Play to Win (19 page)

“I-I'm Sage,” I said. “Who are you?”

“Jerrod, but my friends call me TJ,” he said.

“What's the T stand for?”

“Trouble.”

Okay then.

“Are you new here?” he asked. “I don't think I've seen you before, and I'm damn sure I would've noticed.” He smiled crookedly, showing a dimple in his cheek. He was cute and the smile made his eyes less sad.

“I'm…visiting,” I said. “What about you? How long have you been here?”

“I've been in and out of here since I was twelve,” he said with a shrug, his smile fading. “I suppose one of these days they'll just give up and throw away the key.”

The way he said it was so resigned, the look in his eyes so full of hopelessness that it made my chest hurt. Instinctively, I reached out to touch his arm.

“Don't say that,” I said. “Things can get better. They
will
get better. You have to believe that. Your family wouldn't send you here if they didn't have that hope for you.”

He glanced down at my fingers on his bare arm and I hurriedly pulled my hand back, heat creeping into my cheeks. “Sorry about that,” I said. I knew it wasn't a good idea to touch without asking.

“No, don't apologize,” he said. “It's been a long time since a beautiful girl touched me.” The sheepish grin was back. “So tell me why you're trying to get into the office.”

I swallowed, debating. Something instinctively told me I could trust TJ. And he'd been around this place for a while, if I were to believe his story.

“I'm looking for information on a former patient,” I said. “A Steven Shea. Do you know him?”

TJ's smile was gone again. “Yeah, I knew him,” he said. “If I'm fucked up, he's a psycho lunatic. Crazy, sick bastard. He was here for a couple of years, then he left. That was maybe three years ago? Haven't seen him since.”

“What can you tell me about him?” I asked. “Why was he sent here? Did his family come visit?”

“We were roommates for a while,” TJ said. “Until they moved him into a room by himself. He was really pissed when they first brought him here. Tried to escape, hurt a couple of workers. They threatened to turn him over to the State.”

“What happened?”

“He was smart. Knew it'd be even worse there, so he settled down. He quit doing the drugs, which took the edge off, but he never stopped being a dangerous fucker.” TJ suddenly looked abashed. “Sorry for the language.”

I couldn't help a smile. “It's okay.” I refocused. “Why do you say he never stopped being dangerous?”

“He had a way of making sure no one messed with him,” TJ said. “There was a guy who took a real dislike to him, gave him a lot of shit in front of people. One day he was missing a finger. It'd been totally sliced off. He never said what happened, but he never so much as looked at Steven again.

“Some of the nurses would refuse to deal with him,” he continued. “Though they'd never say why. After a while, everyone just tried to pretend Steven didn't exist.”

Considering how Steven had scared the crap out of me in his office, I could understand the desire to stay far away from him. “Did he ever have any visitors?”

“Just his dad,” TJ said. “Though there was some girl he obsessed over. Said she was his wife, but I always thought he was full of shit because no girl ever came to see him.”

“And they just let him go?” I asked.

“Said he was cured, I guess.” TJ shrugged. “Up and checked himself out one day. I never heard from him again.”

“He could just leave?”

“Some people are here voluntarily,” he said. “Some aren't.”

“Okay, well, thank you, TJ. You've been very helpful.”

His smile was sweet. “I don't suppose you'll be coming back anytime?”

“I'm sorry, but no, probably not.”

TJ looked somewhat crestfallen and I impulsively leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself,” I said. “I really appreciate you talking to me.”

“Talk to a beautiful girl for a few minutes? Not really a hardship.”

That coaxed a smile from me, which quickly faded when I heard footsteps and voices on the stairs.

“I've gotta go,” I said, glancing around, but there was only the one staircase. I didn't know what they'd say about me exploring on my own, much less talking to a patient without permission, and I didn't want to find out.

“This way,” he said, reaching out and grasping my hand. He pulled me with him into an open room that looked like a lounge. A couple of guys were at a table playing cards and they looked up as we hurried past.

“There's a back staircase through here,” he said, stopping in front of a door.

“But there's a keypad,” I said. “Isn't it locked?”

He winked at me. “Of course it's locked.” He punched in six numbers and the door clicked open. “Lucky for you, I've been around here a while.”

I hurried through the door. “Thanks, TJ. I'll see you.”

“Bye, Sage.”

I hurried down the stairs as the door closed behind me. Voices floated in the air.

“Has anyone seen a woman come through here? Tall, long brown hair?”

I stopped in my tracks, listening.

“Nope. Why? You guys lose another patient?”

I didn't recognize the voice as TJ's, so it must have been one of the two guys playing cards.

“TJ, why are you by the door? Going somewhere?” The question had an edge to it.

“At some point, but probably not today,” TJ retorted.

I let out the breath I'd been holding and kept going, keeping my steps as light as I could. So my disappearance had been noticed. Well, at least I'd gotten information worth our trip.

The door at the bottom opened into the courtyard behind the house and I stepped out onto a cobblestone path. Slowing my pace and my breathing, I strolled through the manicured flowerbeds, stopping at a pond filled with koi and lily pads.

“There you are.”

I turned and saw May heading toward me, her steps purposeful. The warm, friendly smile was gone and now I saw more than a hint of Nurse Ratched.

“We've been looking for you,” she said when she was closer. “I believe Dr. McIntosh warned you not to wander off. Not all of our patients respond well to strangers.”

“If my brother is going to be staying here, surely a tour of the grounds isn't off limits,” I fired back. “But it doesn't matter. We need to be going anyway. We have other appointments today.”

I caught sight of Dr. McIntosh and Carrie walking down the steps from the back. She saw me at the same time and waved. I watched as they shook hands and Carrie headed my way.

“Thank you for your time, May,” I said. “We'll be leaving now.” I turned toward Carrie, effectively dismissing May. We didn't speak until we were in the car.

“Did you find out anything?” Carrie asked.

I nodded. “Steven was here for a couple of years dealing with drug addiction and anger management. He was violent and cunning.” I paused. “And married.”

Carrie's brows flew up. “Married? Really? I never heard anything about Steven Shea being married.”

“Neither have I. But supposedly she never came to visit him while he was here.”

“I wonder if she's still around,” Carrie said.

“I'm thinking the same thing. If we can find her, maybe she'd be key to calling off Steven. If she was married to him, surely she'd know all the dirt.

“Marriage records are available to the public,” I said. “The Cook County Clerk's Office would probably be the best place to start.”

“Then that's where we'll go.”

Two hours later, we were fighting downtown traffic as we jockeyed for a parking spot outside the Clerk's Office.

“I'll just hop out and go in,” I said. “Go on back to the office and I'll grab a cab.”

“You sure?”

The person in the car behind us laid on their horn. I hopped out of the car and leaned back in so Carrie could hear me over the blaring noise. “I'm sure. I'll be back soon.” I shut the door and she drove off. I made sure to signal my irritation to the horn-blower as he went by and he responded in kind. Jerk.

It took longer than I expected to search the records, because I had no idea of the time frame when Steven would've been married. All I had was his name, so I wasn't surprised when I turned up nothing, despite digging through archive records for the past decade.

“Need some help on that Steven Shea?” The woman who'd shown me the computer database had come to check on me.

“I'm not finding anything,” I explained. “Though I'm pretty sure there's a marriage record.”

“These are the computer records and much more easily searched,” she said. “But everything is still on paper. It's possible, though unlikely, that something was missed. If you want to take a look, I can show you where those are kept.”

“That'd be great, thanks.”

She took me down a staircase to the basement. I followed her down a hallway, her low heels clacking on the concrete floor, and she unlocked a door. Stepping inside, she turned on the lights. The fluorescent bulbs flickered to life, showing row after row of filing cabinets.

“They're by year,” she said, “so maybe searching won't be easier, but if it's not here, it didn't happen.”

“Okay, thank you.”

“We close at four,” she said. “I'll lock the door behind me so you can just leave when you're through without hunting me down.”

After she left, I stared at the aisles of dull gray filing cabinets and sighed. “Good thing I sent Carrie on back,” I muttered. I'd had no idea I'd take this long.

I started at three years ago and quickly found out that a) a lot of people got married in Cook County and b) a lot of their last names began with S. After my third paper cut, I was gritting out curse words and wondering if I wasn't on a wild goose chase.

A decade ago, Steven Shea would've been nineteen. Old enough to marry. Or maybe it had all been a figment of his imagination. Maybe TJ was right and he hadn't married at all, which meant I was looking for a ghost.

It wasn't until I reached that ten-year mark and was digging through musty records in the far reaches of the cavernous room that I actually found a lead.

“It's about time,” I muttered, pulling out a thin folder for
Shea, S.

The sound of the door closing up front made me look up. Had that lady come back? I glanced at my watch. It was nearly five o'clock. Crap. Not good.

“Hey, I'm almost done,” I called out, flipping open the file.

It took me a moment to realize no one had answered me.

“Hello?” I called again, frowning as I listened hard.

Nothing. Then I heard the slight scuff of a shoe.

The hair on the back of my neck rose. Someone was in here with me, and they didn't want me to know it.

As quietly as I could, I stuffed the file inside my purse and got to my feet from where I'd been crouching on the floor. Reaching down, I slipped off my heels, carrying them in one hand as I crept down the aisle.

The lights went off.

I
froze, blinking rapidly to try and get my eyes to adjust. If I'd had any doubts as to whether I was imagining things, they were now gone. Someone had turned off the lights and was sneaking around the room…hunting me.

Every noise I made seemed amplified, from the rustle of my skirt to my rapid breathing. I reached the end of the aisle and waited, straining my ears. I took a step just as I heard the gunshot. Papers exploded inches from my shoulder and I cried out, instinctively ducking. Then I ran.

Running down the aisle toward the door, I heard the footsteps behind me. Just as I reached the end of the row, I turned, grabbed the metal stand housing the file cabinets, and heaved. For a terrifying second it didn't budge, then it began to topple as though in slow motion.

Drawers flew open as the stand fell and I heard a man grunt in pain. Metal slammed against metal, but I didn't wait to see how or if he got himself out. I got to the door and turned the knob.

It was locked. Someone had thrown a dead bolt on the outside.

I looked around frantically for anything I could use to get out. I could hear the man digging out from the stacks. Lacking any other option, I gripped my shoe tightly and, using the heel, I smashed it into the glass window. Luckily, it wasn't shatterproof glass and it broke easily. Thrusting my hand through, I twisted the dead bolt and flung open the door.

The hallway was deserted—government employees gone at the stroke of quitting time—and the corridor stretched endlessly in front of me.

I didn't hesitate. I ran. An
EXIT
sign glowed over a door at the far end. But there was nowhere in between and I was a sitting duck.

The door banged open and I chanced a quick glance behind me…just enough to see the gun pointed in my direction.

I dodged to the left as a shot rang out. Twenty more feet and I'd be at the door. My pocket buzzed. Someone was calling me. I dodged back to the right as I yanked the phone out. I didn't even look at the screen, just hit the button and talked.

“Please help me!”

Another gunshot barely missed. Panic was taking over, adrenaline flooding my body in a chilling rush through my veins. Ten feet.

“Sage? Are you—”

Parker. But he cut out.

“Help…” I gasped, putting forth one last burst of speed to shove through the exit door. My hand hit the crossbar and it flew open, crashing into the wall with a loud metal bang.

“—wrong? What's happen—”

He cut out again. My signal was crap in here. “Someone's shooting at me.”

“Carrie sent me to get you,” Parker said, and this time his voice was clear. “I'm out front of the Clerk's Office, but the building is locked.”

“I'm coming out the side exit,” I said, my bare feet flying up the flight of stairs leading to the outside. “Please, Parker…” I was near tears, terrified that whoever was shooting was following me and that I'd feel the bite of a bullet in my back at any second.

“I'm here.”

I shoved open the door and burst outside. An arm snagged me around the waist, lifting me off my feet. I yelped in surprise, twisting until I could see his face.

Parker had me.

“Thank God,” I breathed, relief flooding me. I gripped the lapels of his jacket, resting my forehead against his shoulder.

“What's going on?” he asked. “Who's shooting at you?”

“I don't know,” I said, stepping away now and pulling on him. “Let's just go. Please.” I couldn't bear the thought of Parker intervening and something possibly happening to him. Fear still had a grip on my mind.

“It's okay. Just tell me where you saw him last. Was it a man?”

“Please, let's go,” I said, starting to cry. I felt hysterics coming on and tried not to let it show. “Please don't go in there. Just take me home.” I pulled again on his arm, tugging him away from the door and the building.

His hand closed over mine. “Okay, okay,” he said soothingly. “We'll go. I'll get you out of here right now.”

“Yes, thank you.” This time when I tugged on his hand, he came along. His other hand held his gun.

I couldn't get away fast enough and was glad Parker's car was parked right there on the street. He bundled me inside, rounded the car, and slid behind the wheel. It wasn't until we were roaring down the street that I felt I could breathe normally again.

“Start at the beginning,” he ordered.

I told him about Carrie and me going to the institution to look for information on Steven, then about how he'd been married and our reasoning that his wife would know more about him than we would.

“First of all,” he said when I was through, “you shouldn't have been trying to investigate Steven. He's dangerous. Everything I just did was to keep you safe. Then you go throw all of it away in a hope you'll find some kind of smoking gun?”

“Smoking gun? Not funny, given the fact someone was just shooting at me. Besides, I was trying to rid us of him,” I protested. “You can't be mad at me for that.”

“I can and am,” he shot back. “Someone was
shooting
at you back there. What would've happened if they hadn't missed? You think I want to have to identify your body on a slab in the morgue?”

I flinched. That was certainly an image I didn't need, thank you very much.

“Freeing you would be worth it,” I said.

“Bullshit. I can take care of myself. What is patently obvious is that you are ruled by your emotions, not logic.”

Okay, now I was starting to get pissed off. “What's that supposed to mean? That I'm some kind of emotional basket case female who leaps headfirst without looking?”

“Pretty much.”

“Dammit, Parker! I'm doing this for us!”

“So am I.”

We fumed in silence. Or at least,
I
fumed. I couldn't tell what Parker was thinking. Other than the tight grip he had on the steering wheel, his face was starkly blank.

He pulled into my parking lot and turned off the car, then faced me. “Promise me you'll stop. Steven Shea is dangerous. I don't want you having anything to do with him. Let me handle it.”

“You're not handling it!” I burst out. “You're letting him run our lives. He has me over a barrel and is using you. Or don't you know why he wants you?”

“I know about Sikes going public, if that's what you're getting at.”

“If you do that deal, you'll be positioning Shea as a monopolistic interest,” I said. “All he'll have to do is shut us down and he'll own the liquor trade in three states.”

“Of course he will. Did you really think this was about his dad? He doesn't give a shit about his dad.”

I was surprised by the bitterness in Parker's voice. “I thought he wanted revenge—”

“He doesn't. It's all about the money. It always has been.”

Parker got out of the car before I could reply. He opened my door and I had no choice but to step out. He stood too close, our bodies only inches apart, and for a moment I couldn't breathe. A sharp pang of longing went through me.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” I said, my voice much too breathless.

“Carrie was worried when you didn't show up,” he replied, shutting the door behind me. His arm brushed mine and it felt as though I'd been burned. “She said she tried calling your cell but it went straight to voice mail.”

“Um, yeah,” I said, struggling to think past the heartbroken yearning I felt. “I had a crappy signal in the basement.”

“C'mon. I'll walk you up.”

No argument there. Any time I could prolong with Parker was well spent. I missed him and I missed us. I missed what might have been…what should be.

We were walking down my hallway when I made the words come out of my mouth.

“Do you miss me?”

We stopped in front of my door. Parker's fingers brushed my chin, lifting my downcast face up.

“You know I do.”

His words were a balm to the burning wound inside that ached for him. I drank in the clear blue of his eyes, the curve of his jaw, the wave of his dark hair over his forehead. He was so beautiful, it hurt to look at him.

Tears stung my eyes. “Is it always going to be like this?”

“I hope not. I can't be without you.”

“I feel the same.”

He was so close, I could feel the heat from his skin. He was watching me with a look in his hooded eyes that sent a shiver of anticipation down my spine.

“Come inside with me,” I said, my voice a husky whisper.

“We shouldn't.”

I didn't want to beg…but “Please, Parker,” I whispered. My hand crept up to the back of his neck, my fingers threaded through his hair. His whole body stiffened and his eyes slipped shut. “I want you.”

For a breathless moment, I didn't think he'd give in and I'd be left feeling like a needy idiot.

Suddenly I was against the wall, with Parker's body pressed against me and his mouth hungrily devouring mine.

I clung to him, holding on tight. My lips opened and his tongue delved inside. The taste of him was as intoxicating as I remembered and I moaned.

He opened the door and swept me inside. I barely heard the door close, too busy kissing his neck and jaw and any other part of him that I could reach.

He lifted me and my legs circled him. My skirt pushed up my thighs and my back went up against the wall. His kiss was as desperate as mine. Parker's hips were cradled between my thighs and I tightened my legs.

“God, Sage,” he rasped against my lips. His erection pressed against me, sending a rush of heat through me. I whimpered, wanting him so badly I thought I'd die if he didn't take me right there, right then.

“Fuck me, Parker,” I whispered. Part of me was embarrassed that I had the guts to say that, but the other part of me really didn't give a crap, other than hoping Parker liked taking that particular order.

I squirmed a hand between us and managed to undo his pants. Another deft tug and his hard cock was in my hand. Parker was sucking on my neck and I gently squeezed him.

“You're sure?” His voice in my ear sent a shiver across my skin.

“I'd be the worst kind of tease if I wasn't,” I replied dryly.

He snorted. “Just making sure.”

I was glad Parker worked out because somehow he managed to tug aside my panties and bury himself inside me all while still keeping me against the wall.

“Where there's a will, there's a way,” I breathed, smiling. He felt incredible and I clung to him.

“God, I've missed you.”

I didn't have a chance to respond before he was kissing me again, not that I had much coherent thought at that point. Just vague thoughts of
yes please
and
oh yeah, just like that
.

He gripped my hips, thrusting inside me, his tongue tangling with mine. Our breath mingled and the sound of my pulse racing throbbed in my ears. His taste, his touch, the feel of his body covering mine—all of it was overwhelming in the very best kind of way.

Parker tore his mouth from mine. “My memory didn't do you justice,” he said, carrying me from the wall toward the couch.

I thought we would lay down, but he bent me over the side and shoved my skirt up to my waist. I felt air on the backs of my thighs as Parker yanked my panties down and off my legs. His leg nudged my knees apart and I gladly obliged, emitting a wholly unfeminine groan when he thrust inside me.

It was hard and fast and oh so thorough, Parker taking me like this. I felt his wanting me, needing me, and it was an incredible turn-on. When he reached around to slide his fingers against my clit, I was already almost there.

“Oh God, Parker,” I moaned, knowing I sounded like a bad porno flick but not caring. “Oh God…”

“Come for me, Sage. I want to feel you.”

He thrust harder, filling me, and I shattered, crying out his name. I heard him cursing as his body jerked into mine, his cock pulsing inside me.

Parker was draped over me, both of us struggling to get our breath. He swept aside my hair and pressed his lips to my skin. I closed my eyes at the feel of his gentle, slow kisses on my neck.

“I love how you smell right here,” he said in a voice just above a whisper. “It's a warm smell. It combines your perfume, your hair, and your skin.”

If I wasn't already boneless from my mind-blowing orgasm, I would have melted on the spot.

He pulled out of me and swept me up in his arms. I hooked an arm around his shoulder and nuzzled his neck as he carried me to the bedroom.

We didn't speak. He gazed into my eyes as he laid me down and sat down next to me. Reaching over, he flipped on the bedside lamp. His fingers tangled in my hair, combing slowly through the strands. The touch made me feel like a cat being stroked and I watched him, the air heavy between us.

“Come lie down with me,” I said.

“You know I can't.”

My stomach sank. “Why not?”

“I have to leave. Natalie will be waiting for me.”

“You've got to be kidding me,” I said, sitting up. “You're going back to her?”

“I have no choice. Not right now. And I'm not going
back to her
. I'm going to my apartment, where she happens to be.”

“This is ridiculous,” I said, channeling my hurt into anger. “I refuse to let those…those assholes dictate our lives.”

“I'm working on it,” he said. “But in the meantime, we're going to play by their rules. I'm not going to allow him to hurt you or your business.”

Okay, so he was
working on it
. “What does that mean?” I asked.

His eyes searched mine. “Trust me,” he said. “I need you to just trust me. Can you do that?”

I hesitated. I wanted to, I really did, but he was going home to Natalie, who was beautiful and wanted him…

“You can't, can you,” he said, disappointment evident on his face.