Page 51 of Bastard

The fallout wasn’t easy for Sam either. That’s how I wound up in yet another television station—this time in New York—while Sam granted an exclusive interview to Julia Aston.

The tiny investigative reporter shook my hand. “And you’re sure you don’t want to join Samantha?”

Not only did I not want to sit in front of a camera, but strategy wise it would be a terrible idea. “I’m fine with Sam having the spotlight.”

Sam laughed with Storm while someone worked to place her microphone. Even though I knew she was under a lot of stress, she seemed genuinely happy. Her hair was down. Something about it making people relate to her more? I don’t know. I’m not sure how hair does that, but she did look very beautiful. She wore a suit with a cream blouse, blue slacks and jacket.

“I must say, it’s quite a lot of fun interviewing Samantha. Not just because her story is so fascinating, but because you and your friends bring an excellent atmosphere. So often my interviewees are too nervous to laugh.”

I shrugged. “You only live once. Might as well laugh instead of worry.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Yes.”

From there it was pretty boring standing guard while they got Sam situated in a chair, changed the lighting twice, double checked all the mics, and then did it all again for Julia Aston.

I couldn’t stop scanning the room. They limited the number of crew for the taping for privacy reasons, and a news station was the last place I expected to find a deranged fan, but my nerves had been riding high ever since the fight at the Saloon.

The interview began. It started off pleasant enough. Julia asked about Sam’s new life and how she settled in. Then she got right to the point.

“It seems you’re in the news every day, however last week the headlines took a turn.”

Sam nodded along thoughtfully, as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Your head of security, your personal bodyguard, is also a member of a motorcycle club known as Devil’s Wrath. Did you know this before you hired him?”

“Of course. I’ve known Jace Malone all my life.”

“You were childhood friends?” Julia made one of her classic head tilts.

“We were. He was my best friend. He lived down the street and spent as much time at my house as his own.”

“Devil’s Wrath is a well-known motorcycle club with rumors of ties to illegal activities.”

Sam sat still, a small smile playing on her lips. “Is that a question?”

Julia smiled back. “Knowing all this, why make Jace Malone your head of security?”

“Well, Julia, you’re an investigative reporter. How safe do you think I am right now?”

“Not very. There are now twenty-four high traffic websites dedicated to conspiracy theories about your life. You’re also a very wealthy woman.”

“And members of my biological family tend to meet untimely ends.”

Julia blinked. Sam surprised her.

“What are you saying? Do you believe some of these accidents were in fact, not accidents?”

“I’m saying I don’t know. I’m an outsider. I may never know the answers to those questions. And you’re right. The interest in my life and money has increased the danger around me. Now,” Sam shifted forward, her hair moving in some way that was weirdly hypnotic. Maybe that’s what they meant. “If you were in my shoes, who would you trust at your side? A stranger? Someone who might have a vendetta against you, or maybe just not like you? Or the one person you trust more than anyone else on the planet? Because I trust my oldest friend to keep me safe.”

“He started Red Wrath Security five years ago, but it’s been a small operation up until being hired by you. That doesn’t worry you? That he’s not as qualified as an experienced personal protection specialist?”

Sam’s smile twitched wider. “Oh, he’s highly qualified.”

“There’s clearly affection there. Are the other allegations true? Are you more than employer and employee?”

Sam’s gaze dropped to her lap where she had her hands clasped together. “We’re adults now, so it naturally brings those questions up, doesn’t it? Can a man and a woman be friends? And is it different as adults? I can’t call him a big dumb poopy head—although the next time I’m mad maybe I should give that a go.”

Julia Aston laughed. A full, heartfelt laugh. “I don’t know if that would be considered professional!”

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