Flash and Fire

by Marie Ferrarella

  Anger broke free of the bonds he’d tried to place on it. “That’s right, just my word. If that’s not good enough, then the hell with you.”

  Leaving a curse hanging in the air, he turned on his heel and began to leave. But, overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t sort out properly, he turned at the last minute and pulled her into his arms.

  “Something to remember me by,” he said in answer to the startled look on her face. He knew it would only further annoy her to leave it like this. But she’d hurt him, hurt him more than he thought was possible, and he wanted to lash out at her.

  The kiss was rougher than any they’d shared before. And with it came a savage passion that left her angry and weak at the same time.

  She balled up her fists and beat at his chest, to no avail. The kiss would be over when he wanted it to be. That much he could dictate, even if he had no control over his heart any longer.

  He practically thrust her from him, knowing if he didn’t, he’d give in to his craving and make love to her right there on the living room floor. He couldn’t think rationally when it came to her.

  “There. Think on that.”

  He slammed the door in his wake.

  Amanda dragged both hands through her hair, thoroughly shaken. She tried to concentrate on just breathing and nothing else. It was impossible.

  Angry or not, she was still incredibly, mind-numbingly attracted to Pierce. It just made everything that much worse. When Jeff had betrayed her, she couldn’t stand the sight of him. His touch had left her cold.

  Pierce’s touch made her want to beg for more.

  Amanda slowly crossed to the den. She needed to do something, to keep busy. Taking out the Dallas white pages, she looked up the telephone number of the lawyer her father had given her. Whatever else happened, she couldn’t concede to Grimsley. Not without a fight. Not if she wanted to live with herself.

  She was just about to call the number when she heard the doorbell. Amanda put down the phone and quickly crossed to the door.

  “I’ve got it, Carla,” she called out. “Pierce—“ she began as she threw open the door. She was ready to rail at him, ready to throw herself into his arms. He had her so confused, she didn’t know whether she was coming or going. None of it made any difference, as long as he would just hold her.

  “Sorry, Amanda, only me,” Paul said as he strolled in. He had a manila envelope tucked under his arm that she didn’t notice at first.

  Amanda flushed as she closed the door. “He was just here; I thought he forgot something.”

  Paul studied her face for a moment. “You, from the looks of it.”

  Amanda closed her eyes as she sighed. “No lectures, okay, Paul? It’s been a hell of a rough day.” She led the way into the living room.

  “Yeah, I can just imagine.” He looked around absently for Carla, expecting to see her there. With a wide grin, he held the manila envelope aloft. “This should make it all better.”

  Amanda looked at him suspiciously. “What is it?”

  “The Q status report.”

  She stared at him. “So soon?”

  He shrugged, enjoying her amazement. “Hey, you asked, I delivered.”

  Now that she had it, Amanda suddenly felt afraid. What if the report bore out Grimsley’s claims? Then where would she be?

  She took the envelope into her hands. “How did you get it?”

  He lifted his shoulders in a cocky, nonchalant response. “A couple of people owe me favors. People owe them. It works out in the end.” He tapped the envelope. “Those are copies. I don’t know if it makes a difference.”

  She shook her head. “No, it shouldn’t. What’s on them, should.”

  “Well?” He waved at the envelope. “Then open it.”

  Amanda took a breath and pulled back the flap.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Tossing the envelope on to the sofa, Amanda quickly scanned the various sheets, looking for her name. She was only vaguely aware that Carla had reentered the room. Christopher came charging in ahead of her.

  “Paul, what are you doing here?” Carla asked.

  “Helping Amanda, I hope.” Paul nodded toward Amanda as he watched her.

  Amanda glanced up to see that Carla had lit up like the sky during a Fourth of July celebration. At least something was going well around here, she thought. The next moment, she saw her name.

  “Here it is.” Amanda wasn’t completely aware of crying out the words. She stared at the sheet bearing her statistics and felt a wave of fear undulate through her. Everything was riding on this one piece of paper.

  Summoning strength, she pulled the sheet out and placed it on top of the pile. Like a diver at the edge of a thirty-foot board, she took a deep breath, then took the leap. As she scanned the dozen or so questions, Amanda could feel her heart sink in her chest.

  The rating was low.

  The dive was completed. Amanda felt as if she were standing at the bottom of a deep, dark well, its walls too slick to afford her the merest hold. There was no chance of climbing out.

  “Here.” Amanda handed the multi-paged report back to Paul.

  The cameraman didn’t take it from her. “Don’t you want to go on?”

  “What’s the point?” Amanda sank down on the sofa. Christopher plopped down next to her. He was quiet for once as he wove his little fingers through hers. It was as if he somehow sensed she needed comforting. Amanda stroked the boy’s head, grateful that she had him in her life. “Grimsley wasn’t lying.”

  Paul’s eyes twinkled as he winked at Carla. “No, not about that sheet.”

  Amanda’s head jerked up. “What do you mean ‘that’ sheet?”

  Taking up the pages, Paul set them on the coffee table and fanned the sheets out as if the report were a giant deck of cards. “There’s two sets.”

  Amanda was on her feet as quickly as if she’d just been shot out of a cannon. “What?” She grabbed the reports back eagerly.

  “The real ones are in the back.” He added a little drama to his voice, preening for both the women in the room. But only Carla was impressed.

  Amanda was too busy rifling through the rest of the sheets until she found another one with her name on it. “Got it!”

  She tossed the others onto the sofa. Christopher dove for them. But Carla was quicker. She scooped them up before he had a chance to turn them into so much confetti.

  Unlike the first sheet, this one had her scoring a high grade. Amanda took back the other sheets from Carla and scanned them quickly. Hers was one of the highest scores in the pack. Extreme pleasure shot golden arrows through her. She didn’t need adulation, but it was gratifying to know that people responded favorably to her.

  Amanda carefully folded the sheet in half, feeling vindicated. The bastard. The unspeakable bastard. He’d rigged this somehow.

  She smiled triumphantly at Paul. “Grimsley lied.”

  Paul looked at her. “Of course he lied. What did you expect?”

  Carla looked at Paul, confused. “But how can he get away with lying like that? Don’t people see this?”

  “Not usually. It goes to heads of departments on request. To some it’s everything. To others—“ He shrugged. “It’s as important as you want it to be. As for how he could lie about it, the answer is easy.”

  Paul slipped his arm around Carla’s shoulders. There was something about her simple honesty, her unassuming manner, and her infectious laugh that made him feel at ease, that let him be himself. Paul felt no need to pretend around Carla.

  “Nobody challenges him, for one thing.” He looked at Amanda. “Until Amanda, of course. Grimsley does a great job and he delivers, which is all the big guys at the station care about. So they let him act like a dictator.” He looked down into Carla’s face. “Everyone’s afraid of a dictator, especially one with backing.”

  “Thanks, Paul.” Amanda gave him a quick hug. “I owe you. Big time.”

  Paul waved away her gratitude as if what he’d done was
nothing special. “Hey, just go after that son of a bit—“ He glanced down toward Christopher. “Gun,” he amended. “For all of us. Nothing we’d rather see than Grimsley taken down a few pegs.” He grinned broadly as a thought occurred to him. “Unless it’s seeing him fired.”

  Amanda picked up the rest of the reports. She was going to need to show the lawyer both sets. It would back up her claim regarding the man’s duplicity. “I don’t want anyone fired. I just want my job back.”

  Carla looked at her eagerly. “You going to confront Grimsley?”

  There was nothing she’d like better than to light into the man, but though sweet, it would be very shortsighted. Victory would be over within a moment, and Grimsley would just look for another excuse to get rid of her. And this time, it might stick. Ultimately, it boiled down to him against her, a ratings wizard against a lone anchorwoman. What she needed was to use this to build a case so that he could never threaten her position again.

  “Maybe, but not yet,” she said slowly. “I want to talk to a lawyer about all this and handle it right.” She shoved the papers back into the envelope. “At the moment, it’s just my word against his.”

  “But you’ve got the papers,” Paul protested. Why had he gone to all that trouble if she wasn’t going to use them?

  Amanda shook her head. “It’s not enough. I want him never to bother me again. I need legal muscle.”

  Paul nodded. It made sense. “So, what’s the next move?”

  She was not above setting scenes and employing a little drama. She wanted to lull Grimsley into a false sense of security. “I clear out my desk and make Grimsley think that I’ve thought it over and decided to leave with my tail between my legs. I want the element of surprise on my side.”

  She had planned to slide in and out quietly, perhaps let one person see her to carry the word to Grimsley.

  But it wasn’t that easy.

  Because of the heated words that had been exchanged between her and Grimsley and the nature of the situation, Amanda realized that she had suddenly become newsworthy herself.

  When she emerged from her office, her belongings stuffed into one large box, she found the hall crowded with people. Most were people she worked with. Others she recognized from broadcasts on at other hours. They had one thing in common: They all had questions for her.

  The first volley was fired before she could even close her door. “Are you really going to sue the station, Amanda?”

  Saying nothing was the best approach for the time being. The element of surprise was one of the few weapons she had at her disposal. She didn’t want anyone carrying tales to Grimsley yet. “I haven’t worked that out yet.”

  “How about Grimsley?” Someone else asked. “Going after him?”

  Again, she wanted to say yes. After all, these were people she worked with, had spent time with. But it wouldn’t be prudent. Amanda maintained a stoic expression. “I’ll let you know.”

  A woman she didn’t know by name but recognized from the weekend news blocked her way. “Any truth to the rumor that you’re filing sexual harassment charges against him, Amanda?”

  Stunned by the aggressiveness, both of the question and of the woman who asked, Amanda could only stare.

  A reporter in the rear shouted, “Did he try to get you to put out in exchange for staying at the station?”

  What were they doing? These people knew her. Why were they acting as if she were a raw piece of meat thrown their way and they were hungry Dobermans? “Well, he—“

  Janine, one half of the team from the early morning talk program, smirked at her. “Just how did you get your anchor job?”

  Amanda found the murmuring of voices and what they were insinuating sickening.

  “Yeah, it’s a long way from a tiny news station in New Mexico to the six o’clock spot in Dallas,” Kyle Williams, a would-be anchor who was still doing the sports at eleven, agreed. “Just what kind of’ ‘dues’ did you pay to get here?” It was evident from his question just what he thought the answer was.

  Amanda turned, incensed by the implication. Juggling the box, she managed to free one hand to push him out of her way. “Long, hard years up a road we all know. Lots of lean times and then a little luck.”

  Voices converged, swarming around her like bees attacking an intruder at the hive.

  “What kind of luck, Amanda?”

  “Was it a man?”

  “Did you sleep with Grimsley?”

  “Any truth to the fact that you had a lovers’ quarrel and that’s what this is all about?”

  “I saw the sparks that went flying after the Granger announcement.”

  “C’mon, Foster, give.”

  She wanted to scream at them, to tell them to leave her alone. With a stab of guilt, Amanda suddenly realized what it was like on the other side of the microphone. She thought of Whitney, and her heart ached.

  Did she come across like this in the field? Oh God, she hoped not.

  No, no she wasn’t like this, she thought fiercely, remembering Mr. Anselmo. She had let him have his grief in private.

  With determination, Amanda reverted to the one statement everyone used when hounded by the media. And she was being hounded, she thought, annoyed at them for doing this to her. After all, she was one of them. She deserved some sort of consideration, some sort of professional courtesy.

  “No comment. Look.” She raised the box. “I just came to clear out my desk.”

  Someone reached for the box and Amanda pulled it aside. “Does that mean you’re giving up?”

  “Was Grimsley right?” A voice behind her asked. “Are you bringing the ratings down?”

  She stopped and swung around, her eyes blazing. She didn’t know who asked the question and she didn’t care. She was disgusted with the lot of them. They weren’t her coworkers any more. This was a mob.

  “Don’t you people have anything better to do than to turn me into some kind of a freak sideshow for your own amusement? I could have been any one of you.”

  “But you’re not,” someone pointed out. “And you’re news.”

  “Maybe, but she’s damn well tired of being picked apart.”

  Amanda turned toward the voice she’d recognize anywhere. Pierce strode into the crowd, effectively parting it. He took her arm protectively.

  “Let’s go, Mandy.”

  “Hey, Pierce, is it true?” Ryan Richards asked, amused. And relieved that it was Amanda who had gotten the ax and not him. They all knew the business was cutthroat. There was no time to mourn a fallen comrade; they were too busy looking out for their own backs. “Are you taking over for Amanda? How does it feel to step into her spot?”

  Pierce wasn’t about to let himself get sucked into any of this. They’d all know soon enough. He had to go on tonight. “Ask me when this is all ironed out.” The smile remained on his face, but there were sharp edges to it. “Now let the lady through.”

  More questions buzzed around them as they made their way to the exit, but neither Amanda nor Pierce answered. As he opened the exit door, Pierce shot a look over his shoulder that warned the others to back off.

  “Hey, Pierce—“

  “Later,” he ordered. Everyone knew that there was no arguing with him.

  They stepped outside, and Pierce took the box from her hands. They said nothing as he walked her to her car.

  Amanda turned and looked at him. Emotions churning, she had to say something to Pierce. “I guess I should say thank you.”

  He placed the box on her hood. He didn’t want her just going through the motions. There was no need for that. “Only if you want to.”

  She knew he meant that. About everything. Amanda unlocked her trunk. “Why’d you ride to my rescue?”

  Pierce picked the box up and placed it inside for her. “I always wanted to play a hero.”

  She closed the trunk and then got in on the driver’s side. She put her key into the ignition, but let it stay there. Her door was still open. “That’s twice y
ou’ve played hero in one month. Except no one would have shot me.”

  He arched a brow. “They might have if I’d let you go into that liquor store.”

  Let her? Amanda’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did it for me?”

  The grin was slightly cocky. “Hell, no, I did it for me, remember? I like glory and attention.”

  Like hell he did. Had he really risked his life to keep her from going in? She hadn’t thought of it in those terms. “Alexander, I just can’t figure you out.”

  Slowly, he smiled at her. “The feeling’s mutual. Maybe we should both stop trying so hard.” Pierce touched her cheek. “See you around, Mandy. And watch your back. Our fellow reporters love a good story.” He shut her door for her and stood back.

  Amanda started up the car and drove away. Her emotions were in an even larger jumble now than they had been before. One moment, she felt he was using her; the next, he was coming to her rescue and refusing to take credit.

  The man was making her crazy, she thought. Ultimately, that was probably his plan.

  Chapter Thirty Three

  In appearance, at fifty-seven, Jefferson Stone had no stage presence whatsoever. He was a tall, almost emaciated-looking man with a body that approximated a curved wire coat hanger. His yellow-white hair was neatly combed and looked tacked onto his pear-shaped head. It wasn’t until Stone opened his mouth to speak that Amanda’s confidence began to rise.

  When she was first ushered into the senior lawyer’s office by a chirpy young secretary and had gotten her first look at the man, Amanda was certain that her father was attempting to play a bizarre trick on her. Wearing a hound’s-tooth jacket and a drooping bow tie, the man sitting behind the neatly organized mahogany desk struck her as a caricature drawing of a befuddled old history professor.

  But when Stone spoke, the voice that swelled and filled the office was deep and pleasingly resonant, exuding both confidence and assertiveness. Just by speaking, he created a feeling that made his clients believe they were in the absolute right. Stone conveyed the impression that agreeing with him was not only the wise thing to do, it was the only thing to do.