Page 74 of Forbidden Bond

“This is the city, Sersh.”

She settled against the windowsill again. “A city Conn loves. The McDades have put up with a lot of speculation, whispers behind their backs, two-faced everyone’s who claim to be an ally but fail to follow through. Is this about the scoop or a genuine fear for the city?”

‘Cause she’d had about her fill of righteous people claiming to love the streets they walked. The city had a lot to answer for if it granted license to anyone wishing to work under its name.

Before anyone was forced to reply, her phone rang. Damn thing had been going all day. This had to be what it was like to be Conn’s phone. No, actually, it wasn’t even close.

“Yeah?” she barked at the unknown number flashing.

“Bluebell…” The drawl was pleased, almost smug, with a smattering of charm. “We’ve gotta talk.”

A happy voice. An unknown voice. Who’d called her?

Intrigued, she listened closer. “About what?”

“About what we can do for each other.” Hmm, still intrigued? Yes. Wary Conn could never hear this? Definitely. “Let’s have drinks.”

Oh, wow, talk about balls. “Excuse me?”

“Drinks, at the club tonight.”

The club? Their club. Stag.

Ah! Fuck. This wasn’t some random letch, this was a McDade letch. Doran “Play” McDade, Razer’s younger brother.

“Your cousin might take issue with us dating.”

He laughed. “If I meant it that way my cousin would take my head off. Rightfully so. This is strategic. Trust me. Tonight, eleven thirty.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Play was actually laughing when he hung up. Not like a full belly laugh, but more than anyone would get from Conn, even on a good day.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes,” she said, her phone dropping to her side when her arm loosened. “I am going to get some work done.” Boosting herself onto her feet to wander toward the door, she turned to go backwards, keeping her colleagues in sight. “Steeple, I will have something for you before midnight. And, Im, someone will put a cell in your father’s hand.” She pointed, phone in her grip. “No more distractions, either of you. As far as you’re both concerned,I have no love life, no family, no knowledge on any subject, not until after I get into this. Thank you, goodnight.”

TWENTY-FOUR

SHE WASN’T THE ONLY one working late. Though the lights were lower at that hour, the Chronicler office was far from abandoned.

If she could put together an outline for every one of her features, she could put the bones on each article. They’d need pictures. Comment. Did she want her father to comment? She could ask and then decide, or not, whether to use his words. Might be a better idea to make them up herself and just say they came from Ronald. Only a complete moron would argue with her these days, and Ron couldn’t afford to piss off Connel any more than he already had.

Those who worked with her grandfather would have things to say. Would they be nice? Did they have to be? How much editorial control would she get? She and Steeple would need to have a discussion. Not about her social life, about what he expected these articles to achieve.

Her grandfather’s house would be a treasure trove of his past. How much time did she and Lach have to clear the place before it was sold? A conversation she’d need to have with Conn.

Across the bullpen, Steeple’s office door opened. “Sersh,” her boss got her attention. Rather than pull her into his office, he came to her station. “Something happened at the Grand Hotel, it’s on police radio.”

“The Grand Hotel, why would you…?” Oh, shit, Nicole. “What did they say? What happened?”

Lach was her next thought, though if this was Nicole related, it wouldn’t be a good idea to involve her brother. Many of her recent decisions put him in the shit. He deserved to livehis own life, to make his own mistakes, rather than be tarred by hers.

“I don’t know, sounds like an invasion, or a raid or a… The hotel called in about a disruption, violence, cops sent a dozen patrol cars.”

Her pulse kicked up. “What room?”

“Don’t know exactly. Eighth floor.”

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