Chapter 23

Kayla pushedthrough the glass door of Krowne and Associates with less enthusiasm than normal.

Ten years of running her own lobbying firm hadn’t dampened her daily excitement. She loved the many challenges and enjoyed pitting her intelligence against some of the most brilliant and cunning minds in the world.

Contrary to what Ash said, she didn’t play psychological games with people. But she did find amusement in watching folks chase their own tails. The door closed behind her and the automatic lock snicked into place. She wove her way through the office, lit only by a few twenty-four-seven safety lights in the ceiling.

After Ash’s abrupt exit, she’d gone to her in-home gym and tried to work off the nervous energy his visit had pumped into her body. But the free weights, 5k run, and yoga did nothing to diminish her feelings of restlessness.

Nor had strolling through the collections in her museum. Which was a first.

She’d considered texting her mom to see if she wanted to power walk a portion of the mountain-to-sea trail near the Folk Art Center, but couldn’t bring herself to send the message.

After the disastrous meeting at Hemingway’s, she had avoided any contact with her and the aunties. The memory of her aunties’ edict, and Jillian’s near silence, made bile rise into her throat.

Needing to fully engage her mind, Kayla abandoned her day off and went to the office. The scent of paper and progress flushed out the negative energy she’d been carrying and replaced it with purpose. Her sluggish footsteps found new life, and she was fairly flying to her desk when her intern’s placating voice stopped her in her tracks.

“I’m sorry you feel that way, Mr. O’Conn?—”

“I can assure you, sir—” Anger edged Gemma’s next words. “If you continue with the name-calling, I’ll be forced to hang up.”

Kayla course-corrected and made her way to the Pit, where the intern desks were stationed. The low-walled cubicles, four in the center of the office, allowed for a constant flow of communication and team engagement.

“I’m hanging up now. Call back when you’re more rational.” Gemma Niles clicked her computer’s touchpad to disconnect the angry caller and tore out her wireless earbuds. “Jerk.”

“Are you okay?” Kayla asked.

Startled, Gemma jumped up from her chair, sending her gorgeous black curls bouncing. “Kayla! I thought you were taking the day off.”

“So did I.” She waved a hand at the computer. “What was that all about?”

Gemma sighed. “Tommy O’Connor. He’s upset about our”—she made air quotes with her fingers—“lack of progress on his campaign.”

Kayla closed her eyes a moment and swore. “I’m sorry, Gemma. Calling him back fell off my radar.”

O’Connor was understandably invested in the firm’s success in ushering SB623 through the complicated process of the North Carolina General Assembly. Relaxing tight housing regulations could help local communities construct more housing, which would bring costs down across the board. Locals would stop losing their homes because they could no longer afford the taxes on a home they’d lived in for decades.

She understood Tommy’s passion. Until recently, all of the activist’s encounters with her staff had been cordial and collaborative. But he was starting to unravel.

The intern shrugged. “It’s not as though you don’t have a ton going on.” She hesitated a moment. “He’s getting more insistent and loud each time we speak.”

“I’m sorry he upset you.”

“No worries.”

“I’ll take care of Tommy. When he calls in the future, forward him to me, even if you have to pull me out of a meeting.”

“Thanks, Kayla. But if I’m going to have a career in political activism, I’ll encounter a lot more Tommys and need to develop ways of dealing with angry clients or the other strange birds who like to orbit the firm.”

Kayla smiled for the first time in hours. “True, but hold the line like you did with Tommy. Don’t let anyone speak to you in a way they wouldn’t to their grandmother.”

Gemma’s expression lightened. “Okay.”

“Now,” Kayla said, tapping into her boss voice. “May I ask what you’re doing here on a Saturday?”

Gemma held seniority over the other three interns employed by Krowne and Associates. Two nurtured relationships on the liberal side of the aisle and two on the conservative side. If the interns came back the next year, they would work the opposite aisle.

Kayla believed the only way the firm could support their clients’ many initiatives was to understand both perspectives. Both factions had their challenges, but one thing they shared were citizens passionate about their causes. Some to the point where a switch flipped in their head and they would say and do things they never would have in their right minds. Like Tommy’s behavior today.

It was no less tricky to placate the activists than it was the policymakers.

“I—um. Sorry, I—” Gemma’s expression turned sheepish as her attention dropped to the stacks of paperwork on her desk. “I didn’t get everything done that I’d hoped to, yesterday.” Her eyes slashed to Kayla’s. “Don’t worry, I won’t log today on my time card.”

Kayla stepped closer to the wall separating them and held her hand out to the young, promising woman. She didn’t blink an eye at Kayla’s unusual action. She simply stood and grasped her boss’s hand.

Modulating her voice to that of a mentor, Kayla said, “Never apologize for ambition. The desire to get ahead, whether for one day’s work or for a new position, isn’t the sole right of men. And your time has value, even if it wasn’t sanctioned in advance.” She gave the intern’s hand a squeeze before letting go.

Straightening, she switched to her no-nonsense voice. “How much time do you have before your friends cart you off for a bit of Saturday fun?”

“All afternoon.”

“Beautiful. Bring everything we have on SB623 to my office. Let’s see if there’s something more we could, or should, be doing.”

Excitement infused Gemma’s response. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

Kayla’s lips twitched. She’d been an intern once and knew the prospect of working one-on-one with the boss would send a rush of adrenaline through the young woman’s body.

Equilibrium restored, she marched into her office and didn’t think about the FBI agent once over the course of the next few hours. Not until she found a spine-tingling message etched into the paint of her beautiful Mercedes.