“Max!” his boss roared. “Get the damn story. Remember, you got this job as a family favor. I can, however, sack you as quick as I hired you.”
“Pardon?” Max asked.
“Why are you still here?Dragon.Huge, huge story. Tremendous story.”
Max strode away, his mind working busily. He’d applied for this job after seeing it in the local paper. At the time, a job near home had been a godsend when Noel had needed him. But now, he wondered if his grandmotherhadmanipulated him from behind the scenes.
Max wheeled around and stalked back to his boss’s office. “Which family favor got me this job?”
His boss stilled. “Let me make this clear. If I see you in this office again today, I will fire you, and then what will you do for money?”
Although he hadn’t answered, Max had enough information to make a calculated guess. Manipulated him. No wonder his boss had summoned him back to work early and thank every god for Sasha’s strength and integrity. He couldn’t have a better person to look after Noel when he couldn’t be there to do it himself. If his assumptions were right, then his grandmother had looked at Sasha’s youth and thought to manipulate her. She’d failed once, but his grandmother had another plan up her sleeve if she’d had him recalled to Edinburgh.
Max speared one harsh glare at his boss and turned on his heel. He stopped by his office and cleared his desk. It was time for him to take a stand against the hidden enemy. Actually, not so hidden since his grandmother’s fingers were all over this manipulation. He’d do some other job, and his boss could suck eggs. Ten minutes later, he walked out of the newspaper office, determined never to return.
“Hey, Max. Wait up!”
Max glanced over his shoulder and hid his grimace.
“Wait up! The boss wants me to go with you to take photos. Says it’s the biggest story to hit for months, and we aren’t about to miss out on our big payday,” the paper photographer called. The portion of his face visible above his beard had turned red, and he was breathing hard. Wisps of hair had escaped his ponytail and surrounded his face like a halo.
Max grunted. “I’m going home.”
“Please, Max. I need this job. If I get the sack, I won’t make my mortgage payment for this month. My wife and I are already working every hour we can. Please.”
Max sighed. He couldn’t kick a man who was only trying to do his job and survive. “I’m not coming back to Edinburgh.”
“No problem,” the photographer said. “I’ll email my photos and head home using the train or a bus. Don’t care. Just give me a chance to get this dragon with my camera.”
“You agree a dragon is flying around Bamburgh?” Max asked.
The photographer shrugged. “Truly, I have no clue, but the paper has two credible sources. At least, that’s what the boss told me.”
During the drive to Bamburgh, the photographer prattled on about everything and nothing while Max wondered what the hell he’d do now.
He had to have a job to pay for household expenses. His parents had set up a trust for Noel, and the income from that trust went toward Noel’s upkeep and costs. Max received the quarterly payment as Noel’s current guardian, but only a portion of that went toward the household expenses.
The house cost a lot to maintain. He could downsize, but he hated to tear Noel away from an environment he loved, where he felt settled.
A dilemma.
Max lived to write innovative stories, and he wasn’t doing that in Edinburgh.
“The traffic is heavy,” the photographer pointed out when they came to yet another halt.
“Yes,” Max said in an understatement.
His average drive time of three-quarters of an hour lengthened to over an hour before they’d even arrived at the outskirts of Bamburgh.
“Hell,” the photographer said, tugging his salt-and-pepper beard in agitation. “I recognize some of those vehicles. Every newshound in the country is chasing the dragon. Where was the sighting?”
“At the beach. I’ll park at my place and walk. In this traffic, it’ll be much faster.”
It took them much longer to get to his house than he’d anticipated. When they arrived, vehicles surrounded his home. Two men were hammering on his front door, their determination to gain entrance underlined by the loudness of their thumps.
What the hell?
“Who are you?” Max demanded. “Why are you banging down my front door?”
