Page 48 of Resisting His Target
But she came up short in the lobby, her feet stilling beneath her at the thought of rejoining Razorback. More than anything, she wanted to get away from him today.
So why do I have to bring him?
Her life wasn’t in danger. She was going there to be seen, to capture the attention of the news media and crush Doug McGrath in a very public way. He wouldn’t be able to fight back against that, not physically, anyway.
Razorback certainly wasn’t coming along for moral support. On the contrary, his presence would be upsetting. Sap her confidence. She needed to focus on the task at hand, not worry about him and her feelings and his distorted view of himself.
She picked a private corner of the lobby to sit down and pulled out her cell phone, quickly finding the number of a network affiliate station in town. It took some convincing to get the news desk to patch her through to the network anchor here for the convention, but the promise of an exclusive on a scandal that would knock Doug McGrath out of the running before midnight was enough to do the trick. The reporter was in the hotel right next door and came in the lobby just a few minutes later.
She gestured for him to take a seat. “Thank you for coming, Mr. Gough. What I’m about to tell you is strictly off the record. I don’t want it getting out before tonight. Do I have your word?”
“It’s mine if I want it, exclusive?”
“Yes.”
“Then we’re off the record.”
Nerves rattled her stomach. “Do you remember when Doug McGrath was the governor of California, and his wife’s car went into the Pacific Ocean?”
“Sure.” He shrugged. “Our investigative news magazine program did a special on it years ago. It’s being rerun tonight. What happened to Jacqueline McGrath? A lot of suspicious things about the accident that killed her. Do you have information about her death?”
“She didn’t die.” She took off her glasses, his eyes first narrowing, then going wide.
His mouth dropped open. “Holy shit. You’re Jacqueline McGrath.”
“I go by my maiden name these days. Desjardins.”
He took out a small pad of paper and a pen. “This is unbelievable. Explain this to me. What happened that night?”
“My husband’s campaign manager tried to kill me by running my car off a cliff into the ocean. But he had an attack of conscience and pulled me out of the water.”
“Is this Levi Ludlow we’re talking about?”
She leaned back. “I’ll tell you everything you want to know, but I need something in return. A way into that convention center.”
“Why?”
“So I can get up on that podium and tell the American people the truth—that Doug McGrath lied about his racial background when he gave his most famous speech. His grandmother was African American.”
“This is unbelievable. Do you have proof?”
“Genealogical records. Census data.” She pulled the photograph out of her purse. “This is a picture of her with Doug.”
“This is going to explode all over the convention.” He shook his head, his excitement palpable. “I’ll get you in. Let me make a few phone calls.”
Relief flooded through her. Everything she needed was about to be in place. She pulled out her cell phone and composed a text to Razorback.
I NEED TO DO THIS ON MY OWN. THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE FOR ME. COULDN’T HAVE MADE IT HERE WITHOUT YOU AND HERO FORCE.
A sad frown pulled at the corners of her mouth as she pressed send. This was the end. It was over, for good.
The reporter returned, pulling his chair closer. “That’s taken care of. Now start at the beginning.”
29
Razorback awoke before dawn, his head aching like he’d been drinking. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, his stare catching on the empty space beside him in the bed.
Jackie.
