As she hurried past, she sensed him move. “Miss Driscoll?”
Ignoring him, she kept walking as fast as her legs would go. His footsteps fell heavily on the concrete path behind her, so she broke into a flat-out run. The parking lot wasn’t that far; she could make it. Keys were clipped to the side of her purse, and there was a can of Mace attached to them. Always keep keys and pepper spray within easy reach. Her fingers closed on the metal and she automatically unlocked her car, comforted by the beep. Her pulse raced, and her finger was on the alarm button. Thankfully there was no one next to the car. So close, only a few more steps. The car was within touching distance when she felt someone grip her elbow. She froze for a millisecond, but then her self-defense training kicked in. She screamed and whirled, instinctively pushing out with her hand. Go for the nose, eyes or throat.
The man in the business suit deftly stepped back before she could connect with his Adam’s apple. He held out his hands. “Miss Driscoll, I’m Alex Santiago. I work for Senator Roberts.”
Her chest heaved, trying to squeeze air into her lungs. He wasn’t even out of breath.
Kat put a hand on the car and willed her heart to calm down. She studied him while she struggled to gain control of her breathing. Hair dark as night, styled and tamed. Taller than her five-foot-four frame. Lean, but he looked like he had muscle underneath his well-tailored suit. Big, dark eyes, skin the color of sand. A firm jaw, high cheekbones, the hint of a five o’clock shadow. He didn’t look like the typical congressional staffer, but he dressed like one. Dark gray pin-striped suit, light blue French-cuffed shirt, red tie, an American flag pinned to the lapel. He was senior staff. If he was legit.
“It’s Dr. Driscoll.” Kat crossed her arms. He stepped back, his lips twitching into something that looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk.
“Dr. Driscoll, I’m sorry to scare you, but I need to talk to you. Urgently.”
He pronounced each word carefully, in the precise manner of someone who had had language training.
“And why should I talk to you?”
He put his hand in his breast pocket and removed a plastic-encased identification card. It was a federal ID that listed his name as Alejandro Santiago.
“We’re on the same side here.”
Really? I don’t even know what side I’m on. Definitely a Washingtonian. “How did you get here so fast from DC?” The capital was a three-hour drive away.
“CNN gave us a heads-up they were running the story.”
“Then why didn’t you give me a heads-up?”
“We didn’t know if you needed one. But we did try to reach you. No one answered your office phone, and we couldn’t find your cell number on such short notice. We even tried you at your home, but it just rang.”
Kat bit her lip. She vaguely remembered the phone ringing when she was trying to calm her mother. Usually only telemarketers called that number, so she’d ignored it.
“So what’s going on?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out. The story caught us by surprise.” He raised his brows. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on what they’re saying.”
“Me? What does Senator Roberts have to say about it?” she countered.
“He’s in the air, on an overseas flight. He won’t be landing for another few hours.”
“You don’t have a way to reach him?”
“We have to wait until he lands.” His gaze shifted a bit and she narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed sincere enough, but no way was she trusting him.
“I’m on my way home to talk to my mother. Give me your card and I’ll call you when I have some information.”
“So you didn’t leak this story?”
“Excuse me?”
“Did you give this story to the media?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like some crazy woman, desperate for fifteen minutes of fame?” His eyes roamed her body and she reddened. “This story is ruining my life. I want it retracted, and as quickly as possible.”
“Then you and I have the same goal. I’ll come with you.”
“That’s not wise, Mr. Santiago.”
“Alex. And I don’t think you have a choice.”
He pointed behind her. She turned to see no fewer than ten people rushing toward her through the gates that separated faculty parking lot from the street. This time there was no doubt who they were. Cameras were already flashing and outstretched hands held ominous-looking microphones.
“Give me your keys.”
She stared at him. He snatched the keys from her hand. “Get in!”
“Katerina.”
“Professor Driscoll?”
“Kat!” The crowd of reporters was now close enough that she could hear them screaming her name. All doubt erased, she ran to the passenger side and slammed the door shut. Alex already had the car moving before she buckled in. She clicked the seat belt in place just as he floored the accelerator, backing out of the parking lot. Instinctively, she grabbed the handhold on the ceiling. He reversed all the way to the gate. He had a hat on his head now, its bill pulled low.
“What’re you doing? This is a campus—there are kids around!” If they ran over someone, her career was over. A vision of the dean physically throwing her off campus like a rag doll filled her mind.
Alex changed gears and pushed the car onto the grassy knoll to avoid a crowd of reporters.
“Dean Gladstone will—” Her head hit the side window as the car lurched. He had hopped onto the sidewalk to avoid more media immediately outside the gates. Several people slapped the car as he pressed the horn and squeezed past them.
Kat turned to make sure no one was lying on the ground bleeding to death. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Are you crazy?”
“You’ve never had to avoid the bloodhounds before. Trust me, this is routine—for me and for them. Tell me how to get to your house.”
She wanted to tell him to get out of her car so she could drive home alone, but who knew what disaster awaited there. He seemed to have some know-how, so she gave him her address and he plugged it into his phone GPS while continuing to drive like a New York City cabbie. On second thought, maybe I’d better get rid of him now.
“I’m going to go a roundabout way to shake off anyone following us.”
She whipped around, but all she saw were regular cars in normal traffic on the small-town streets. Her head pounded. This had to be a dream. Like the one she’d had last night in which she’d shown up to class without her lecture notes and the students had laughed at her. It had to be. This was not real.
They arrived at her house to find it quiet. No media vans, no horde of reporters. Just the neighbor’s yippy dog barking behind the fence like he’d never seen her before.
“Shut up, Rex,” she muttered, stepping onto her front porch. She and her mother lived in a small, brick-front town house with three feet of shared front yard between them and the neighbors. She keyed into the house with Alex right behind her.
“Wait here.” She motioned to the small living room with the flowered couch her mother had owned since Kat was a little girl. The woman refused to give it up. It was perfectly preserved under a plastic cover, Kat’s daily reminder of what her life would be if she didn’t change something. Once she got the promotion, she could move into her own place again and get more medical assistance for her mother.