Free The Night She Got Lucky by Susan Donovan Page A

jollies, you might want to compare my actual signature to those on the expense reports.
    We'll certainly take that into consideration, was their reply.
    The State Department boys were next. They said a review of the facts in Lucio's case showed no merit to the charges of espionagethe only bit of good news Lucio had had all day. They went on to say that they believed the Chinese were only doing what they did best, diverting attention from a real problem with political posturing. In Lucio's case, the posturing was the spying accusation. The real problem was the environmental devastation caused by decades of unregulated industrial pollution. They assured him he was off the hook in that regard.
    Thank God! he said with a sigh.
    But he could never return to China, they added, and said he shouldn't bother trying to get his video footage back. Then they politely suggested that, from here on out, he might try to avoid sexing up the daughters of officials in communist, patriarchal societies.
    Once everyone had filed out of the conference room, Sydney shrugged in Lucio's direction. I think that was as good as you could expect under the circumstances.
    Piers shook his head in sympathy. How will you come up with fifty thousand in ninety days? Will you go to Rousseau?
    Of course not, Lucio snapped. He could never ask Rick for money. He had
some
pride. He was already living in his wealthy friend's chic home and eating his food and driving one of his extra cars. There would be no begging for cash.
    It's not like he'd miss it, Piers said helpfully.
    I will not ask. Lucio turned to his agent. Get me jobs, Sydney. I don't care what they are.
    Sydney frowned, the expression on his chubby red face flustered. What kind of jobs did you have in mind?
    Stateside. West Coast if possible. Expenses up front. You know, tourism, travel, even commercial assignmentsanyone willing to pay top dollar for my name and reputation.
    Sydney cleared his throat. Uh, I'm not sure who that would be right now, Lucky.
    Lucio shifted his weight back on the heels of his feet, surprised by his agent's lack of enthusiasm. What are you saying?
    Sydney shrugged. I'm saying that your target market is all but extinctnewspapers and magazines are washing up on the shore like dead fish every day. And even if the print market was flaming hot, your name and reputation stink like high tide. Sydney tilted his head, as if apologizing in advance for what he was about to say. Your name and reputation are shit right now, Lucky. That's what I'm saying.
    Lucio's mouth fell open. But
    Even without criminal charges, Sydney cut him off. The damage has been done. I'm sorry, but that's the truth, and I think you should save yourself some grief and just forget about the Erskine.
    Piers let go with a pained sigh, turning his small, serious eyes Lucio's way. That is not right.
    Lucio shook his head. No, it's not.
    We will find the woman who did this to you, all right? Piers touched Lucio's shoulder. We'll start with Ilsa. She won't be hard to track down. The last I heard she was still freelancing in Europe. I will help you.
    Lucio appreciated the offer of assistance, but he knew he'd have to postpone traveling the world in search of Ilsa or whoever the guilty party might be. He could not afford it! Besides, Lucio could not help but feel he'd been lucky to escape the wrath of a heartbroken woman for as many years as he had. Perhaps, in some way, he had this coming. Perhaps he deserved it.
    Regardless, he needed fifty thousand U.S. dollars, and fast. Lucio sighed at the enormity of the challenge ahead of him. He could not finance a project on spec, hoping to find a buyer. Nor did he have the time for that unpredictable process. He only had ninety days.
    He shoved his hands into the pockets of his slacks, where he encountered his ever-thinning wallet. Heat burned his fingertipshe suddenly thought of the business card tucked away inside. He thought of Ginger Garrison and her lapdog. One eyebrow rose