The words jerk me awake from my dozing, vulgar and awful. They’re coming from Hazel, who is standing at my bedside with a newspaper in her hand. She slams it down onto my lap, and it takes me a moment for my eyes to adjust. What the hell is she in here, calling me a name like that for? I thought we were past the name calling when she got moved to a different room.
Head aching, I look at her, a scowl on my face.
“Excuse me.”
“He trusted you. He doesn’t trust anyone. This...this is what you were doing all along?”
What is she talking about?
“What?”
“You wrote a story about him. All along, you were just looking for information. You say I’m a terrible human, but you, love, are the worst of the worst.”
Story?
With trembling fingers, I pick up the newspaper. Front and center on the states biggest sourced paper, is Western’s face. The face of a young man who was sent to prison for something he didn’t do. A young man who is staring at the camera, his face blank, his eyes expressionless. I’ve come to know those eyes so well.
New information uncovered reveals young bikers’ innocence
No.
No.
No.
This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening. I flip to the story and even as my eyes move over my own words, I know I didn’t release it. Things have been changed, the story calling out the highest forms of law enforcement, Bill Whart, and everyone else who might possibly be involved in a human trafficking scheme that they used Western to cover up. It’s bad. It’s so damned bad. This kind of thing is going to cause problems that the club won’t be able to fix.
I didn’t release it.
I look up to Hazel, who is shaking her head.
“I didn’t do this,” I say, my voice croaky.
“Really. So, you’re not a journalist?”
“I am, but I didn’t release this.”
Shaking her head, she turns and walks out.
Frantically, I reach for my phone, which has been on silent mode. Pete has been calling, over and over. I quickly dial his number, wanting to know how the hell this happened.
“Pete,” I say, when it picks up. “What the hell?”
“You saw the story,” he says, his voice tight. “I don’t know how it leaked, Bonnie. I didn’t do this.”
Shaking my head in confusion, I try to settle my racing heart. “This is so bad. It’s not only dangerous for the club, but for me. My name is all over this. Those people of power are going to come after me. Someone did this and I want to know who.”
“I’m working on finding out how it got into that newspaper’s hands. I promise you I’ll get to the bottom of it. For now, I’m trying to have it removed.”
“It’s too late,” I say, tears burning under my eyelids. “It’s out there.”
I finish up with Pete promising to get me some answers.
I dial Western, needing to know if he has seen it.
He doesn’t answer.
I dial again and again.