“What if the Paters are getting them there? Building power.”
“Making sure they have access to vulnerable women and protection against the law. Michael Corbin, too—think how many people must come to him with problems, as a retired pastor. Easy pickings.” Jamie’s hands tightened. “What does Don want? Keeping his network of friends out of trouble is one thing. But this is starting to feel…ambitious.”
“He wants everything,” I said. “As much as the world will give him.”
Jamie frowned. “Why are you smiling?”
I stopped pacing. “Because we’ve been right this whole time—about Laurel’s death, and the Paters. Hell, years ago, when we went to the police to report her assault, we were in the right, not them.” The vindication sang through my veins. “I’m going to get them, Jamie.” For the first time, I could feel it.
“I know you will,” he said. “But this also means we can’t work with the Westchester police department. We have to go straight to the state police. They report to the governor.”
“Alec Barry?”
“I interviewed him a few years ago when I covered politics, and he was trying to get ICE out of New York. He’s a good guy. Young, unapologetically progressive. Probably the most popular governor New York’s had in decades. Headlined the last DNC.”
I thought of Cal and his friends back in Dallas, how Governor Barry was famous enough that they used his name as shorthand for unrealistic bleeding hearts. That guy’s a total Barry type, too liberal for mainstream, won’t get anything done, the Dems are all like this now.
“It’s perfect, actually.” Jamie’s voice rose; he was getting excited. “I should’ve thought of him from the beginning. He already pledged to investigate the missing women. And he’s up for reelection. What could be better for his campaign than taking down a literal cabal of predatory men?” He stood and headed for his recording equipment, suddenly as full of energy as I was. “I still have a contact on the governor’s team. We should start transcribing tonight’s tape. I could leak it—”
And just like that—drunk on hope, on the electrifying intimacy of Jamie’s allegiance—I seized him by the front of his shirt and kissed him. His lips parted on instinct, hands cupping my face, drawing me closer… Then he stopped. Wrenched away. And for a moment, he only stared, green eyes wide and unblinking. Then he said in a low, rough voice, “You’re married.” But the look in his eyes was questioning, like he was asking me to tell him something different.
I relaxed my grip on his shirt.
He bit his lip, as if trying to stop himself from speaking, but after a second, he lifted a hand to my temple. Hesitated, then slowly pushed his fingers through my hair, letting the strands fall to my shoulder. He watched them as he spoke. “Your feelings must be all over the place, with everything that happened tonight.”
An out, if I wanted it.
I lifted my chin, and his gaze slid to my lips. “You’re right. I think I’m high on adrenaline.” I closed my eyes, then added, “But I don’t regret it. If that’s what you’re asking.”
I opened my eyes to find Jamie’s were incandescent, his nerves and his desire so transparent it almost hurt to look.
“Mm-hmm,” he said, nodding, the sound coming from deep in his throat. Half acknowledgment, half question, as if he’d heard me but couldn’t believe it. He held my gaze. “You don’t.”
In that moment I knew I had only to shake my head, the slightest movement, and I could have him. The dam inside him would break. He would catch my face in his hands and pull me toward him until I rose to my toes. He would kiss me and I could have what I wanted. My blood sang with the certainty. And there was nothing so sweet as that.
But.