Would Chase want to get rid of her out of fear of bad publicity?
Seyla waved a hand in front of her. “I’m fine. No big deal. I hope Vanessa is okay, though.”
Her friend nodded. “While you were busy, Chase checked for signs of a concussion. Afterward, he drove her to the hospital.”
Chase laughed. “It’s been a long time since I worked as an EMT. A lifetime ago.” The wistful smile on the man’s face faded. He nodded to his cane. “Before this.”
Jessa squeezed Chase’s shoulder, then returned her focus to Seyla. “You guys could have been shot. How is that not a big deal?”
“It’s a huge deal,” Chase added, running a hand through his blond hair.
“You’re probably right,” Seyla answered.
“You’ve got to take this seriously. Some maniac out there wants to hurt you. Next time, you could be killed.” With his walking cane, Chase maneuvered himself to lean on the desk. He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “Not only that, but if we have one more incident like the last one, we’ll lose the Wellington grant and the rest of our sponsors. We can’t afford more bad publicity. You know I think the world of you, Seyla. I wouldn’t have recommended you for the Operations Manager position if you weren’t perfect for the job. But one more of Victor Soros’ condemning articles, and the sanctuary won’t recover.”
“I know,” she admitted.
Jessa turned pale. “Do you think the sanctuary is in danger of closing? I thought the new zip line brought in a good amount of revenue.”
“It’s not enough,” Chase said. “It’s not only the grant money that helps us. It’s also the publicity attached to winning it.” He frowned. “Or not winning it. After years of getting it, it’s bound to raise suspicions if we don’t.”
“I’m hoping the interview today discussing our enrichment program will help,” Seyla said. “I’ve been preparing for weeks for it.”
Jessa flopped into a chair. “I can’t lose this job.” She fluffed a hand through her short blond hair. “I love working here and Nate’s finally beginning to develop friendships at school. These past few years he’s been so withdrawn. He finally resembles the little boy he used to be before his dad died.” She sat up in the chair. “I can't uproot him again. There must be something we can do.”
Seyla hugged her friend, one of the few she had at her new job. “We won’t surrender without a fight. I promise. For Nate. And these animals are counting on us, too.” She let go of Jessa, who swiped a few tears from her cheeks.
“You’re right,” Jessa said with a watery smile. “We can do this. Whatever it takes. I won’t let Nate lose another thing in his life. He’s lost too much already.”
“If anyone can revive this place, it’s you, Seyla,” Chase teased. “Just make sure you live long enough to do it, okay?”
“Along those lines,” Jessa added, “I was thinking about what Hannah Ponz—”
A loud screech cut through the air, followed by the cold voice of Ada, the receptionist, over the intercom system. “Seyla, there is a Jax Marcum here to talk to you.”
Seyla wilted.
Now what?
At Jessa’s questioning glance, she plastered a stiff smile on her face. “That,” she said, readying herself for battle, “is the man who helped us on the trail.”
“So why do you look like you’re going out to meet the enemy?” Jessa asked.
Seyla straightened her shirt, lifting her chin. “Because he’s also the man who wants to buy and close the sanctuary.” She straightened her spine, ignoring Jessa’s gasp and Chase’s sputtered questions, and marched to the front lobby.
Whatever the problem, it had to be addressed fast. There couldn’t be any distractions to shift her focus off the interview. The sanctuary was counting on her, and Jax Marcum defined the word “distraction”.
Seyla stopped short on the sand-colored, speckled linoleum when she reached the small pale green reception lobby.
Where did he go?
After searching for a bit, she hurried outside to the U-shaped parking lot and checked the length of the sidewalk. No sign of him. She rounded the corner and ventured a few more feet, peering past the sanctuary van and several cars.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Queen Bee herself.”
Seyla’s spine stiffened at the sound of the unwelcome voice. She whipped around, only to be accosted by the combined stenches of alcohol, an unwashed body, and danger. Travis Yoder. She glanced behind him, but didn’t see anyone around. A marrow-deep wave of fear besieged her. Her elbows squeezed into her sides by instinct and her hands wrapped around her arms.
That odor. She gagged, failing to stave off the instantaneous response the smell triggered.