He would have thought that if this drug they had developed was really as wonderful as the company claimed it was, they would be fighting off potential investors shoving money at them, trying to get in on the ground floor.
“The company borrowed the money so they could develop it. Currently, Jacobs is trying to pay that loan off, or at least as much as he can before they launch into the last stage of production.”
“So what you’re saying is that it’s like fraud?” he asked.
“That’s not the way they choose to see it,” Krys told him. “And if it winds up taking off and doing what they say it does, it’ll return any money put up for it a hundredfold. It’s only fraud if it fails in its actual premise.”
It was growing dark by now. They had been in the building longer than he had anticipated. “You don’t have another interview set up for today, do you?” Morgan asked her.
“I’ve got four set up for tomorrow,” she told him. “The most important of which is with a potential whistleblower first thing in the morning, but no, no more interviews today.” She paused for a moment, and then admitted, “Being a walking target has thrown me off my game.”
He surprised her with his reaction. “Nice to know you’re human.”
She looked at him, confused. “What made you think I wasn’t?”
Morgan grinned. Her stomach did a little flip, which surprised her. “For the sake of our working relationship, I’d better not answer that,” he told her. Changing the subject, he declared, “Okay, back to your place.” With that, he turned his car around and began to head toward her house. “I’m kind of hungry, anyway.”
“Well, if that’s the case, we’re going to have to stop somewhere to pick up something to eat, or have something delivered,” she told him, enumerating their two choices. When Morgan looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate further, she told him, “I suffer from the Mother Hubbard syndrome.”
“How’s that again?”
She put it in simpler terms. “My cupboard is bare—and so’s my refrigerator—unless you’re willing to consider diet soda as a new food group.”
She definitely needed to meet his Uncle Andrew, Morgan thought. If a famine suddenly swept over the city, Andrew could still be able to feed the masses until such time as the famine was over.
“Okay, what are you in the mood for?” Morgan asked.
Krys shrugged. “I’m easy. Pizza’s fine.”
“Pizza is fine,” Morgan agreed. “But you, lady, are definitely not ‘easy.’”
Considering the fact that she had made him jump through hoops several times during the course of the day, Krys decided not to challenge Morgan’s assessment. She did, however, have a point to raise.
“You know, if you’re so worried about keeping me safe, don’t you think that ordering takeout and having it delivered to my house is a bit risky?” she asked. “I mean, do you intend to pat the delivery boy down before you let him hand over the pizza?”
He grinned at the scenario she had just come up with. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered.”
Now he had her intrigued. “Care to enlighten me as to how you have this ‘covered’?”
“No big secret,” he informed her. “I’m going to ask one of my brothers to pick up the pizza for us. That way we won’t have to deal with some stranger coming to your door.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?” she grudgingly commented.
“There are a lot of us Cavanaughs on the police force. That amounts to several centuries of acquired knowledge among all of us,” he told her.
Just how many of these people are there? she wondered. Nik had never given her a specific number. “Why do I suddenly feel hopelessly outnumbered?”
He had no answer for that, but he did have a way to view the scenario. “What you’re supposed to feel is completely protected,” he told her.
“Yes,” Krys admitted, albeit reluctantly, “maybe that, too.”
Chapter 10
While Morgan methodically checked all the windows and doors in the house, making sure that everything was securely locked, Krys waited silently in the foyer for the pizza delivery. As she waited, she thought over what she had said to the detective in response to his question.
She did feel rather safe and protected—and it was actually the first time she had felt that way in a long, long time. Being on her own and responsible for herself was a given. It had been that way for a while now. She was forever chasing after stories and taking whatever precautions occurred to her to make sure that she was safe while she was doing it.
It almost felt strange to have someone looking out for her, however temporary that turned out to be. Krys told herself not to get used to it.
“Well,” Morgan declared as he walked back into the living room, “unless someone decides to ram into your house with a tank, I’d say that you were pretty safe for the night.”
Is he just being flippant or serious? she wondered. “Just ‘pretty sure’?” she questioned, raising one quizzical eyebrow.
“Barring an earthquake or a wildfire, yes, I’d say I was sure,” Morgan told her.
Krys knew she couldn’t ask for anything better than that. “I guess those are pretty good odds,” she agreed. She nodded toward the linen closet between the two bedrooms. “I’ll go get some fresh bedding for you. You can have the guest room.”
But Morgan shook his head, turning down her offer. “No need to do that.”
Krys stopped walking toward the back. She’d heard rumors to the effect that some of the Cavanaughs were ladies’ men, but until now, she hadn’t thought of Morgan as being one of them. Still, she had been wrong before, she thought.
“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Exactly where do you intend to sleep tonight?”
“I don’t,” he answered simply. “And besides, I can stretch out on the couch if I need to.”
“But you don’t think you’ll need to,” she guessed by the way he’d said it. “You don’t plan to sleep?”
“I
