“I’m afraid I need to take a personal day. I have a family emergency.”
“What happened?” he asked, finally sounding more human. “What can I do?”
“You can calm down, for starters,” Catherine said sternly. Apparently Cullen hadn’t quite schooled his tone as well as he thought. “It’s a normal people emergency, not world war three. My daughter is ill and I need to take the grandkids today. I know we’re behind—”
“Take all the time off you need,” Cullen said. He’d cut her off, but at least he no longer sounded like some pissed-off hothead. Catherine was the most dependable employee on the planet, and the last thing she needed was his problems.
“Thank you,” she said. There was a pause, and he braced himself for her to inquire about his shitty attitude. But thankfully, she didn’t. “Hopefully, it’ll just be for today.”
“You take as much time as you want, Catherine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to say something more lest the woman made herself sick trying to be in two places at once. “In fact, call Skylar Reynolds. She’s a quick enough study and may be willing to cover.”
“Thank you, Cullen,” she said again before disconnecting, her voice infused with more gratitude than he deserved for just doing the right thing.
Tossing the phone back onto the vanity, he reached for his towel, only to have the damn electronic contraption start up again. This time, he had enough sense to check the screen before hitting the answer button. “Yeah?”
“I’ve got something you want to see,” said Liam.
“I highly doubt it.”
“It’s about Reynolds.” Liam paused. “I got her background file back.”
Forty-five minutes later, Cullen strode past the bustling reception area toward the elevator, barely saying hello to Rachel before heading into his office.
Liam was already waiting. Seeing Cullen, the former SEAL swung his legs down from where he had them atop Cullen’s desk and stood, the leather portfolio in his hand looking ominous.
“Are you about to tell me our little dispatcher is wanted for murder somewhere?” Cullen demanded, taking his seat, the chair reclining slightly beneath the force.
“No. But I will tell you to be careful.” Opening the portfolio, Liam spread several sheets over the desk, his finger tapping against the first one. “Skylar Deanna Reynolds, daughter of Grace Reynolds and Sergeant Patton Reynolds, US Marine Corps. Father’s military record is sealed, but Lucy, one of my data miners—”
“Your hacker, you mean.”
Liam lifted one shoulder. “Eh, potato potahto. Anyway, he lost his shit on some civilians overseas and should have been dishonorably discharged, but the corps ended up sweeping it under the rug and basically sent him quietly home.”
Cullen’s jaw tightened. “I take it he packed the violence with him?”
“So far as I can tell, she was in every emergency room within a seventy-five-mile radius from her place as a kid. They rotated to try not to go to the same place too many times in a row. The bastard eventually died, but then she hooked up with another asshole who wasn’t too unlike Daddy. Jaden Something.”
“By hooked up, you mean—”
“That she’s engaged, yes. Or was. Until just a few months ago.”
Engaged. Cullen tried and failed to feel nothing at that word. Sky had never mentioned being engaged. Not that she owed him an explanation of anything since they weren’t even together but…well, it seemed like the kind of thing that might come up.
Unless it was being hidden on purpose.
Cullen tapped a finger on his desk, pulling himself together enough to work through what Liam was saying. An unstable ex-military father. A similar fiancé. “So you’re telling me she has a thing for violent military assholes like me.”
Liam’s eyes flashed. “Not like you, Hunt.”
Yeah.
“Anyway, that’s not what actually has me worried. It’s what finally happened at the Manhattan Post, where she and Jaden were working. She’s there for about a year, new and hungry for a break. And then Fleet Week comes, and she decides that maybe the military owes her for all the trouble. So she gets into a private event at one of the dives, claims some marines assaulted and attempted to rape her, and writes the kind of exposé that would be front-page news and get Fleet Week banned all in one go. Except she gets caught and fired instead. Becomes a persona non grata in journalism. Hence—”
“Hence her working for Denton Uncovered.” Cullen shook his head. Bullshit. It had to be bullshit. Skylar was tenacious and smart and too damn stubborn and reckless for her own good, but she didn’t use people for her own gain, and she certainly wouldn’t invent a crime. “If she claimed someone tried to assault and rape her, I fucking believe her. In fact, I’m not sure I like you even implying otherwise.”
“Cool the hell off, asshole,” Liam snapped. “You want someone to tell you what you want to hear, get a whore. All I have are facts. I don’t know what happened, but I know that instead of going to the police with her allegations, she went straight to the editor, nearly destroying four careers of boys with impeccable records. This is what it all looked like.”
Liam pulled out a series of photographs showing Sky dancing happily, the guys’ hands all over the same ass that Cullen lusted over. And unlike the semifrightened glances Sky gave Cullen, she looked carefree in the pictures. Laughing. Throwing back drinks. Nothing like the Skylar Reynolds that Cullen knew. Or thought he did. The one he’d confided his nightmares to.
Liam leaned his hip against Cullen’s desk. “Also, this was a private event no reporter should have had access to. She used her fiancé Jaden—he’s a former marine—to get in. Jaden is the one who turned her in, by the way. He’d been there too and contradicted her version of the events. And…there is one other thing.”
Cullen felt his whole body tense. “What?”
Liam sighed. “This is the part that’s utterly unofficial, and I only have it because of Lucy—the paper did a covert drug test, and Skylar came up positive. They never told her, of course, but it did go to credibility.”
“No fucking way.” Cullen shoved the papers back at Liam. “Look at me and tell me you believe a word of what you’re implying.”
“That an ambitious young reporter who couldn’t get a break used her fiancé to get into an exclusive venue, partied a bit, and then painted everything with a sensationalist brush? That her story happened to be exactly the kind a newspaper would eat up, while conveniently retaliating against the military types who’d hurt her all her life? That she now feels comfortable working for Denton Uncovered?” Liam sighed. “I don’t know what to think. But as the head of a security outfit, I’d tell you not to give her access to any files Peterson may have an interest in, lest she decides she doesn’t like you either.”
Heat rose through Cullen’s blood, his already short temper flaring as he slammed his palm on his desk. “I’m telling you, she wouldn’t use me or the Rescue to ferret out information for Peterson. I know it in my gut.”
Liam leaned in, his dark eyes hard. “You willing to risk Addie on that gut of yours?”