“Saylor,” Tripp says in a low voice. “We need to talk about your marriage.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” I try to walk away, but he grabs my arm and I don’t want to make a scene, so I allow him to pull me into a private corner of the room.
“You have every right not to trust me. Every right to tell me to go to hell, but honey, they’re using you. Bishop Walker knows you’re my daughter and he has a plan.”
“It’s a bad plan, since I won’t be campaigning for him,” I snap.
“You already are, just by being here tonight.”
“It’s not a campaign stop,” I say stubbornly. “And it was my choice to be here to support Hayden.”
“You mean the next Walker to run for office?”
“If you really knew Hayden, then you’d know that he…he doesn’t plan to run for office.” No way in hell I’m telling him the real reason for our marriage, or at least the real reason we’re still married.
“Fine. Don’t believe me, but I’d encourage you to look up who’s filed to run for office in this area.” He touches my cheek and I jerk out of his reach. “I’m sorry for not being a good father to you.”
“Leave me alone—it’s what you’re really good at doing.”
He smiles sadly, then walks away.
It feels as though every eye is on me. That everyone is talking about me and knows exactly who I am while they laugh at me. I search for Hayden, easily finding him standing beside his dad. They’re so alike in their smiles, in the way they hold themselves, and even in the way they’re working the room.
Doubt assails me.
Hayden doesn’t look like a man who hates politics. In fact, he looks like a man who belongs here.
I sink down on a padded bench, waiting for Hayden to finish talking while my stomach rumbles and I get sleepy. Suddenly, my head jerks and I realize that I’ve fallen asleep sitting up.
And there’s still no sign of Hayden.
With a thick sigh, I pull my phone out from a hidden pocket in my dress and order an Uber ride to pick me up.
I wait until I can’t possibly wait any longer and move to the front door, slowly, so that Hayden can spot me. As my fingers wrap around the doorknob, I search for him one last time, but he’s nowhere to be found.
My heart heavy, I leave the Capitol Club and get in the Uber car waiting for me at the curb, closing my eyes as the driver navigates the sedan through the light traffic.
As soon as we hit the streets of Forrestville proper, my phone starts blowing up. “Hello?”
“Saylor, where the hell are you?” Hayden bellows into the phone.
I hold it away from my ear. “In an Uber, almost home.”
“Why?”
“Because I waited for you and I waited so long that I fell asleep sitting up.”
The Uber driver makes a sympathetic noise.
“I looked everywhere for you. Tripp said that you’d gone to the ladies’ room with Kennedy, but when she came out, she had no idea what I was talking about.”
Ugh. The last thing I want to hear about is that jerk and his equally jerky daughter. “Can we talk later? I’m hungry and tired, and my dress is tight, and my feet hurt.”
His tone softens. “I’ll be home soon. I’m sorry for yelling. You scared me. I was worried.”
Warmth fills me. “Really?”
“Really and truly.”
Tell him. Tell him who your father is.
“Knew I shouldn’t have trusted that bastard. I’m sorry, but that entire family is a piece of work—none of them know what loyalty means. I know I’m biased, but that’s a hard line with me. I don’t cheat, I don’t lie, and I don’t walk out on the ones who matter most to me.”
“I know you don’t.” While I’ve done everything but cheat on him. Throat tight, I manage to get out, “Hayden I…I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Be careful and text me when you get inside.”
“I will.” Then I end our call, letting the tears finally fall.
Chapter 21
Hayden
We’re lying in bed, Saylor all cuddled up next to me as I trail my fingers up and down one of her arms. Her skin is so soft and sensitive to my touch that she shivers with each pass.
Padme moves stealthily over the comforter, just waiting for one of us to wiggle our toes. I move one foot slightly to the left and she pounces, but I barely feel the cat’s claws due to extra blankets on the bed to make up for the arctic temps Saylor likes to keep at night.
“Have you forgiven me?” I ask.
Her chocolate-colored eyes widen. “For what?”
“Leaving you with Kennedy and Senator Sterling.”
“Oh, that.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think that all the way through. My only thought was to keep you away from the press, not an ex-fiancée.”
“I know. It’s not your fault.” She looks up at me, her eyes luminescent. “Hayden, I have something—”
My phone goes off, the familiar alert making my heart jump. “Shit. Gotta go. We’ll talk when I get back. Promise.”
“Okay,” she agrees.
I spring into action, kissing Saylor hard before leaping out of bed and getting dressed. I shove my feet into my boots, not bothering to lace them up all the way, and then race out the door with my keys, wallet, and phone.
Once I’m in my SUV, I call in to the station, letting them know I’m on my way. Plus, I want to make sure that one of the new guys didn’t press the wrong text alert again.
“It’s the real thing,” dispatch says. “Job’s a three alarm in NoDa—Queen Anne Street. Multiple explosions in an apartment building—new construction. No tenants. City says could possibly be gas-line related.”
“On my way.” Ending the call, I switch on my emergency lights and slam down the gas. Then I call Saylor. “I won’t be home tonight. Possible gas leak that’s causing multiple explosions.”
“Oh my word,” she croaks. “I’ll…you have your medallion on, right?”
I grab it from around my rearview mirror and put it on one-handed. “I do now.”
She blows out a breath into the phone. “Be safe, Hayden. Promise me you won’t get hurt.”
“I will. I promise.” Stupid thing to say, considering I don’t have a complete on-scene evaluation yet, but I can’t stop myself from reassuring her. “Tell Padme to take good care of you.”
“She always takes good care of me, just like you do.”
I smile and something inside me shifts, like my heart is finally finding the exact place it’s supposed to be. “Saylor, I—”
My phone buzzes again.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I have to take this. It’s dispatch with an update.”
“I understand.” There’s a brief pause. “Come back to me, Hayden, because I won’t like it if you don’t.”
“Always.” I’ll always come back to her.
—
It’s nearly dawn before the last of the fire is put out. A few smoldering embers remain as the last of the team walks through, poking and prodding at drywall and floors.
“A real shame,” Jenkins, a veteran of twenty years, comments. “This was the centerpiece of the revitalization project for this section of Charlotte.”
“Heard they were massively over budget.”
“Yeah.” He kicks at a piece of cracked tile. “Who owns this building?”
“Not sure. I don’t pay attention to local politics unless it has something to do with us.” Not quite the truth, but most of the guys I work with want only what everyone wants out of life: respect, a sense of purpose, and a decent paycheck. It’s my job to advocate for that, when I can, to my higher-ups.
“Who brought in an investigator?” He nods at a man examining an oven.
“No idea, but I’m going to find out.” I pull my phone out of a pocket in my bunker gear, then call my battalion chief, Patrick Kelly.
He answers on the second ring. “Kelly.”
“Walker, s
ir. Do you have a moment?”
“Just the man I was about to call.” Kelly’s voice is loud. In fact, he has only two volumes, loud and louder, due to a blast that gave him tinnitus. The worse the ringing is in his ears, the louder he shouts. “I’ve asked for a fire investigator. The job reeks of foul play already. Jesse from Station Twelve found several space heaters, but most of them were melted to hell and back.”
“Who needs heaters in the middle of June?”
“Who uses gasoline when the fucking things are marked KEROSENE ONLY?”
I don’t have to answer him. We both know the answer. “Okay. We’ll stay out of his way and give him support.”
“He’s already there—man, that was quick.”
“Maybe he knew not to fuck around with Patrick Kelly.” Kelly is not someone you screw around with, but he is fair, he listens—basically, he’s an all-around good guy.
That earns a chuckle from him. “Knew I could count on you. By the way, I got your email. Be sure to contact my secretary later today so we can schedule a meeting.”
“Will do.” I end our call, then check in with the other fire chiefs onsite. Since my station was first to arrive, we will be first to leave.
“Walker.”
I turn around to find the arson inspector motioning me over. Jogging to him, I smile. “Whatever support you need, we’re here for you.”
“Good to know. Can we go someplace private to talk?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
We walk downstairs, then head to my Escalade and I lean against it. “This is about as private as it gets.”
He glances at his notepad. “Can you verify your whereabouts last night?”
“Excuse me?”
“Where were you?”
“Charity event at the Capitol Club to support wounded veterans,” I bite out.
“I assume your father was there.”
“Yeah, and so were a lot of people. I even gave interviews.”
“What about afterward?”
“I went home.”
He nods. “Can anyone confirm this?”
“My wife, Saylor.” I yank at my bunker coat. “Is there something you’re trying to get at?”
“This building is owned by Walker Enterprises.”
Walker Enterprises is owned by my uncle Reuben, the senator’s youngest brother, which has exactly fuck all to do with me. “News to me.”
He eyes me with disbelief. “The construction costs were also way over budget and the rents were too much for this neighborhood to support.”
“Is this stuff normally what investigators asks?”
His mouth quirks. “You’ve never been interviewed before?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’ll be gentle this time. You’re being recommended for immediate suspension.”
“The fuck you say.” My hands clench into tight fists. “On what basis?”
“That you’re under investigation for suspected arson.”
“You think I had something to do with this?” I spread my arms wide, wanting to knock the guy in the head. “I helped put the damn thing out.”
“Just in the nick of time. So now insurance monies can be collected, paying off subcontractors while the foundation of the building remains fully intact and functional.”
“Unless you have hardcore evidence, you can shove it up your ass.”
“I don’t need evidence. The mere suggestion that you helped scheme an insurance company is all that is needed.”
My jaw cracks under the pressure of trying not to lash out. “Am I under arrest or am I free to leave?” I snap. He doesn’t have the right to arrest me, he hasn’t brought in the boys in blue, and he knows it.
The asshole.
“You can leave.”
Instead of driving back to the station in my SUV, I walk, not only because I’d ruin the seats, but because I need the physical exertion to calm the fuck down. When I get to the locker room, every one stops to stare at me. They know.
Son of a bitch.
“I didn’t do—fuck it. I don’t have anything to explain. Either you know me or you don’t.” I yank off my bunker gear and grab a towel, soap, and flip-flops.
A chorus of We’re behind you, we know you, and that fucker can suck it fills the room.
Their support is humbling.
Overwhelming, even.
“All right. Enough with ass-kissing. Get showers and some rest.”
“Go home to your wife, Walker. Sure she can help—if she can’t, send her over to me.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think that little bit of help would do anything for her, Jenkins.”
“Buuuurrrrn.”
That gets them all going and just like that, the tension is gone.
“Knock it off, knuckleheads,” Peterson barks. He’s my second in command and will be a great fire captain if I get the battalion chief position. “I’ll have one of the rookies get your SUV, Chief.”
“Appreciate that. Code’s 1110. Keys are in the door.”
With only a few more wisecracks from the guys, I’m able to shower and change in less than twenty minutes. Unfortunately, as soon as I sit down to put on my shoes, my vision gets all blurry. Grabbing a bottle of eyedrops from my locker, I squeeze some in my eyes and blink like I’m trying to flirt until my vision returns to normal.
I put my head in my hands, tired as hell while wanting to drive straight home to Saylor. Only, she’s at work, so it’s not like I can crawl into bed with her.
Reasoning that the better choice will be to crash here while she’s working, I text her so she won’t worry. She immediately responds with hearts and kisses emojis.
As I pass our admin, Lara, I say, “I’m not really here, okay?”
She mimes zipping her lips. “Won’t tell a soul.”
“Thanks.” I smile faintly and shut the door behind me, closing the blinds. There’s a sleeper sofa in my office, so I pull it out, set my alarm, and lie down.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out.
—
In what seems like seconds later, Lara is shaking my arm. “Hayden. You’ve slept through your alarm and the media has called several times to get a statement from you. Don’t know why they’re not talking to the department’s press liaison.”
Groggy, I sit up and try to shake my head clear. “Because they want it straight from me.”
“Here’s some coffee,” she says, pressing a warm mug into my hands. “Know you don’t like it, but all black will do the trick.”
With one hand, my fingers and thumb, I rub at my eyes and drink half of the vile stuff, my body coming to life with each gulp. I make a face and grab my phone, checking the time.
Shit. It’s already after five. Saylor got off at four today.
I frown. She hasn’t texted me.
As if reading my mind, Lara pauses at my office door. “Also, your sweet wife called and I told her you were still sleeping. She said to take as long as you needed.”
“Thanks for doing that. I hate when she worries about me.”
Lara gives me a look. “Why would you hate that?”
“Because it’s my job to worry about her safety, not mine.” I pinch the silver chain at my neck with my thumb and forefinger. “She gave this to me, to help keep me safe.” I’m not complaining. I actually treasure her gift, but the thought of her being in the dark as to my whereabouts, of me not keeping my promise to be home when I said I would, weighs heavily on me.
“Seems to me that when two people are in love with each other, they worry equally.”
I smile, even as the possibility of Saylor and me being in love starts to gather momentum inside me. “You might be on to something, Lara.”
She shuts the door and I search for online news articles about the fire. So far, nothing about the investigation has popped up and no one has said anything about my immediate suspension.
The whole thing seems fishy…yet, my guys here knew about the suspension, unless one of
them overheard my conversation with the fire inspector and told everyone else. Which is probably the simplest answer.
Firemen gossip as bad as policemen do.
In any case, I need to talk to the one person who can probably give me the most help, and it’s the one person I do not want to have to call.
With a thick sigh, I put the coffee mug down and dial my dad’s number.
“Hayden, is everything all right?” He actually sounds like he cares. Maybe I’ve slept too long. Or too little.
“The apartment building in downtown Charlotte, in the east area, did you know it was owned by Walker Enterprises?”
“I did. I warned Evan it was a bad investment, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You knew it was losing money?”
“He took grants from the government; of course it’s losing money. Hope he had insurance on the damn thing.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“There was an investigator on the job. He was checking for possible arson, and the investigator is either accusing me of helping start it or for doing my job so well that it didn’t damage the structural integrity of the building.” I hate admitting this to him. Hate the way I will have to suffer through another lecture, and—
“I’m positive you did nothing but what you were supposed to do,” the senator says, stunning me into silence. “I’ve watched your career over the years, son; watched you rise in the ranks on your own merit, not your last name. While I might be biased, no one works as hard as you did, without help from their family, only to fuck it all up for an insurance scam.”
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Thanks. I don’t know what to say, but thanks.”
“Don’t thank me just yet.”
And here it comes.
“Hayden, I’m sorry to say that I can’t help you with this. If I stepped in, it would make you look guilty without anyone having to prove a thing.”
I know he’s right. Logically I know it, but if there was any time I needed him to step in, this is it. My career is on the line.
My career. Not his. Which means I have to take control. I have to do everything within my power with the resources available to me as John Q. Public, not Hayden Walker, a US senator’s son.
Hard to Fall Page 16
