Send in the Marines! Auralia’s inner voice sang as their group surrounded Doli and Auralia.
“Moving.” The guy in front of Doli barked.
“Moving,” their rescue group repeated.
They took a small step forward. Then another. Playing at being salmon swimming upstream, they shifted slowly toward the parking area.
Finally bursting through the last of the crowd and out through the security gates. There, the women dove into their rental SUV.
Doli shoved the gear into drive and took off as Auralia breathlessly called their gratitude to the Marines from the lowered window.
“Oorah!” they called in return, looking like that was the most fun ever.
Yeah, good times.
And to be fair, Auralia thought, if that had been Gator and Creed with their Marine buddies, they would have had the same looks on their faces.
Silently, Doli rattled and bucked down the unpaved road toward the rural highway at breakneck speed as Auralia texted their editor what had happened and that he should digitally run the story she’d already developed.
When her phone pinged in return, Auralia glanced at it. “I got a thumbs up on the story. Hey, Doli, when we get somewhere safe, we should probably pull over so I can type this up and you can edit the film. Did you have your phone video rolling?”
“If I do, will we be able to see anything other than punching and kicking?” Doli reached down and held up the phone case dangling from its lanyard. “Yup, rolling.” She tapped the phone to stop recording. “You?”
“Same. Yeah, maybe we can find a hotel or something and work on this. I’d like to record a segment where I narrate the clips that you choose. And also, we should probably give ourselves a once-over. You and I both know that adrenaline can mask some nasty wounds.”
Doli flung their vehicle onto the highway. “Go ahead and pull something up on the maps app and make the reservations.”
As Auralia scrolled, the cab suddenly filled with Doli’s booming laughter. It was infectious and cleansing, and Auralia was grateful for the release.
“Girlfriend, it is never boring getting assigned to you.” Doli reached for her water bottle and took a long, hard drag from the straw. “How is it that you keep landing these scoops?”
“When I look at a person, I get a sense of who they are, a taste in my mouth. And I don’t know if it’s because of how I’m made or where I’m from—maybe a bit of both, but between you and me, when there’s evil swirling around, I see my metaphorical pen as the sword getting dragged from its sheath.”
“So I take it that my aura is crystal clear since you keep asking for me to be on the stories with you.”
“Crystal clear might be a stretch. I ask for you because you’re good company in the lulls, and in the red zones, you’re a goddamned badass bitch. I need someone to protect my toes when I’m stupid enough to wear tennis shoes to a throwdown.”
The phone rang, and Auralia answered, “Hey, Kamar, you’re on speaker phone.”
“Holy shit, woman. Holy shit! My photographer is driving, and I’m reviewing his footage. He got close-ups when you dropped the bomb on Lambton and Price. Priceless.” Helaughed at his own joke. When he sobered, he said, “I guess I need to call him Morrison now. Here I was pissed that I got sent to this lukewarm-glass-of-water event. And I was there fortheevent. Yeah, wow. I should have known better when I saw you and Doli setting up. You two okay? Were you hurt any?
“Meh. You know, it could have been worse. We’re grateful to the Quantico folks. They’re the ones exchanging blows.”
“Speaking of blow, this is blowing up all over social media. Not surprising. Did you know that we have a nickname for you at IAP?RochamBlow’emUp.” He chuckled, then heaved a sigh. “Hey, listen, this time, serious, you’d better be damned sure you’ve got your ducks in a row. I’m going to send this clip to your phone because you need to be ready. As the Marines were getting you out of the rabble, Price-Morrison said from the stage, he’s going to sue the shit out of Global, and then you personally for libel. He says he’s coming for you. And there are a lot of politicians whose names are tied to his. They’ll either lie low and let this storm pass, or—probably more realistic—they’ll use their power to make your life hell.”
Chapter One
Auralia
One Year Later
Auralia stood in the bed and breakfast’s Victorian-styled bathroom, heavy on the shelf-tchotchkes and made dim by the flocked velvet wallpaper in bordello maroon and limited lighting.
She pressed a final hairpin into her bun, muttering possible interview questions into the mirror so her lips and tongue could coordinate under stress.
Morrison was going to be back on the stage in the dell.
Released on bail to mount his case, judgment day inching closer, Auralia was itching to hear how he’d spin things today. She’d been on top of this case from her research to the reveal, through the grand jury, to the indictment and the choice of hearing dates.
