Gabriel's Redemption

Chapter Sixty-seven

December 28, 2011

Washington, D.C.

Natalie Lundy stared at her cell phone and cursed. She’d placed call after call, leaving message after message, but now the number she’d been dialing for several weeks was no longer in service. Simon had changed his number. And her emails had gone unanswered.

She gazed at the cardboard box that sat on the floor, its contents silently mocking her. She was jobless.

The day after the announcement of Simon’s engagement, she’d been summoned to the office of Senator Talbot’s campaign manager. At least Robert had had the good sense to be embarrassed about what he was about to do.

“We have to let you go,” he said, avoiding her eyes.

“Why?”

“We’re overstaffed. The senator wants us to make some cuts, and personnel are the first thing to go. I’m sorry.”

Natalie lifted a single eyebrow at him. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with my relationship with Simon, would it?”

“Of course not,” Robert lied smoothly. “It’s business, not personal.”

“Don’t give me that Godfather bullshit. I’ve seen the movie.”

Robert’s eyes moved to the space behind her, and he nodded. “Alex here will walk you out. If you want, I can make a phone call to Harrisburg and see about getting you a position with one of the state senators.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She stood to her feet. “You can tell the senator and his son to do the same thing. They want to be rid of me, fine. But this isn’t over. I’m sure Andrew Sampson at the Post would be interested in hearing what I have to say about the way the Talbots do business.”

Robert lifted his hand. “Now don’t get carried away. As I said, I can get you a job in Harrisburg.”

“I don’t want to be in fucking Harrisburg, Robert. I’d like to know why I’m getting screwed. I did my job and I did it well. You know that.”

Robert’s eyes flickered to Alex. “Give me a minute.”

Alex withdrew, closing the door behind him.

“Listen, Natalie. You don’t want to make threats that you aren’t prepared to carry out.”

“But—I am prepared to carry them out.”

“That wouldn’t be prudent.”

“To hell with prudence.”

Robert shifted in his seat. “Of course, the campaign will provide you with a generous severance package. The details will be sent to your apartment.”

“Hush money?”

“Severance for being terminated due to financial exigency.”

“Whatever.” She picked up her purse and headed to the door. “Tell Simon he has twenty-four hours to call me. If I don’t hear from him, he’s going to be sorry.”

And with that, she opened the door and stomped into the hall.

It had been more than two weeks, and Simon hadn’t called. The damning evidence she’d sent to The Washington Post had been delivered. Fed Ex gave her confirmation of the fact. But she hadn’t heard from Andrew Sampson or anyone else. Perhaps he’d decided not to run the story. Perhaps it was too tawdry.

The day after her trip to Fed Ex, her apartment had been trashed. It didn’t take a great deal of intelligence to figure out that the thief had been someone from the senator’s campaign. They’d taken her laptop, her digital camera, her files, and her flash drives. She no longer had anything that she could use to blackmail Simon or anyone else.

She’d received the hush money—twenty-five thousand dollars. It was enough, she thought, to help her start a new life in California. It wouldn’t hurt for her to move away and start anew, using Senator Talbot’s money. She could plot her revenge on the Talbots from Sacramento.

She didn’t have any evidence for her allegations, so it was unlikely that any respectable journalist would take her seriously. But she could bide her time and sell her story to a tabloid as an October surprise. That should do it.

She smiled to herself, as she began packing her worldly goods.