On the Record- the Complete Collection

by Lee Winter

  “Who has it now?” Sands whispered. His pallor had gone gray.

  “Some friends of a friend. Computer experts. They’ve cracked it, too, I think.”

  “Then they’re in a great deal of danger,” Sands said darkly. “And therefore so are we.”

  He jumped to his feet, eyes darting. “Run with the bribes story, make SmartPay political poison, and hope like hell that stops everything. Because right now we’re all in deep trouble if they get their hands on the laptop and realize how much I know and speculate on how much I have told you. And if you found me, they may be able to, as well. Dad and I have to leave. Now.”

  “How can we contact you?” Ayers asked.

  “You can’t. I’ve been using a burner phone, but…” He took it out of his pocket and slid the cover off it. He dug around and tossed the SIM card into the fire. He took a rock and smashed the cheap plastic phone. “It was time to upgrade.” He glanced up. “Just make sure you print the story soon. I don’t want to be on the run forever.”

  “It’ll be run in a matter of days,” Ayers assured him.

  “There’ll be pressure to stop you,” he said. “The intelligence agencies—they’ll know what’s going on. Why the bribes story is running.”

  “There’s been pressure already. But it will run.”

  “Okay.” He nodded and turned to Lauren.

  “The entertainment reporter,” he said. He considered her for a moment. “You know, I only met you that day to see how far along the media was on the story. Imagine my dismay when I found you only wrote about parties. Looks like you showed me.”

  Lauren shot him a wry look. “And I thought you were an officious jerk stonewalling me. I had no idea you were this…brave.”

  He shook his head and stuck out his hand. “Not brave. Just a father wanting to keep his daughter’s future from being some Orwellian nightmare.” He gave her a respectful nod. “Good luck, Ms. King. With everything.”

  “You too.” She shook his hand.

  He disappeared inside his tent and after a moment reappeared with his father’s rifle in one hand. He dropped a plastic bag at their feet.

  “Some clothes and towels for you. You can’t leave like that. Last thing we need is people reporting to police two strange, battered women crawling out of a ditch.”

  He loaded two bullets in the rifle and gestured to the tent. “Get changed. I’m going to get Dad back and relocate.” He shouldered the gun and strode away.

  They stepped inside the tent. A bunk bed to the right had been made with military precision and a worn Aldous Huxley novel sat on it. Brave New World. To the left lay a new sleeping bag and a trio of computer journals, neatly stacked.

  Lauren glanced over at Ayers.

  “He’s not wrong about how conspicuous we look,” Lauren said, squeezing some mud out of her T-shirt. “I look like I’ve gone a few rounds with the creature from the black lagoon. Even you look like shit—and you never look bad.”

  Ayers’s silk shirt clung to her chest, and her smart navy pants were brown and slightly torn on one side.

  “Was that a compliment dressed up as an insult? Or the other way around?” Ayers asked, studying Lauren’s muddy boots and jeans. Her white T-shirt was a dripping brown mess. Ayers tossed her a set of clothes from Sands’s bag. “Besides, whose ridiculous idea was it to turn us into a pair of mud wrestlers?”

  Lauren caught what turned out to be a pair of camouflage pants and a T-shirt with an eagle on the chest. “How was I to know Gray wasn’t aiming for us? I could have saved our lives.”

  “Uh huh.” Ayers rolled her eyes and began unbuttoning her blouse.

  Lauren spun around, faced the other way, and grabbed a towel. She peeled off her sodden T-shirt and jeans and kicked off her boots. She wiped the mud off her legs and stomach and realized they hadn’t yet discussed their next plans.

  Back to Ayers’s place? Or a motel and a fresh start in the morning? Either was doable, although the former would be exhausting given how far Ayers had already driven today. Unless she was the one to drive them home? Lauren quite liked the idea of wrangling the luxurious Saab. She turned to ask. And then froze.

  Ayers was towelling down her front. Mud was smeared across a skimpy, formerly white lace bra and matching high-cut panties. Her lean, long legs were as stunning as Lauren remembered.

  She stared, sipping in air. Her cheeks flushed.

  Ayers’s gaze dipped over Lauren’s bare legs, up to her stomach.

  Lauren held her breath, transfixed, as twin knots hardened beneath the flimsy lace covering Ayers’s chest. Pink dusted Ayers’s neck but she said nothing as she looked back challengingly.

  Two shots sounded in the distance, and Lauren jumped.

  Ayers stepped closer. “That’ll be Sands telling his father to come back. No need to be alarmed.”

  Lauren nodded and realized only a foot separated them. “Yeah,” she said. She studied Ayers’s lips, and remembered how they tasted. She licked her own lips and watched, fascinated, as Ayers’s mouth quirked up at the edges.

  “Lauren.” Her voice was low, gently taking her to task.

  “Can’t blame a girl for thinking about it,” Lauren replied quietly. “You’re gorgeous under your armor.”

  “I look like a human mudslide.”

  “It’s your best look to date.”

  Ayers’s eyebrow lifted. “Oh?”

  “Human.” Lauren flushed at their nearness and turned away to resume towelling down.

  “Don’t get used to it,” came the soft, amused reply.

  “Too late,” Lauren said, smiling to herself. She vigorously wiped away the last of the mud and then stepped into the pants. They were too long so she rolled them up. She grabbed the eagle T-shirt, slid it on, and then tossed her clothes in the now empty bag Sands had given them. A dripping pile of Ayers’s clothes landed with a plop at her feet.

  Lauren scooped them into the sack, too.

  “Thanks,” Ayers said. “If you want to do the honors and drive us back, we can leave for home now. I think Sands is right about the urgency. We have to get the bribery story out before anyone else decides to stop us.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Lauren agreed. She glanced at Ayers and laughed.

  Ayers had scraped her damp hair back with her fingers, slicking it behind her ears. Her T-shirt was tucked neatly into the loose military-style pants which she’d secured with her Armani belt. With her stylish ankle boots she looked both high fashion and kick-ass GI Jane.

  “Well, don’t you look like an adorable marine.” Lauren grinned. “Hell, yes, ma’am, I’d salute you.”

  “And you look like you’re on your second tour of duty,” she retorted.

  Lauren glared, which only made Ayers offer a gleaming smile. She took a step closer and trailed her fingers pointedly up Lauren’s bare upper arm. She stopped and stroked the taut bundle of muscle.

  “You misunderstand. I think you look as though you’re well acquainted with hauling a weapon around.” She gave Lauren’s arm a slow, admiring look, then stepped back and dropped her fingers to her side. “That’s all I meant.”

  “Uh.” Lauren’s brain short-circuited.

  Ayers turned away and fished out her car keys. “Let’s head home. We have a story to write.”

  “And a corporation to destroy,” Lauren responded, her mind still replaying how Ayers had hungrily examined every inch of her body. This was the woman who said they shouldn’t do this? They couldn’t be together? That maybe they hated each other?

  “Yes we do,” Ayers smiled warmly. She tilted her head and looked at Lauren with interested, soft-gray eyes. “And I think I’m going to enjoy doing that with you.”

  Chapter 13 –

  Taming the Dragon

  The drive home had been eerie. A heaviness hung over them as they digested Sands’s r
evelations. An international spying scandal. The CIA, NSA, and god knew who else was involved. Yet they couldn’t prove or print a single word of it.

  “How can you be so calm about this?” Lauren asked, slapping the steering wheel in frustration. “It’s an outrage.”

  Ayers frowned pointedly at Lauren’s abuse of her Saab. “Lauren, sometimes it just works out this way. We run the story we can, not the one we wish we had. We have to be practical.”

  “And SmartPay gets away with the biggest spying scandal in history? Along with whoever else helped? And no one will ever know? Screw that!”

  “We’ll know,” Ayers countered quietly. “We’ll know, and while we might be powerless to do anything about this now, you don’t know what the future will bring.”

  “That sounds almost optimistic coming from you.”

  “I’m never above hoping for more, even as life constantly disappoints.” Ayers gave her a hint of a smile to take the sting out.

  They pulled into Ayers’s driveway just after ten. The garage door automatically curled up and Lauren carefully parked the luxury vehicle. With more reluctance than she’d ever admit, Lauren slid out of the driver’s seat and tossed Ayers her car keys as the other woman also stood.

  “A girl could get used to driving a car like that,” Lauren said.

  Ayers’s lips threatened to smile. “I’ll bet.”

  Lauren’s gaze fell to the car beside them. “I’m not cheating on you, babe,” she told The Beast and gave it an affectionate pat. “Just appreciating your sexy competition.”

  Her eyes dropped to the side of her car which had gotten so badly scratched up by their chase. She frowned. The Chevy was now unblemished.

  “What the…?” She ran her hand along the surface to check, then she darted to the other side and examined it, too.

  “It’s fixed,” she said slowly, eyebrows lifting in question.

  Ayers was pulling her bag out of the trunk. “Imagine that.”

  Lauren stared at her in wonder, heart thudding. “You had The Beast repaired?”

  Ayers straightened and glanced at her before looking away. “Yes. Well. Apparently I owed you for some parking tickets. So this seemed equitable.”

  Lauren blinked. “My parking tickets cost nothing near what a paint job would have. Especially color matching for a shade they don’t even make any more.” She strode back to where Ayers stood and, without thinking, enveloped her in a hug.

  Ayers made a surprised noise. Lauren revelled in her softness and felt hands float up to rest on her back. They held each other for longer than polite gratitude would dictate, and Lauren’s breath caught in her throat.

  Finally she stepped back with some reluctance and felt those fingers trailing slowly down her back as Ayers pulled away, too.

  Lauren gave her a wide grin. “I have no words. This…it’s sensational. I mean it. Thanks.”

  A red tinge covered Ayers’s cheeks and neck. Lauren wondered why she looked so uncomfortable. Did no one ever thank her for stuff?

  “It’s nothing,” Ayers said stiffly, waving her hand. “Only money. Besides, I’m half tempted to bill it to Frank.”

  “Not nothing,” Lauren corrected. She cocked her head. “I still don’t get how you came to be wealthy enough to say things like it’s only money,” she waved at the house, “when you’re a lowly entertainment reporter, and it’s not your family money.”

  Ayers picked up her carryall and slung it over her shoulder. “Let’s just say I negotiated an extremely favorable salary package with the former publisher back when I was the toast of DC. I’m still on that package. And I caught the right end of the property market slump when people were dumping their estates for fire-sale prices.”

  Lauren picked up her own bag, shut the trunk, and followed Ayers upstairs.

  “Well I’m glad you got it,” she said. “The place suits you.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s elegant. Beautiful. With a fortress around it,” Lauren said and side-eyed her playfully. She slid her gaze to Ayers’s lips. Well, speaking of beautiful.

  “You’re incorrigible.” Ayers said.

  “True. But not alluring?” Lauren teased.

  “Alas, you do smell like irrigation trench.”

  “Now there’s a coincidence. Or are you about to tell me you’re above reeking of ditch water?”

  “I’m well aware I do. I plan to fix that in a minute.” She considered her for a moment then gave a small smile. “Well. Good night, Lauren.”

  “Night,” she grinned back. “And, hey, thanks again for my car repaint.”

  She reached out and squeezed Ayers’s hand warmly, then watched the sexy sashay of hips as she headed to her room.

  Lauren sighed. Even in rumpled, second-hand military fatigues, Ayers looked smoking hot.

  Lauren had tossed and turned for three hours. She flopped over onto her back and stared at the ornate wooden ceiling fan, wondering what would happen when their story was finished. Would they go back to how things were? Snarking at each other across a crowded ballroom while Ayers counted down the days for her contract to end? Or would Frank finally take a chance and give her some real news stories? In which case would she even see Catherine anymore? Would she just one day disappear? Take off for her new life without so much as a goodbye? She was perverse enough to do that.

  Lauren found just the thought of not seeing her again made her guts ache. She glared at the ceiling. Great. She was actually falling for the Caustic Queen. And, to quote Mariella, that way there be dragons.

  At the thought of her favorite publicist, she glanced at the clock. It wasn’t too late. The night owl would still be up. She stabbed her number on her cell.

  “Sweetie! You’re still alive?” came the weary but amused voice.

  “Ha, funny. Yes. Catherine hasn’t killed me yet.”

  “I see you’re on a first name basis now. How interesting,” Mariella purred.

  “Mari…” Lauren sighed. “Just wanted to see how you’re doing—if it’s not too late, that is?”

  “You know me. Right now I’m agonizing over the launch of Fire Swarm.”

  “Oh my god, that $300 million exploding insects flick that’s drowning Los Angeles in billboards?”

  “Not exploding, dear, immolating. Apparently there’s a difference. And the studio’s new CEO fired the entire promotions department last week for not making Fire Swarm sound, and I quote, ‘mega blockbustery enough.’

  “So I agreed to take over the kick-off party on short notice, but I’m having a little problem because none of the starlets want to be anywhere near the handsy director. Sexual harassment insurance is a thing, isn’t it sweetie? We’re in a town full of lawyers and perverts, how can grope coverage not be a thing?”

  “It should be,” Lauren agreed. “So how’s Harold?” she added, thinking fondly of the hapless state of California requisitions officer who was usually swept along in his frenetic wife’s wake.

  “Snoring loudly beside me. Oh, that reminds me, I was going to call you tomorrow. He’s retiring. Can you believe I’ll have him underfoot 24/7 now? It’ll be chaos!” she said affectionately. “We’re having a little thing to mark the occasion on Monday. He’d love it if you could come.”

  “Oh good for him. Tomorrow’s a bit tricky though,” Lauren said. “I’m on a really tight deadline with my story. It’s got to be filed by Tuesday night.”

  “We’ll you’ll have a whole day after the party to write it then,” Mariella said breezily. “I’m not taking no for an answer, dear. Trust me, you’ll have a good time. My place, six. Do not be late. Oh and why don’t you bring a date? Is Catherine free?”

  “Uh…”

  “It’s settled then. And if he wasn’t unconscious and dreaming of improving his backswing, Harold would give his regards, too. Now then, sorry to run, but I ha
ve to find someone who’ll sell me 30,000 fireflies and a two-story high glass dome. Does that sound ‘mega’ enough? It’d better. Anyway, see you both tomorrow. Night, sweetie!”

  Lauren hung up feeling somewhat confused. Since when did anyone hold a party on a Monday? She’d never known her friend to do that. Not even once. She was usually too busy recuperating from her weekends. And bring a date to someone’s retirement party? Who does that?

  At the thought of Ayers, she smiled and flopped back against her pillow. Might be worth making the effort to go just to see her glammed up. She drifted off to sleep with a smile flitting across her lips.

  Sunday was spent writing up their bribery story on the sofa in Ayers’s living room. A laptop passed back and forth between them. Paperwork was stacked on the coffee table, the floor, and any available surface. Ayers had done up a flow chart of who knew what, and did what, when.

  They called the bus company manager, Walt, and Booze Booze Booze’s owner, Dan, for quotes, explaining what their respective service and goods had been used for.

  “Holy Jesus!” Dan had barked, between hacking coughs of laughter. “Shit—it was dirty? Money meant for bribes? No wonder Assholes Incorporated were shaking me upside down for the invoice. Probably had the shredding machine already powered up in the back of their black van. Yeah, you can quote me on that.”

  They also rang Athena, the brothel owner, giving her the opportunity to comment. Instead she drawled, “How interesting,” then hung up on them.

  Lauren watched as Ayers methodically worked her way through her notes and slid just the right quotes in exactly where they were needed.

  “What about—” Lauren pointed, reading over her shoulder, as she sat beside her on the sofa.

  “Got it higher,” Ayers replied, divining her thoughts. She pointed to the screen. “And we need a better bridging para there, where you put in Dan’s quotes. It’s killing the flow where you shift topics.”

  “Oh,” Lauren said, seeing what she meant. “How about The next day, another Nevada business got an intimidating visit from the two burly men. Booze Booze Booze owner Dan Hancock said etc etc.”