Remembering You: Pushing the Boundaries, Prequel Read Online Free Page B

turned and headed down Whitehall Avenue, hugging herself as a gust of wind flew down the street, there and gone in an instant but leaving a distinct chill behind. She took a breath, inhaling deeply. Being stuck in this town might not be her favorite thing, but years spent in foreign lands and almost inhumane climates had taught her to appreciate the familiar comforts of home, including these biting winds during the strange transition between autumn and winter.
    Her long legs ate up the pavement, and before she knew it, she was standing in front of the weathered wooden door of the Clipper. She’d been in here only once before, seven years ago, but she didn’t even hesitate before pushing the door open and stepping inside.
    Today, she’d been rear-ended by a hot cop—and not in a good way—had had to deal with the barrage of well-meaning colleagues who’d stopped by her desk to express their pity for her over your difficult situation , as they’d called it, and then she’d been assigned the least respectable story possible.
    A drink was mandatory.
    Before she had moved back here, she had been someone in the world of investigative reporting. She’d literally run for her life in Iraq one night and not only survived, but had managed to get an article in the New Yorker too. But despite her credentials, Jerry the editorial director had given the drug ring story to Rob, the slightly more senior, but significantly more pompous staff reporter who already had good relationships with the force here and would likely know all the players—as Jerry had put it.
    Immediately afterward, he’d handed Nina a fashion assignment.
    Fucking. Fashion.
    Nina liked looking nice as much as the next woman, and she certainly appreciated a well-made garment that would last through multiple hand-washings and wouldn’t tear if she needed to unexpectedly scale the wall around a makeshift prison or crawl into the cave home of a refugee from genocide. But asking her to report on how bright colors had replaced neutrals in wardrobe staples was like asking her to drive nails through her skull.
    She’d followed Jerry back to his office after the meeting, swearing to fight to the death to get a better story. She’d never question him in front of the other journalists and undermine his authority, but she had plenty to say in private. Jerry and she went way back, since the days when she would hang around the journalists when she was a teenager. When she’d come back home—for God knew how long—he’d been the most logical person to approach about a job, and she was grateful he’d given her the position.
    But she wasn’t that grateful.
    “Are you seriously making me write something on yellow being the new black?” she’d demanded the minute he’d closed the door to his office.
    But he hadn’t risen to meet her anger. Just sighed and gestured for her to sit. “My sources tell me it’s a huge deal in the fashion world right now.”
    She hadn’t been able to hold back a disbelieving laugh. “Your sources? Who are your sources for this big ‘Fashion Exposé’?” She threw up some air quotes around those words. “Some big mob kingpin been slipping you tips on Gucci?”
    “Look, Nina, you’re a good writer—”
    “No, Jerry, Nora Roberts is a good writer. I’m a damned stellar journalist. There’s a difference.”
    He’d given her an exasperated look. “Fine, Nina, you want the truth? Rob might not give the drug ring story the kind of coverage you’re used to, but even though this is a big deal in Greenbriar, it won’t make more than a handful of headlines anywhere outside of the state. I’ve read your work and I know you’re a ‘damned stellar journalist’. And it’s part of the problem, quite frankly. You’re used to having your byline in much bigger media outlets. Rob has been here a long time and the junior reporters respect him. I know you’re only here because of your dad. If I give you the big stories, what happens in