Audrey's Promise (4 page)

Her suitcase had sat at the foot of her bed for the last week, packed and ready for a rough trip. Much like Audrey’s emotions. She fought sleep for as long as she could, hoping the light and romantic reading would dissipate the repetitive tortured dreams of the last month. It didn’t take long for Audrey to slip off to sleep, the book still open on her lap.

Twisted metal collapsed around her legs and the cold seeped into her bones. Wind scraped along her backside, sending a chill to her toes. The metal vibrated against her skin—
am I shivering?—
as a siren rang in her ears. Audrey fought to open her eyes and shrieked in pain from the shards of glass covering her lashes. Red glass. Blood. Hers? Everything hurt, so it could be.

Turning her head sent scorching spears into her brain. And an incessant pounding. She forced her eyes open again and focused on the image next to her. A chair. Something mangled and twisted lay in the seat. Circular, or it used to be. A steering wheel?

Muffled sounds came up from all around her as the chill blew stronger at her back. The ringing billowed until she recognized they were voices.

“Help,” she whispered.

“There’s one over here,” a distant voice called.

Audrey waited, expecting someone to come into view or to feel a hand on her arm. Seconds, or hours passed. Nothing.

“Help,” she called again. Or maybe it was just her mind.

More minutes passed.

“They’re gone. Check that pile.”

Freezing streaks trailed down her cheeks. But she couldn’t move. The urge to scream could only manifest through more freezing streaks.

Help.

“I got one!” a voice yelled.

More streaks seeped into her skin, numbing her face.

“Hang on, Audrey,” the dark voice called over her trembling body. Pain soared through every muscle as her form was lifted from the mangled scraps, her legs twisted as they were pulled from the wreckage.

Her neck dangled over the voice’s arm, whose face was covered in shadows, leaving only one image. The remnants of the driver’s seat. Besides the steering wheel, it was empty. Who’d been driving?

Red surged into her eyes and the screams drowned out all other noise. Her screams. Hot red flooded her vision as the ice chill seeped through, drifting into darkness.

Chapter Five

“He’s late.” Audrey vented into the phone, tapping her thumb against the steering wheel.

“Did you call him?” Miranda asked. The yawn on the other side of the phone was contagious.

“I shouldn’t have to. He’s the one who wants the story.” Audrey glanced at the dashboard. Time: 7:12 a.m. Temp: 48 degrees. The first chill of the year infiltrated North Texas with perfect timing. Great football weather for Thanksgiving. Though the color change in the trees of Dallas sucked in comparison to East Texas, a few reds and purples scattered across the yellows and browns in the shrubs by her condo. Audrey adjusted the heater and changed the radio station.

“Give him five more minutes, Aud.” A coffee grinder spun in the background.

“When do you leave for Houston?”

“Flight’s at noon. I’ll be back Friday night to finish the final touches on the fundraiser.” Miranda yawned again.

“Tell your family I’m sorry I’m taking up some of your vacation time.”

“Oh, you know them. Just send ’em a fruit basket or a ham and they’re good. They said to tell you if they lived in your district, you’d have their vote.”

A red truck, dented with faded paint, pulled into the space next to her Acura. The windows were fogged, obscuring the driver’s face. If it was Ethan, there was another unexpected trait for a journalist. They were supposed to drive eco-friendly two-doors, even though this was Texas.

The door squealed open and Ethan stepped out. Audrey held her breath and watched him. From her angle in the car, Audrey could only see his backside as he reached into the back bed. Dark jeans covered his slim waist and two cheeks worth a slap. Or squeeze.

Audrey whirled in her seat.
Where the hell did that come from?
Focus on the radio.

“He’s here, finally.” The journalist’s round ass made her forget she was even holding a phone.

“Play nice,” Miranda warned.

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? Besides, I bought him coffee. That’s as nice as I get at seven a.m.”

“Relax. He’s probably just as anxious as you are. Call me when you get there.”

A knock on the trunk made her jump. Audrey flipped her phone shut and pulled the lever for the trunk. When her car sank with the weight of his luggage—
what did he pack, a box of books?—
she unlocked the doors.

Ethan sank into the passenger seat, put a bag by his feet, and shut the door. He was all grins with perfectly white teeth and an even more perfectly shaven face. “Mornin’, sunshine.”

Oh crap. He’s a morning person.
Amazing how sleek and toned he looked in baggy jeans and leather jacket. How could a journalist afford a custom fit coat? And he had way too much energy for Audrey’s taste. The coffee was a bad idea.

“I didn’t know how you took your coffee, so I bought you a black.” Audrey used her cup to block her frown. The pumpkin spice latte scent wasn’t nearly as strong as Ethan’s fresh cologne, now overtaking her senses in ways she didn’t dare admit. But a quick glare at Ethan’s Converse sneakers pulled her attention back to the purpose at hand.

“Aw, honey,” Ethan started with a coo. “We’re gonna get along great, I can tell.” With a wink, he stripped off his black leather coat and tossed it in the back. He pulled out a small notepad from his bag and set it on the dash before he grabbed the coffee. “For future reference, I like my coffee like my women.”

Audrey gave him a wary stare, her coffee cup poised in mid-air.

“Hot and sweet.” His smile turned playful as he took his first sip.

Great. One of
those
guys.
Bad pickup lines and infantile shoes. Audrey turned her head to lock the doors and rolled her eyes. The notorious Ethan Tanner was a wolf in awkward-adolescent-wannabe-player skin. This was going to be a long trip.

“But it’s gonna take a lot more than coffee to soften me up just to write a puff piece about your campaign.” Ethan clicked on his seatbelt and settled into his seat, absorbing the very air that surrounded her. Audrey plastered on her Peacemaker face and gave him an intent look.

“I’m not interested in glorified advertising.”

“Then what
are
you interested in?” Those gray eyes bored straight back into hers with more sincerity than the words themselves. Her breath caught for a second before she spoke.

“The truth. A piece that shows the potential from my platforms and the good they can do. Something that makes people’s lives—”

A snore broke her concentration, and Ethan’s head lay against the foggy window, mouth open. Audrey scowled. This guy took nothing seriously. Half of her mind told her to push him out of the car. Instead she threw the gear into Reverse and pulled out.

His snore broke into a chuckle. “Sorry, but you politicians need to lighten up. I asked what
you
were interested in. Not my article. What do you like to do when you’re not kissing babies, posing for pictures, and negotiating between a bunch of good ol’ boys?”

By the time he finished chuckling at her, Audrey had pulled out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The heat from her cheeks could have warmed the entire car to tropical levels. Despite the patience she had cultivated as The Peacemaker, this guy certainly tested her levels in just sixty seconds.

“Wyatt Williams may have an entire portfolio of glad-handing head shots, but while he’s busy saying ‘cheese’ to anyone with a camera, I’ve been working in Austin to negotiate settlements on the budget, education, and setting up the Crisis Center. Turning a room full of stubborn politicians may not be as glamorous to your newspaper, but it accomplishes a lot.”

Ethan raised his eyebrows and stared at her with a silly half smile.

“What?” she blurted.

“You have pumpkin latte on your upper lip.”

Audrey licked her upper lip.
Shit. All of that to prove my seriousness as a politician, and I pull a milk ad.
She grabbed a napkin from the tray and wiped her mouth. “You were going to let me keep pontificating with coffee on my lip, weren’t you?”

“Of course. It looked delicious.”

Audrey crumpled up the napkin and threw it at him.

“Just tryin’ to loosen you up. You’ve been around donors and voters too much, and I want to get to know the real Audrey Allen.”

Her smile faltered and she fought to focus on the road signs as she merged onto the highway.
The real Audrey Allen. If only he knew.
It sounded almost haunting coming from a man who was just looking for scandals.

“This is the real me. No schmoozing or BS-ing.”

“Sure,” he tossed back, grabbing his notepad from the dash. “Bullshit is the official language of politics. But your dialect is sweeter.”

“Why, because I’m a woman?”

“You said it, not me.”

“Figures.”

“What figures?”

“Throughout history, the media has been more brutal to female candidates than men. You narrow in on them like heat-seeking missiles, and then criticize her cleavage and hair.”

“That’s bullshit.”

Audrey counted off the names on her fingers as she steered the wheel. “Hillary Clinton, Sarah Palin, Michelle Bachman…”

“Oh, come on…they asked for it! Everything they said deserved to be ripped.”

“The only politicians that
deserved
that kind of brutality were dictators: Hitler, Stalin, Chavez, Castro. And they all disbanded the free press.”

“Yeah, because none of them had thick skin. Couldn’t take the heat.”

“And you can?”

“I’m not running for office.”

“Or perhaps you fear exposing the skeletons in your closet.”

“I welcome the exposure,” he laughed. “Every day, if the law would let me.”

The sparkle in his eyes unsettled her stomach. Everything about him crawled under her skin, lighting a fire to argue with him. To prove him wrong. To prove he was a rake. Prove she wasn’t like every stereotypical candidate and meant what she said. And his gorgeous teeth kept smiling through it.
Prick
.

“What skeletons are in your closet, I wonder—or should I say under your mattress—that makes you so good at uncovering the bones others try to hide?”

“I’m as clean as a virgin’s underwear.”

Audrey nearly gagged at the imagery.

“You’re welcome to check under my mattress yourself,” Ethan elaborated. “In fact, while you’re at it—”

“Not a chance, Tanner.”

“Well, the offer stands, if you’re interested.”

“I’m interested in what you plan to write.”

“Don’t know yet. Need to get to know you first.”

The thought of a journalist “getting to know her” made her nauseous. Or was that anticipation roiling around in her gut? Something she hadn’t felt since…

Miranda was going to get the biggest kick in the butt when she got back. If her campaign wasn’t ruined by then.

Bantering with Ethan for the next hour grew exhausting. For every topic he had an opinion, and every one was the opposite of hers. One of the only things she liked about him was that he never got angry. He let any tiny jab roll off his shoulder and threw it back in her face like a water balloon.

Twenty minutes out from Mackineer, the trees grew taller as the colors in the leaves deepened to plum, crimson, and gold. The narrow farm road curved around forest bends and the shoulder disappeared, replaced by a thicker forest and muddy grass. A light mist began to fall on the windshield and Audrey flipped on the defroster.

“Couple things before we get there.” Audrey lifted her coffee for another sip, but it was empty.

“Ground rules?”

“Something like that. First, you’re staying in the hotel. My parents don’t have a spare room or wi-fi, so you’ll probably prefer it anyway.”

“It’s the twenty-first century; who doesn’t have wi-fi?”

“Second,” Audrey ignored him and continued. “And this is not negotiable. Whatever you plan on writing, it stays on me. I’m the one running for the senate seat, not my parents or siblings. They’re small town folks and don’t have as thick a skin for the media to stab. You can come at me all you want, but not them.”

“You really think I’m out for blood, don’t you?”

“You don’t write puff pieces or human interest stories. From everything I’ve read, you specialize in exposures and scandals. By the way, how did you uncover all that dirt on the county commissioner?”

Ethan smiled and shrugged. “Find a weakness and poke around.”

“Exactly. I don’t want any of my family’s weaknesses poked around and plastered across the front page. They have big hearts and an even bigger kitchen and they’re the best people I know. I don’t want them hurt by anyone. So whatever you’re after, leave them out of it. Deal?”

“You have a lot of rules.”

“Deal?” she repeated, louder.

Ethan sighed and scribbled on his pad. “Deal.”

“Thank you.”

“So tell me who I’m about to meet. Start with your siblings.” He kept scribbling on his pad and Audrey noticed the way he wrote with his index finger covering his thumb.
He must suffer from hand cramps like crazy. The size of his palm, too…were other areas as proportionate?

Audrey flipped the defroster to her face and prayed she didn’t look as red as she felt.

“Adam is eleven months older than me, but we were in the same grade through school. He went into the Army and did two tours in Afghanistan. Now he’s married and a deputy in the Mackineer Sheriff’s Department.”

“So, blackmailing him for dirty stories is probably a no?”

“Go for it. You’ll have a comfy overnight stay in the local holding cell. Save your newspaper the cost of the hotel.”

Ethan laughed and scribbled more.

“Addy is sixteen.”

“Addy?”

“Adelaide. Real big into pageants. Trying to save her winnings for a powder blue Mustang. And world peace, of course.”

“A southern belle.” Ethan leaned back in his seat and studied her. “Were you ever into beauty pageants?”