Her chuckle was ripe with bitterness. “Why? You didn’t do anything. All someone had to do was speculate about what you do for a living, and the rest took care of itself.”

That was the part that grated at him. Plucked at his instincts the way a sound out of place in the dead of night warned him to be alert. “This tip—who did it come from?”

“I don’t know. An executive talked to someone at the Midsummer Masquerade last night and boom, I’m toast.”

Kir sucked in a deep breath, the possibilities the new development opened up for finding Kevin’s killer rekindling his optimism. “We will find out who they are. Whoever it is may have ties to Kevin’s death and the email you were sent.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” She pushed upright and twisted so one of her knees lay bent on the cushion. “The fact is, Kir, this could have been any random person I’ve pissed off with a story. Either way, I’m out of a job.”

He sat up and cupped the side of her face. “You know you have nothing to worry about, Cassie. You will be cared for. All of your needs provided for.”

The last thing he expected was a frown, but that was exactly what he got, paired with an agitated tone. “I don’t want to be taken care of. I want to take care of myself. I want to be able to stand on my own two feet.” She shoved upright and paced toward the kitchen. “Even more than that, I want to clear my reputation. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Kir stood as well and faced her, the frustration and helplessness he’d wrestled with since receiving Sam’s call billowing larger. “Why do you care what they think? Reporting isn’t what you love. You’re good at it, yes, but photography is what you really enjoy. You only kept with the reporting because it gained at least some acknowledgment from your family.”

She spun and threw her arms out wide as if he’d proven her point. “And now my family is going to find out I’ve been fired because I’m hooked up with a mobster.”

There it was.

The blame for today, and the conflict that had stretched long and taunting between them since the first day they’d met. The man who lived by his own law, and the woman who made a living reporting on those who went against the status quo.

That’s not what’s really bugging you, though, is it?

He strode to the window with a bird’s-eye view of the main house, wishing he could ignore the question every bit as much as he wanted to ignore Cassie’s situation. Wanted to pretend the ugliest truth of all wasn’t right there dancing square in the middle of his conscience.

He was glad the conflict was gone. Had nursed a secret hope on the drive home that this would be the beginning of something deeper between them. A chance for them to be true partners where he never had to hide or couch his words in her presence.