Page 128 of Ice Devil

What in the fuck are you doing?

The answer?

Exactly what needed to be done and something I should have accomplished at least a year before. Now I had a very good reason. What was it that Beck had told me? When one door closed, another opened.

That was something I’d carry to my grave.

Or the unemployment line.

As the building came into view, I steadied my nerves. Not because I was anxious about seeing Matt or about what I had planned. It was about holding back from killing the man. The more I’d gotten into investigating information for the exposé set to hit the airwaves, the more vicious the ideas in handling the goodbye had become.

I hated goodbyes for a reason.

They always brought tears. Wait. Not always. In minutes, I’d be replacing sadness with rage and I planned on feeding off the energy for a couple of days.

For now, I felt like my life had been sucked out while leaving Beck.

My skin tingled.

My pulse raced.

My mind was filled with filthy images.

All I’d done the entire flight was cry. Not quite hysterically but enough that the flight attendant had shoved a glass of champagne in my hand. Seeing the roll of her eyes, I’d read her mind. She’d been eager to get me off her flight.

The last thing I’d wanted was to become emotional. I’d told myself that going back to Chicago was necessary, and it was. I had aspects of my life to handle that couldn’t be done over the phone.

What I hadn’t intended was to become so weepy. But here I was, now in a cab on my way to my destination and I still had tears in my eyes.

I’d begun to think so much of the way I was feeling was hormonal. The cravings I’d been experiencing had me scratching my arms. If I wasn’t careful, I’d injure myself and I wouldn’t have Beck to heal me.

At least during the flight, I’d come to terms with what I wanted to do. The only problem was if I’d fucked up with Beck and the only thing he’d ever wanted to do in his life. No, I wasn’t going to think of it that way. Positive thoughts only.

I paid for the cab and stared at the building. This was exactly what I wanted to do. With my bags slung over my shoulder, I headed to the elevator. By the time I reached the steel box, I was humming. As predicted, the sadness was gone, replaced by the rage I’d coveted.

When the elevator stopped on his floor, I was practically giddy.

One thing I’d learned about myself. I was excellent with acts of revenge.

When I was in front of his door, I heard music behind it. Maybe if I was lucky, he was entertaining. I pounded on the door several times.

Finally, Matt appeared. There was nothing like seeing the initial shock followed by a hint of fear he tried desperately to hide.

“What are you doing here.?” He looked past me as if worried.

I sidestepped him, moving inside. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”

He dropped his head, grumbling before closing the door. “I’m a little busy right now.”

“Whoever she is, she’ll wait. You need to see something.” While humming, I dropped my bags, pulling out the printed copy of the article. “Don’t ever say I didn’t play fair. Unlike you of course.”

“What’s this? What are you talking about, playing fair?”

“This is being printed in the Portland Herald in just a couple hours. You know those midnight deadlines. Plus, from I understand it’s going to go national since the subject matter is so… interesting. In addition, since news of the subject matter accidentally on purpose leaked to members of the local television stations, in a dozen cities including Chicago and New York, I suspect by this time tomorrow night, there won’t be a single person on the planet who doesn’t know about your little scheme. Now, the big corrupt executives of our paper will likely be none too happy, but you know what? I don’t give a shit.”

“What in God’s name are you prattling on about?” Matt appeared incensed.

“Prattling on? Please. The money you paid the boys of Sports Today was discovered. You should be more careful when you bribe someone, Matt. Amateur stuff right there. Plus, your buddies including Walter Braddock, you know, one of the owners of the Las Vegas Cruisers, will likely have a visit from the FBI as well. So will our bosses. They should all be much more careful in choosing bookies when betting on their own teams.”