Free Always Right by Mindy Klasky Page A

anything by Friday,” he said. He stepped back, shaking his head like she was a crazy woman, like he wanted to cross to the other side of the street, just to get away from her nutso ranting.
    But they weren’t standing on a street. They were huddled in a restaurant parking lot, half-hidden in shadows. She was backed up against her car because they’d been making out like horny teenagers. She had to say something, had to do something to regain control over the situation. And she almost regretted her words as she said, “You’ll change your mind, Kyle. Because if I don’t get the money, I’ll send an envelope to the News & Observer . I figure they'll be the most interested in your time at Spring Valley. A perfect story as the team gets closer to the post-season.”
    The words made her stomach clench, and she swallowed hard, fighting to keep bile out of her throat. She regretted the vodka she’d drunk before dinner, the wine with her meal. She never should have eaten that steak.
    She didn’t deserve steak. She didn’t deserve anything good. She was disgusting, and the things she did were disgusting. Any normal woman would be able to take care of herself, take care of her family. What the hell was wrong with her, that she was threatening an innocent man, just because she needed some help?
    Well, he wasn’t innocent. That’s what she tried to tell herself. He’d done bad things and hidden them. He’d made a career out of being harmless, being good ; his sterling reputation was the reason he had millions in a bank account.
    The amount she asked for was almost literally nothing to him; he could write the checks without blinking.
    But that didn’t make blackmail right. The first time, the money she needed for the partnership—she’d demanded it without thinking. He’d handed over the funds so easily that she’d almost made herself believe it didn’t matter. They’d completed a simple commercial transaction—he paid her partnership fee, and she showed up at the ballpark to drop her stupid sunglasses. Quid. Pro. Quo.
    That’s why it should have been easy the second time.
    But it wasn’t. The look on his face wasn’t easy. The nausea that cramped her stomach wasn’t easy.
    “I’m sorry,” she said, and she scrambled to unlock the car, to open the door, to slip into the driver’s seat before her knees gave way.
    Kyle grabbed at the top of her window. “What the hell are you doing, Amanda?”
    And she answered like a lawyer. She made her voice cold, as hard as the glass his fingers were gripping. “What I need to do,” she said. “Twenty-five thousand by Friday, or I go to the press.”
    Her lawyer demeanor must have shocked him, because he didn’t keep her from slamming the door closed. He just stood and watched as she gunned the car to life. Peeling out of the parking lot, she couldn’t bring herself to look in the rear-view mirror at the first man whose company she’d enjoyed in years.
    ~~~
    Kyle stretched out on the hotel bed, leaning against a pile of pillows. He’d used the crappy coffee maker in the bathroom to brew a cup of chamomile tea. The last thing he needed was the rotgut coffee they provided with those things. He had to get to sleep some time.
    That night’s game against St. Louis had gone well—the Rockets were on a roll, having won eleven out of their last thirteen. Kyle’s own hitting streak continued—he’d gotten on base in the sixth. Sure he’d been stranded, but in the long run, it hadn’t mattered. The team had won, they’d stormed the field, he’d hit the showers, and now he was back in his hotel room. Staring at his phone. Telling himself he was a fucking idiot if he picked the thing up. Worse, if he punched in the ten numbers he already knew by heart.
    But he knew damn well it wasn’t caffeine that had kept him awake Monday night. Tuesday or Wednesday, either. Sure, he’d been shocked as hell when Amanda made her demand. He’d thought he was in the clear, having