Headlines & Deadlines (An Avery Shaw Mystery Book 7) Page 3

  “I want to hear the answer to that question, too,” Devon interjected, causing a few other media personalities to murmur in agreement.

  “I would not have left my constituents in the lurch,” Tad said. “I would’ve done my elected job and cast more of a focus on public safety at the same time.”

  “How?” I asked, not giving him a chance to get back on track.

  “I … just would have.”

  “But how?”

  “I … can we get back on topic?” Tad asked, his eyes dark slits as they focused on me.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” I said. “When you named your public safety group, did you purposely pick letters that spelled out ‘tool,’ or was that just a happy coincidence?”

  I’m not sure whether I was the only one who figured out the acronym, but if the snickers bouncing throughout the room were to be believed, I was one of the few.

  “We’re not called TOOL,” Tad argued.

  “Technical Operations and Options League,” I said. “Someone had to pick that name out as a joke. There can be no other explanation. Did you pick out the name?”

  “Ms. Shaw, the name of the group is hardly important,” Tad said. “What’s important is our aim. I have hired three of the best legal minds in the state and we’re going to put an end to Macomb County’s long crime nightmare.”

  “What minds?” I asked.

  “I … we’re not making that information public yet.”

  “You’re holding a news conference to announce the formation of TOOL but you’re not going to tell us who makes up the group?”

  The gathered media chuckled but otherwise appeared content to let me lead them to Tad’s soft underbelly so they could swoop in for the entrails when I was done feeding.

  “It’s not called TOOL.”

  “Who is funding this group?” I asked. I was hoping to keep Tad off his game by jumping from topic to topic. The less time I gave him to regroup, the better things were going to turn out when this conference ended.

  “That’s a private matter,” Tad said, gripping the bottom of his suit jacket and tugging it down. “Now, if we could get back to my speech … .”

  “The news release said you were running TOOL as an oppositional force to the Macomb County Sheriff’s Department,” I said. “It said the sheriff’s department would continue to function independently, but TOOL would be privy to its reports. That can only happen by county decree. My question is: When was this voted on and where can I get the minutes on who voted for it?” I was really on a roll now.

  “Stop calling it TOOL!” Tad’s face was so red I worried he was about to have a heart attack.

  “Mr. Ludington, you say that you have a passion for public safety,” I said, not missing a beat. “You don’t have a background in law enforcement, though. What can you offer this county by way of practical experience?”

  Tad didn’t answer. He’d given up all pretense of getting the conference back on track.

  I knew I’d pushed him far enough, but recognizing which lines not to cross was never one of my strong suits. I had to push a little further – and that was always my biggest mistake.

  “Once you’re done answering those questions, which aren’t going away, mind you, I also want to know whether you’re insinuating that Sheriff Farrell is somehow ineffective,” I said. “He’s very popular in this county, and he has a seventy-five percent approval rating. I’m curious as to whether you’re saying he – and his supporters, for that matter – are incapable of knowing what’s best for the county?”

  Yup. That did it. Tad moved from the microphone and the assembled reporters cleared a path so he wouldn’t run them down on his way to me. I’d officially pushed him too far.

  Maybe Eliot was right after all. Maybe I do have the power to push men into the crazy abyss with merely the power of my mouth.

  Three

  “Come here,” Tad seethed, stalking toward me as I took an involuntary step back.

  Well, this wasn’t good. Eliot was never going to buy me crab legs now. “Are you done with your news conference already?” I have the knowledge and foresight to know when I should keep my mouth shut, I simply don’t have the ability. I think it’s a genetic flaw that runs in my family.

  “You just had to do it, didn’t you?”

  I skirted Tad’s outstretched hand easily, moving to the side and fighting hard to control my laughter as he overcorrected and missed me with his swipe. “Now, Tad, do you really want to end your public safety news conference with a murder? That doesn’t seem very smart.”

  “It’s a public service,” Tad said, his hand snaking out and grabbing my arm at the crook of the elbow. “You and I need to have a discussion outside.”

  “Let me go!”

  “No.”

  “Let me go,” I repeated, my temper flaring.

  “We’re going to have a discussion,” Tad spit through gritted teeth. “You are going to learn your place.”

  “And where is that?”

  I recognized Eliot’s voice before I saw his well-muscled figure move next to Tad. I should have realized he would come. The promise of a Tad Ludington verbal beatdown was too much to ignore. Of course, he probably also realized I was going to push Tad to the breaking point and be threatened with bodily harm. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “What are you doing here?” Tad asked, visibly shrinking in the face of Eliot’s obvious rage. “This is a closed media event.”

  “Take your hand off her,” Eliot warned, his eyes narrowed and his chest heaving.

  “Avery and I need to have a talk,” Tad said, although his fingers loosened slightly. “I … she ruined my conference.”

  “I don’t care if she toilet-papered your car and told everyone you’re hung like a two-year-old,” Eliot said. “Take your hands off her.”

  “What’s going on over here?” One of the security guards finally decided to address the situation, although he didn’t look pleased at the prospect of handling three deranged individuals for minimum wage.

  “I … Ms. Shaw and I are merely having a discussion,” Tad said, straightening. His hand was still on my arm, and if the twitching in Eliot’s fingers was any indication, he was about to lose that hand.

  “I think we’re done,” I said, jerking my arm away.

  Tad wanted to reach for it again, but Eliot’s glare stilled him. “I … this isn’t over,” Tad said. “You ruined my conference.”

  “It’s not over,” I agreed, casting a sidelong look at Eliot. “You haven’t answered any of my questions. Do you want to get back to press conference? I’ve got a whole list of topics to get to, including whether your divorce is affecting your sanity.”

  Tad blanched. “I … this conference is over! I’ll be calling your publisher in the morning.”

  “He’s expecting your call.”

  “I CAN’T believe you sat out here waiting while I filed my story,” I said, hopping into Eliot’s truck in the parking lot of The Monitor an hour and a half later. “I would’ve called you when I was done.”

  “I wanted to make sure Ludington didn’t come sniffing around,” Eliot said, his gaze focused out the windshield as light snowflakes began to fall.

  “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?” The old me would have pretended not to notice Eliot’s distress. I couldn’t just let it go. I’m trying to grow here, people.

  “I am … disappointed.”

  That hurt worse than anger. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.” That was a complete and total lie and we both knew it. “I didn’t think he would run off the rails so fast in front of other people,” I clarified. “I … I’m sorry.”

  “There it is,” Eliot said, rubbing the heel of his hand against his forehead and leaning back in his seat. “Avery, I don’t like constantly coming down on you because you like to go after a story. I don’t want to change who you are. I happen to … like … who you are a great deal.”

  “But?” I prodded, waiting fo
r him to drop the hammer.

  “You get off on pushing people to the brink,” Eliot said. “You can’t help yourself. You pick and pick and pick until they’re ready to explode. Your mouth runs a hundred miles an hour, and it takes your brain two hours to catch up.”

  I was pretty sure that was an insult. “My brain knows when I say something stupid,” I countered, “but I can’t always stop myself.” Huh. I think that made things sound worse. This might be an example of what he was trying to point out.

  “Ludington has lost his political position and his wife,” Eliot said. “He’s going to have to pay obscene amounts in child support because he couldn’t keep it in his pants and he has, what, five kids? He’s on the edge.

  “He already hates you,” he continued. “Did you really think calling him on the carpet like that was the right way to go?”

  “I’m a reporter,” I said. “I have to ask questions. That’s my job. Wait … you weren’t there for the whole conference, were you?” I narrowed my eyes. “If you saw him coming, why didn’t you stop him before he got his hands on me?”

  Eliot was incredulous. “Really? That’s your response to what I just said?”

  “I … yes. You’re supposed to be my man candy and bodyguard all rolled into one irresistible package. I’ve come to expect certain things from you. It’s your fault you put on your superhero cape and swooped in so many times. Now I rely on it.”

  I don’t know what I expected, but Eliot’s raucous chuckle definitely wasn’t it. “You drive me crazy,” he said. “You really do. I knew that when we started dating, though. If you must know, they’ve been playing your little performance on the radio for the past hour. It’s not just the news station either. The two sports stations have picked it up because they thought it was so funny. They’re calling it ‘competitive perfection.’ I can’t wait to see what the television news does with it tonight.”

  “Oh.”

  “I stepped in the second I got there,” Eliot said. “Do you really think I would let him put his hands on you?”

  “Of course not,” I conceded. “I just … I really am sorry. I knew when I pushed him at the end that it was going to go bad and yet I couldn’t stop myself. If you want to know the truth, I managed to derail the news conference a lot faster than even I anticipated.”

  Eliot smirked, the expression lighting up his handsome face. “You have a gift,” he said. “What happens now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “How are you going after Tad tomorrow?”

  “I start filing Freedom of Information Act requests,” I said. “I still don’t understand how this group was pushed through without anyone knowing it. We have reporters at the county commission meetings. This has to have happened in an executive session, but we’re supposed to get notice of those.”

  “Are you going to chase after Ludington tomorrow?” Eliot asked.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted truthfully. “He’ll probably be in hiding licking his wounds. I have to talk to MacDonald when I go in tomorrow morning. Tad threatened to call him and I’m sure he’ll follow up on that threat.”

  “You don’t seem worried about it.”

  “MacDonald is the one who overruled Fish and said I could cover the conference,” I said. “He wants me to take Tad down.”

  “I want you to take Tad down, too,” Eliot said. “I also want you to be safe while doing it. I … would you make me a promise?”

  Uh-oh. “It depends on what the promise is.”

  “When you know you’re going to be in the same location as Ludington will you promise to call me so I at least know where you are?”

  “Are you going to show up at every conference and threaten him?”

  “I … does that turn you on or off?”

  That was an interesting question. “I like watching you terrorize him,” I admitted.

  “You don’t want me to hover while you’re working, though, do you?”

  “No.”

  Eliot sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned to me. “Call me and tell me when you know you’re going to be around Ludington,” he said. “We’ll figure out the rest of it from there.”

  “So, you’re not mad at me?” I was pushing my luck.

  “I can’t stay angry at you,” Eliot said. “I’ve tried. It never lasts. In addition to being annoying, you’re also incredibly hot.”

  “It’s good you recognize my strong points.”

  Eliot shot me a quelling look. “Promise me.”

  I held my hand over my heart. “I promise.”

  “Okay, I officially declare this almost fight over,” he said. “Do you still want your crab legs?”

  “Are you really going to reward me after that?”

  “Yup,” Eliot said, firing up the engine of his truck. “I want crab legs, too, though, so don’t get too full of yourself.”

  “What about my car?”

  “We’ll leave it here overnight. I have to drive here in the morning anyway. We can come together.”

  “You don’t trust me to drive home alone, do you?”

  “Let’s just say that I would rather have you close and leave it at that,” Eliot said, pulling into traffic and directing his truck toward the restaurant.

  We rode in silence for a few minutes as I debated the merits of apologizing again when he reached over and snagged my hand with his, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles as he focused on the road.

  Instead of apologizing, I decided to steer the topic to safer waters. “What are you working on these days?” In addition to his pawnshop, Eliot was expanding his brand into security. He’d been picking up contracts from various businesses for months.

  “I’m doing some computer work at the sheriff’s department.”

  I stilled. That was news to me. Eliot and Jake had more in common than me, loath as I am to admit I’m not the center of both of their worlds. They served in the military together overseas and had a falling out years before. They were slowly starting to come around and remember the friendship they used to share. The fact that Jake hired Eliot for a job was still stunning. “Seriously?”

  “Don’t freak out, Trouble,” Eliot said. “He only wants me to upgrade some cameras and computer equipment. I’m sure it will all be very civil.”

  I wasn’t so certain, but now was not the time to voice those concerns. “That sounds … nice.”

  Eliot ignored my comment. “I’ve been pretty busy and I was thinking of turning the job down, but it’s a decent chunk of change. It allows me to splurge on your Valentine’s Day gift.”

  My heart somersaulted and my cheeks started to burn. Well, that answered that question. “You’re going to splurge on my Valentine’s Day gift?”

  Eliot kept his gaze on the road, but I could tell he was watching my reaction from the corner of his eye. “I am.”

  “Do you want to give me a hint about what it is?”

  “Nope.”

  Son of a … . I needed to change tactics here. “Is it bigger than a bread basket?”

  “Maybe.”

  That wasn’t the answer I wanted. “Is it smaller than a car?”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re not going to give me one hint?”

  “Nope,” Eliot said, nonplussed. “I’m going to put up with every sneaky thing you do between now and then to find out. I haven’t told anyone. There’s no way you can find out what it is.”

  This was so unfair. “Do you want something specific from me for Valentine’s Day?”

  “You don’t have to get me anything,” Eliot replied. “Valentine’s Day is a chick holiday. I’m not expecting a gift.”

  That hardly seemed fair. “Oh, you’re getting a gift,” I countered. “I just have to figure out whether nudity is an acceptable option.”

  “It depends on who is nude,” Eliot said, not missing a beat.

  I scowled. “Can’t you give me one hint?”

  Eliot pulled into a parking spot in front of the restaur
ant and killed the engine before turning and flashing a charming smile. “I’ll give you one hint.”

  Finally!

  “You’re going to love it.” He leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. “Now, come on. I’m starving and I have plans for you to work off this dinner later.”

  His charm comes and goes – and I’m in a boatload of trouble. Leave it to me to blow our first Valentine’s Day together when he’s apparently got the perfect gift already selected.

  So much for my happy day.

  Four

  “Good morning,” Eliot murmured, pulling his pillow over his face when I reached across his bare chest to retrieve my dinging cell phone.

  “Good morning.”

  Neither of us is a morning person, but Eliot is usually more gung-ho to face the day. Of course, we were both suffering from the winter doldrums, too. Thanks to Daylight Saving Time it seems as if we get five hours of sunshine and nineteen hours of darkness during Michigan winters.

  “Who texted you?” Eliot asked, his face still buried beneath the pillow.

  “Fish. I don’t understand how he can already be at work while we’re still dithering about in bed.”

  Eliot moved the pillow so I could see the challenging arch of his eyebrow. “Dithering?”

  “What? That’s a word,” I protested.

  “I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Eliot said. “I’ve never heard you use that word before.”

  “There are a lot of words you’ve never heard me use.”

  “I would argue the merits of that statement but I’m too tired,” he said. “What are you doing today? If you’re going after Ludington again let me know now so I can bulk up on the caffeine.”

  “I have to go to a news conference in St. Clair Shores,” I said, glancing at the clock next to the bed. “Some woman didn’t come home last night and her husband is asking the media for help finding her.”

  “Last night? That’s pretty quick. How does he know she’s even missing?”

  “If I ever fail to come home one night I don’t want you in charge of alerting the police,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “Let my mom. She’s an alarmist. She’ll do it right.”