“Take it however you want.”
There was an audible click, and Kerry swore under her breath before the recording ended.
Jason stared at Emma for a long beat. “Where’d you get that?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” The Night Herons protected their sources fiercely. “But it’s a legitimate recording of a call between Renfro Warner and Kerry Martin.” And in case Jason had any notion to continue to protect his brother, she added, “And it’s not the only copy.”
His eyes widened. “You think I’d… For God’s sake, Emma.” He stood and strode to the window, turning to point at her computer. “When was that recorded?”
“The day before Kerry was found dead of a supposed overdose.”
“Shit.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I agree it looks bad, but—”
“There’s more,” Emma said. “A lot more.” She and her team had spent the last week gathering as much evidence as they could on Renfro’s “activities.” What they had so far was pretty damning, but they needed more to ensure the story would run. And that it would do enough damage to ruin him.
Jason crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling for several seconds. “He had an affair with Kerry, right?”
“Yes, from what I can tell, their relationship was consensual until she found out about the young girls he’d been flying in from other countries. Underage girls that he makes available for his friends at private parties in his Hardy Beach mansion.”
At least Jason looked suitably disgusted at the idea. “And she had proof?”
“None that I could find, but her mother said she initially agreed to the NDA because he threatened to cut her off financially and email lewd photos of her to all of her friends and coworkers.” Emma shuddered. The poor woman.
“Christ.”
Emma set down the laptop and stood. “What I’m doing isn’t personal, Jason. We’re trying to stop this guy before he hurts anyone else, before he and your brother can escape to some non-extradition country. They’ve been squirreling money into offshore accounts for years, while desperate families are selling their children to monsters like him to survive. I want to stop them before they kill anyone else the way they killed Kerry and Viktor.” Jason’s eyes widened at that. “I assume they’re also behind the gunmen at the condo.” Emma’s throat tightened at the thought of Natalie, and she waited out the stinging sensation in her nose. “Are you willing to let more people suffer or die just because your brother works for that asshole?”
Jason stared into the distance, his face ashen. “Fuck.Fuck.” He crossed his arms and paced in a small circle, shaking his head. “Let’s say for now that it’s all true.” He stopped moving and looked down at her, his face darkening. “Why are you involved?”
“Because the system has already failed. Because I’ve watched too many wealthy, powerful people—mostly men—use their success as a shield to take advantage of vulnerable people.Someonehas to be willing to take them on.”
Usually, her team hit the assholes where it hurt most. Money, reputation, and lifestyle. When possible, they ‘appropriated’ their offshore funds, donating the majority of the money to a cause that supported the victims, keeping just enough to continue funding the Night Herons’ work.
Jason made a frustrated noise. “But whyyou?”
She shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel.
Frowning, he crossed his arms and held her gaze. “How do you know your editor, or the people who fund the nonprofit, don’t have ulterior motives for who you go after?”
A fair question. “You’re assuming the mainstream, for-profit press doesn’t have their own self-serving reasons for choosing which stories to print and which ones to kill. FPP does have an ulterior motive: to create consequences for those who think they’re immune.” And the Night Herons had been very good at it so far. “These guys’ crimes are usually pretty easy to verify. Harvey Weinstein got away with sexually abusing women for decades, but his behavior was an open secret in Hollywood. When reporters started digging, there was plenty of evidence. Just like Weinstein, so many of these guys use intimidation tactics, NDAs, and the old-boy network as a shield. We try to penetrate it when the others can’t or won’t.”
“How’d you get into this?” Jason asked, plopping back onto the chair, still watching her warily.
Fine. He wanted to go there? She sat across from him and looked him dead in the eye. “Well, first I got recruited toLA Todayafter a series of articles on date-rape drugs I wrote for the school paper my junior year.” He’d been in the Air Force by then, long gone, but the party that ended their relationship had ultimately changed her life in good ways too.
That truth made her feelings about the whole night even more tangled. Old emotions gnawed at her insides like rats on electrical wire.
He grimaced, resting his forearms on his strong thighs as all the fight went out of him. “God, I’m so sorry, Emma. I should’ve protected you instead of assuming the worst. And then…” He shook his head. “I was so fucking stupid.”
She couldn’t disagree, but she was surprised to hear him say it. “I was devastated that you didn’t trust me enough to question what you saw, but I might’ve been able to understand your initial reaction.” She’d probably appeared to be a willing—if tipsy—participant, and Jason had been burned by grasping groupies before. “But when I showed up at your place, worried because you wouldn’t answer my calls, trying to piece together what had happened the night before…and not only had you run straight into some other girl’s arms, you didn’t evenbelieveme—”
The rest of the words lodged in her throat. She sucked in a breath and released it slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse as he looked at her.
“You didn’t show any concern for my health, or the fact that I’d been raped.” Her hands clenched at the memories, the old hurt rising inside her like a flood. “I needed you, and instead of supporting me, helping me, you accused me of using you to get to someone with better prospects.”
He winced.
