Page 14

14

PET A GOAT

Emma

O ne second, I was less than five feet from Ross, reporting on the parade and listening to August tell me to throw it back to the booth, and the next, I was grabbed from behind and swallowed up in the crowd.

“Shut the fuck up and cooperate.”

That voice…

The words are growled into the side of my head through a ski mask. I caught a glimpse of him right before it happened. He’s tall and strong even though his frame is lanky. And since he’s not wearing a shirt and is covered in body paint, that’s easy to see.

“Emma!” August yells into my ear. “Are you okay? Tell me where you are.”

The transponder is hooked to my belt under my coat and my earpiece is hidden beneath the thick beanie. There’s no way this guy can know I have contact with anyone unless he starts ripping my clothes off.

He has my arms pinned to my chest where I grip my mic like it’s a lifeline.

Which, at the moment, it is.

“It’s you,” I say loud enough that August might hear. “You’re the one who called me. What are you doing in D.C.?”

“I said shut up. And if you want me to trust you, you’d better not do anything to attract attention.”

“Who in the hell is that?” August bites into my ear. “Dammit, tell me where you are.”

I ignore August and do everything I can to keep Deep Throat talking. “I’ll talk to you, just tell me where we’re going.”

“We need to talk alone.” His tone is sharp and controlled. Unlike most everyone else I’ve encountered today, this guy isn’t drunk or high.

“Please, let’s just stay here. People will see you pulling me away. I’m willing to talk to you, but we don’t want to attract attention.”

“Who are you talking to, Emma?” I wince from August’s bursts in my earpiece. “Tell me where you are so we can come and get you. Ross is looking for you.”

Deep Throat finally comes to a stop. We’re deep in an alleyway tucked behind a dumpster. It reeks of trash, urine, and stale pot. It basically smells like the city.

He lets me go and forces me against the brick. Our first conversation was exciting, but that was over the phone. This is pushing the boundaries for someone like me who only signed up to report the news.

His voice … I recognize that voice when he bites, “Don’t you dare fucking scream. You’ll be sorry.”

I shake my head. “Okay, but this isn’t necessary. I told you to call or text me.”

“There’s no fucking way I can trust you. Look, I’m trying to do the right thing, okay? But we need to do it my way.”

“Tell me where you are, Emma,” August demands.

“I was reporting on a national event,” I say. “If you don’t want attention, then dragging me into an alley behind a dumpster while I was on camera isn’t a good idea. A phone call—that’s lowkey.”

“She’s in an alley,” August says, talking to someone else in the control booth. “Call 9-1-1 and tell Ross.”

Damn. I don’t have much time.

I mean, that’s also a good thing.

But I need to get this guy to talk.

“You’ve got me here,” I say. “Did you come all the way to Washington just to talk to me?”

He looks up and down the alley before turning his masked face back to me, but he doesn’t answer. “I have proof.”

I push away from the wall and ignore my panicked producer in my ear demanding to know who I’m talking to. “Tell me. I can protect your identity.”

“There’s no way. Not with the guy I work for. He’ll know I’m the rat.”

I ignore the fact I’m in a desolate alley with a stranger who sort of kidnapped me and close the distance between us. “Then why did you drag me back here?”

Even though I can’t see his expression behind the mask, frustration bleeds through his tone. “It seems no matter how much bad shit I do, I still have a fucking conscience.”

“The cops are looking, Emma. I don’t know who the hell you’re talking to, but keep talking so I know you’re okay,” August demands.

“Tell me why we’re here. I’m a journalist. It’s my job to report the news and protect my sources. I’m doing everything I can to report the truth about Brett Sullivan. If you have evidence, I need it.”

He leans in and lowers his voice. “Sullivan was framed.”

“I need more than that.”

“Who the hell are you talking to?” August bellows.

I take a chance and turn my mic off, rip the earpiece from my ear, and stuff it in my pocket so I can focus on the masked man who, for some reason, I trust. “Who framed him?”

“It was an inside job—or close to it. That’s all I can give you. If you’re looking anywhere but there, you’re off track.”

My insides seize. “You mean … the team? Someone inside the Founders?”

He doesn’t answer me, but his voice bristles further to a low, threatening tone. “I’ll know if you fucking rat me out. You’d better find another way to take them down.”

“How would I rat you?—”

But I don’t finish the sentence. We both freeze for an instant when the sound of sirens whirl from a distance.

“Fuck,” he bites and turns in the opposite direction of the parade. “I’ve got to get out of here. Don’t fuck me over, Hollingsworth. I proved I could get to you once—I’ll do it again.”

“Wait,” I call after him, but he’s fast. He turns the corner and is out of sight.

Dammit. I’m in fluffy winter boots, not the shoes I wore last weekend when I raced onto the football field. There’s no way I can catch him.

All of a sudden, my adrenaline rush is gone. I force myself to pull in a deep, calming breath. I shiver from the cold I didn’t feel during the drama. Now every cell of my body feels like the heat was leached from it.

I rip my glove off and dig my earpiece from my pocket. When I get it back in my ear, I switch my mic back on. “August, are you there?”

“She’s back!” I wince when August shouts in my ear. “Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m okay. I’m headed back to the parade.”

I’m about ten feet from the street when I see him come to a skidded stop as he sees me, fighting to catch his breath.

The look on his face is something I’ll never forget. His wide chest rises and falls with labored pants, and I don’t know if his cheeks are red from running or the cold.

And I have no idea how he knew I was in trouble or that I needed him.

I don’t care.

All I know is he’s here, and I’ve never been happier to see him than I am right now. And that includes the moment he showed up back in my life in the middle of the night at the fancy Nebula bar.

Jack drags a hand down his face as he stalks toward me. When he’s the only thing in my vision, I hear Ross say from a distance through a winded tone. “Damn, there you are. August, we found her.”

But all I see are Jack’s tense blue eyes right before his hands claim my face. When his lips hit mine, I feel every ounce of anxiety and stress written in his expression.

Just when my lips are warmed by his, he breaks his kiss and pulls me to his chest. Jack isn’t even wearing a coat, just a wool blazer over a sweater. His cashmere is soft and warm, but even better because it’s on him.

Being wrapped up in him makes me feel safe.

“Fuck, Emma. That scared the shit out of me,” Jack murmurs against my hair.

I press into his chest deeper and decide that the next time I spend the night with him, I’m going to steal this sweater and never give it back. I never want to forget how I feel at this moment. “I’m okay. How did you know to look for me?”

He puts a hand to the side of my head and forces me to look up at him. “The live feed cut out right when that guy grabbed you. I’ll never forget the look on your face. I had to make my way against the crowds to where I thought you were. That’s when I found your camera guy.”

I look to the side where Ross is working way harder to catch his breath than Jack was. The camera is hanging from his hand, and his other is supporting his weight against the brick building. “I don’t know what it is with you and running. Had I known I needed to condition to work with you, I never would’ve agreed to go to Vegas in the first place.”

I press my cheek into Jack’s chest. “This isn’t normal. I hate running more than anyone.”

Ross lifts his chin and motions to Jack. “I have no idea who this guy is, but I took a chance and trusted him when he grabbed me and asked which way you were taken.”

“This is Jack. He’s my…” I look up to find my new lover who’s also my brother’s best friend staring down at me with a hiked brow. I shake my head and turn back to Ross. “I’m not sure what he is, but I’m stealing his sweater.”

Ross shakes his head and puts his cell to his ear. After he tells August where we are, he adds, “She’s okay. Yeah, I’ll ask and see what she wants to do.”

“What I want to do about what?” I ask.

Ross doesn’t move the cell from his ear as he answers. “Your non-boyfriend here isn’t the only one freaked about what they saw before they were able to cut the feed. The station is flooded with calls about what happened to you. They want to know if you feel like going back on air to show that you’re okay.”

I didn’t think Jack’s arms could constrict tighter than they already are, but they match his words when he bites. “No fucking way. She was grabbed by someone in the crowd. She’s not putting herself out there again.”

I fist his jacket to get his attention. “It’s okay. We can talk about this later, but I’m fine. I can go back on air.”

“You don’t have to do anything. All they give a shit about is ratings,” Jack argues.

“Hey now, Jack .” Ross bites his name like a curse word. “You saw me running through the crowds with my equipment. I give a shit and so does my producer.”

I ignore Jack and turn my attention to Ross. “Tell them I’ll do it. I just need a moment to fix my lipstick.”

“I don’t like this,” Jack says. “I’m not taking my eyes off you this time.”

“She’ll do it,” Ross says to August. “You’ll hear from her when she’s ready.” Ross glares at Jack. “Since her lipstick is smeared all over your face, maybe you should tend to that first.”

Jack drops his arms and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I dig in my pocket for my lipstick but find my cell vibrating instead.

“It’s my dad,” I mutter.

Four missed calls and even more texts. Most of them are from Dad, but others are from Carissa and Levi.

I ignore the calls and open my texts and read the most recent one.

Dad – Don’t make me drive there to find you myself, Em. Let me know you’re okay or your old man is going to send a search party, and you know what that means.

Shit.

I do know what that means. The last thing I need is a secret team who contracts with the CIA searching for me. They would’ve found me faster than the cops.

Me – I’m good. It was all a misunderstanding. I’m going back on air and will call you when I’m done.

Bubbles appear immediately.

Dad – Damn. It took you long enough to answer. If I don’t get a call from you soon, I’m coming.

Me – Go pet a goat and relax. I’m fine.

Dad – I know you did not just tell me to pet a goat.

Me – You’ll feel better. Gotta go.

Dad - At least I know no one kidnapped you and stole your phone. No one would tell me to go pet a goat but you or Saylor.

Me – Ignoring you now. Don’t freak out again.

“I’m not kidding when I said I’m not leaving your side,” Jack says.

I pull up my camera to use it as a mirror to apply a fresh coat of lipstick. “Don’t you need to be at the end with the team?”

That gets Ross’s attention. “You’re with the team?”

“Not exactly,” Jack mutters.

I check my hair and fix my beanie before I stuff everything back into my pocket. “Can I have a moment before we go on, Ross?”

“Sure. We just need to get you on before we have to cut to the team at the end of the parade.” Ross looks down the street. “I’ll be on the sidewalk waiting. You good here with your non-boyfriend?”

I smile. “Yes. I just need a minute.”

Jack moves in front of me and puts his hands to my hips, pulling me to him. “Are you really okay?”

I turn my mic off as I peek around him to make sure we’re alone. “It was him, Jack—the caller.”

His stare on me intensifies. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. It was the same voice. He knew the details about our phone call. Because of the mask, I still have no idea what he looks like. Call me crazy, but there’s something about him … I don’t know. For some reason, I trust him. I definitely trust what he says. I don’t think he’s innocent in what happened to Brett, but there’s someone else behind it.”

Jack’s blue eyes intensify. “Why do you think that?”

“Because he said so. He said it was someone on the inside. When I asked him if he meant the Founders, he didn’t confirm it, but he did tell me he’d know if I told anyone.”

“Fuck,” Jack hisses.

“Exactly,” I confirm. “Whatever we do, we have to be careful.”

“ We are not doing anything. Look at what just happened to you. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. You’re done.”

I push out of his arms. “I’m hardly done. I’m the one who interviewed Brett when everyone else in the world wants a piece of him. Quite literally, I might add.”

Jack crosses his arms. “No more. It was the moment when I saw that guy put his hands on you when I thought I was going to lose my mind.”

I mirror his stance and add a hitched boot. “But nothing happened to me, and he made it clear he didn’t intend to do me harm. He wants to talk.”

“Then he can talk to someone else in the future. I’m the one with access to Brett and the team. I’m cutting you off.”

“Emma, you ready?” Ross calls from the sidewalk. “August wants to get this done before the team hits the stage. Some of them are so drunk, we want to make sure and get footage if they fall off.”

Jack rolls his eyes.

I do not.

I take a step closer and poke my gloved finger into his chest and glare up at the man who is as infuriating as he is hot. “You might have access to the team and quarterback in question, but I’m the one in contact with the quasi-bad guy. He has my number, not yours. If you try to cut me out, Jack, I’ll do the same to you. We’ll see how far you get when I quit sharing information with you.”

He catches my wrist when I try to move around him to prove to the world I’m fine. “You can’t do that. It’s dangerous.”

I pull my hand away. “Watch me.”

This time I do sidestep the man I’ve had more sex with in the last few days than I have in the last few years.

I stalk straight to Ross and turn on my mic. “Can you hear me, August? I’m back and ready to roll.”

Before he speaks, I hear an exasperated sigh in my earpiece. “Emma Hollingsworth, you are officially the biggest drama magnet I’ve hired in my entire career. And I hired Molly Minders, if that is any comparison for you.”

I smile at Ross who hears the same thing I do. “That’s not the compliment I was hoping for.”

August goes on. “You’re good for ratings. But I’ve got kids older than you. Consider me the bonus dad who wants you to come home in one piece.”

“That’s sweet,” I say. “But my dad is enough for me to deal with. And that doesn’t include my bonus uncles.”

“Alrighty then,” August says. “Let’s do this. The world wants to make sure their new darling of sports is alive to report another day. I’ll have the desk throw it to you. Be ready.”

I glance at Jack who wasn’t kidding when he said he wouldn’t let me out of his sight. He’s barely out of the camera frame and looks like he’ll pounce if anyone so much as bumps into me on accident.

“I’m ready, August.”

Jack’s jaw tenses.

“For anything.”

And with that, the anchor reporting from the makeshift booth at the end of the parade route throws the live feed to me.

I force myself to ignore Jack Hale and convince the rest of the world—most specifically my dad and family—that I’m okay.

I don’t care what Jack says.

I’m moving forward.

And he can’t do anything to stop me.