After I pulled out my phone, it took me less than a minute to find the contact information I needed for one of the top daily political papers in the country. My fingers were steady as I hit connect, my breathing calm and even—the complete opposite of the hurricane of emotions swirling around inside me—as I was connected to the editor.
The guy barely got finished answering in that smooth New England accent of his before I was introducing myself. There was cynicism in the man’s voice as he asked me question after question, and I fed him every answer he could ever want. The great Senator Calvin Samson had never been part of a scandal before. No, no. He was far too smart and damn well too rich ever to have his perfect name touched by that dreaded “S” word.
But there was no amount of money that could stop me from opening my mouth now. Calvin’s mistake was going after my mother, when he should have just come after me. Mom, she hadn’t even known what year it was, let alone all the secrets the love of her life had confessed over the years of their relationship.
Me, on the other hand?
I knew every dirty little secret that had ever touched Calvin.
Yeah, he really should have just taken me out.
Because I was going to make him pay in the most painful way someone like him could be struck. Straight to the ego and a direct hit to his reputation. By the time I was done with him, there would be nothing left. Everything he ever imagined he was would be nothing more than trash. I didn’t care whose name got dragged down with him.
Not now.
Not when I was left with nothing more than a tin can containing my mother’s ashes.
“You realize I can’t just take your word for any of this right?” Mr. New England Editor told me, but his skepticism was gone now. In its place, the not-so-carefully-concealed glee of someone who knew he was about to unravel the story of his career.
“I’m well aware,” I assured him. “I have all the proof you could ever possibly want. I even have my DNA test on file, showing that I’m really his daughter, if that makes you feel any better.”
“How much?” was his final question.
“I’m aware of the amount of money you normally pay for this kind of story. I don’t want it. Instead, donate the full amount to the Alzheimer’s Association in Leslie Murdock’s name.”
“Fair enough. Get me that proof, Miss Murdock, and I’ll have this story breaking on our website by dinnertime. It will be all over the world by tomorrow morning. I suggest whatever affairs you need to get in order, you take care of them now, because I don’t imagine Samson will take kindly to any of this becoming public knowledge.”
I felt Colt at my back as a twisted, evil smile lifted my lips. “I’m hoping for it.”
Hanging up, I turned to face the still-seething biker. Throughout my whole conversation on the far side of the funeral home, Colt had been arguing with the director. He hadn’t heard anything I’d just unloaded to the editor, but seeing the smile on my face, I knew he understood something major was about to go down.
“What did you do?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed on my face.
“You should head back to Creswell Springs,” I advised. “It’s best if you’re with your people when this shit hits the fan.”
“We’ll head back when everything with your mom is sorted. But what the hell is going to hit the fan, Kell?”
“All those secrets I was spilling to Michaels instead of feeding him information on you?” He nodded, but the wheels were already turning the right way in
his head, and his shoulders stiffened. “They’re no longer secrets.”
“Damn it, Kelli!” he exploded, pulling the director’s attention to us. I gave Colt a meaningful look, and he lowered his voice. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? Samson is going to be out for blood when this hits the front pages.”
“I’m aware, and I look forward to it. I would give just about anything to be a fly on his office wall when he finds out I sold all his secrets.”
His jaw clenched and he caught my hands, holding them in a viselike grip in one hand as he looked down at me with dread and concern for me bright in his eyes. “What secrets did you reveal? How much damage did you do?”
“All of them. Every single dirty secret Calvin has will be the hot topic at every dinner table from here to DC tonight.” Pulling free of his hold, I pushed open the front door and walked out to my car.
Getting in the driver’s side, I waited for him to fold his long legs into the passenger’s seat, and I started the car. The drive to the bank took fifteen minutes, tops, and the moment I walked in, I produced my safety deposit key. Once the manager appeared, we were shown back to the vault, and as soon as the large metal box was retrieved, I waited for the manager to leave us before opening it.
“What the fuck is in there?” Colt demanded as he waited impatiently for me to lift the lid.
“Retribution,” I told him calmly as I took out the contents. Stacks of money I’d put in there that Derrick Michaels had paid for the same secrets I’d just given away freely. I didn’t need that money now, but I wasn’t going to give it away. It would go a long way toward starting a new life somewhere no one knew me or Calvin Samson. Next, I pulled out the flash drives that held my birth certificate, DNA records, and every other sordid secret my father had. Unfortunately, my mother’s name was linked to some of those secrets, but it couldn’t be helped. She never should have climbed into bed with the devil if she wasn’t prepared for the gates of hell to smack her on the ass.
It also meant my own name was going to be everywhere. I needed somewhere to go before the press started stalking me. “I’ll drive you back to Creswell Springs and then take a flight to Mexico from there,” I told him as I shoved everything into the backpack I’d taken out of my trunk. “But first, I need to stop at the internet café around the block.”
“Why the hell are you talking about Mexico?” he demanded in frustration.