But Devon couldn’t repeat it. And then he was backing away, backing across the room.
And T was on him then, both his hands squeezing Devon’s wrists so tight he thought they’d snap in two. T’s thumbs pressed into the tender undersides hard.
Harder.
Pain seared through him.
“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” T hissed, and Devon locked eyes with him, saw the anger and the rage and the cold, cold evil.
“Everything all right in there?” Memaw called from the other room.
“All good, Maw,” T called over his shoulder.
With one final, painful squeeze he released Devon’s arms. Devon gasped, stumbled away. For an instant he thought he’d faint dead over, but it passed, and he watched T calmly walk to the door, turn the handle, and swing it open.
“See ya, Dev. Sorry you can’t stay for supper,” T said loud enough for Memaw to hear.
And choking back tears, Devon scrambled to his feet and out the door.
CHAPTER 27
Rebecca
Back at the office, Rebecca went straight to her laptop, typed in W Media and Erik Wennerman. Nothing, though she made sure to google Erik himself, too. He checked out okay, and she found a lot of information on several social media career profile sites, saw he had a bachelor’s in marketing and two graduate degrees, one in business advertising and another in geriatric care management.
His profile picture was a professional one, and he somehow managed to look both relaxed and natural in the pose. Trustworthy. The thought came that he’d make a good politician.
A search for news articles about him brought up a couple of features, the first on a local project he and some classmates had done in grad school and the second on his vision for Aberville Estates, the largest of the Wennerman retirement communities in the area. She also found a few photos of some community and business awards he’d accepted on behalf of his father’s companies. All of it was pretty vanilla, she had to admit. No shady past, no bad business deals, no complaints or poor reviews.
No connection whatsoever to media buyouts.
Frowning, she did a search for the Lark Run Gazette, teamedthat with terms like “lawsuit,” “nepotism,” “libel” and “sexual harassment.” Several articles, most by the daily paper in Charlotte, came up. Erik had been telling the truth—that newspaper had been going under fast on its own accord. She winced as she read how a string of young female reporters, just out of college, finally went in on a class action handled by a large firm. The paper settled, and it seemed the sale to W Media was ultimately a win-win. She cocked her head. She’d been too hard on Erik. His hangdog look and patient way of explaining settled over her, balled like a lump in her stomach.
“What’s wrong?” Millie’s gruff voice startled her, and she sat upright. They were alone in the newsroom—Tiff was at a zoning meeting and Dinah out making sales rounds—and Rebecca glanced at the wall clock, surprised to see it was already after two. Soon she’d need to be leaving to go meet Devon.
“It’s nothing.”
Millie raised a brow. “Nothing my foot.”
Rebecca bit back a retort, then sighed. “I found out yesterday that the Wennermans, who’ve been running those huge ads in the paper for their retirement homes? They own a media company that buys small papers like ours all over this region.”
Millie pursed her lips. “Coulda told ya that ages ago.”
“You knew?”
“Thought you did, too. Thought that was why that Wennerman fellow’s been so friendly, coming in and making googly eyes at you.”
Rebecca rubbed at her temples. “It was a shock to me. And it seems Erik has nothing to do with his dad’s media arm, though I sure gave him an earful a couple hours ago at the coffee shop.” She frowned, gave Millie a sideways look. “You thought I was chumming up with the Wennermans about a paper sale?”
Millie shrugged. “The paper’s not doing well, that Wennerman fellow’s been comin’ round, and I put two and two together,jumped to conclusions. Figured you were ready to cast lots with the winning team.”
“Well, I had no idea. And besides, Erik told me his father and brother would likely be talking with Mr. McCafferty and Mr. Hansler, not me, anyway.”
“They may well be. And I suppose working for the Wennermans would be better than no job at all, but I don’t like it. Not one bit. There’s something sleazy about that family, I don’t care how you spin it.”
Rebecca’s mouth twisted. “I know what you mean.”
She watched Millie a moment. The secretary’s back was ramrod straight as she organized the papers on her desk. Rebecca glanced at the papers as she stood to pour another cup of coffee, saw they were classified orders.
