Page 84 of Token

As livid as she had been when she’d heard the video, Kennedy found it impossible to hold on to her anger. That kind of toxicity had a habit of eating a person alive, and in her line of work, she couldn’t afford to allow it safe harbor. Especially now she realized she was more disappointed than anything else. She liked Roger. She’d believed in him. In his innate goodness. Did that make her a putz? A bad judge of character? She sure hoped not. Because, despite everything, she believed he was being sincere now.

“Maybe the endorsements are gone for good, but I think if you go out there and talk to the public like you’re talking to me, there’s a good chance your hockey career can survive this.”

“So tell them the truth is what you’re saying.” He sounded as if he’d rather claim his body had been taken over by an alien. Truth as a strategy might not be up to the heavy lift of resurrecting a reputation currently on life support.

“At this point, it’s all you have.”

It was almost eight when Kennedy left the office. The entire media ecosystem was on a sugar high. The nonstop coverage of the hacking story was coming at breakneck speed. Prime-time anchors were back behind their desks—no doubt for all-nighters—in the name of special reporting for the extended coverage. One would think a passenger plane had disappeared over the Atlantic Ocean.

She called Aurora for the third time in as many hours, hoping she would pick up this time. But once again, the call went straight to voice mail. After Kennedy hung up—this time without leaving a message—she debated what to do next. Nate was out with Jack, and she didn’t want to bother him. But she couldn’t go home until she got in touch with her friend. She hadn’t seen Aurora since she’d ducked out of the office at two that afternoon, announcing she had an appointment with a client downtown and from there would be going straight home. The meeting should have ended hours ago.

Then why isn’t she answering her phone?

It was the lack of answers to that question that had Kennedy fretting. To calm her fears, she took an Uber to her friend’s brownstone, which was a short fifteen-minute ride.

Standing at the front door, Kennedy rang the bell and waited. The curtains were drawn, so she couldn’t see in. When she couldn’t hear anyone moving around, she fished the spare key Aurora had given her out of her handbag and let herself in.

“Anyone home?” she called into the darkened entryway. “Ror?” She closed and locked the door behind her, before turning on the light and venturing down the hall into the open space between the living room and the kitchen.

The faint sound of movement in the direction of the bedrooms piqued her ears. “Ror, is that you?”

More silence.

Shit, what if someone else was there—robbing the place? Clutching her handbag tightly in front of her, Kennedy glanced around. She needed a weapon just in case. Her gaze caught sight of the butcher block of knives.

A loud thud drew a startled scream from her throat. Her flight instinct warred with the one telling her to grab one of the knives and fight. Preferably, the one with the biggest and sharpest blade and sturdiest handle.

Before she could do either, one of the bedroom doors opened and light flooded the hallway. Aurora, clad in a short hot-pink robe, emerged breathless and disheveled. Seriously, her hair was a tangled blond wreck.

Relief nearly sent Kennedy to the floor in a faint. “You’re home. I’ve been calling you for hours and it kept going straight to voice mail. I came by to check and make sure you’re okay.” She gestured toward the door. “I rang the doorbell and no one answered, so I let myself in.”

Aurora had yet to say a word, her blue eyes luminescent and heightened color in her cheeks. She had a death grip on the front of her robe as she held it closed, the sash dangling at her sides.

“Ror, what’s going on?” Kennedy shot a look behind her and realization finally dawned. “Oh my god, I interrupted something, didn’t I?” Pointing at her friend’s closed bedroom door, she exclaimed in a hushed whisper, “Oh my god, you’re seeing someone. Who is it?”

At having established that her friend was safe and sound, perhaps another friend would have tiptoed quietly away. After all, a girl did need her privacy. But that wasn’t their friendship. Had the situation been reversed, you wouldn’t have been able to drag Aurora out of there without demanding to know the identity of the mystery man. Keeping the identity of a lover a secret was only condoned when it was your friend’s brother. And Kennedy knew with a 99 percent certainty that neither of her brothers was behind the bedroom door.

Guiltily, Aurora followed the direction of her gaze, shooting a quick look over her shoulder. “He’s not—We’re not—We were just—It’s not what—” Her response sputtered along before dying like a defunct car engine.

Kennedy decided to put her out of the misery that reduced her friend to marginal coherency, calling out to whoever was hiding in her room. “You may as well come out because I’m not leaving until you do. I’m Aurora’s best friend, so we’re bound to meet sooner or later. As we’re both already here, now works.”

The answer to her summons came at the opening of the bedroom door and a man slowly emerging into the lit hall.

Kennedy’s lips parted on a gasp.Well, knock me over with a feather.

“Lieutenant Governor,” she whispered by way of acknowledgment rather than greeting.

She hadn’t met him in person, but she’d seen him on TV a bunch of times. She’d certainly never seen him like this, his shirt three-quarters buttoned and untucked from a slightly wrinkled pair of tan slacks, his feet bare, and his hair appearing finger combed.

Memories started running through her mind like clips from a movie: the new spring in Aurora’s step, the flirtier way she’d been dressing lately, and how close she’d recently gotten to Adam Faulkner’s daughter. It all made sense now.

She’s screwing the guy.

His gaze flicked to Aurora before meeting Kennedy’s, his expression guarded. “I know how this looks.”

“It looks like you’re sleeping with my friend. Does that about cover it, or is there more?”

“Ken, we aren’t doing anything wrong,” Aurora interjected. “We’re both consenting adults.”

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