Page 42 of The Hardest Hit
“You’re having your photographer follow my family around. I can only assume that there’s something you would like to know.”
“I’m…” She set her sandwich down and looked from Aiden to Jackson and back again. “Oh.”
“Yes,” said Jackson. “Oh.” He went over to her window and adjusted the blinds so no one could see in. People generally found this intimidating. He leaned against the window frame and waited for Aiden to do his thing.
“It’s not illegal,” began the editor, who looked like she was sweating.
Aiden threw down an envelope on her desk. “Cease and desist,” he said. “Or I’ll sue. And not just the Intelligencer. You personally, Marnie.”
“I… This is not… I didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?” demanded Aiden. “Direct Mr. Harding to stalk myself and my family?”
Marnie’s mouth pinched in an uncomfortable straight line. “I apologize,” she said. “I will tell Mr. Harding to stop.”
“What I’m more interested in,” said Jackson quietly, “is why you sent him in the first place.”
Marnie shifted uncomfortably.
“We’ve taken a look through the Intelligencer back issues, we’ve taken a look at you.”
Marnie looked up at him, shocked.
“You write a reasonable editorial in every issue. And you make, at least, an attempt at fact-checking. You’ve also got student loans and a mounting rejection pile from job applications. You want out of this place, so why are you targeting us?”
“I’m not,” she muttered.
“Someone is,” said Aiden, sitting down in the seat across from her desk. “And I want to know who.” Marnie didn’t say anything but looked uncomfortable. “I have a friend at the American Bureau of the Guardian. He could use someone who can translate right-wing bluster into coherent news. That person could be you.” Marnie’s eyes widened. “Or I can go ahead and file my lawsuits.”
“I roll over and you pay up.”
“That is the general gist,” agreed Aiden, leaning back in the chair, looking relaxed. Marnie looked tense enough that Jackson was a little worried about her crying or something equally awkward. Suddenly, she straightened her spine.
“And what’s he along for?” she asked, jerking her head at Jackson.
“The ride,” said Jackson.
“Really? Because I have to say that it feels very intimidating for you two to barge into my office and threaten me.”
“And I have to say it feels very intimidating to have Monroe Harding following my relatives around,” said Aiden.
Marnie rolled her eyes. “Your family is already costing us an arm and a leg in damages and hospital fees. I wouldn’t worry about her if I were you.”
“I beg your pardon?” Aiden glanced at Jackson in surprise. Jackson shrugged.
“Evan threw Monroe’s camera on the ground and Dominique stomped on his foot with one of those five hundred dollar stilettos of hers yesterday and broke his third metatarsal or something.”
Aiden burst out laughing. “Well, to be perfectly honest, he’s lucky that she didn’t take a baseball bat to his head.”
“Or that Evan didn’t do more than break his camera,” said Jackson. “Not to mention what would happen if Max got a hold of him.”
“Also true,” agreed Aiden. “That is the lovely part about her being shacked up with law enforcement. But it doesn’t change anything—I’m still going to sue you. And then I’ll probably sue Harding and demand that he be arrested for assault.”
“Him?” gasped Marnie, flushing in outrage.
“I have a lot of money,” said Aiden, in his sweetest tone. “And I like to put places like this out of business. Don’t tell me you’re actually attached to it? Do you really want to defend this…” he waved around the office, “place?”
For a moment Marnie looked like she was going to argue. “No,” she said, deflating. “I don’t. It’s a bullshit hell-hole for people that have no soul and have lost their minds to a fear of a changing racial landscape.”
