Rough Stock, the Novel Page 5

  “You’re really on this,” Charlie said, looking at me with a strange expression.

  “Of course, what did you expect?” I replied with a frown.

  “Whoa, no reason to shoot me daggers,” he laughed and held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t doubt your skills, I just thought of you as somebody who would be more interested in writing about fashion or entertainment.”

  I raised an eyebrow and shot him a look that would have burned a hole right through his chest had I been gifted with that particular superpower. “Seriously?” I tried to sound upset, but I couldn’t really be. He hit the nail on the head, up until the rodeo piece I had been mostly the paper’s fluff piece writer.

  He didn’t know that though.

  “It’s a compliment, darlin’,” he said with that lazy, crooked smile I was already coming to love. “You’re such a delicious little morsel I couldn’t imagine you crawling around looking at the foundations of buildings or getting yourself dirty.”

  “Who’s to say I don’t like getting dirty?” I asked with a grin.

  His expression changed from teasing to serious immediately. “Oh darlin’, don’t mess with me like that or I’ll be likely to toss you over my shoulder and find a private spot to test that challenge.”

  My body warmed in response and I began to picture him pushing me up against the wall in one of the filthy back alleys behind the apartment building I was investigating…and the thought turned me on.

  This wasn’t like me, it’s not as though I was prim and proper — I’d done some crazy things in my day — but this was new, fantasizing about a cowboy taking me hard in the alley, where had that come from?

  Charlie had that effect on a girl though; the things my mind was delivering to my head were downright scandalous. And so very intriguing.

  “Well, hold that thought,” I told him brusquely, trying to refocus and get my story foundation developed before I lost concentration and ended up with nothing for Mr. Monty. “I have a job to do.”

  “Of course, darlin’,” he said in a bemused tone and held his hand out as if to guide me. I let him take my hand in his, he picked up my camera bag and we turned towards the building in question.

  It was a twenty storey residential tower in one of the city’s worst areas. There was some major hardcore gentrification going on in this part of town though, and this building was supposed to pave the way to get other projects through.

  I’d done a bunch of research on the planning this morning, and it did seem exciting if they managed to get everything built over the next few years.

  The problem with this particular building was that it held twenty percent social housing, and the developer was the city planner’s brother in law. There had been many complaints coming in that the low income housing units had been thrown together with shoddy materials, and even the building’s foundation was showing signs of wear and tear after only six months.

  The developer was paid for high-end goods and cut corners like mad, pocketing the five hundred thousand or so he’d been given for the low-income units and tax breaks for meeting his social housing component.

  I was determined to prove this and write one hell of a story on it. I hoped it would lead to more hard-hitting articles for our daily and even open up a future in investigative journalism.

  But with a handsome cowboy with a seductive smile and a body that wouldn’t quit by my side, I could barely remember to breathe, let alone think about my article.

  “Why don’t you wait here by the truck?” I said and turned back, taking the camera bag from him. “People won’t talk to me if you’re around.”

  He dropped my hand and gave me that crooked smile again, as if he’d just heard my inner thoughts and knew how much my body wanted him.

  “Sure thing,” he replied and leaned against the side of the pickup. “Let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

  His gaze raked over me with that last sentence, his intentions clear as lust sparked in his eyes.

  I flushed and shot him a stern look. “I’ll be fine. I won’t be long, maybe twenty minutes or so.”

  At that I turned and walked away and I swear I could feel the heat of his gaze piercing me from behind, the weight of his desire sliding along my body as I moved.

  So of course I wiggled my hips ever so slightly with each step, making my ass move seductively and giving me a boost of adrenaline and a grin on my face.

  I wanted him, that much was true, but I also wanted to be a good reporter. Good reporters could swing their hips and flirt with handsome cowboys, as long as they kept their eyes on the prize and focused on the job when it mattered.

  And right now it mattered; it mattered enough that I didn’t run back to the truck and demand Charlie drive me home so I could climb his hot, hard body like a wild monkey and ride him like he was a bull.

  Chapter 13

  I stood in front of the door buzzer and scanned the list of names on the call display. I was searching for anybody living in apartments on the first three floors, but none of the call codes matched the apartment numbers. It was similar to my place, they didn’t want strangers to gain entry and know where somebody lived. It was for security but it was frustrating.

  I decided to take a chance and punch in one of the lower numbers, hoping it correlated to the floor they lived on.

  The first number I tried buzzed a few times until I was disconnected. They weren’t home.

  The second and third were the same, but the fourth picked up.

  “Hello?” It sounded like an elderly woman.

  “Hi there, my name is Morgan Reid, I’m from the Daily Times. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Who?”

  I repeated myself and heard hesitation in the old lady’s voice. “I’m trying to get information about the apartments, I heard there were problems with them already.”

  She paused and finally said, “Come in, apartment one-thirteen.”

  The door clicked and I opened it, turned around to look at the truck. Charlie was still propped up against it, showcasing his long, muscled legs and watching me like a hawk. When he saw me staring, he lifted his hand and tipped his hat at me. I could see his smug crooked smile from where I stood.

  I gave him a little wave and went inside to find the apartment owner so I could ask her some questions. She opened the moment I knocked, looked me up and down and squinted as she stared up at me.

  She was tiny, probably not even five feet tall, and thin in a tattered house robe. She had pink fluffy bunny slippers on, one missing both ears. Her face was lined with her years and her eyes were a faded blue.

  Her smile was amazing though, and hid her age. She must have been quite a looker in her youth.

  “A woman reporter, you’re like Lois Lane, from Superman,” she chuckled and invited me in.

  Her name was Florence Park and she was more than happy to show me the faulty construction on her little place. There were cracks in her walls, the flooring was already coming up in places and the plumbing under her bathroom sink was a constant drip of cold water.

  “I wouldn’t have minded if they’d given us cheaper materials,” she said. “It’s senior’s housing, I’m not fancy and I don’t expect the best. The problem is that things don’t work. What’s the use in that?”

  “I agree,” I told her. “Can I take some photographs to document what is happening? I can leave your name out of it if you’d like.”

  “Do what you need, dear,” she replied. “And use my name, I have no problem with that.”

  “Are you certain?” I asked and went over the contract she would have to sign if I were to use it.

  “You don’t get to my age by being a little wimp,” she chuckled. “If they have a problem with me complaining, they know how to shut me up. Come fix the damn place.”

  She was feisty and funny and so gracious, if she was the only one I could interview today I would be fine.

  “Could you tell me where else to find shoddy wo
rk?” I asked as I was leaving.

  “Try the parking garage,” she replied, “but not the one reserved for the fancy apartment owners, if you go to sub garage C you will see the cracks in the wall. They hide them in the other garages.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said and shook her hand. I slung my camera bag over my shoulder and headed towards the elevators.

  There were four elevators, but only one would service the low income housing levels. I pressed the lower garage button and waited as the car lurched and bounced all the way to the bottom.

  I stepped out and began to photograph the obvious signs of foundation breaking down, the cracks and leaks in the walls and the cracks in the pavement.

  I moved slowly through the parkade until I found myself at the entrance, where residents would drive in if they were returning home.

  I saw a button on the wall, pushed it and the metal garage door slid open noisily. I decided I’d spent enough time down here, so I walked up the ramp and followed it as it curved around into the daylight.

  I was at the back of the building and overtop of the garage access was a large sign that read, “Lower Floor Parking Only”. I snapped a couple photos, absolutely convinced that the developer had pocketed public funds meant for low-income housing and did the cheapest work he could possibly do.

  I was trembling in anticipation by the time I headed down the alleyway behind the building, excitement flared and sparked throughout my body and I could almost smell the story I was about to write.

  I loved being in the zone, when words flowed out of me and the details all meshed together as if controlled by some unseen force.

  If I hadn’t been in the zone and so excited about the story, I might have seen what hit me.

  I was halfway down the alley, humming to myself, when something dark came out of nowhere and smashed into the side of my head.

  I’m a little embarrassed to say that I dropped to my knees like a sack of potatoes. I’d taken self-defense classes in the past and had always assumed I’d fight back against an assailant like a pro.

  The reality of it was so different. Pain burst into my head and I squeezed my eyes shut against the bright wave of hurt that twisted in my body.

  “Fuck,” I cursed and moaned.

  “Stay out of our business, bitch,” a man’s rough voice said in my ear. He hit me again, this time from behind and not as hard. I cried out and fought hot tears filling my eyes. I couldn’t move from fear, my hands were glued to the side of my face and all my self-defense training was useless to me. I looked up to see a masked figure holding a baseball bat. He swung it up behind him, ready to slam it into me again. “If I catch you sniffing around here again, you won’t be making it out alive. You got that?”

  I sobbed and nodded and hunched over, prepared for him to hit me again.

  The blow never landed.

  Chapter 14

  My eyes were squeezed tight when I heard the man make a grunting noise and drop the baseball bat.

  I sat up to find Charlie grabbing him by the collar and raining blows onto the attacker’s hooded head.

  “Charlie!” I called out and the tall cowboy dropped the assailant and leapt towards me as I tried to stand.

  “Darlin’,” he exclaimed, “God dammit, what happened? Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” I replied miserably, my tears and hurt clogging my nose and making it difficult to breathe. I felt like a mess, a complete disaster in the face of such a gorgeous and composed man. “I think I’m okay.”

  I heard scuffling behind Charlie and we both turned to see the attacker running down the alley, leaving his baseball bat behind.

  “If I catch you again, you’re a dead man!” Charlie yelled after the fleeing figure. The attacker sped up at that and turned the corner at the end of the building and was out of sight. “I think I got a few good punches in at least,” Charlie said, shaking his hand.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied, my sobs slowing down as I tried to regain my dignity. “I didn’t think this would happen.”

  “Don’t apologize to me,” Charlie said and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. Of course he had a handkerchief, he was perfect. He wiped the tears off my cheeks and handed it to me to blow my nose. He even turned away slightly to give me privacy as I did so.

  I didn’t know what to do with it afterwards so I balled it up and stuffed it into my pocket. “I’ll get that back to you when I clean it up,” I said, fighting tears as the pain swelled and receded in my head like the tides in the ocean. “I’m sorry.”

  Charlie turned back to face me, steadied me with one hand and used his fingers under my chin to tilt my face up to him. “I told you, don’t apologize,” he said as he scanned my face and stared into my eyes. I thought he was revving up to kiss me or something, but he didn’t move.

  I wanted him to kiss me though; I really did, even in the state I was in.

  “We need to get you to a hospital, darlin’,” he said at last. “Your pupils are all out of whack and you’re having trouble focusing.”

  I wanted to protest, to let him know that I was fine and that I could take care of myself, but he started to blur in front of me and the next thing you knew, I was falling right into his arms.

  So much for being a strong, independent woman.

  I was just lucky to have a man like Charlie there to catch me.

  I felt him lift me, collect my things, and carry me back to his truck.

  I was almost aware of getting to an emergency room and being taken in straight away. I heard Charlie tell them not to worry about the cost when they checked me for insurance, and honestly, my heart pitter-pattered at that.

  What kind of man does this anymore? What kind of man takes care of his woman, through and through? It felt old fashioned and maybe a little out of date, but it felt so real.

  My whole adult life I’d taken care of myself and distanced myself from my family. I’d moved out early and never had a roommate and rarely committed to a man long enough for him to show me this side of him.

  Charlie wasn’t the kind of guy who worried about modern rules of dating though, he wanted me and he let me know it.

  I felt myself drifting in and out of consciousness with Charlie’s huge hand engulfing mine as he waited next to me in the examining room.

  And I felt myself drifting a little closer to what I realized was love.

  Could I be falling in love with Charlie Mitchell, hot cowboy and bull rider extraordinaire?

  And if so, why did I keep thinking about the other three of the Huntington Four?

  After a short time the doctor came in, examined me and told me to stay awake as long as I could, and when I slept, have somebody monitor me to make sure I wasn’t slipping into a coma.

  “It’s a pretty standard concussion,” he explained. “If you want, I can contact the police and you can file a report.”

  “I’ll do that later,” I replied and tried to focus my eyes on him. “How long will I feel this wonky?”

  “Three or four days,” he said. “You should try to stay off your feet and don’t do anything that will strain yourself until then. Do you have somebody to help you?” He glanced at Charlie then, as if assuming Charlie was my boyfriend. I didn’t mind.

  “She’s got us,” Charlie replied and squeezed my hand in his. “I’m taking her home with me so she can get better without any worries.”

  “Excellent,” the doctor replied, handed him some pamphlets on caring for a head wound, and left the room.

  “Home with you?” I asked, widening my eyes in annoyance. “Since when did this happen?”

  “Since you were almost killed,” he replied and held tightly onto my hand. “When I saw you down like that, and saw that son of a bitch holding his bat ready to hit you again, I fucking lost it, Morgan. The thought of losing you—“

  His voice broke in anger and pain and the look in his eyes melted my heart. He really cared for me, and I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for him to see
me like that. He was old fashioned enough to feel like he needed to protect me, so in a sense, he felt like he’d failed at his job.

  “I’m okay, though.” I smiled and lifted my hand to his face to comfort him. “You saved me, Charlie. You saved my life. I owe you.”

  “You can repay me by coming out and letting us care for you,” he replied. “I can’t stomach the thought of you in your place all alone.”

  “Fine,” I sighed, and let myself fall into the comfort of having people who cared for me. “I’ll come out, but I have to be back in town by the weekend. I have a story to write.”

  “We’ll see,” Charlie replied with a cheeky grin and leaned over to kiss me.

  And with a kiss like that, I won’t lie, doubt crept into my determination.

  Chapter 15

  We swung by my office to show Mr. Monty my doctor’s note and pick up a few things from my desk.

  “So he hit you out of nowhere?” Mr. Monty asked incredulously.

  “Yeah, I didn’t see him coming,” I said.

  “You know what this means, right?” Mr. Monty replied excitedly.

  “It means she’s off the story,” Charlie growled and placed his hand on my shoulder protectively.

  “No, it means I’m on the right track.” I smiled and Mr. Monty nodded his head with enthusiasm.

  Charlie frowned but I ignored it. He could protect me all he wanted, but he had to learn that my career meant the world to me. I had a story to write and I was going to keep working on it even out at his place.

  We left together, Selena’s eyes were almost bugging out of her head when I told her I was going back out to Huntington to recover, and I promised I’d text her all the details later on.

  I took him back to my little apartment so I could pack some things, and I watched him wander around taking it all in.

  “What do you think?” I asked after he’d circled the place a couple times.