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With a combination of irritation and concern, I text back—If she’s been telling tales about “Eric” I can explain. We had words this morning, but I stand by what I said. You will, too, once you hear my side of the story. She was out of line.
“And possibly out of her mind,” I mumble, rubbing my eyes with my finger and thumb.
A person would have to be out of her mind to betray a company that had treated her so well, right? But the more I dig, the more it looks like Blair’s done just that. Her cryptic emails to and from her contact at the Department of Justice are so bizarre they’re practically written in code, but one thing is certain: there’s money involved. Lots of it.
And Blair seems to be going to great lengths to hide it.
After what seems like an unreasonably long pause, a few terse sentences pop through on my cell—Can’t talk now. Meet you at the bar. Don’t order a drink until I get there.
I shake my head with a huff. I’m tempted to text back some terse words of my own insisting I can handle a beer and a grown-up conversation at the same time, but I resist. I’m sure Blair made her side of the story convincing, but Jack was my friend long before he was my lover. As soon as he hears the truth, he’ll be back on my side.
Or so I assume.
I’m so naïve that I truly assume everything’s going to be okay, right up until the moment Jack settles onto a stool beside me at the Hideaway, looking exhausted, but as handsome as ever, and announces that it’s over.
“What’s over?” I ask, my throat going so tight the words emerge as a wheeze.
He can’t mean… There’s been no sign, no warning. Everything has been so damned good. Great. Incredible.
Hasn’t it?
“Eric,” he says, the word inspiring knee-buckling relief and confusion in equal measure. “No more Eric, no more investigation, no more story.”
“But I’m so close to—”
“It’s too late, Ellie.” The tension in his voice makes it clear how close he is to the edge. “We’re on the verge of being found out, and if that happens, it’s not just your story that’s screwed. Our relationships with Ryan, my rapport with my employees, the trust I’ve worked so hard to build with my clients, it’s all on the line. If word gets out that I aided and abetted an investigative journalist poking around my own company, I’m finished.” He lifts his hand to summon the shaggy-haired bartender manning the only hole in the wall left in the financial district.
Because apparently Jack’sthatworried about being seen with me.
Or rather, with Eric.
“Two scotch on the rocks,” he tells the man. “The best you’ve got.”
“So much for staying sober,” I grumble.
“Jesus, Ellie. We should’ve quit while we were ahead.”
“But why?” I ask. Telling Jack I prefer whiskey can wait. “Because Blair is sick of me standing up for the little guy? If that’s the case, you’re making a mistake. Lulu Rivera is in the right, and if she decides to litigate, it’s going to be—”
“Lulu?” Jack’s brows snap together. “What about Lulu?”
I’m shocked that he doesn’t know. “Mr. Pool fired her, and Blair backed him up. Lulu was marched out like a criminal this afternoon, let go for the sin of going to pick up her sick kid one time too many. I can’t believe Blair didn’t tell you. Isn’t she supposed to report all personnel changes to you and Ryan?”
Jack curses as he drags a clawed hand through his hair. “She didn’t get around to it. She was too busy giving me an earful of bullshit.”
I shake my head. “About what? Talk to me, Jack. Let me help you fix this.”
“You can’t fix it.”
I swallow the ball of nerves in my throat. Does she know I’ve been poking around her emails?
No matter. She won’t have a leg to stand on once Jack knows the whole story.
“Jack, whatever this is—”
“It’s… I’m just gonna say it.” He leans in, adding in a softer voice, “Blair’s claiming Eric exposed himself to her last night.”
A cry of outrage leaps from my throat, but Jack presses on.
