Angel: An SOBs Novel

by Irish Winters

  “That’s quite a…” Micah seemed at loss for the proper word.

  “Accusation,” Suede filled in for him. “Yes, but when the Governor wants something, he usually gets it.”

  “You do know that if this is true, the FBI will want to talk with you.”

  “I would expect them to,” she agreed, nonplussed at the qualification for truth Micah had just inserted into her story. After all she’d lived through, an investigation by the FBI was just another speed bump on a long rough road to being a better human being. Let them dig into York and the Governor’s emails, their phone calls, and all of their lies like Chance, his brothers, and McQueen had done. They’d find out everything she’d said was true. Until they did, this interview was nothing but her word against the Governor’s anyway.

  Suede inhaled deeply. She had nothing to worry about. Like McQueen said: Let the truth speak for itself.

  Micah tapped his index finger to his bottom lip, scrutinizing her. “But how do you explain the change in the Suede Tennyson that America knows today, because frankly” —he crossed an ankle over his knee— “you don’t resemble the obnoxious woman you recently were. Your cheeks are pink, and, of course it helps that you’re not wearing makeup, but you look and act—different.” He couldn’t have said anything better.

  “Thank you,” she said from the bottom of her heart. Suede explained the fear she’d lived with at York’s California penthouse. She explained that now she knew he’d drugged her, then baited her to make an outrageous fool of herself, which she did every time. Not content to shift the blame entirely to him, she admitted she’d complied at other times because she’d felt a need to strike back at her parents. That she wanted to look tough when actually, her life was out of control.

  “It wasn’t all Lionel’s fault. I can’t remember some of it, but other things, yes, I did it,” she told Micah firmly. “I admit it. I acted out. I was lewd, and I deserve the reputation I’ve got. I have a lot to make up to America for. I’m no role model, and that’s why I’m here. I was on the fast track to an early grave.” She swallowed hard, not ready for the big reveal yet.

  He canted his head. “What was the catalyst behind this new and improved you? There had to be a specific moment in time when you knew you couldn’t live the way you were any longer.”

  This was it. The moment when Chance had said all hell would break loose. Trembling, Suede gathered her courage, faced the camera and declared to her father and the world, “The night Lionel York shoved me off Old Man Mountain. I knew if I survived, I had to change who I was and where I was going. I’d been given a once-in-a-lifetime second chance. Lionel might have shoved me. He might have meant to kill me, but I’m the one who stayed with him and put myself in danger.”

  Micah’s brows lifted. He leaned forward. “You just accused Lionel York of murder. Do you have proof?”

  “Y-yes.” Her voice quavered. “One of his men took a video of the whole thing. It was snowing, but you can clearly see the moment York put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me backward. It also shows him kicking my... my forehead with the heel of his b-b-boot.” She blinked the tears away, but her composure failed as the utter terror of that night came back on her. “I was falling. Trying to hang on, and he... he kicked me.”

  A semi-hysterical chuckle bubbled out of her. “It’s crazy, but even when I was falling, I still thought he was just playing, that he’d reach out and save me. I thought he’d grab my hand and pull me up at the last minute, and… and…” She lowered her head at how dumb she’d been to think he’d kill her one moment, then save her the next.

  Her chin came up at the last moment and Suede wiped her eyes. She refused to let York or the Governor reduce her to a victim. She wasn’t that person anymore! Never again!

  Squeezing Chance’s index finger, Suede lifted her head, faced the camera, and told the man who’d fathered but never loved her, “You wanted me out of your life, Governor Tennyson; you got it. You paid York to take me off your hands, but... I’m. Still. Here.”

  Chapter Forty

  Exclusive! Micah’s pupils flared. He’d been told this story was well worth the trip, now the investigative reporter rose to the challenge like a Great White after a baby seal. The truth was finally out and Chance couldn’t have been prouder. Suede executed that reveal perfectly.

  “How did you come into possession of the video?” Micah asked her.

  “A good friend—”

  “I did it,” Chance cut her off, his nerves as steady as a summer breeze off the Pacific in June. “I climbed my mountain and I confronted York. I took the video, so he couldn’t hurt Suede again.”

  “And you are…”

  “United States Navy Retired Chief Petty Officer Chance Sinclair, sir.”

  The briefest hint of a smile raced over Micah’s eyes. “I can almost imagine the look in Mr. York’s eye when a Navy SEAL showed up for that video.”

  “Yes, sir.” Chance gave him that. This reporter was sharp to have deduced his true military family. “I’d already climbed up the day after Suede fell to see what kind of asshole I was dealing with. That’s how I knew there was a video to begin with. I overheard York arguing with two guys.” Who shall forever remain nameless because they’re dead.

  “And I bet that once you asked Lionel politely…”

  Chance shook his head. “No, sir. I didn’t ask and I wasn’t polite, but this interview isn’t about me, is it?”

  Micah took the hint, no doubt because he could edit this interview later until it suited his agenda. “May I see the video?”

  This was that turning point from which there was no return for Suede. Chance faced her, not Micah or the camera. “Only if Suede agrees.” They’d both viewed the video—between making love, a few tears, and making more love—the same night they’d retrieved it. It was up to her if she wanted America to see her at the lowest point in her life.

  “A person falling to her death isn’t a very pretty thing to watch,” she murmured. The tip of her tongue peeked out just long enough to moisten her bottom lip. “It’s an ugly thing, but yes. I have the original. You may have the only copy if you... if you’ll promise not to alter it.”

  Micah damned near glowed at the scoop that had just landed in his lap. “Miss Tennyson. Suede.” He swallowed hard. “I give you my word. I wouldn’t think to edit the truth. I believe everything you just revealed. You’re an amazing woman.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’ve made a mess of my life, but I’m not done living yet. It’s my time now, and I want to prove that bad things happen, but that doesn’t mean good things won’t happen next. We all make mistakes.” Her fingers gripped Chance’s index finger like a Chinese finger trap. “All it takes is a second chance. I hope America will understand that I was just a kid when I did those things and give me that much.”

  Micah leaned forward then, engaged. “Tell me about the fall. Can you bear to share the moment you thought you were dying with all of America?”

  A tiny whimper eked out of her. “It was... cold. Snowing. Really windy.” She squeezed Chance’s finger tighter. He squeezed back. “We were up on the mountain—”

  “Old Man Mountain, right?” Micah prompted. “The stone wall directly north of here?”

  Her head bobbed. “It’s not exactly a stone wall, but yes. We flew in for a photo shoot, but that was another one of York’s lies. There was no photographer and no shoot. Then the wind kicked up and the snow started to blow sideways, and I got scared. I hadn’t dressed for a blizzard and there was no heat in the rig he’d brought in for us. I wanted to go down, but he said wait. Then he... he…”

  Chance untangled his fingers to shelter her against his chest and under his whole arm. Suede shot him a look, and he knew what that small gesture meant to a girl who’d been fighting the world alone for most of her life.

  “He wanted to play games, Mr. Watanabe.” Her throat constricted with the effort of swallowing. “Mean games. He wanted me to undress up there,
but he really wanted me to die in the nude in the middle of nowhere-Montana so the press would think I’d died the way I’d lived—as a strung-out drug addict and a nut-job.”

  Micah nodded once, compassion gleaming in his dark brown eyes.

  “Only I didn’t really live that way. He drugged my booze and…” As if she’d said too much, she shook her head. “But that’s another part of this ugly story. Anyway, when I refused to get naked, he got mad, and he… he shoved me backward, and I slipped. He stuck his boot in my forehead because I wouldn’t just fall off the mountain, and make it easy for him. I couldn’t hang on, and I did fall, but I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up. By then, I could barely breathe and my ribs hurt, but I was somewhere warm and safe and…”

  She lifted Chance’s fingers to her mouth. “This man saved me,” she whimpered. “Gallo found me in the frozen pond below Mother’s Day Falls, but Chance is the one who breathed life back into me. He wouldn’t give up on me, and he resuscitated me, and he carried me here, and if not for him and his dog...” Suede dropped her lashes. Crystal teardrops fell then, and Chance wanted the interview to cease. He cocked his head at Micah, prompting him for a change.

  Micah had the good grace to nod in agreement. “You, Suede Tennyson, are a living miracle,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness. “Thank you for sharing what had to be the most horrible night of your life.”

  Her head bobbed as she lifted a finger to her nose. Suede swallowed hard but met Micah’s gaze. “It was, but I’m going to prove York and the Governor wrong. Just you wait.”

  His face lit with a wide, island smile. “I know you will. America loves an underdog. They’re going to love you.” Turning to the camera, he said, “This is Micah Watanabe broadcasting live from God’s Country in Northern Montana. Goodnight America.”

  “And that’s a wrap,” Dixie whispered, her eyes shining. “Suede, honey, you rocked this interview. I want your autograph before we leave, and, oh hell.” She burst onto the scene, angled around Micah’s knees and dragged Suede out of Chance’s arm and into a womanly hug.

  “You poor damned kid,” she cried, stroking Suede’s back like she would a little girl. “I get you, sweetheart. So will every other woman who’s been kicked to the curb by some low-life dirtbag like York. You don’t need men like him and you’re not alone, baby. Not today. Not ever.”

  Chance stood back and watched Suede absorb the sisterly connection. It wasn’t until Micah leaned back in his seat that Chance realized the camera was still rolling. Good job, he thought. America needs to know the real Suede Tennyson. Damn Lionel York and Mick Tennyson to hell.

  When the light on the camera blinked off, Micah put his hands on his knees and pushed to his feet, satisfaction lighting him up from the inside out. “Thanks for the heads up, Senator,” he told McQueen over a warm handshake. “We’ll edit this take on the flight home, and you can plan on it airing tomorrow night after the five o’clock news. Count on it. Same agreement as last time?”

  McQueen put a hand to Micah’s shoulder. “Same deal. You be square with me, I’ll be square with you.” Whatever that meant.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I plan to use the video in its entirety if it’s not too graphic.”

  “Use it,” McQueen shot back at him. “The terrorism of a lone young woman by a celebrity bully stops here. Today, goddamn it.” He looked to Suede then, shrugged like he’d been caught, then winked, and said, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m working on it.”

  With her arm still around Dixie’s waist, Suede dried her teary face with her other hand. “That’s okay. I’m no angel, either.”

  Micah disagreed. “You’ve got that wrong, young lady. You’re one hell of an angel. I expect to see you change the world one of these days.”

  A lovely crimson blush kissed her cheeks. “I’d just like to be left alone.”

  He smiled at that. “See? That’s what makes you different. You already know what you want and it isn’t notoriety.”

  She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Heavens, no. I’ve got plenty of that.”

  While they talked, Chance scanned the television crew. Micah Watanabe was a rare find in an industry puffed up with pride at its own celebrity status. The people who had accompanied him worked for him, not just with him. They weren’t network employees, but Micah’s own handpicked assistants. Better yet, they were every bit as trustworthy as he was.

  Chance knew that for certain. Rick Warren, the cameraman, was former-Army. The sound and lighting guy, Byron Cord, was a former-Coastie, and Dixie Jensen, the make-up artist, was Air Force Reserves. Micah himself had served two tours of duty in the Marines.

  “Thank you for this opportunity,” Micah said as he shook Suede’s hand. “I’d like to come back and do a follow up when the dust settles.”

  “I’d like that too,” she said as she returned the shake. “Maybe then I won’t be so nervous.”

  Chance reached around Suede to grip the big Samoan’s hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us, sir. I’ll be in touch.”

  “I know you will. Take care, Chance. See you kids later.”

  Chapter Forty-One

  Pagan and Kruze took over from there, directing the crew into the kitchen for refreshments before they headed back to the East Coast. Chance circled Suede’s shoulders with one arm, tugging her ear to his mouth. “We need to talk,” he whispered.

  She gave him that quizzical look he adored. “We do?”

  He nodded at the front door. “I’ll help you into your jacket. We won’t go far, just out to the porch. No need to change out of those sexy heels.” I’ve got plans for them once everyone leaves.

  Gallo scrambled to his feet at that magical word. Walk.

  Once outside on the porch, Chance closed the door behind him while Gallo made his appointed rounds, anointing the snowdrifts and any twig that survived the blizzard or the carnage. Suede rolled her collar up and stuck her bare fingers into her pockets, her breath a cloudy vapor in the cold, crisp Montana morning. She turned her eyes on Chance, and he wondered what secret was so bad she couldn’t share it with him.

  “Come here you,” he murmured. Her hair clip had to go. With one snap he loosed that silken auburn cascade and sent it tumbling over her shoulders and down her back. The instant scent of sugar cookies and flowers hit his nostrils, calming the center of his soul. Combing his fingers through the luxurious tangles, he was convinced he held the best part of his whole world in his hands.

  Chance framed her sweet face between his hands and leaned his forehead to hers. “You froze in there. You were doing well at the start, but then you froze. Is there something I should know?”

  Her head turned from side to side in denial, but her lashes came down. When a man refuses to look at you, trouble’s a breath away and you might get knocked on your ass. But when the woman you love can’t—or won’t—look you in the eye? Heartache. Plain and simple.

  He took hold of her wrist. “The Sinclair family’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?”

  Suede nodded, still not looking at him. She inhaled in an extra deep breath. Swallowed hard. Shook her head. Swallowed again. Stalled. And that was okay. He tugged her flat up against his chest, his hand at the nape of her neck and his nose in her hair. She’d had enough stress for the day. Whatever was bothering her could wait. She’d tell him eventually. “Know that I will always have your six, baby. Maybe someday—”

  “He raped me,” she whispered into his jacket.

  Chance’s heart stalled. “Who?”

  The erotic plans for Suede’s fancy heels against his ears evaporated. Doesn’t matter who, I’ll kill whoever hurt you like that.

  She nuzzled in deeper, her face sandwiched between his breastbone and her lush auburn locks. “Mitchell Franks. He raped me, and I was afraid to tell you and... That’s my last terrible secret.”

  Chance could barely speak. He eased his fingers under her thick tangles, needing to connect with her, then settled for
the bare skin at the nape of her neck, holding her gently but firmly. “Your mother’s assistant?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me about it?” he asked as calmly as he could. I’ll find his sorry ass if I have to drag the ocean, then I’ll strangle the shit out of his worthless dead body. I’ll cut what’s left of him to ribbons!

  A sad whimper lifted between them. “He came to my room one night. I was fifteen and I thought Mom needed to talk with me, but it was just him, and he... and he...”

  Strangulation’s too fucking good! I’ll stake that rat bastard over an anthill and use him for target practice. With my knife!

  “He tied me to my bed and he…”

  Forget the ants. A bed of hot coals works better, then I’ll dance on his shittin’ body till he burns!

  “He told me if I told anyone, the next time would be worse. That he knew what girls like me liked. That he’d bring a belt and a collar and a…”

  Chance could barely hear over the angry buzz in his head. Christ, I hope that bastard’s still alive, so I can kill him!

  “I told Mom, but…” Suede stopped as if the words caught in her throat.

  Chance couldn’t take the hopelessness pouring off her. He didn’t need any more details. He already knew what the high and mighty, self-serving Vera Tennyson did. Absolutely nothing! “She didn’t believe you, did she?”

  The truth poured out of Suede in a sad whisper. “She never believed me. I asked her not to tell him, but…”

  Goddamn it to hell! “Your mother betrayed you,” Chance said, his voice flat because if he let his anger loose…

  “She told my dad, umm, the Governor.”

  “What’d he do?” The prick!

  “He held a meeting. With Mitch and me. I had to face Mitch and repeat what I said to Mom, and then…” She swallowed hard, trembling. “And then…”

  The universe ground to a deadly stop. Chance had never been so enraged. Very carefully, he set Suede back a foot where she wouldn’t get hurt. Then…