ough the revolving glass doors of

d medical patch covered the stitches on her forehead. He

the Human Reso

e mahogany desk. She slid a thick employee handbo

. I know you're Emerson Jordan's protégé from London, but this is D.C. Your connections ove

and junior writers passing by

lway. Alya clearly heard the wo

the pen, signed her name with aggressive, sharp

main newsroom, she nearly collided w

a-Al

graying, but his eyes lit up with genuine surprise. He ha

id, her tone po

I'm the Deputy Editor here now. Come on

Liam stopped in front of a massive corner desk

itor. She was a D.C. socialite

eyes raked over Alya's che

Alya Rivas," L

As in Faustino Rivas? I didn't realize BCF w

n of the newsroom

cing both hands flat on E

d, her voice smooth as glass. "Not about whose lap you

t, ugly red. Alya had hit the

ained manila folder from her tray

ucture project in Ward 8. The contractors are complaining ab

s a miserable, muddy wasteland with zero pol

s a senior investigator. T

d, stopping Liam.

by four," Al

uipment room, grabbing a heavy

zing, thick brown mud. The construction site

sed to get out of the BCF news v

ind. She pulled up the co

any running the site was a subsid

ory. This was a massive m

oar of heavy ma

achs rolled through the chain-link ga

l politicians scrambled f

polished, custom-made Italian leather shoe steppe