Playing Dirty Page 14

  I’d finished stuffing the files into my purse when Parker came out of his office and locked the door behind him. Always the gentleman, he waited for me to precede him into the waiting elevator.

  “Where are you going?” he asked when I punched the button for the lobby.

  I frowned at him. “Um, home?” I’d thought that was pretty obvious.

  “Deirdre told me she left a big pan of manicotti at home,” he said. “You may as well come by and have some. I won’t be able to eat it all. I never can. She cooks enough food for ten people even though I keep telling her it’s just me.”

  Manicotti. Yum. Growing up with an Italian father meant pasta had been a staple in our house, lovingly hand-crafted and smothered in homemade marinara. Just thinking about it made my stomach growl again.

  Parker laughed as the elevator doors slid open on the parking garage level. “Then it’s settled,” he said. “Come on.”

  It was starting to feel dangerously comfortable and normal to ride in Parker’s BMW, though following him into his apartment still fell under the title of Surreal. Yes, I’d been there many times before, but usually it was without him holding the door open for me to step inside.

  I was immediately hit by the mouthwatering aroma of pasta baking, and I took a deep, appreciative sniff.

  “Smells like we’re just in time,” Parker said. “Make yourself at home.” He took his briefcase into his office as I looked around to try and figure out the best place to sit.

  I didn’t think making myself “at home” was the best idea, so I kind of stood awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. He didn’t say anything about it when he returned, though, just headed to the wine rack and chose a bottle of red.

  “You’re off the pain meds, right?” he asked, pausing before pouring the liquid into the second glass.

  “Yeah. It makes me too sleepy and a little nauseous.” Ibuprofen had been good enough to keep the pain in my shoulder under control, thank goodness.

  After the fight with Ryker, a glass of wine sounded good. I was depressed about it now that my temper had worn off, and didn’t know what to do. I swallowed a big gulp of what Parker poured for me while he took the pan out of the oven.

  As I’d expected, the food was amazing. I moaned appreciatively as the first bite hit my tongue, my eyes drifting shut. I hadn’t had homemade Italian in a while, and it felt like coming home.

  Parker suddenly cleared his throat and my eyes shot open.

  “Good?” he asked, his gaze dropping to my mouth.

  “Mmhmm,” I managed as enthusiastically as I could with my mouth full.

  The wine was excellent and the food amazing, and before I even realized, Parker was refilling my wineglass for a third time and I was finishing off my second helping of manicotti.

  “I love Deirdre,” I sighed when my plate was empty. Oh, wow, I was so full, and really regretted wearing tights today as the waistband felt like it was cutting into my now bloated stomach. Ugh. And after heavy Italian food and wine, I was lethargic and sleepy.

  Hauling my ass out of the chair, I helped Parker clean up, then wondered what I was supposed to do—should I leave?—but he just grabbed the bottle of wine and our glasses. I followed him into the living room and he sat down on the sofa, setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table in front of it. So I sat there, too, and he handed me my glass.

  I figured I should probably stop drinking as I could feel it had already gone to my head, but that’s the thing with drinking—by the time you realize it’s going to your head, you just don’t care. And not caring about anything was an intoxicating feeling (no pun intended). Definitely a Catch-22, that, plus I’d never been great at knowing when to say when.

  “I thought you and Ryker were having dinner tonight,” Parker said. A non-question question.

  “We did,” I said. “Sorta. But we got in a fight before we could order and then he got called back to work, so there wasn’t really food involved.”

  “A fight? What did you fight about?” Parker finished his wine and added more to his glass, then poured the rest of the bottle into mine.

  “You.” It kind of popped out and I winced.

  “What about me?” He settled back against the couch, stretching an arm along the top behind me and turning his body slightly my way as he took another drink of his wine. I wondered if I should be talking about this with Parker, but it was kind of late to be worrying about it now. I gave a mental shrug.

  “He wants me to quit. Says I should get a ‘real job.’ ”

  Parker froze for a moment, so briefly I wondered if I’d imagined it, then he swallowed the wine and set the glass aside.

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That we’ve only been dating a few months and I’m not going to turn my life upside down for someone when I don’t know where it’s going,” I said, my irritation at Ryker plain to hear in my tone. I took a big swig of wine, tears stinging my eyes because even though I was mad at Ryker, I hated to be in a fight with him.

  “Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry.” Parker took my glass from me and pulled me closer with an arm around me, being careful of my shoulder that had the stitches. “Maybe he’s just under pressure right now at work.”

  It was almost too easy to lean against him as I sniffed and tried to blink away the damn tears. “Yeah, maybe,” I mumbled. “I don’t understand why he can’t just let it go. We’re practically living together and he still acts like he’s jealous of you.”

  Parker’s hand was running a light path down my back, then up, but it paused.

  “You’re living together?”

  I nodded, hoping I wasn’t getting makeup on his pristine shirt. “Yeah. I think so. Mostly.”

  His hand resumed its path and I closed my eyes. I felt my body relax into his.

  “If that’s not something you want, then you should tell him,” Parker said gently. “Don’t let him rush you. There’s no hurry.”

  I tipped my head back to look at him, which was a mistake, because that’s when I realized how close our faces were to each other. More importantly, how close his lips were.

  Oh God.

  He had his arm around me as I leaned against him and the scent of his cologne surrounded me. His face was tilted down, his blue gaze locked on mine, and I could feel the beat of his heart through his chest against my ribs. Or maybe that was my heart beating so rapidly.

  Longing struck. That deep pang inside me that I thought I’d vanquished when it came to Parker. Turned out it wasn’t vanquished, just buried real deep. All the thoughts I’d had about why I couldn’t tell Ryker I loved him swirled with a sick feeling of guilt inside my head.

  I pushed against him and he kept his hold on me just long enough to send a silent message before dropping his arms. Hurriedly I stood, albeit slightly unsteady on my feet. I didn’t know if that was from the wine, what had almost just happened, or both.

  Parker was up and gently held my arms until I was balanced, standing so close I could just lean forward an itty bit and lick that triangle of skin that his unbuttoned shirt revealed …

  “I gotta go,” I said, stumbling backward. I righted myself and made a beeline for the kitchen and where I’d dropped off my shoes and purse.

  I was busy trying to shove my feet into my heels—when had it gotten to be so complicated a procedure?—when Parker spoke. I hadn’t even heard him follow me. His voice was right at my ear and he rested a hand on my shoulder, startling me. I spun around to face him and his hand dropped.

  “You seem kind of tipsy,” he said. “Why don’t you stay here for a while? I don’t want to send you home like this.”

  But I shook my head. “I’m fine. Coming tonight was probably not the best idea.”

  “Why is that?”

  He was still so close. I took a step back and hit the wall.

  I swallowed hard before answering. “Because I can’t do this,” I said. I had to get through to him. This had to stop. “I’m with Ryker, and you’re … toy
ing with me … and I can’t … I just … I can’t—”

  My throat closed up and I couldn’t say anything else. My eyes begged him to understand. Parker meant so much to me, but it was too late. I wasn’t going to dump Ryker—another man I deeply cared about—simply because Parker was putting moves on me. I didn’t trust it and I didn’t trust him.

  Parker’s hands cupped my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks. “I swear, I’m not toying with you. You wanted more between us not long ago. Tell me you don’t still feel that way.”

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with Ryker, and I don’t trust you,” I managed, barely above a whisper. Between the fight with Ryker and now … whatever this was with Parker … my emotions were raw. I felt buffeted between the two of them, like a leaf in the wind.

  Parker flinched at my words, a barely perceptible reaction that someone who didn’t know him as well as I did may have missed. His hands fell to his sides.

  Grabbing my purse, I opened the door before I could rethink it.

  “Thanks for dinner,” I said, then I was hurrying down the hallway and out of the building as fast as I could go, not knowing if I was running away from Parker, running toward Ryker, or both.

  CHAPTER NINE

  I was utterly confused and miserable as I hopped out of the cab and headed for the front of my building. I didn’t know what I was going to do about Parker, nor did I understand what had changed. Was it just the brush with disaster yesterday that had suddenly brought on this change of heart in him?

  But it didn’t matter, whatever it was. I wasn’t going to let it derail my relationship with Ryker.

  Which seemed to be well on its way to doing that all on its own.

  “Miss Reese?”

  I started at the sound of my name, right behind me, and whirled around. It was the man who’d been watching Ryker and me earlier. I stumbled backward a few steps.

  “Who are you?” I asked.

  But the guy just smiled in a way that sent a chill down my spine. “I work for Mr. Shea,” he said, “and Mr. Shea is very interested in having a conversation with your boyfriend.”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I automatically lied.

  He chuckled. “Nice try,” he said, moving closer to me. I swallowed and held my ground. “Tell McCrady Mr. Shea wants to see him tomorrow, or he won’t like the consequences.”

  “What consequences?”

  Quick as a flash, the guy had a handful of my hair and a switchblade in his other hand, the flat of the cold blade pressing against my cheek.

  I gasped in pain and fear, my pulse pounding. I didn’t move and tears sprang to my eyes from the cruel grip he had on my hair.

  “Consequences involving a dead girlfriend,” he hissed. “Have I made myself clear?”

  I didn’t say anything—it was kind of a rhetorical question—and he waited another beat before letting me go. A car pulled up behind him, a dark sedan, and he slid into the front passenger seat, then it drove away.

  I was shaking from fear, adrenaline, and anger. I was scared by what had happened, and pissed off, too. How dare Leo send someone to scare me, threaten me? The asshole.

  I was still shaken up and fuming when I unlocked my apartment. I flipped on the light and nearly screamed. Ryker was sitting on my couch in the dark.

  “What the hell?” I gasped, now even angrier that he’d scared me. “What’re you doing here?”

  “I came here as soon as I could get away from work,” he said. “Imagine how worried I was when you weren’t here.” He stood and approached me until we were toe to toe. “Where have you been?”

  Ah, shit.

  “I went back to work,” I said. “I had some stuff I could get done there.” I moved past him and set my purse down, pulling out the files to show him. “See?” I tried to rationalize why I felt I had to prove my whereabouts to my boyfriend.

  “Was Parker there?”

  “Why does it matter?” I countered. “He’s there every day.”

  “It’s almost ten o’clock,” he said. “You were at work all this time?”

  “Why the interrogation?” I asked. “What did you think I was doing, Ryker?”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t notice what you haven’t said to me?”

  I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you mean.” I turned toward the cabinet, in dire need of a drink. Preferably of something alcoholic, but his hand closed around my elbow, pulling me back around to face him.

  “I think I have a right to know how you’re feeling about us,” he said, “and if you were with Parker tonight.”

  “And if I was? What then? He’s my boss. Being with him is kind of what I do all day. And this”—I jerked out of his grip—“is getting old.”

  Ryker growled a curse and shoved his hand through his hair. I ignored him, getting a bottle of bourbon I had and pouring myself a healthy shot.

  “Besides,” I said, after I’d had two swallows. The liquor burned a path down my throat to my belly. “Parker isn’t who you should be worried about. Leo Shea sent some lackey to wait for me outside the building. He’s the guy who was watching us earlier. He gave me a message for you.”

  Ryker’s eyes sharpened and his body grew more tense, as though readying for a fight. “What happened?”

  “He was waiting for me,” I said. “Told me that Leo Shea wants to see you tomorrow. Or else.”

  “Or else what?”

  I downed the rest of the bourbon before answering. “Yeah, that’s when he pulled a knife.”

  Ryker was beside me in an instant, taking the glass from my hand and turning me toward him. “Are you all right?” he asked, anxious. His hands lifted to brush back my hair, inspecting my neck.

  Tears clogged my throat, so I just nodded, swallowing them down. “He, ah.” I cleared my throat. “He seemed really serious. Said if you didn’t go, that you’d have a … dead girlfriend.” Bitter anger filled my belly. I didn’t want to be scared.

  “I was afraid this would happen,” Ryker said. “Any kind of weakness, Leo exploits it. He’s not happy until everyone working for him is under his absolute control.”

  “But you don’t work for him,” I protested.

  “I used to. And I was good at it.”

  “What did you do?”

  Ryker hesitated, his hands dropping from me. “I was his enforcer. Kept his people in line. It was an ideal undercover position for gaining his trust and knowing everyone and everything that was going on.”

  And it sounded incredibly dangerous.

  “How did you get out?”

  “We made it look like I was killed,” he said.

  “So seeing you the other night must’ve really been a surprise,” I said. “If he thought you were dead.” No doubt an understatement, and helped explain why Leo had looked so pissed.

  “You could say that,” Ryker replied.

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t have a choice, if he’s threatening you. I’ll have to go see him tomorrow, see what he wants.”

  I nodded. I didn’t see another way out either, especially if scary-knife guy knew where I lived and worked.

  “Listen,” he said, taking my hand in his and tugging me toward him until our bodies touched. “I’m sorry. About tonight. You … bring out my possessive side.”

  “I just can’t keep having this same argument, Ryker,” I said. His dark hair was tousled and I reached to push my fingers through the strands. “I’m with you. Don’t you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you,” he said. “I don’t trust him.”

  My mind whispered that maybe he had a point, especially considering the things Parker had said and done the past few days, but I pushed the thought aside. “It takes two,” I said. “And while I may not have said it outright, I wouldn’t be with you—not like this—if it wasn’t something more for me, too.”

  I still couldn’t say the L-word, but maybe this would be e
nough. Yes, I needed to work through whatever it was I still felt for Parker, but my feelings for Ryker were real. He was a gorgeous man who oozed danger and Bad Boy from his pores, who had a decent job and was a good guy … and he wanted to be with me. Megan was right. I didn’t want to screw that up.

  He smiled, a full wattage complete with dimple, and it made me weak in the knees.

  “Does this mean we get to have makeup sex now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling at me.

  I raised an eyebrow, hiding my relief. “I’m not sure. Did we really fight? I mean, there wasn’t any yelling or screaming involved.”

  Without warning, he swung me up in his arms and I squeaked in surprise.

  “Oh, I’ll make you scream,” he said. “I promise.”

  Hoo boy.

  * * *

  “I don’t want you to go to work today.”

  I looked up from where I was pouring coffee into two mugs. Ryker stood in the kitchen, shirtless and wearing just his jeans, which were zipped but not fastened. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching me. I pulled my brain out of the stupor seeing him like that always put me in.

  “I have bills to pay, which only get paid if I work,” I replied, determined to not get in another fight with him. I knew where this was coming from. He was worried. I couldn’t blame him. If I was honest, I was worried, too. But I wasn’t about to let that asshole Leo Shea keep me cowering in my apartment for the foreseeable future.

  “Like your dad wouldn’t help make ends meet if you need him to?” Ryker asked.

  I shook my head. “That’s not the point and you know it. I know why you want me to stay home, but that’s not going to happen. We should be worrying about you and what your plan is.”

  “I’ve already been on the phone with my chief,” Ryker said. “We have a plan.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, I said, “Care to enlighten me?” My dry tone made his lips twitch.

  “I’ll tell you later,” he said. “For now, let’s get you to work safe.”

  “The bus is safe,” I pointed out, but he was already shaking his head.

  “No way. I’m taking you.”