CHAPTER NINE
“You do know what the time is, don’t you?” Dylan stood in his living room, scratching his head.
“I know, but I couldn’t leave it until the morning.” Logan walked across to the kitchen and turned the coffee machine on. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“I could have had a woman in here,” Dylan grumbled. “We could have been having wild monkey sex. What would you have done then?”
“Made myself at home while you died from exhaustion.”
Dylan grunted, then flopped down on the sofa. “You can make coffee for me, too. What’s so important that it couldn’t wait until the morning?”
Logan pulled a couple of coffee mugs out of the pantry and told Dylan about Tess, Jilly, and the senator.
“You’ve got yourself more than a handful of problems.”
“You could say that. What do you think I should do?”
Dylan stretched his legs out in front of him and looked at the pink curtains hanging from the window. The house he was living in was a rental. Logan knew he’d taken it sight unseen from a realtor when he’d first moved to Bozeman. It was supposed to have been an in-between step until he decided whether he wanted to rent or buy. But apart from the pink curtains, it had suited Dylan, so he’d stayed.
Until recently, Dylan had appreciated the solitude that living out of town gave him. But solitude didn’t work too well when you were looking for a girlfriend. So he’d started looking for a house closer to town, somewhere he could bring his dream date back to. Logan had no idea what would happen once she got there, but that was up to Dylan.
Dylan took the mug Logan held out to him. “Sit down and tell me more about the senator’s ex-wife. She’s the one with the power to blow this story right through to the White House.”
Logan sat down and told Dylan what he knew about Marcie Gibson. “She’s ambitious. Senator Gibson’s lawyers tied her into a prenup she wasn’t happy about. She wants revenge, but she wants his money as well. She’s fighting their divorce settlement with everything she’s got.”
“Where’s the copy of the senator’s hard drive?”
Logan frowned. “I don’t know. She said it’s somewhere safe.”
“She’d better hope it is. If her ex-husband finds out she’s got it, he’s not going to be happy. What does she look like?”
“Tall, brunette, big green eyes. She won the Miss Virginia contest six years ago.”
“Photogenic?”
Logan nodded. “She’s stunning, if you like that sort of woman.”
Dylan drank his coffee. “I’ve got an idea, but you might not like it.”
“Try me.”
“Talk to Marcie before Jilly finds her. Convince her to let you write a story. Get professional photos taken of her looking sad and unhappy, real tear-jerker stuff. Publish the story, then make sure she goes to the police. Once the story hits the headlines, the police won’t be able to ignore her allegations, especially with the evidence she’s got.”
“What about, Tess?”
“If Tess gets caught up in the fiasco, Mrs. Ex-Senator will be lucky to get a mention. From what you’ve said, that will be the last thing Marcie wants.”
“It’s the last thing Tess wants, too.”
“Keep Tess out of it. Don’t mention her name. It might be good if she goes on vacation when the story’s about to break.”
“Jilly and Tess are going to hate me.”
Dylan stared at him. “Who are you most worried about?”
“Tess.”
“Look out for her, then. Jilly will eventually forgive you.”
“Yeah. In about fifty years’ time.”
Dylan didn’t look remotely concerned. “It’s better than Tess hating you.”
“She’ll do that, anyway.” Logan knew that whatever happened, Tess wouldn’t be talking to him. If he didn’t get to Marcie Gibson tomorrow, Jilly would be publishing a story that would land Tess in the spotlight.
He had to decide what to do, and it had to be tonight.
Dylan walked out of the room and came back a few minutes later. He had a pillow and a duvet in his arms. “Here…” He threw the whole lot on the sofa beside Logan. “If you’re not going to get much sleep you might as well stay here. At least I’ll know you haven’t crashed on the way home.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t worry about it. You might need to repay the favor one day. If you wake up with a pillow over your head, it’s because you’re snoring like a train.”
“Nice to be appreciated.”
Dylan snorted and left him on the sofa. “I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up when you leave.”
They both knew that wouldn’t happen. Dylan slept for about as many hours a night as Logan did. Between them, they were almost normal. He could guarantee that four-thirty would roll around and they’d both be up, drowning their sorrows in the biggest mug of coffee they could find.
And right at the moment, that thought was more comforting than what he had to tell Tess in the morning.