“That’ll be all, gentlemen,” I said as I turned around. “Since there’s no fire, your services are no longer needed.”
Chapter 22
Sam
A Few Days Later
“WHATCHA GOT FOR ME, Lance?”
“Sit down and buckle up, sweet cheeks. We got ourselves a doozy. So, no real information on Emma except what you found. Sorry, hun. But, this Gretchen girl is fantastic.”
“How so?” I asked. “What did you find?”
‘It wasn’t what I found on her, but what I found on people like her. Apparently, she’s not the only person who has been fed false information about our Mr. Steele.”
“What do you mean?”
“Girl, she ain’t the only reporter who’s gotten shit information on our man. There have been several complaints filed against a nameless, faceless individual about improper factual information. And all of it surrounding our luscious Derek.”
“Could you not call him that?” I asked.
“Oh, honey. You know it’s true. I bet the muscles that man is rockin’ underneath that suit could rock my world.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath as I tried to chase away the memory of his body against mine.
“Anyway, none of the reporters gave up who this false prophet is, but I’ll keep digging. But our fireball minx of a reporter isn’t the only one who’s been duped by him,” Lance said.
“Any reason to assume it’s a man?” I asked.
“Isn’t it always a man, honey? Women want to destroy hearts. Men want to destroy reputations. Remember that.”
That was actually a really good point.
“Got anything else?”
“A phone number for Miss Gretchen. I figured you’d wanna call her and have a little girl talk.”
“Send it my way. Thanks, Lance.”
“Anything for you, beautiful. I’m out!”
Something didn’t sit right with me about Emma, but the Gretchen trail was all I had to chase for now. I knew Derek wasn’t a fan of John watching over him these past few nights, but I didn’t have time to unpack whatever macho bullshit was going on with him. I needed time away from him to look into Emma without him pressing me every step of the way. It worried me that he kept stepping up to her defense, but what was even more worrying was the constant mixed signals I was getting from her.
I sat at my computer as the night blanketed the sky. The stars were twinkling, and there were horns honking in the distance, indicative of the impatient people who were scattered across the terrain of San Francisco. I sat in my chair next to the fireplace, my laptop balanced on my lap. There was something about Emma I couldn’t put my finger on, and I was determined to figure it out.
But the more I kept digging, the more questions went unanswered.
I grew impatient with what I was finding. I grew impatient with the loose strings and the unanswered questions and the new questions that kept piling on top of each other. My phone rang out a message from Lance containing Gretchen’s number. Even if she wouldn’t give up her source, I was still suspicious of her visit to Vegas, especially with her appearances at Derek’s company.
So, I punched it in, and I called.
“This is Gretchen speaking. How many I help you?”
I turned on the waterworks and sniffled, trying to mimic a cry as best as I could. I couldn’t call the woman out of thin air and expect her to believe I was calling as his personal assistant. So, I used the only other excuse we had in our arsenal.
I used the girlfriend lie.
“Gretchen? Is this, um, Gretchen Lancaster?” I asked.