Chapter Forty

Exclusive! Micah’s pupils flared. He’d been told this story was well worth the trip, now the investigative reporter rose to the challenge like a Great White after a baby seal. The truth was finally out and Chance couldn’t have been prouder. Suede executed that reveal perfectly.

“How did you come into possession of the video?” Micah asked her.

“A good friend—”

“I did it,” Chance cut her off, his nerves as steady as a summer breeze off the Pacific in June. “I climbed my mountain and I confronted York. I took the video, so he couldn’t hurt Suede again.”

“And you are…”

“United States Navy Retired Chief Petty Officer Chance Sinclair, sir.”

The briefest hint of a smile raced over Micah’s eyes. “I can almost imagine the look in Mr. York’s eye when a Navy SEAL showed up for that video.”

“Yes, sir.” Chance gave him that. This reporter was sharp to have deduced his true military family. “I’d already climbed up the day after Suede fell to see what kind of asshole I was dealing with. That’s how I knew there was a video to begin with. I overheard York arguing with two guys.” Who shall forever remain nameless because they’re dead.

“And I bet that once you asked Lionel politely…”

Chance shook his head. “No, sir. I didn’t ask and I wasn’t polite, but this interview isn’t about me, is it?”

Micah took the hint, no doubt because he could edit this interview later until it suited his agenda. “May I see the video?”

This was that turning point from which there was no return for Suede. Chance faced her, not Micah or the camera. “Only if Suede agrees.” They’d both viewed the video—between making love, a few tears, and making more love—the same night they’d retrieved it. It was up to her if she wanted America to see her at the lowest point in her life.

“A person falling to her death isn’t a very pretty thing to watch,” she murmured. The tip of her tongue peeked out just long enough to moisten her bottom lip. “It’s an ugly thing, but yes. I have the original. You may have the only copy if you... if you’ll promise not to alter it.”

Micah damned near glowed at the scoop that had just landed in his lap. “Miss Tennyson. Suede.” He swallowed hard. “I give you my word. I wouldn’t think to edit the truth. I believe everything you just revealed. You’re an amazing woman.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not. I’ve made a mess of my life, but I’m not done living yet. It’s my time now, and I want to prove that bad things happen, but that doesn’t mean good things won’t happen next. We all make mistakes.” Her fingers gripped Chance’s index finger like a Chinese finger trap. “All it takes is a second chance. I hope America will understand that I was just a kid when I did those things and give me that much.”

Micah leaned forward then, engaged. “Tell me about the fall. Can you bear to share the moment you thought you were dying with all of America?”

A tiny whimper eked out of her. “It was... cold. Snowing. Really windy.” She squeezed Chance’s finger tighter. He squeezed back. “We were up on the mountain—”

“Old Man Mountain, right?” Micah prompted. “The stone wall directly north of here?”

Her head bobbed. “It’s not exactly a stone wall, but yes. We flew in for a photo shoot, but that was another one of York’s lies. There was no photographer and no shoot. Then the wind kicked up and the snow started to blow sideways, and I got scared. I hadn’t dressed for a blizzard and there was no heat in the rig he’d brought in for us. I wanted to go down, but he said wait. Then he... he…”

Chance untangled his fingers to shelter her against his chest and under his whole arm. Suede shot him a look, and he knew what that small gesture meant to a girl who’d been fighting the world alone for most of her life.

“He wanted to play games, Mr. Watanabe.” Her throat constricted with the effort of swallowing. “Mean games. He wanted me to undress up there, but he really wanted me to die in the nude in the middle of nowhere-Montana so the press would think I’d died the way I’d lived—as a strung-out drug addict and a nut-job.”

Micah nodded once, compassion gleaming in his dark brown eyes.

“Only I didn’t really live that way. He drugged my booze and…” As if she’d said too much, she shook her head. “But that’s another part of this ugly story. Anyway, when I refused to get naked, he got mad, and he… he shoved me backward, and I slipped. He stuck his boot in my forehead because I wouldn’t just fall off the mountain, and make it easy for him. I couldn’t hang on, and I did fall, but I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up. By then, I could barely breathe and my ribs hurt, but I was somewhere warm and safe and…”

She lifted Chance’s fingers to her mouth. “This man saved me,” she whimpered. “Gallo found me in the frozen pond below Mother’s Day Falls, but Chance is the one who breathed life back into me. He wouldn’t give up on me, and he resuscitated me, and he carried me here, and if not for him and his dog...” Suede dropped her lashes. Crystal teardrops fell then, and Chance wanted the interview to cease. He cocked his head at Micah, prompting him for a change.

Micah had the good grace to nod in agreement. “You, Suede Tennyson, are a living miracle,” he said, his voice filled with tenderness. “Thank you for sharing what had to be the most horrible night of your life.”

Her head bobbed as she lifted a finger to her nose. Suede swallowed hard but met Micah’s gaze. “It was, but I’m going to prove York and the Governor wrong. Just you wait.”

His face lit with a wide, island smile. “I know you will. America loves an underdog. They’re going to love you.” Turning to the camera, he said, “This is Micah Watanabe broadcasting live from God’s Country in Northern Montana. Goodnight America.”

“And that’s a wrap,” Dixie whispered, her eyes shining. “Suede, honey, you rocked this interview. I want your autograph before we leave, and, oh hell.” She burst onto the scene, angled around Micah’s knees and dragged Suede out of Chance’s arm and into a womanly hug.

“You poor damned kid,” she cried, stroking Suede’s back like she would a little girl. “I get you, sweetheart. So will every other woman who’s been kicked to the curb by some low-life dirtbag like York. You don’t need men like him and you’re not alone, baby. Not today. Not ever.”

Chance stood back and watched Suede absorb the sisterly connection. It wasn’t until Micah leaned back in his seat that Chance realized the camera was still rolling. Good job, he thought. America needs to know the real Suede Tennyson. Damn Lionel York and Mick Tennyson to hell.

When the light on the camera blinked off, Micah put his hands on his knees and pushed to his feet, satisfaction lighting him up from the inside out. “Thanks for the heads up, Senator,” he told McQueen over a warm handshake. “We’ll edit this take on the flight home, and you can plan on it airing tomorrow night after the five o’clock news. Count on it. Same agreement as last time?”

McQueen put a hand to Micah’s shoulder. “Same deal. You be square with me, I’ll be square with you.” Whatever that meant.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I plan to use the video in its entirety if it’s not too graphic.”

“Use it,” McQueen shot back at him. “The terrorism of a lone young woman by a celebrity bully stops here. Today, goddamn it.” He looked to Suede then, shrugged like he’d been caught, then winked, and said, “Sorry, ma’am. I’m working on it.”

With her arm still around Dixie’s waist, Suede dried her teary face with her other hand. “That’s okay. I’m no angel, either.”

Micah disagreed. “You’ve got that wrong, young lady. You’re one hell of an angel. I expect to see you change the world one of these days.”

A lovely crimson blush kissed her cheeks. “I’d just like to be left alone.”

He smiled at that. “See? That’s what makes you different. You already know what you want and it isn’t notoriety.”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “Heavens, no. I’ve got plenty of that.”

While they talked, Chance scanned the television crew. Micah Watanabe was a rare find in an industry puffed up with pride at its own celebrity status. The people who had accompanied him worked for him, not just with him. They weren’t network employees, but Micah’s own handpicked assistants. Better yet, they were every bit as trustworthy as he was.

Chance knew that for certain. Rick Warren, the cameraman, was former-Army. The sound and lighting guy, Byron Cord, was a former-Coastie, and Dixie Jensen, the make-up artist, was Air Force Reserves. Micah himself had served two tours of duty in the Marines.

“Thank you for this opportunity,” Micah said as he shook Suede’s hand. “I’d like to come back and do a follow up when the dust settles.”

“I’d like that too,” she said as she returned the shake. “Maybe then I won’t be so nervous.”

Chance reached around Suede to grip the big Samoan’s hand. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us, sir. I’ll be in touch.”

“I know you will. Take care, Chance. See you kids later.”