“Good to know. I’ll up my glitter game and plan to see you around ten.”
When the call ended, Carrie looked down at her t-shirt and jeans. It wasn’t exactly strip club material, and she wasn’t sure she had time to go home if she planned to spend any time at all helping finish getting the club ready to open.
“Olivia’s here. She always has her makeup bag with her and clothes in her car.”
Carrie hugged Darci. “You’re brilliant. Let’s go find her.”
“I can’t believe you’re going to a strip club without me.”
Carrie laughed.“It’s for work. I’m hoping this will convince Tom that I don’t belong in the newsroom. I belong out in the world finding stories.”
Darci squeezed her hand. “We both know why you’re stuck in the newsroom right now, Carrie. You had a traumatic experience. It’s a good thing for you to take a breather every once in a while.”
She didn’t want to fight with Darci, but at least she wasn’t pushing a therapist on her the way her boss was trying to. Everyone had her wellbeing at heart, but she hated feeling trapped.
Darci shook her head. “I see that look in your eyes. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry I brought it up. Let’s go find Olivia.”
•••
“Gage, stop calling me. I told you I’ll be there and I will.”
Peter Mercer tugged his tie off and tossed it into the passenger seat of his SUV. Work had been slow today but long, which was often the case at the Secret Service.
“This isn’t Gage, it’s Reggie. You going out to the warehouse to check out Exposure? I haven’t been yet.”
Peter smiled. He hadn’t talked to Reggie in close to a year. “Oh hey, Reg. Yeah, I’m heading out there right now. What’s up?”
“Did you read about Upwood?”
“What about him? I’ve been in work-mode for a while.”
“Someone tried to deliver a bomb to his house.”
Peter whistled. “How credible was the threat?”
“It went off in a mail truck at a distribution center and nobody was hurt, thank God.”
“So how did they determine the bomb was for Upwood?”
“Hell if I know. That’s just the word around town.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “You know how I feel about the word around town, Reg. What does any of this have to do with me?”
He turned into the parking lot of the warehouse and shut the engine off.
“Nothing. I just thought it would make you happy that someone tried to blow the bastard up.”
Peter opened the door. “I try not to think about him if I can help it. He’s not my problem. I’m at the warehouse. I gotta go.”
“You’re no fun anymore, Mercer.”
“Because sitting around wishing death on someone who isn’t worth the dirt on my shoe is so much fun? Come out to the warehouse with me.”
“No can do. I’m out of town on an assignment.”
“But you’re retired.”
“I freelance sometimes.”