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She folded her arms. “Hands-on? That’d be a hackneyed word, wouldn’t it, Spin?”
Spin grinned at her, backing off with both hands up. “It would be a none-of-my-business word.” He left the room laughing, but caught the middle finger Jack gave him before the corridor swallowed him up.
“Oh no,” she said.
“That was my fault.” Jack hated this sneaking around, resented the double standard that would brand him a stud and Derelie a career slut. “Spin won’t say anything.”
“It’s as much my fault. I liked the wall idea.”
He twitched to touch her face. “I’ll see you at home.”
He turned to leave, but she stepped into him, pressed her body into his back, a brief blaze of heat rooting him to the spot, the unexpected weight of her hands flattened on his ribs making him groan at the contact and the way it hotwired him.
“I hate having to be a secret,” she whispered. He tried to turn to take hold of her, but she had better survival instincts. “Later.”
She walked around him to leave the room first, the cocky swagger in her stride at odds with the sheen in her eyes. It swelled his chest to know she was as affected by him as he was by her. But he had to play this smarter for her sake. Tonight he’d show her what she meant to him. It would be the calm before the drama of the Keepsafe story running.
He tracked Madden to Roscoe’s office on the executive floor, knocked to interrupt the two of them arguing a point of law. Roscoe looked grateful for the disruption. “Come in, Jack.”
Roscoe had two drafts of the Keepsafe story in front of him. The one where Bix went to jail for fraud and the one where he presided over gross incompetence.
“Fucking lawyers,” Madden said, as Jack took the seat beside him.
“You don’t have it, Jack,” said Roscoe. “There’s not enough here to tie this up as fraud and not simply straight mismanagement. It’ll get us done for libel.”
“We’ll run with the incompetence leadership mismanagement angle,” said Madden. “It’s enough to get Bix fired.”
“But not jailed,” said Jack. “And that’s what I want.”
“Odd fact for your digestion—the Courier isn’t run on what you want, Haley.”
“You’ve almost got enough, Jack.” Roscoe ignoring Madden gave him hope. But almost wasn’t going to get him page one above the fold and before the scroll.
Madden stood. “We’re going with the mismanagement story. Runs Friday.”
“Why are you pushing for Friday?” Jack said, looking at Roscoe for any clues to why Madden had a deadline hard-on over this one. This was the first time Madden had pushed for a specific end date to an investigation. “This is a national story now and we’re the only ones on it.” That was a big win for the Courier, something Madden was normally all over to champion.
“Had enough of it. Gone on too long.”
“It’s a great story,” said Roscoe, and Jack could’ve hugged him. If the lawyer thought he could pull this off, Mad
den would back down. They’d been in a similar position a dozen times before. Roscoe was generally the cautious one.
“The moon landing was a great story. JKF’s assassination was a great story. Watergate, OJ’s trial, that baby down the damn well in Texas, Princess Diana’s funeral, Hurricane Katrina, Obama’s inauguration, Bin Laden’s death, those Chilean miners trapped for months, Edward Snowden, Hillary Clinton, Peggy Whitson’s record number of days in space. There are great stories breaking every day. Great stories about penguins and oily firefighters and celebrities divorcing their fucking underpants. I’ve had enough. You’re done, Jack. I’m calling it.”
The temptation to stare at Madden with his mouth open was too good to refuse. Roscoe started to say something soothing and Jack jumped in with, “A week. Give me another week.”
“What difference is a week going to make?”
“My inside source needs time to find what I need.”
Madden slapped his hands over his skull. “You’re out of fucking time.”
On his feet, Jack lost his head. “Fuck you, Madden. I can bring the fraud story in.”
“Fuck you twice as hard, Jack—you got two days, or I’m sending the mismanagement angle to print.” Madden looked at Roscoe. “Clear it to run.” He walked out leaving Jack with an uncomfortable feeling that there was some other agenda at play.
“What was that?”
