Tom grabbed Stephanie’s hand and ran down the field on the other side of the fence. When they reached the road, he stopped and took hold of both of her arms.
“Stay here you hear me,” he said firmly. “I’m going to get the car. Give me your keys.”
“But, what if it’s not safe.” She ran a hand through her hair.
“It’ll be okay...as long as you stay put.” He gestured for the keys and she reluctantly handed them to him. He noted the way her hand was shaking.
Sprinting away, he turned briefly to shout, “Stay!” before disappearing around the corner.
Although only moments later, it seemed a lot longer to Stephanie until the car came to a screeching halt on the road in front of her. She jumped into the passenger seat and they sped away from the house.
***********************
They spent the majority of the drive back in a tense silence. Stephanie was still stunned by what had happened and, although she made an attempt to talk to Tom, one look at his face told her to keep quiet for the time being. He drove towards the city but took the turning for Clapham instead of heading further into London for Kensington, where the office was located.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I’ve had enough of today; I’ll phone Brick when I get home. My place isn’t far,” he replied brusquely.
They pulled up outside a large, Georgian style house which had presumably been converted into apartments. He took a parking spot in the driveway, turned off the ignition and got out of the car, taking the keys with him.
She shouted to him out of the car door. “Hold on, I need the keys.”
He bent down to speak to her. “You’re not driving in that state; you’ve had a bad shock. And besides, we need to talk.” He strolled towards the front door and she swiftly got out of the car to follow him.
“I’d like my keys back please,” she said with annoyance at his highhandedness.
He ignored her, unlocked the security door and entered the building, striding up the carpeted steps without a backward glance. She had no choice but to follow. His apartment was on the second floor and he let them both in, making straight for the kitchen which was situated at the end of a small corridor.
“Do you think we could get this over with as soon as possible so that I can go home?” she said, watching as he reached for a bottle of vodka in one of the kitchen cupboards and took out two glasses to fill.
He handed her one. “Drink this, you need it.”
She looked at the glass but didn’t take it. “I’m fine thank you; I’d just like to get home.”
He glared at her. “Look, I’m not in the mood for this Stephanie, just take the damn drink will you?”
She thought for a moment and then took the glass from him. He picked up the bottle and walked past her, entering the lounge which was a few doors down the corridor. Placing the bottle loudly on the glass coffee table, he fell onto the sofa, kicked off his shoes and took a gulp of his drink. She stood over him, and he eventually looked up at her, ready to talk.
“One, don’t ever do that again. You take it upon yourself to go walking into a situation like that without consulting me and I’m out of this story…and you will be too if I have anything to do with it.”
She simply stared at him, feeling anger and frustration, but unable to argue with him. She had probably done the wrong thing after all.
“Two, you can’t just go strolling onto someone else’s property like that. You didn’t even try to conceal the fact that you were there.”
She kept her eyes on him. So she had made a mistake, but she wasn’t going to beg for his forgiveness.
“Lastly, “his arm shot out and he caught her hand, pulling her onto the sofa next to him, “why is this story so important to you Steph?” His voice was a little softer now.
She paused just for a second. “Oh come on Tom, you know as well as I do that this could be a story bigger than the newspaper has ever seen.”
“Sure, but ask yourself this, why do you think no other reporter has gone for this story before?”
She shrugged.
“Because it’s too damn dangerous. You don’t mess with people like that Steph. It sure as hell isn’t worth risking your life over it!” He took another gulp of his drink without taking his eyes off her. Something didn’t fit. He couldn’t work out why this meant so much to her.
She didn’t know how to respond and couldn’t do anything other than take a sip of the vodka herself and look back at him.
He eventually broke the silence. “Okay, you want to do this, fine. But from now on we discuss everything. I can’t protect you if you act so impulsively. Do we have an understanding?”
She sighed. “Yes, but Tom, one minute you’re all fired up about this and the next you don’t seem to give a damn. Why come to the bar in the first place if you didn’t want this story? It’s not as if I asked you to get involved.”
He looked a bit uncomfortable with the question. “I heard your conversation with Brick, and I knew that you’d go after this,” he said casually.
“You haven’t answered my question Tom.”
The intensity of her eyes hit him then as they bore into him, seeking answers.
He gave a small laugh, breaking eye contact. “Hey, I couldn’t let you walk into a situation like that on your own. I mean, look at you,” he turned back to her and looked her up and down, “a glamour girl in a place like that, with people like Carlton. They’d have seen you coming a mile off.”
Her eyes frosted over. “Don’t patronise me Tom, I’m a damn good reporter, not a dumb blonde.”
“Exactly,” he came back quickly, “You’re a reporter Steph, not bloody MI5!”
“No, but despite what you think, I know how to deal with people. I wouldn’t have got this far if I didn’t.” She was starting to feel defensive.
He took in a deep breath. He didn’t want to start another slanging match with her. “Look, I know that you’re an excellent reporter Steph, don’t get me wrong, I can tell that from your articles, but you haven’t dealt with people like these before. That’s why you have to involve me in this. The moment you start thinking you can do this on your own, you’ll end up like you were last night when I took you home, or today at the house.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, but I still don’t see why you’ve taken it upon yourself to be my protector all of a sudden. And anyway, what makes you such an expert on people like these Tom?”
This conversation was beginning to hit a raw nerve with him. He finished his vodka and stood up.
“I don’t know about you Stephie, but I’m famished. We haven’t eaten all day,” he said, avoiding the question and grabbing the vodka bottle. “Come on, you can help me cook something.”
He walked back into the kitchen and she followed him.
“I’ve got to go home,” she stressed.
He turned to her suddenly and looked her directly in the eyes. “Why?”
The question threw her for a moment. “Because...” she faltered.
“You have to eat, I have to eat. So let’s eat,” he said, opening the fridge and taking out some chicken pieces and vegetables. “You any good at peeling veg?”
She gave a wry laugh, withdrawing a knife from a block on the kitchen counter and picking up a carrot. “I’m not bad for a dumb blonde.”
He grinned and moved closer to her, putting his hands on the counter top either side of her and trapping her there.
“Yeah, a dumb blonde who can write a mean article, peel veg and who has a body to stop any man getting much sleep at night.” His eyes were roaming again, hovering on the front of her blouse and moving downwards over the her skirt, which emphasized her slim figure and the curves of her waist and hips.
“Hmm, and who happens to be armed at the moment,” she said holding up the knife between them. He grimaced and moved back with a laugh.
“Don’t know what I was thinking. Heaven help Carlton if he had tried it on with you!”
She chuckled and began peeling the carrots.
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