And he pulled upTheWorldistwebsite.
Then he read an article about student loans that hadGeorgiana Traylor’s byline.
He found he was right.
She was good at her job.
Because the article was succinct, but thorough, he was keento read the next installment that was coming the next day, and the fatherdidn’t come off as a totaljackhole.
He came off, subtly, as a complete bastard.
Dutch read the article again.
Then he made himself a cup of coffee and took it to thebathroom, since he was going to shower.
And after that, go to the offices of NightingaleInvestigations.
Chapter Three
Meanwhile
Meanwhile…
As Dutch Black was getting drunk withsome of his brothers at the Chaos Compound…
Georgiana Suzanne Traylor had written thefirst five hundred words of what would be a fifteen-hundred-word series thatwould run onTheWorldistover the nextthree days.
She’d turned it in.
Half an hour later, she’d had a twenty-minute phoneconversation with Cristina, her editor.
Five minutes of that was about changes Cristina wanted inthe article.
Five minutes were Georgiana telling Cristina what she couldexpect in the next two installments.
Three minutes were Cristina approving and giving Georgianafood for thought.
Seven minutes were Georgiana explaining, and Cristinaagreeing to give her different stories and take her off the “kids beat.”
Georgiana had hung up and then given herself some time tofeel relief that a huge concern that had been bugging her since she metseventeen-year-old, midwife-hopes-dashed Madison McGill in her bid to find anangle on her student loan piece.
However, she did not allow herself time to give silent,ineffectual (considering he was gone, gone,gone) thanks to DutchBlack for (apparently, time would tell) solving a problem that had beenplaguing her now for weeks.
She’d done her tweaks to the article.
And she beat the deadline of the final submission byforty-seven minutes.
Which heralded her opening a bottle of wine.
She knew what she was going to do before she pulled upGrubhub and ordered from Little India.
And while she waited for Little India, she unpacked, starteda load of laundry, changed her sheets, and took a shower to wash off the feelof the plane.
Through this, she sipped wine and accepted the icy chillfrom her roommate’s Scottish fold cat.
A cat which had—considering her roommate had unexpectedlytaken a second stint withMédicinsSansFrontières, which meant she was supposed to be gone for a year, but now itwould be two—officially become Georgiana’s.
Or so said Georgiana.
