Crossing the living room, Ethan pulled back the curtains and stared through the panes at the crowd of reporters gathering on the front lawn. “Jesus, they didn’t waste any time.”
Val walked up beside him. “Oh my God.”
Still connected on the phone to Dirk, Ethan lifted his cell back to his ear. “You still there?”
“I’m here. Meg’s with me. I’ve got you on speaker.”
“The vultures are already out front.” Even the heavy mist hadn’t deterred them. “No way we can get to my Jeep without a problem. We’re in Montlake. How far away are you?”
Megan answered, her voice tinny over the open speaker. “My house isn’t far from Val’s. It won’t take us long to get there.”
“There’s an alley behind the house,” Ethan said. “Call me when you get close and we’ll meet you out there.”
“On my way,” Dirk said.
“Get away from the window,” Ethan said to Val. “We don’t want to stir them up.”
She cast him a glance. “You mean like a nest of angry hornets?”
His mouth edged up. “Exactly.”
“My neighbor, Mrs. Oakley, is going to freak out.”
“You can phone her as soon as we get on the road. Let’s head for the back door, be ready to go when Dirk calls.”
“Give me a sec.” Val ran back to her bedroom, came out a few seconds later wearing her sneakers, her black high heels in her hand. “I’m a heckuva lot more sure-footed in these.” She lifted a shoe to show him and he chuckled.
“Good thinking.”
The call from Dirk came a few minutes later. So far the media hadn’t wanted to risk trespassing into the backyard, and the alley was kind of hidden by the foliage at the end of the block, not easy to spot if you didn’t know where to look.
Val grabbed her umbrella. Ethan strode over and opened the back door, stepped out into the chill. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirteen
Val folded her umbrella and slid into the backseat of the big black Cadillac Escalade Dirk Reynolds was driving. Ethan followed her in. Megan sat in the front seat next to Dirk.
“Thanks for the ride,” Ethan said as the vehicle shot on down the alley, and Val hurriedly buckled her seat belt. The windshield wipers slopped back and forth as the SUV pulled into the street. The weatherman had nailed it. Dark and overcast, perfect day for a funeral.
Meg turned around in her seat. She was also dressed in black: black leggings, black boots, a black wool skirt, and a black V-necked sweater. “You okay?” she asked Val.
“I can’t believe someone leaked those notes. Now we have to contend with an even bigger batch of reporters.”
“I know. I was really glad Dirk was there when I saw the news. The Hellfire Preacher. Can you believe that? We were lucky to get out of there before they showed up at my place.”
Val was thankful Ethan had been there, too. She sent him a glance, tried not to think how good he looked, how he seemed to fill up the entire backseat. Though she’d been glad for the exercise yesterday, the hours at the gym had been torture. No one looked better in a T-shirt and gym shorts than Ethan Brodie.
She had never been in lust before—had sex, yes, had boyfriends, but this was different. At least she was smart enough to recognize the feeling for what it was, nothing but a normal female reaction to a male who looked as good as Ethan. She just needed to keep that reaction under control.
“I’ve got to call my folks,” she told Meg. “I didn’t tell them about the notes. They’ll be worried sick when they see this on the news. Good thing you sent Charlie off to his grandparents’ house.”
“Who’s Charlie?” Dirk asked, his head swiveling toward Megan.
“He’s . . . umm . . . my son.”
Val shared a glance with Ethan, who apparently knew about the boy. But then, he’d been digging around, finding out everyone’s secrets. Not that Meg was ashamed of her son; just the opposite. She only wanted to keep him out of the media blitz that went with the show.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you had a kid?” Dirk asked, clearly annoyed.
