Someone To Believe In by Kathryn Shay Read Free Book Online Page B

to apologize for that.”
    “Didn’t ask you to. Come on in.” She showed
him into her space. It was about fourteen-by-twelve, housed two
computers, filing cabinets, a small fridge, and books tumbling out
of shelves and scattered in stacks on the floor. The scent of
strong coffee emanated from a brewing pot in the corner.
    He held up a sack, which she hadn’t seen him
carrying this time, either. “Can I put this in the
refrigerator?”
    A grin. “You bring me ice cream again?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Go ahead.”
    She watched him cross to the fridge,
bend over, and put the treat away. Nice
ass , she thought.
    “What?” he asked, turning around. “You’re
smiling.”
    Oh, Lord. “Nothing.” Purposely, she glanced
at the clock. “If I’m gonna show you our digs, it should be now.
The website gets active around eight, and I need to be near the
computer then.”
    He swallowed hard and turned his head away.
Now this was the senator she knew and hated. Disapproving.
Authoritative. She shook her head. “You sure you should be here?”
she asked. “You’re gonna freak about everything you see.”
    “No, not everything.” He stuck his hands in
his jeans pockets. “But truthfully, since last night, I keep
thinking about your son.”
    “Rory?”
    “Yes, and how you endanger yourself.”
    Because it was something she wrestled with
all the time, she jammed her hands on her jean-clad hips. “It’s no
different if I’d chosen to be a cop or firefighter.”
    “In some ways.”
    “Would you keep women out of those
professions if you could?”
    “I don’t honestly know. Mothers, maybe.” He
spotted the picture on her desk. “Is that him?”
    She picked up the sterling silver frame.
“Yeah, my little guy.”
    Taking it from her, he studied the photo.
“Sometimes, I wish Jon was that age again.”
    “Jon?”
    “My son.”
    “How old is he?”
    “Twenty.”
    “He in school?”
    “Yes. At Bard College.”
    She chuckled.
    “You know the place?”
    “Not your cup of tea, is it, Senator?”
    “It was fine with me. My father had a fit he
didn’t choose Harvard, though. Bard’s a good school.”
    “Yeah, but liberal as hell. I heard that they
were looking to hurl the worst insult to their rival Vassar and
they put up signs all over that said, ‘Vassar students are
Republicans.’”
    “Well, that suits Jon.” The sadness in his
tone kept her from teasing him about his conservative views.
    “Don’t you get along with your son?”
    “We used to. “ His eyes narrowed on her.
“Now, he thinks like you do.”
    “Well, there you go. Your kid’s got
smarts.” He grinned and she was glad. “Come on, I’ll give you the
grand tour.” Ignoring the fact that she felt good about erasing
his sadness—she sure as hell didn’t want to like this guy—she motioned to the space
surrounding them. “This is the office I share with another worker
who’s on the opposite shift from me. We also have a few volunteers
who use this space.”
    He crossed to one of the computers. “State of
the art.”
    “Yeah, we got a grant from Donald Trump to
update our technology. Best thing is it’s ongoing.”
    “Donald Trump, huh?”
    “Uh-huh. You probably could find out where he
lives, too.”
    “You want to know?”
    “No, thanks.” She pointed to her computer.
“This one we use for the website that you hate so much, and the
other is mostly record-keeping.”
    “For what?”
    “Shelters that will take gang kids,
psychologists who’ve volunteered to work with them, the database
for the Gang Protection Program.”
    “Ah, the innovative GPP. Was that your
idea?”
    “Uh-huh.” She leaned against her desk. “You
have a problem with it, if I recall.”
    “I think it’s unique to set up a form of a
witness protection program for ex-gang members.”
    “Yeah, you called it that in your comments to
the governor.”
    “But the cops should run it.”
    “And how many kids would go to the