Mr. Perfect (Sinister in Savannah #2) - Aimee Nicole Walker Page 0,76

forehead against Jude’s.

“I want all the secrets aired before I take you to bed,” Felix whispered.

Jude closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t give me that kind of hope unless you mean it.”

“Were you telling me the truth about why you moved here?” Felix asked. Please say yes.

Jude nodded. “I would’ve moved to Anchorage, Alaska, if that’s where you were. Then I would’ve been battling attack moose instead of peacocks. I much prefer my odds against Pete and Pearl.”

“They’re not my peacocks.”

“They are. You just don’t realize it yet,” Jude said.

“Walk me through the timeline, starting with your interview with Spencer.”

Jude cleared his throat. “The station manager cut most of the interview due to time constraints, but I was shocked when he cut out every tough question I asked. He could’ve cut out some of the fluff, but he didn’t. So, I confronted him.”

“What did he say?”

Jude’s phone rang in the kitchen. He started to rise from the chair, but Felix snaked out a hand to stop him. Jude’s warmth seeped into Felix, and he reflexively tightened his fingers around Jude’s wrist. “Unless you think it’s Jed, let it go.”

Jude sat back down, and Felix retracted his arm. “I talked to Jed earlier when I went to get your T-shirt from the gift shop. He’d heard about the explosion and asked me to come in and report on it.”

“Why didn’t you?” Felix asked. “Being on the scene so early, you had an advantage that no other news anchor would have.”

Jude inhaled deeply. “You know why, Felix. You’re more important to me than chasing a story. You always have been, and you always will be. No matter what happens after tonight.”

Felix briefly closed his eyes as the heft of Jude’s words settled over him like a weighted blanket. He wished he could wrap them around him, but it wasn’t the right time. Felix’s adrenaline was fading with each passing minute, and there was still so much he needed to know.

The phone stopped ringing when the call rolled over to voice mail.

“Let’s go back to discussing your old station manager in Atlanta,” Felix prompted. “You confronted him about the editing, and he said…”

“He accused me of being combative and accusatory, which wasn’t the tone they’d wanted for the piece. They had wanted to highlight Spencer’s Second Chance Program, and my line of questioning suggested Spencer was up to no good.”

“By asking how eligibility is determined? By wanting to speak to the parolees who are benefiting from the jobs?”

Jude nodded. “I was already suspicious because Cameron dodged my questions, but my curiosity intensified with my station manager’s behavior.”

Felix ran a finger over his lips while he thought about it. “So, his reaction was unique?”

“Completely. I can’t say Bob and I were in constant agreement, but he never silenced me either. Bob refused to even discuss the Spencer interview.”

“Which prompted you to do some digging. Where’d you begin?”

“I reached out to one of my friends in law enforcement,” Jude said. “They referred me to a parole officer who they’d heard was sending Spencer names for consideration.”

“Did you meet this friend at Gentleman Jack’s?” Felix’s expression or tone of voice must’ve betrayed his jealousy.

“My membership to the club isn’t what you think, Ace. But we’ll get to that part later.”

Felix rolled his eyes but gestured for Jude to continue. “What did you learn when you got your hands on the list of Second Chance enrollees?”

“As Spencer claimed, these were non-violent offenders. We’re talking tax fraud schemes, illegal gambling, loan sharking, insider trading, money laundering, and forgery.”

“White-collar crimes.”

“Yep,” Jude said. “It didn’t immediately occur to me that the program could be used to find mafia muscle or to reward loyal soldiers who’d kept their mouths shut. I was focused on the fact that not a single one of the parolees was a person of color. That’s what I thought Spencer was worried about.”

“What happened next?”

Jude’s phone rang again, but they continued to ignore it. “I started looking at every name on the list. I discovered they were middle- to upper-middle-class people who didn’t need the program at all. They lived in nice houses in suburban neighborhoods. I started to wonder if they actually worked at the dealership at all.”

Felix got a sinking feeling. “You called the dealership and asked to speak to one of them, didn’t you?” It’s what Felix would’ve done.

“Sure did. I was told a person by that name didn’t work at Spencer Auto Mall. I don’t know if it was my conversation