Chapter 20 #3
She connected to the internet and typed in the address of the paper where she’d submitted the article.
She’d thought it would be the lead, but it wasn’t.
The lead was an article about Zajac, who’d been murdered.
The authorities in Hungary believed the murder was the work of an assassin.
Someone had slipped into his private residence and killed two of his guards before killing Zajac.
Her article followed the headline, and the comments below her article were brutal.
Several suggested Zajac had been killed by someone he’d crossed.
She read more, switched to a different news source, and continued reading.
Her article was picked up by Reuters. She read another interview from the Hungarian Chief of Law Enforcement, who reminded everyone she was wanted for murder.
The fake video was linked to the article.
She clicked the link, but instead of the video, a page appeared stating that the video had been identified as a deepfake and removed.
She drew a deep breath and continued to read, going to the Hungarian papers.
That was where she found information gold.
Or perhaps it wasn’t gold. It gave a timeline.
She read the information and looked up at Blake. He was staring at her.
“What did you do last night?” she asked.
“You know what I did. You’ve deduced what I do for a living.” It was a statement. There was no anger, no emotion attached to the statement.
She put her phone on her lap and stared out the window, looking at the clouds that they were flying above.
He didn’t ask her any questions. He didn’t push her, nor did he ask her not to reveal who he was or what he’d done.
She was a reporter. Information like this was something she would have rushed to file.
But that was before. Before being framed for a crime she didn’t commit.
Before being rescued by a gruff man who wasn’t supposed to be her protector.
He was in the country to kill Zajac, yet he saved her from the same fate as her mentor.
He wasn’t an assassin, no he was … justice.
Zajac was vile and evil and profited from other people’s suffering.
Suffering he’d created, catered, served up, and suffering that had made him so rich that he could play the part of a patron. He wasn’t. He was a demon.
She glanced over at Blake, who cocked his head and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“étienne once told me not every story needs or should be told. Sometimes the best thing a reporter can do is look away.” She knew in her heart that was what she needed to do. No, that was what she was doing.
Blake leaned forward and put his hand over hers. The warmth of his touch made her realize how cold she was, and she turned her hand over and clasped fingers with him. “I’m not asking you to look away. I wouldn’t do that.”
She stared at him, seeing the absolute truth in his eyes.
“I know. That’s the reason I can look away.
I know who is in the right in this situation.
I’ve seen the entire story, and I know that even with the evidence I provided in my story, he probably would’ve been able to buy himself out of the charges. ”
“He’s done it numerous times,” Blake agreed.
“I saw that information in the Guardian brief. Whoever gave me the information wanted me to see that he was almost untouchable. I knew submitting the article was keeping the target on my back, and I was willing to live with that because it was what I could do to stop him.”
“I did what I could to stop him.” Blake stared at her.
She nodded. “And you did. I know the truth, Blake. But nothing I can say will add anything to the story that has already been told or the result that has happened.” She cleared her throat. “Is that your job?”
He nodded once. “Only monsters who slip through legal nets and only the worst of the worst.”
She looked out the window, and a small smile spread across her lips. “Sometimes the world needs a silent hero, doesn’t it?”
She glanced back at him, and he shook his head. “I’m not a hero.”
“To the mom whose son doesn’t die because he has access to guns and drugs, you are. To the young child who isn’t hit by a stray bullet furnished by Zajac, you are. To the person who isn’t given the opportunity to buy the synthetic drugs and become an addict, you are. To me, you are.”
She stared past him, deep in thought. She’d always known the world was a ruthless place.
She didn’t deny she was just like ninety-nine percent of the rest of the population and waited for someone, somewhere, to address the wrongs of the world.
Perhaps people like Blake were those people.
The ones who did what no one else could or would.
With everything that had happened, her view of right, wrong, and justice had changed, but in her heart, she knew it had changed for the better.
Blake tugged her hand, startling her out of her thoughts.
She unfastened her belt and moved over to his seat.
He helped her sit across his lap, and he held her like she was precious.
And maybe, to him, she was. She hoped he felt that way about her.
It was something she wouldn’t broach, not yet, because some things had to be organic.
Some things, like love, needed to develop.
She closed her eyes and let the warmth of the man she was falling in love with surround her.