Fatal Vendetta. Sharon Dunn
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inside her house, and he followed. She hit the light switch by the door. Nothing had changed in her living room, though it felt like an entirely different place. She was not the same person who had left here to cover the warehouse fire.
The warm tones of the living room that normally looked so cozy only made her feel more alone.
“How about I make you some tea?” Zach offered.
“Let me. It’s my kitchen.” She moved toward the counter.
He touched her arm just above the elbow. “No, you need to sit down. I’ll figure out where things are in the kitchen.”
Though his touch was gentle, his words held force. She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.
“Thanks for everything. Now I double owe you,” she said.
“It’s all part of my evil plan. Soon you will owe me the world.” He rubbed his hands together theatrically and laughed like a villain in a cartoon.
In spite of everything, he made her shake her head and smile. When she laughed, her ribs hurt, just a reminder that the bruising would take weeks to heal.
“There’s that beauty queen toothy grin we all adore, Betsy,” he teased.
She rolled her eyes, amazed at how easily he could pull her from a dark place with his humor. “Stop—it was one pageant and winning paid for journalism school.” She’d been only eighteen then. Small town girl headed to the big city, so full of hope. She slumped down on the couch and watched as he put a teakettle on and opened cupboards to find cups and tea.
She was grateful he hadn’t pressed for details about what happened in college. Craig Miller had never gone to jail. Her lawyer had believed her, but there hadn’t been enough evidence. The trauma of the attack had caused her to fall apart emotionally, which would have made her a bad witness. She understood why the case hadn’t gone to trial, but the fact that she’d never gotten closure made it hard to move on emotionally. Her trust toward men had been completely broken. She had decided not to date and put her energy into her work. “I do want to pay you back some way.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said.
“You seem to be old hat at fending off the press. Like you’ve been through it before.”
He opened a tea bag and placed it in a cup. “Do I?”
She caught the hitch in his voice, the way he froze for a nanosecond before opening the tea bag. He wasn’t telling her the whole story. She’d done enough interviews to pick up on the subtle clues and body language that he was hiding something. Fear skittered across her nerves. Her back stiffened. She hoped she hadn’t been foolish to let him in.
The kettle whistled, and he turned his back to her before she could read his expression. When he swung around again, it was as if he was wearing a mask. He poured the tea and brought the cup over to her, taking a seat in the chair across from her.
So they both had secrets. She took the steaming mug and raised it. “To the giver of hot beverages.”
She studied him over the top of her mug. She had a feeling that even if she probed a little more, Zach would not be forthcoming. His keen reporter instincts would clue him in that she was turning him into an interview subject. A Google search would probably be more productive.
“You’re not going to have any tea?”
“I’m the giver of hot beverages, not the drinker,” he said.
She took a sip, allowing the warm liquid to flow down her throat while the minty flavor lingered on her tongue. “Nothing like tea to soothe the rankled soul.”
He nodded. “I suppose.”
The reporter in her really wanted to know what he was hiding. She studied him long enough that he started to fidget. He burst up from his seat opposite her, turning his back to her and shoving his hands in his pockets.
“So have you ever had to fend off the press?” she finally asked.
He offered her a nervous smile. “Don’t go all journalist on me, Betsy. I thought we had a pretty good start on being friends.”
Friends? She hadn’t thought about that possibility.
He stared out the window. “Looks like Gwen is gone.”
His changing the subject told her she’d pushed a little too far. “I should be okay here alone.” The idea caused a new wave of fear to crash over her.
“You’ll be safe from the reporters, but...”
He seemed to understand her trauma in a way that others would not have been so sensitive to.
“Tell you what, why don’t you try to sleep,” he offered. “I’ll grab my laptop and get some work done.”
Zach seemed completely trustworthy, but trusting too easily was what had gotten her in trouble in college. “Really, you’ve done so much already.”
“It’s not that big a deal. I was only going to go home and sit with my laptop there.”
She did want him to stay. She wasn’t ready to face being in the house alone. “I don’t know if I could sleep, but maybe both of us could get some work done.”
“All right, then.” He moved toward the door but stopped when something on the entryway table caught his eye. “You’re going to the Waltz by the River Ball?”
She rose to her feet. “Yes, part of being a good reporter these days is keeping in touch with the movers and shakers.” Badger was a community of fifty thousand, so there weren’t that many muckety-mucks, as her father used to call them, to rub elbows with.
“If you could swing me an invitation, I’d consider us even. Since you’re so convinced you owe me,” he said.
“Sure. Actually, I need a date.” It was hardly a fair trade, considering he’d saved her life. “Why do you want to go?”
“You get better stories when people recognize your face,” he said. “Since I’m new in town, I’ve got to start making connections with those people.”
So he had an in with the first responders, but not the power brokers like she did. She chided herself for thinking in terms of them competing, though it came so naturally. She walked across the floor and placed her teacup on the counter. “You do realize this is a formal party.”
“I can rent a tux.” He stroked his five-o’clock shadow and yanked open the door.
“You’ll have to locate a razor, too.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He stepped outside after offering her a playful backward glare.
Shaking her head, she watched him stride toward his car. He came back a moment later holding his laptop. They sat on opposite sides of the living room, the tapping of the keys the only sound in the house. Though they were working on separate projects, the sense of companionship was kind of nice. After about twenty minutes, her eyelids felt heavy. She placed the laptop on the side table. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes.”
“Sleep is the best thing for you now.” His voice was soft and far away.
She heard him get up, and a moment later, the creamy softness of the couch throw enveloped her.
As she drifted off, she wondered why a man who seemed so forthright like Zachery would have something to hide.
She felt herself falling into a deeper sleep. Images of the abduction blasted through her dreams. She awoke with a start, jerking into a sitting position.
Zach seemed alarmed. “Everything all right?” His voice filled with sympathy.
She rose to her feet and turned away. “I’m fine.” What a lie. Her abductor’s threat to lure her to another news story so he could take her again made her throat go tight and her heart race. She wouldn’t be safe