burned all the way down my throat and into my stomach. I coughed and set down the mug, and waited for Jayne to share her expert opinion.

“Ashlee, I know this project means a lot to you. It means a lot to your colleagues, too. They’re doing this in part for Aiden. We all are.”

“Okay.” There was a catch in her tone that concerned me. “But I asked what you think about the article.”