I snap a picture with my phone. The two of them are identifiable, if a little far away. Guilt rolls through me, but at the same time, I feel defensive. This is my story. My project. If I’m here investigating, that’s only legit… right? Besides, if they’re doing everything aboveboard, why would they mind a few pictures?
It doesn’t sound, from what I can hear, like anything weird is going down.
Dane’s voice rises, and he steps closer, touches the mayor’s arm. “Opportunities for jobs… future…”
The mayor nods. “Now I can’t promise you anything about the bid, because it will come down to the city council’s vote. But if I can influence…”
I get closer. If there are going to be favors promised, I want to hear it.
Up for reelection, Mayor Price—not necessarily my favorite politico ever, but not as slimy as some, I suppose—is probably eager for anything he can use to convince voters that he’s once again the right choice for our city. And bringing in jobs is always critical, especially in this economy.
What does Dane want? It’s obvious at this point that he’s far more than a construction foreman. Anger and frustration bubble up in my gut. I don’t like being lied to. Is he a PR rep in addition to being a construction foreman?
I snap another picture, then step back as the men walk faster. I can’t follow further without being spotted.
I’m excited about the pictures. Coupled with whatever facts I can find, I’ll create an article that can, at least, raise questions. Get people thinking.
I don’t owe Dane anything. I don’t even trust him. I need to figure out what he does, exactly, at this company.
But as the two of them walk up ahead, still talking, voices fading out, and I turn to go back toward the acne billboard and the traffic, and my car, I feel a pang of unaccustomed guilt surge.
Chapter Seven
Dane
“She was following me today.” I slide my phone into my pocket. “Talia.” I wipe my face with the white terry towel, then drop it onto the shiny floor next to my racquet.
Bae raises his eyebrows. “Really?” He swigs from his water bottle.
“She didn’t know I saw her. I was out at the site. With Price.” I groan. “It was good that I didn’t go home with her the other night. She’d probably go through my house for info.”
“I thought you didn’t go home with her because you had to deal with—”
“Yeah. But then when I got back home, and was thinking rationally? It just didn’t seem smart.”
“Because?” He gathers up his gear.
“She’s a journalist. I can Google as well as anyone.” I chuckle. “And hot as she is, how do I know she’s not just trying to play me for a story? You didn’t see her at the site.”
Bae shakes his head. “She’s part of the environmental group and she’s a journalist? She’s like a little handful of kryptonite, man.”
“Agreed.” Although I’m still thinking of her kisses in that club. The little breathy sounds she made. The way it just felt fucking right to be with her, like I’d already known her for years.
“So you won’t see her again?” He grabs his water bottle and puts his hand onto the glass door.
“I’m sure she’ll come around to stir up trouble.” I glance at him. “What?”
When he sees my expression, he puts up his free hand. “I’m just saying. You were pretty close at the club the other night.” He grins. “Rational mind or not.”
“Lapse in judgment.” I roll my eyes. My phone pings. “I gotta take this. It’s Art.” I glance around the court. “I’ll sign us out at the front desk.”
“Good luck. See you tomorrow.” He waves as he heads out of the gym.
***
Talia
“The article about Danton Carter Construction looks fab, Talia.” Janice comes up to me in the lobby, heels clicking on the brushed concrete.
“Great.” I force a smile. “That’s what we were going for.”
“Well written and definitely provocative. You asked all the right questions about their intentions and quality. I love it.” She smiles. “The pics with Mayor Price were the perfect touch. Everyone is going to read just to see what that’s all about. I need to go to my next meeting, but I wanted to give you a big thumbs up.”
“Thank you.”
“Keep up the good work.” She trots off, trailing perfume, to the elevator.
I’m about to head to my office, when I hear a voice from the foyer.
“I’m looking for Talia Carlsson.” It’s Dane and he sounds pissed.
“Excuse me, but you can’t go back there?” Darla’s voice rises on a question, like always. “Because you have to be escorted? And check in first with me at reception? If she’s expecting you, I can, like, call back?”
I come up to her desk. “It’s okay, Darla. Dane.” I cross my arms and raise my chin.
He holds up his phone. “Read your article this morning.” He glowers at me. “Can we talk in private?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I’m working right now.”
“Oh, this is directly related to your work.” The way he says the word work, it doesn’t sound like he respects it all that much.
“I can give you five minutes.” I smooth my hands down my skirt and step forward. Even though he’s angry, and I’m defensive, that look is there in his eyes again, that fucking look. The one he gave me all night in that bar when he was pressing his lips to my skin and saying all kinds of things without words. Dane might be pissed, but he still wants me.
I walk over to the low couches that overlook the street by the picture window, and he follows. When I sit, he hesitates, then takes the chair across from me. We’re so close that our knees nearly bump, and I can’t even cross my legs—I have to tilt them to the side.
“So.” I press my hands to my thighs. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You wrote some pretty serious things here.” He puts the phone onto the end table.
“Nothing I wrote is untrue.” My stomach flips. “The allegations were made in 2010 and 2014, and then again in 2015. All documented, double-checked. Are you denying that Danton Construction was accused by clients of using substandard materials?”
“Those cases were settled out of court and the records are sealed.” His voice is taut.
“Yeah. I know.”
“How did you get access to them?” He glowers.
“A reporter never reveals her sources.” I bite my lip. “But it was public record. And the public has a right to know about the company that’s building in their town. And vying for future bids, too.”
“And are you going to do due diligence and research my competitor like this?” His eyes are practically on fire. “The other company who wants future bids in town.”
“I’m sorry, my boss and I are the ones who decide what to write about.” I smile. “Is that all you wanted to say?” I check my watch. “Unless you’re prepared to produce the CEO of the company…”
“So this is your strategy?” His expression shifts. “Dig up old bones and cause trouble until you get what you want? Blackmail of sorts?”
“Your company is digging right now. Creating new bones, by killing off the cranes.” I smile, but it’s not sweet. “Seems like we have something in common.”
“And to whom will he be talking?” He narrows his eyes. “If Danton agrees? Talia Carlsson the environmental activist, or Talia Carlsson the supposedly unbiased journalist?”
I flush. “Both. Did you put my card on his desk, like you promised?”
He flushes and looks away before meeting my gaze again. “You’re pushing two agendas, Talia.” He gives me a smile that doesn’t seem all that friendly. “On the one hand, you’re a tree-hugger. On the other, you’re trying to sell papers. If one role seems tailor-made to feed the other, I wonder if people would think you’re being entirely authentic as a reporter.”
“The point is not where I spend my spare time, but rather what secrets your e
mployer is trying to hide. And for that matter, I don’t understand exactly why you’re so concerned with protecting him. As a construction foreman, how exactly does your job entail following up on the PR issues of the company for your absentee boss?”
A muscle twitches in his cheek. “I have more than one role at the company.”
“And those are?”
He purses his lips. “As a representative of Danton, I came here to ask you to stop writing about Danton Construction.”
“So that’s your role? An official spokesperson for the company? I can quote you?”
“If you’d like to call it that, yes. And you may.”
I shrug. “Well, I came to your work site to ask Danton Construction to stop building into the Moorish Crane’s breeding grounds. Looks like neither of us are getting what we want today, are we?”
He shifts and his knee bumps mine, sending wild sparks into my core. I’m really not getting what I want, like I didn’t the other night—when he left me hanging—and remembering that pisses me off further.
“Are you angry that I never called you?” He lowers his voice.
“That has nothing to do with this.” I stand up and look down at him. “Let’s stay on topic.”
He stands, too, like a panther stretching, slow, graceful. “Different topic. Seems like we finished the first one.”
“So you’re satisfied with a simple no from me?” I cross my arms. “I’m not going to stop publishing articles about the company and you’re okay with that?”
“No means no, Talia. Unless you specifically tell me otherwise.” A small smile hovers on his lips. “If only you yourself were as inclined to accept a no as a no, we’d be all set right now.”
“I didn’t actually say no. I said I’d appreciate a sit-down with Danton.”
He blows out a breath. Picks up his phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.” He looks at me evenly. “I wasn’t sure it was a good idea. I wanted to, though.”
I shrug. “It’s not important.”
“Actually, it is.” He steps just a hair closer. “Because I… look. We ended that night on an intimate note. I… in any other situation, I would have called you. It’s just—my job is intense right now. And you’re somewhat of an opposing force.”
“You don’t say.” I keep my voice light, like I don’t care.
“It’s complicated.” He takes a breath.
I tilt my head. “Everything’s complicated. Either you find a way, or you don’t. And that’s simple.”
He nods. “True.”
And when he stops talking and looks at me, just looks for a second, the attraction is there, as undeniable as the first time I looked into those gorgeous blue eyes.
I want him to say something else. More about us. More about that night.
But his eyes grow distant. “See you around, Talia.”
“Goodbye.” I act like I don’t care that he’s walking away, because I don’t care. Not much.
***
Dane
I put down my files and answer the phone. “Art.”
“Dane. Listen, I’ve been doing a little digging.” He clears his throat.
“About?” I glance through the small window in the trailer door to the work in progress.
“The environmental group in town, the one that’s been pestering us.”
“Okay. And?”
“I heard that they’re planning something out at our site, like some big protest.”
I run a hand through my hair. “How did you find out, and how big?”
“My dad had a friend”—he clears his throat—“who got him information. Now he gets stuff for me.” There’s pride in his tone, and a defensive whine. “And the guy in charge of the group, he wants it to be huge. Like, celebrity-guest huge.”
“Well, let them protest. We’re not doing anything illegal.” I tap the papers on my desk, ignoring the fact that Art tries to intimidate me every time we talk. “Our official policy, according to the board, is to ignore them one hundred percent. Which is what I’ve been doing.”
“The board wants the next bid here in Mapleton locked in. The environmental group was just a mosquito before. But looks like they’re bigger than we realized. More trouble. The city council won’t be impressed with us if all we bring to town is trouble.”
“What we bring to town,” I correct him, my voice testy, “is jobs.”
“But if the jobs come along with bad press in the form of weird protests, they might pass on us for the next build project. We can’t afford that.”
“So what do you suggest?”
“We need to talk to someone in that environmental group, but sort of unofficially. Low-key. Friendly. Maybe over drinks. Figure out what’s going on for sure, first of all.”
“So make friends with one of them.”
“I would, but I hear you already have.” There’s a pointed note to his tone that I don’t care for.
“Excuse me?”
“Talia Carlsson. The one who’s been sending all the emails and stuff. From the environmental group. Also, the journalist who wrote that shitty article. She’s not hideous. I hear you chatted with her at the site the other day when she snuck in.” He coughs. “Your call to Earth First to complain. You logged it.”
“And?” My heart pounds.
“So why don’t you put on the charm and find out more about what the group is up to? That’s all.” He clears his throat. “Perhaps convince her to not do whatever it is she’s doing, if that’s a possibility.”
“You mean environmentally or as a writer?”
“Either. Both. The protest first, though.”
“So sleep with her to get her to call off the protest?” I laugh. “I hardly think that’s a legitimate tactic, Art.” Although it does hold appeal. “And I’m sure she’s not that cheap or sloppy.”
“I’m not saying to fuck her. Just talk to her.” He’s snappy. “Jesus, Dane. If we get any information about their protests, it’s better for our planning.”
“That goes against our do-not-engage policy.” I clear my throat. “Plus, she and I are not on the best terms at the moment.”
“Well, I’m only asking you to try to find out some information. If you care about the company—”
“I can’t make any promises.”
But part of me wants to see her again—a lot. There’s something about her that I can’t forget. So I find myself saying: “Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
“Thanks.” He chuckles. “Keep me updated.”
Chapter Eight
Talia
When I get out of work and head to my car in the lot, Dane’s there. Leaning against his Porsche, hands in his pockets. Same suit from earlier this morning. Sunglasses.
My heart speeds up at the sight of him, and I take a deep breath to compose myself. I stick my chin up and give him a small half wave, then keep walking fast toward my car.
He comes up to me. “Talia. Have a minute?”
“Are you going to berate me again?”
“No.” He takes off the sunglasses. “I don’t like the way we left things earlier.”
I shrug, although inside, part of my soul is singing.
“Look, how about dinner?” His voice is abrupt.
“Dinner?”
“The event where people get together and eat things with forks. Food.”
“Oh, that. I’m sorry, but I usually just shovel food into my mouth with my hands, so I was unaware of exactly what you meant.” I roll my eyes.
“I think it would be a good idea for us to meet on neutral ground. Start over. Talk. That’s all.”
“Even though I'm the enemy.”
“That’s a bit of an overkill, don’t you think?” He raises an eyebrow. “Not that I don’t admire your flair for the dramatic.”
“But you said it yourself. Opposing forces. We want different things.”
“Maybe not entirely.” He doesn’t put any dirty emphasis into it, but my stomach flips with arousal.
“Meaning we’re two adults who care about what we do. There might be middle ground.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re still angry about the club.” He gazes at me evenly.
“I’ve forgotten all about that.” I frown at him.
“I haven’t.” He tilts his head. “Not for a second. I know that makes things more complicated with us.”
“I think we should stay professional. Or try to get there. And you were the one who said it was a bad idea. I wouldn’t say our current working relationship is exactly cordial.”
My mind races. If I meet with him, I can pump him for information. Possibly flirt a little, get more details about the company. Perhaps even tell him more about the birds, carefully, in ways designed to pull at his sympathy. It’s a chance I can’t pass up. Of course, I won’t sleep with him. Even if I really want to.
“It’s a little more explosive than that,” he agrees, and smiles. And just like that, I can’t resist smiling back. Because that gleam in his eye is so fucking appealing.
“We’ll figure things out. Yes?” He puts his hands up, as if offering a truce, asking, “At least try. What do you say? Just dinner.”
“Yes. Just dinner.” Butterflies start soaring in my stomach just thinking about it.
“Good. I’ll pick you up at eight, if that works?”
“Eight’s fine. Do you know where I live?”
“You’re not the only one who can find details.” He smiles. “See you at eight.”
***
I don’t know what to wear, and I end up in a silver dress that hugs my curves, and tall heels to match. My hair cascaded unfettered down my back. I’m not ashamed to admit that I want to look good for this man. After all, if I can get him to lower his guard by being sexy, I might learn critical information. Maybe Marty’s not the only one who could be a registered spy. At least, that’s the story I tell myself as I apply perfume and lipstick.
Exactly at eight pm, I hear a low thrum, and when I peer out my front window, there’s his Porsche. When he gets out and strides to my door, I let the curtain drop, not wanting to be caught peeking.
“Talia.” He smiles at me. “You’re gorgeous.”
Hammered: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Hard n' Dirty Book 5) Page 5
