Chapter Thirteen
Emi
“The Austin Police Department and the FBI continue to investigate the attack on me and Consolidated Investment Group’s connection to the Cordova Cartel. I’ll be back on Monday with more on the corruption surrounding the Empress Hotel and Conference Center.” I take a slow, steadying breath. This next bit isn’t scripted, and Nelson’s going to have a coronary over it. Luckily, the studio lights are so bright, I can’t see him. “To the individual or individuals who blew up my car last night and almost killed me, I say this. You will not scare me off this story. My duty is to the people of this city. I report the news, and I will not be silenced. Back to you, Jim.”
I stare straight into the lens until the red light goes off and the cameraman gives me a nod. In the space of a few seconds, my confidence evaporates into dust. An icy ball of nerves twists in my stomach.
Nelson steps into my line of sight and motions for me to get my ass out of the chair and off set. My hands shake as I struggle to unclip the microphone from my blazer. One of the techs rushes over to help, but I can’t take my eyes off of Nelson. His face is bright red, with the veins at his temples throbbing.
“What the hell was that?” he hisses when the broadcast cuts to commercial. “You practically dared the cartel to come after you!”
“The networks will pick that up and run with it. When the market share numbers come in, you’ll be thanking me,” I say with as much strength as I can force into my tone.
“Not if you’re dead!” He throws his hands up, then grabs fistfuls of his hair and pulls hard enough his eyes crinkle with pain. “Your story was enough, Emi. And we’re twenty-three seconds over time that we have to make up in the C-block.”
Of course he’d notice that. I don’t care. I’d give anything to feel safe again, but this is the opportunity I’ve been praying for. Cheri almost choked on her gum when I refused to let her touch me with the concealer wand, but my various scrapes and bruises are all part of the story now. From the brief glimpse I caught on the monitors, I look like five miles of bad road. That’ll get the networks clamoring for more.
I offer Nelson one of my patented smiles. “Make sure you run the segment as often as possible this weekend. I taped half a dozen different promo spots for you to use, including several that presume they’ll come after me again. If you need me to record any updates, give me a call. I’ll be hiding out at home until Monday.”
His mouth opens and closes several times. “Austin PD isn’t offering protective custody?”
I snort. “No. The lead detective told me there was nothing they could do without a credible and consistent threat from someone they could actually arrest. I think his exact words were, ‘The cartel was sending a message. If they’d truly wanted you dead, you’d be dead.’”
Nelson sputters, but I’m already headed to my office. My little “stunt” on air will likely keep me safer than any rent-a-cop ever could.
Twenty minutes later, after five different people stop me to ask about the attack, my office is finally in sight. “Ms. Marsh?” One of the associate producers rushes down the hall. “There’s a guy in the lobby who says he’s with you. Jasper Blade? He’s demanding that we let him past security.”
Shit. He’s probably full of piss and vinegar over my report tonight. Sticking my tongue out at the people who tried to kill me won’t earn me any points with him. He’s too overprotective for his own good.
I rub my left shoulder, one of the bruises throbbing. I could have died last night. I’m still here because Jasper took care of me. Maybe he’s exactly the right amount of overprotective.
“Tell him I’ll be out in five minutes, Wendy. If he makes a fuss, explain that it takes longer than that to print a guest badge. That should calm him down a bit.”
After a quick pit stop in my office to change back into my sweater, then grab my tablet and phone, I push through the security doors. Jasper’s pacing, his hands balled into fists at his sides.
Holy shit, the man cleans up well. Dark blue Wranglers, a black vest, and a slate gray button-down shirt. No tie. Leather jacket.
A split second later, he pulls me against him. His muscles relax on an exhale. God, he even smells good. Like a spring waterfall or the prairie after a storm.
“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks, but there’s no malice in his tone. Only concern.
“I’m a reporter, Jasper. I have an obligation to see the story through to the end. And…if the cartel—or whoever tried to blow me up—knows the FBI is onto them, maybe they’ll leave me alone.” Drawing back, I trail my fingers over his freshly trimmed beard. “You asked me to be careful. This is careful.”
“Not careful enough.” His kiss is gentle but leaves no question as to how much he wants me. Or…needs me. “You ready to get the fuck out of here?”
“God, yes. Unless there’s a fresh break in the story, no one needs me until Monday morning. I can hide out at home all weekend.” I leave the last two words unspoken. With you.
I don’t know if he’ll stay. Or if he even wants to. We didn’t get that far when we argued over my safety this morning.
Jasper tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His fingers are warm and rough, but surprisingly gentle. “We’ll see about that, sweetheart. I can think of a few other places we could go that might be both private and safe.” He punctuates his declaration with a wink. “If you trust me.”
I’ve only known Jasper for a few days, but everything about him screams honor. So, I place my hand in his. “I trust you.”
Jasper
The little hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint is one of Austin’s best kept secrets. With less than fifteen tables, it’s still quiet enough on a Saturday night for us to carry on a conversation, and small enough I can keep an eye on the door.
“How long were you a Ranger?” Emi asks as she picks up one of her ribs.
