She and her team used social engineering, fake identities, and spyware to get what they needed.Nothing admissible in court, but enough to convict these assholes in the court of public opinion—and get law enforcement interested in digging deeper.
The Night Herons also “redirected” as much of the men’s offshore wealth as they could find, giving it to organizations that helped women in need.Still, sometimes the biggest punishment for men like Remy Blaze and Earl Price wasn’t jail—or even losing a large chunk of blood money—but losing their power and influence.And they did not take kindly to it.
Which was the reason the Night Herons avoided any public connections to the stories.Someone who worked for media titans like theNew York Timesor the one of the major broadcast stations should have better protection and resources than Nat’s team.Then again, the reporters who broke the Harvey Weinstein story had been followed, bugged, and intimidated.If the bad guys were willing to go afterthem, they probably wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of relative nobodies like Nat and Emma.
“You do all the leg work and then give up the glory to someone else?”Ford asked, a deep groove forming between his brows.“Why?”
She shrugged.“Turns out I’m better at research than writing.”True enough.Her writing skills were passable, but not Pulitzer-worthy or anything.“Besides, writing is the boring part for me.”Another fact.
He studied her like he could tell something was off, but he didn’t call her on it.“Can I see the list?”
No.Giving him that info put her and her team at risk.
Didn’t it?
Only if she didn’t trust him.Which she did.Wholeheartedly.With her safety and her body, if not her heart.
She ran her fingers lightly over the keyboard, enjoying the faint rattle and the tickling sensation.Would anyone else on the team be pissed at her for revealing the magnitude of what they’d accomplished in secret?Did the potential benefit of sharing outweigh the risks?
On the sofa, Blitz stood and stretched, shaking her body from head to tail before hopping to the floor and slurping water for nearly a minute straight, leaving little puddles all over the kitchen tile.
Natalie suppressed a laugh, but the tension in the room subsided.
With a sigh, Ford stood.“I love you, Beezee, but you’re the messiest fucking dog on the planet.”
“Beezee?”Nat’s smile broke free.Somehow the fact that he had nicknames for his dog made her inordinately happy.
His turn to shrug.“They just pop out.I have a million of them.”
“Tell me.”She swiveled in her seat to watch him mop up the water with a paper towel.
The muscles in his back and arms and legs—everywhere, really—bunched and stretched enticingly.He glanced at her sideways with a slight smirk, and suddenly she wasn’t tired anymore.Rising, he tossed the wet towel in the trash and washed his hands before turning to face her, arms crossed, his beautiful body on full display.“I’ll share my list if you share yours.”
Across the small room, Natalie’s gaze raked Ford’s skin, lighting him up as she considered his challenge.To keep his body’s reaction to her hot look under control, he focused on the danger she was in, and the mystery of why an investigative reporter would give away her best leads.
She had to be hiding something, right?
“Would it help if I put on some clothes?”He’d come downstairs with the intention of enticing her back to bed.Had he known the turn things would take, he’d have at least thrown on a T-shirt.
Giving him a flirty look, she said, “Help who?You look fine to me.”
Holding in a laugh, he shook his head.“It doesn’t seem fair that you’re fully dressed and I’m in my unmentionables.”
She smiled and shook her head.Then, without breaking eye contact, she stood and placed a hand on the button of her jeans.“That’s easily remedied.”
He swallowed hard.God, she was beautiful.Bold and brash.Playful and tough.Exasperating and fierce.Something about her undid him completely, and he wanted her like he’d wanted nothing and no one before.
Not that it changed anything.Once they figured out who was behind the attempt on her life and put a stop to it, she’d return to LA, and he’d return to Geneva, and that was that.
Does it have to be?
He shushed his fickle mind.Blitz and his family aside, Ford could not—would not—willingly open himself up to personal loss ever again.He could enjoy Natalie without doing something foolish like giving her his heart.“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Her laughter followed him up the stairs to the bedroom where he quickly slid on his jeans and the T-shirt that he’d tossed onto the lampshade in his earlier haste to remove it.As much as he wanted a repeat, he wanted to see that list first.The sooner they had answers and she was safe, the sooner he could breathe easy again.If there was even the slightest chance he knew something that could help, he had to try.
Two minutes later, he was in the dining room again, already regretting his choices.Natalie pouted at his fully dressed state, but her red V-neck and jeans did nothing to tamp down his own reaction to her.Desperate to distract himself, he said, “Lightning Bug.”
She raised an eyebrow.“Yellow jacket.”
