she said, some of her frustration easing now that she had him alone. “You can answer some of my questions.”
Archer grinned the infamous trust-inspiring grin that had probably helped him earn the top spot in the department at a relatively young age. “You have more? It seems Sergeant Terlecki answered everything you asked during class.”
“Not the ones about him,” she pointed out.
The chief tilted his head, studying her. “What would you like to know about the sergeant?”
“How did he get his cushy job as your public information officer?”
The chief’s grin faded. “He earned it, Ms. Powell.”
“How? What did he have to do to become your golden boy?” she persisted. The nickname she’d given Terlecki fit him more aptly than Bullet. “How many innocent people did he have to arrest?” Besides her brother.
The chief’s jaw grew taut. “You really know nothing about the sergeant, Ms. Powell.”
She knew more than they thought she did. Even if Terlecki remembered Mitchell, he wouldn’t connect her to her half brother because of their different last names. Despite the year she’d spent scrutinizing the sergeant’s reports, she hadn’t found the proof she needed to free Mitchell. “He didn’t hold the Lakewood Police Department arrest record before his promotion?”
“Ms. Powell, the sergeant is—”
“The one who’s supposed to be answering your questions,” Terlecki interjected as he joined them in the hallway. “Thank you, sir. I know you’re in a hurry, so I’ll handle Ms. Powell.”
The chief sighed. “Kent, you should just tell her—”
Terlecki interrupted again with a shake of his head, then waved off his boss as if Kent was the superior officer.
“Tell me what?” Erin asked as he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and drew her down the hall.
“Nothing you need to know,” he said dismissively.
Since she’d started at the Chronicle, he had been trying to dismiss her. She tugged on her wrist, but his grasp tightened. “So this is how you’re going to ‘handle’ me?”
After leading her into an empty room, Kent closed the door, then released her. “I’d hardly risk an accusation of police brutality, Ms. Powell. I simply thought you’d like some privacy for your interview.”
Shut inside a small room with no furniture, only cardboard boxes sitting about, Erin realized how completely alone they were. Terlecki stood between her and the door, blocking her escape. Unnerved, she licked her lips and repeated his last word. “Interview?”
“You were asking the chief about me,” he said, his deep voice vibrating with a hint of innuendo, as if her interest in him was personal.
Which it was, but not in the way his ego must have led him to believe.
“I—I…” she stammered, heat rushing to her face with shame and annoyance that she had let him rattle her.
“You don’t want to ask me about me?” he asked, his gray eyes glinting with amusement.
“You don’t answer my questions, Sergeant,” she reminded him.
“Because they’re not pertinent.”
“That’s not for you to decide,” she pointed out.
“That you’re impertinent?”
She bit her lip to hold in a reaction to his insult. She couldn’t let him get to her anymore; he was already much too arrogant. “It’s not for you to decide what the public needs to know.”
“The public?” He arched a blond brow. “I don’t think the public cares how I came by my cushy job.” He stepped closer. “Why do you care, Ms. Powell?”
Despite the adrenaline causing her legs to tremble, Erin refused to back away. “I’m a reporter, Sergeant.”
“You don’t need to remind me of that.” Kent wasn’t likely to forget, when all she’d ever done was fire questions at him. But sometimes, noticing how her eyes sparkled and her skin flushed when she argued with him, he forgot that she was a reporter who seemed to hate his guts, and he saw her as an exciting woman.
“Being a reporter, I have certain instincts,” she continued, as if he hadn’t spoken, “which are screaming at me that there’s a story behind your made-up position in the department.”
“Made-up?”
“Public information officer?” she scoffed. “That hardly sounds like a real job.”
He stepped closer, until his badge brushed her shoulder. She was tall, even without the low heels she wore, and slender, in black pants and a lightweight red sweater. Pitching his voice low, he asked, “What do you know about positions, Ms. Powell?”
Her eyes widening, Erin stumbled back. “Sergeant!”
“Positions within the department,” he explained, as if he hadn’t baited her, as if he didn’t enjoy rattling her cage. Hell, that was the most exciting part of his cushy job. Although she was a pain in the ass, she wasn’t boring. “What did you think I meant?”
“I’m never sure,” she admitted. “You talk out of both sides of your mouth.”
He grinned at her insult. “Then I guess I’m good at my made-up position.”
“So you admit it was?”
Kent swallowed a groan. He probably shouldn’t have talked to her at all, let alone dragged her into an empty room. “And you wonder why I don’t answer your questions….”
“Since you’re not going to, let me out of here.” Erin pushed past him to open the door and step into the hall. Beyond the conference room, in the atrium, the elevator dinged. She watched the doors close on most of the CPA participants, on their way to the ground floor.
“Look what you made me do,” she declared. “I missed the last part of the class.”
“Just tonight’s,” he reminded her. “You have fourteen more to go.”
“You’re not going to get me kicked out of the program?”
After what he’d heard her asking the chief, he admitted, “I’d love to.”
“I’m sure you would. But you said you’re not in charge of the academy, remember?” she taunted.
No one had ever antagonized him as she did, not even some of the belligerent drunks he’d pulled over during his years as a patrol officer. All he had to do to get her tossed from the program was tell Paddy he’d changed his mind. And Kent was damn tempted to do just that.
“So what are you in charge of, as public information officer?” she asked. “Damage control?”
“You.”
