Playing Dirty: Windy City Kink, Book 3 (26 page)

She smiled at that. “You assume
he
did something.”

“Not hard to figure out. You dumped him. He must’ve done something.”

“Yeah.” She sucked in her bottom lip. “He turned out to be too much like my ex. Which was exactly what I was afraid of when he was first asking me out. Pursuing me.” She gave a choked laugh. “He was relentless. That should’ve been my first clue.”

Kevin straightened. “Did he lay a hand on you? ’Cause I’ll fucking punch his lights out.”

“No. He didn’t. I mean…” She hesitated. “Never mind.”

Kevin’s foggy, drunk gaze sharpened. “You like having a hand laid on you?”

Heat crept into her cheeks. “In the right way. Yes.”

He grinned. “Sasha know that?”

“Uh…no.”

“You can talk to her about that stuff. If you need some girl advice.” He shrugged. “If that’s why you broke up with him. She’d probably get it better than anyone.”

“No. That’s not it. It was something else. Something bigger.” She sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Tell me about Emma. What’s the deal, Kev?” Maybe it was all the drinks she’d sucked down at dinner and during the game that was giving her the boldness to talk to him about this stuff. “I’ve always had the feeling you care about her. What’s with the hot-and-cold bullshit?”

His lips pursed and he looked down at the empty glass in his hand. He reached for the bottle on the table then realized it was empty too. He sank back into the chair. “I’m not hot and cold. I fucking love her more than anything.”

She waited, but he didn’t say more. “So…?”

He heaved a sigh. “Fuck. I told her. Might as well tell you. Might as well tell the whole fucking world. Let my career go down the crapper. Let my friends all disown me.”

She gaped at him. “What are you talking about?”

He looked away, then back at her, then away again. “I like to dress in women’s clothes.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Paige replayed Kevin’s words. That was a joke. Right? He was joking. Making up something so fantastic and wild to distract from the real reasons he and Emma were having problems. She laughed. “Right.”

He shook his head slowly and their eyes met. “I’m serious, Paige,” he whispered, and the agony in his eyes clued her in that he was telling the truth. And she’d laughed at him.

She lifted a hand to her throat, her skin going hot. “Oh.” Her mind scrambled for a response. Scrambled to make sense of it. “Um…” She had no idea what to say.

“You think I’m a freak,” he said heavily. “That’s okay. So does Emma.”

Her eyes flew open. “No! I don’t think you’re a freak!”

“Sure you do.”

She didn’t. She truly didn’t. She liked Kevin a lot. For the love of God, she had her own kinky hang-ups. Who was she to judge someone else? “Kevin, I like to be spanked. I like to be cuffed, tied up and flogged. I’m not going to judge you for wanting to dress up in women’s clothes. I’ve had my eyes opened to a lot of things lately. Joe likes to suck on Mallory’s toes. And, um, more.”

A grin flickered on Kevin’s drawn face. “No shit.”

“Apparently Jack and Sasha are into some kinky stuff too.”

His mouth went crooked. “Yeah. Knew that.”

“Emma doesn’t want to know about that.”

He gave a raspy laugh. “Yeah. He’s her brother.”

“So you told her you like to wear women’s clothes. That’s why she broke up with you?”

“Yep.”

Paige put some of the pieces together. “I gather you’ve been hiding it from her.”

“Uh-huh. And this is why. Knew she’d flip shit.”

Paige tipped her head, her own problems forgotten. “I get it,” she said slowly. “And I guess I get that some women would have a problem with that. I gotta say, though, I’m kind of disappointed in Emma.”

His quick frown told her how much he cared. He didn’t want anyone else criticizing Emma even though she’d completely let him down.

“I mean, I don’t know her very well, but it surprises me that she can’t handle that.”

“She doesn’t understand it,” he said in a low voice. “Fuck, I wish we had more tequila.”

“What do we have? ’Cause I could sure use another drink.”

She pushed up off the couch and headed to the kitchen, praying for a bottle of wine or even a couple of beers. As she reached for the fridge door, her eyes fell on a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon on the counter, back in a corner. “Red wine?” she called to him over her shoulder.

“Sure.”

She poured them each a generous glass and returned to the living room. She flicked on a lamp and handed Kevin his glass. He’d probably had enough—hell,
she’d
probably had enough—but if there was ever a time to get shitfaced, this was it.

“Okay, explain it to me,” she ordered him. “You like to wear women’s clothes. What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t
mean
anything. I just like it.”

“You’re not a transvestite.”

He frowned. “Don’t really like that term. Cross-dresser is better. Or I have gender nonconforming clothing tastes. But I don’t do it in public. Just at home. Just for myself. It started when I was young. I was fascinated with women’s clothes. I can’t explain where it comes from.”

Paige bit her lip. “Does it…turn you on?”

“No,” he matter-of-factly answered her question. “It’s not sexual. There are some people who cross-dress for sexual excitement, but not me. It feels…comfortable. I don’t want to be a woman. Just wear women’s clothes sometimes.”

Paige nodded. “Sasha knows about this, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah. We were friends before she moved in here. I felt okay telling her about it. But I asked her not to tell anyone else.”

“No one else knows? Not Joe or Beamer?”

“Christ no.” He rubbed his eyes. “They would freak the fuck out.”

Paige covered her mouth with her hand and rubbed her lips. “I don’t know,” she said. “They’re your friends, Kev. They might understand just fine.”

“Not many people understand,” he said bitterly. “Even you. I can tell. You’re great, Paige, not judging me, accepting what I’m telling you, but you don’t really understand.”

“Okay, you’re right.
Understand
is the wrong word. But you said it—
accept
. They’d accept it because they care about you.”

He shook his head, tipped his wineglass up and took a gulp. “Not so sure of that, sunshine. I’ve told people before—women I was in relationships with—thinking they’d accept it because they cared about me. Turns out, not so much. It never went well. I vowed I’d never tell anyone again. But Emma…” He sighed and looked away. “I kept pushing her away because if I admitted I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her, I’d have to tell her.”

Paige nodded, a knot forming in her throat.

“That wasn’t fair to her. I knew I was being an asshole. Didn’t know what else to do about it.” He drank more wine. “Sasha convinced me I had to tell her. What did I have to lose? I was pushing her away and losing her anyway. She wanted to know what was going on, so, okay, I told her.” He rolled his eyes, and lines bracketed his tightly held lips. “So I lost her anyway.”

Paige’s chest hurt so bad she could hardly breathe. This was so craptastic on top of her own painful breakup. “I’m sorry, Kev,” she whispered.

He looked at her. “Hey. You and Raff broke up. Why are we talking about me?”

She smiled sadly. “Because you’re important.”

He dipped his head and mumbled something she didn’t catch. “Well, here’s to us.” He lifted his glass. “Fuck ’em.”

She huffed out a laugh, raised her glass and took a big swallow. Her heart throbbed and her head ached. Red wine probably wasn’t a great idea.

She looked at Kevin. Too bad they weren’t attracted to each other. A guy who liked to wear women’s clothes seemed easier to deal with than a guy who’d assault someone. She sniffled at the sudden tears that sprang into her eyes. “I should go to bed,” she said. She didn’t move.

“Yeah. Me too. Need to pass out.”

“I’m sorry, Kev.”

“Yeah.” His lips barely curved. “Me too. Whatever happened with you and Raff, I’m sorry.”

She climbed the stairs up to her bedroom, feeling heavy and stiff. She pulled off her clothes, didn’t bother washing the makeup off her face and fell into bed, pressing her face into the pillow.

She couldn’t think about Raff. She couldn’t think about how she’d fallen for him, hard and fast. What a mistake. If she thought about it, she’d start crying, and she didn’t want to cry.

She fell asleep, but mostly because of the alcohol she’d drunk, and woke up at six in the morning, groggy and with a faint headache. Lovely. Heartbroken and hungover. Sounded like a great country song. She snorted a mirthless laugh as she pulled a bottle of Advil out of the medicine cabinet.

She stepped into the shower and turned it as hot as she could stand it, letting it pound down on her neck and shoulders. She had a lot to think about. Raff said she didn’t owe him anything, but she felt like she did, and she didn’t want to owe him. The problem was figuring out what to do about that.

She couldn’t afford the real rent he should have been charging her. Which meant moving and finding a cheaper place. But she’d already been all through that and it hadn’t gone so well. She’d gotten out of her lease—thanks again to Raff—and couldn’t stay where she was. So she was basically trapped.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t look for another place. She’d keep her eyes open and keep looking. You never knew what would come up. And as soon as something did, she was out of there.

She couldn’t repay him for helping her with her lease. She couldn’t repay him for helping her get out of her old lease. She couldn’t repay him for the interior-design services. She was just going to have to let that go and move forward.

Kevin’s door was closed when she emerged from her bedroom. No doubt he was still asleep, as should she have been. In the quiet kitchen, she made a pot of coffee then carried a mug to the back door to look out into the snowy yard. Sasha’s landscaping created a beautiful tableau, even in winter, with some shrubs and evergreens and long grasses creating interesting shapes and contrasts. A pot on the patio held bare, twisted branches with tiny white lights strung through them.

Did Sasha know Kevin had told Emma? Probably not. Maybe she should call Sasha and let her know. Might be a good idea for her to come over to see Kev today and support him. Of course, Paige wasn’t about to call her then, at seven thirty on a Sunday morning.

She returned to the kitchen, contemplating a piece of toast or some cereal. Nah. She wasn’t even a little hungry. A long, empty day stretched out in front of her. Maybe Emma needed some support too. Yeah, Paige was disappointed that Emma hadn’t been able to deal with Kevin’s cross-dressing, but she was still a friend. Paige knew Emma cared about Kevin, so this had to be heartbreaking for her too. Maybe she and Emma could get together for a little pity party. Again, too early to call her.

She went up to her room, got back into bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Raff dragged himself to the rec center Sunday. Dutch had contacted Calvin Strong and convinced him to come to the center, and he wanted to talk to the kid too. Maybe introduce him to Wayan. The two were the same age. Wayan’s defection from gang life could go a long way to convince Calvin.

Dutch met his eyes when he walked in and Raff knew the police had contacted him. Then Dutch’s eyebrows pulled together. “You okay, son?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. You look like shit. Everything okay?” Raff sensed the tension in Dutch’s voice and knew what he was thinking.

“Everything’s good.”

“Then why do you look like you drank a gallon of tequila last night? Maybe you did?”

“Yeah, matter of fact, I went home last night and got wasted.” Raff grabbed a Styrofoam cup and poured himself a cup of coffee from a pot sitting on the counter. “Police came to see you, I gather.”

“Yeah.” Dutch nodded. “How’d that go for you?”

“Fine.” Raff shrugged and took a sip of the coffee, searing his taste buds. He winced.

“Then why the hangover?”

Raff was silent for a long moment. “Paige dumped my ass last night.”

Dutch’s eyebrows rose. He poured himself a cup of coffee too. “You let her?”

Raff snorted.

“Seriously. It’s not like you to give up on something you’re determined to have.”

Raff’s chest tightened. “She doesn’t want to be with an asshole like her ex-husband. She’s always been afraid I’m going to turn out to be just like him. She said by doing what I did, I proved her right.” He shrugged. “She was right.”

“She knows?” Dutch kept his voice low.

“She’s smart. She figured it out. I didn’t tell her because, if the cops question her, I don’t want her to know.”

“You think they’ll talk to her?”

“Without a doubt. Come on, you know that. They were just called to her warehouse because he assaulted her. Now he’s been banged up. Yeah, they’re gonna talk to her.”

“Will she tell them she thinks you did it?”

“No idea.” Raff’s gut churned. “Even if she does, they’ve got no proof. Nothing on me. And my time is accounted for all evening.”

“So she didn’t appreciate the fact that you forcefully convinced that fucker to leave her alone and to sign the fucking divorce papers.”

“Nope.” Raff sipped his coffee more cautiously. “But that’s okay.”

Dutch gave him an incredulous look. “That’s okay with you? Bullshit.”

“No, really. Like I said, she was right. I
am
a violent, sadistic asshole. She deserves better. And if taking care of that fucker for her means I lose her…at least I know she’ll be okay.”

Dutch stared at him for a long moment. “Christ,” he muttered. “That’s so fucked up, and yet I almost admire you for it.”

“Ha. Thanks.”

Dutch gave him a level look. “But, Raff, you two had something. Maria and I could both see it.”

“I thought so too.” He looked down into his coffee. “Not gonna lie. I’m pissed.” That wasn’t exactly the extent of what he was feeling, but he wasn’t about to tell Dutch he was completely gutted by this.

“Maybe you two need to talk again.”

Raff shook his head. “I’m not pushing her. This time. I’ve pushed and pushed. You told me yourself. No means no.”

Dutch snorted. “We’re not talking about sex here.”

“Whatever. The principle is the same. Sometimes you just gotta accept no for an answer.”

“You didn’t get where you are accepting no for an answer.”

Raff sighed. He was tired of this conversation. “So. Wayan here?”

Dutch gave him a long look, then said, “Yeah. Let’s hope Calvin shows.”

He did. They did their talk. They asked him what he needed to be safe, to end things. Raff always waited before jumping in with money. Not that he was cynical, but he’d been burned a couple of times, trying to help guys out, trying to help get them out of that life—and they’d taken the money and run.

He assessed Calvin as they showed him around. He watched Raff and Wayan take a turn in the ring. Wayan and Calvin did seem to connect. Then Raff and Dutch took the two kids out for burgers.

If Calvin came back one more time, if he demonstrated some genuine desire to better himself, Raff would take care of the money issue.

Doing something good took a little sting out of the agony Raff had tried to numb with alcohol. The agony he was now pretending wasn’t there. He’d get over it.

He drove home to his big, empty condo, and as he rode the elevator up, he considered stopping on the fifty-first floor to do some work. That was better than sitting at home alone, trying to figure out how the hell his life had gotten so screwed up, how he’d gone from being with Paige, feeling like she was growing to trust him and maybe even care about him too, to being without her.

Nah. He continued the ride to the penthouse. He felt like wallowing in misery for a while. He deserved it. Inside, he threw himself down on the couch in his office and picked up the remote for the TV. He started channel surfing, stopping at a hockey game. But the game didn’t hold his attention.