Transfer of Power

“BROODING” MIGHT HAVE been the right word, at least at first. But that smug emotion was gone now, replaced by one of self-loathing and personal disgust. Disgust, she told herself.

Not disappointment or disrespect, it was disgust. Mr. Secret Agent Man’s parting slam had stung, and Anna Rielly’s first response had been to fold her arms tightly across her chest and ask herself just who that gun-toting ass thought he was. Where in the hell did he get off judging her so quickly? He didn’t know who she was. He was just another one of those arrogant white males, like so many of her dad’s cop friends, who thought they were the only ones that knew what life was all about. They had no idea how important it was to have a truly free press. Just who in the hell did he think he was? The voice in the back of her head responded. He’s the man who risked his life to save yours.

At that point, Riellys mood turned from brooding to selfloathing, and now she sat feeling not so hot about herself.