Player - The Elite Part Five

by KB Winters

  I opened my mouth, prepared to argue that I would never go to court and help the prosecutors put away my friend.

  “I said worst case scenario,” he reiterated before I could voice my objection. “As far as O’Keefe and this contract goes, my advice would be to stay away from him until the FAA and FBI complete their investigation, especially if you’re right about him being the one who tampered with the lines—or even hired the person who did it and is after you.”

  “Should I tell the FBI what I think about him being involved? I don’t have any concrete proof, but it seems like they should have a heads up.”

  Lance nodded. “It can’t hurt. They have resources available that could help. For all you know, he’s someone already on a watch list somewhere. If he’s really the one behind the crash, this likely isn’t his first rodeo, and he might have done something in the past.”

  “Wouldn’t they have caught him? If he left clues before?”

  “They might have not had enough to take to the DA. It’s not as clean cut and simple as TV shows make it out to be,” he answered with a smile. “But, seeing as how your physical safety—as well as that of your staff and clients—is in danger until this case is solved, I would recommend staying away from him.”

  I sighed. “Well, the problem is that he gave me three days to sign them or he would go to the cops with the information about Rick. I don’t want to call his bluff because he’s crazy enough he might do it.”

  Lance shook his head. “He won’t.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “People like Henry O’Keefe come across as brash and impatient, but it’s a facade. He’s playing a long game here. He’s used up a lot of manipulation and scare tactics thus far. He started off by offering you Talia, and when you didn’t take that, he resorted to threatening and putting the heat on her in hopes of flushing you out. When that didn’t work, he turned to blackmail. He’s not going to gamble on his last remaining chip. He’ll hold onto it to get what he really wants.”

  “The museum,” I said, watching the pieces fit snuggly together as Lance painted the full picture.

  “Exactly. So, go hang out, do whatever you gotta do, but I’d stay away from the places he knows he can find you. The museum, your home, anything like that. Lay low until the FAA and FBI can finish their investigation. Let them know everything you know. Obviously, without bringing Rick into it. I doubt they’d pursue it. That’s not their deal, but just to play it safe, leave him out of it.”

  “I can’t go home?”

  “Not right now, since it’s right next to the museum. I have a few friends and I’ll look into this thoroughly.” The confidence in his tone went a long way towards soothing away the frayed edges of my nerves.

  “And when the time comes, if this goes to court, I’ll represent you and make sure you stay out of prison.” He set his glasses aside and picked up the contracts. He handed them back to me across the desk. “And whatever you do, don’t sign these.”

  I laughed. “No problem there. I’m not letting that bastard get my museum.”

  “Good.” Lance stood and I followed suite. He reached across the desk. “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Rosen. If the FAA or FBI have questions, just give them my number. I’ll field all of that for you. You just relax, work on your recovery,” he gestured to my broken arm. “I’ll handle the rest.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Toffer.”

  “Of course. Poppy will see you out,” he said, cutting his glance to the doorway. The door had slid open without a sound and Poppy was standing there, smiling serenely at me.

  I nodded back at him and let Poppy lead me out of the room. She paused when we reached the front desk and she gave me an invoice for the consultation. I kept my eyes in my head at the figure on the sheet, but obviously not quick enough. “It goes towards the retainer fee if you choose to keep Mr. Toffer as your counsel,” Poppy purred, her soft voice taking some of the sting away.

  “It’s not a problem,” I hurried to say, reaching for my back pocket. I dug out my wallet and flipped a shiny silver card at her.

  She nodded and went to work on the computer, ringing up the transaction. I hadn’t thought to ask what the services would cost, which, in hindsight seemed completely idiotic, but I’d been consumed with doing whatever it took to save the museum and get out of O’Keefe’s warpath, that it hadn’t occurred to me.

  And I could guarantee that O’Keefe’s legal team would cost a helluva lot more than Mr. Toffer.

  Poppy handed me back the card and waited for the printer to spit out the receipt. “How much longer do you have to wear that?” She asked, nudging her chin at the black wrapping of my cast as it peeked out from the cuff of my jacket.

  “Four weeks,” I answered, my voice flat. Gemma had said four to six, but I was going to push my luck and try to sweet talk her into taking it off as soon as humanly possible. The damn thing was driving me insane and it hadn’t even been a full week.

  “I’m sorry. I broke my arm in high school. I was a cheerleader…” she trailed her words, spinning them in a way that left no choice but to flick a glance over her and imagine what her lush curves would look like spilling out of a tight cheerleading uniform.

  I nodded politely and swallowed hard. Damn, being a one-woman man was gonna be a lot harder than I’d imagined. Gemma and I hadn’t discussed it, but there was an unspoken current between the two of us that assured me she wasn’t looking elsewhere, and somewhere along the way, I’d decided I wouldn’t either.

  When Poppy picked up that I wasn’t going to take her bait, she grabbed the paper from the printer and set it on the counter with cool indifference. “Sign here and I’ll make a copy for you to take with you,” she instructed, jabbing a pen at the black line at the bottom.

  I signed and when my copy was printed and in hand, I hurried out the door, before Poppy could try a new angle at seducing me. It was bad enough her sweet perfume had me thinking things I shouldn’t.

  I wasn’t sure how much longer my resolve would hold out.

  Chapter Four

  Taking Lance’s legal advice, I called Lana and told her to move the staff meeting to Carly’s, in order to avoid being at the museum. Then, before pulling away from the curb, I checked my messages for anything from Gary or the other agents scouring the museum. But so far, nothing had come over. I drove back to Holiday Cove and halfway there, decided to stop at Gemma’s hospital for a quick visit. Even with the momentary distraction over Mr. Toffer’s beautiful assistant, my mind was locked on Gemma, and I didn’t want to wait until that night to see her again. I parked and then sauntered into the ER, hoping she wasn’t elbow deep in body fluids, so I could gather her in my arms and maybe convince her to take a fifteen-minute break in an abandoned exam room.

  Inside the gleaming ER, no one appeared concerned with my arrival, and I walked right through the main doors. I stopped and asked for her at the nurse’s station, but before the woman manning the desk could even answer my request, Gemma rounded the corner. She stopped in her tracks and her lips parted in silent surprise.

  I smiled over at her. “Hey there, gorgeous. Just the lady I was looking for.”

  Her eyes flicked to the desk where the nurse was standing and then brought them back to me. “Um, hello, Mr. Rosen…” I bristled slightly at her formality. “Are you all right?”

  A wave of confusion washed over me at the look in her eyes, and I wondered if I’d crossed some unspoken line by showing up at her work.

  I pushed off the counter and rounded the desk to meet her. She was wearing teal scrubs and a white coat over the top and even in the not-so-flattering cut of the clothing, she was absolutely irresistible. I wanted to reach for her, but stopped short at the look in her eyes.

  “This is a surprise,” Gemma said, dropping her voice so the nearby nurse couldn’t hear. She threw a look over her shoulder at the sound of footsteps and voices of a group of passing doctors. She turned back to me and smiled, but it was tight and edgy. “What’s
going on? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. I just got done meeting with the lawyer. I was driving through on my way back to town and wanted to see you…”

  God, I sound pathetic. This was the exact reason why I’d never let myself go beyond a few nights with a woman. When that line was crossed, and the relationship morphed into, well…a relationship. And with that label, a whole host of problems and complications tended to crop up.

  I held up my hands. Surrendering. “You know what, I’ll see you later. You’re obviously busy.”

  I started to turn away, but Gemma yanked on my jacket sleeve, stopping me. “Hold on. Aaron, wait!”

  I stopped but flashed her a dark look.

  She sucked in a breath and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to be here. You caught me off guard, that’s all. I thought maybe something…happened.”

  “Like what?” I arched a brow at her. Something was wrong. Gemma nibbled her lower lip and cast another glance behind me, as though expecting someone to pop up. “Gemma? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing…it’s just…it’s not professional to be seen…you know—” she dropped her voice low, “—dating a patient.”

  “Oh,” my lips formed a circle. “Right, of course.” I shrugged it off, dispelling the worry that had threatened to take hold.

  Gemma started to say something, but her words got drowned out when a trim looking man in a doctor’s coat rounded the corner and beckoned for her. “Sorry, Aaron. I gotta go.”

  “Right.” I watched as she crossed to follow after the other doctor and was hit by a blast of ice at the way the doctor looked at Gemma as she rushed to his side. Moments later, without a glance back my way, she disappeared around the corridor with the man.

  I stalked out of the hospital, kicking myself for even stopping in the first place. It wasn’t like Gemma was a bored secretary. She had a very important, high risk, high pressure job and couldn’t afford to stand around and chit chat. I blasted my radio all the way back to Holiday Cove and went straight to Carly’s. The staff meeting wasn’t set to begin for another hour, but I didn’t have anywhere to go. Besides, my lawyer had told me to stay away from places that O’Keefe was likely to come looking for me, in search of his contract, since he’d failed to set up a proper meeting to hash out the deal.

  Carly was happy to see me—as always. Her bright smile melted away the darkness from my thoughts and within minutes, she’d set me up in the corner table, with an almond spice latte—my signature drink—in one hand, and her laptop in front of me so I could do a little web surfing while I waited for Lana and the rest of the crew to arrive.

  “Anything else, handsome?” Carly asked, draping an arm around my shoulder. I grinned up at her. Even though we used flirty terms with one another, she was like my little sister, and we’d never crossed the line between friends and more. Not that I hadn’t tried when I first arrived in Holiday Cove. As Holly, my best friend Jack’s girlfriend, always says, Carly can see through my bullshit games.

  In the end, I was happy she hadn’t given in to my efforts. It would have caused me to miss out on a solid friendship—not to mention I’d be SOL in the caffeine department as her coffee shop was the only one in Holiday Cove other than a small convenience store on the other side of town where the coffee had the consistency of watered down pudding.

  “Did Lana call you earlier?”

  She nodded. “Yep. I have twenty whole wheat turkey avocado wraps on ice.”

  “You’re the best.”

  “I know.” She sauntered away, throwing a wink at me over her shoulder, and moments later, she was assisting a customer who’d just stepped into the cafe.

  After a long, lingering sip of my drink, I turned my attention to the laptop in front of me and logged into the office inbox to go through the rest of the emails. It was more of the same. Delete, delete, delete. When that was done, I flipped open a virtual version of the mechanical guide to the plane that had gone down in the crash. Ever since Gary had shown me the pictures from the crash site, I’d been holding onto a nagging thought in the back of my mind, as to whether I should have known something was wrong with the plane before taking off that night.

  My guilt over Talia’s death was slowly ebbing away, but there was still a part of me that had a million questions.

  Questions that only the user’s manual for the plane itself would help me sort out.

  I was still searching through the text, studying the pictures, and graphs, when the sound of rubber soled shoes caught my attention. I glanced up and saw Lana approaching, clipboard tucked under her arm. She smiled at me when I locked onto her gaze. “Darn! I was going to try to spook you.”

  I shut the lid of the laptop and gestured at the seat across from me. “Hey, Lana. Thanks for arranging the meeting. Carly has the lunch all ready for when everyone gets here.”

  She nodded and set her clipboard on the table. “Perfect. I’ll go settle the bill and then we can go over any notes.”

  “Okay.” I polished off my drink, absently staring out the window at the beach, as I ran through my findings from the hour spent looking over the mechanical information. There was no way I’d have been able to tell anything was happening to the fuel line until it was too late. Whoever had fucked with the line was a professional. They’d known exactly what to do and where, to keep from triggering a sensor. It wasn’t until we reached a certain height that it blew the system enough to cut the engine and send us plummeting to the ground.

  The knowledge helped, but it also tightened the grip in my gut that clenched whenever I thought about the fact that someone had intentionally tried to kill me—and had killed Talia—by crashing my plane.

  “How have you been?” Lana asked, plopping back into her seat at the table, her cup of coffee sloshing dangerously.

  I stared at her for a moment longer than was socially acceptable. I honestly didn’t know how to answer her question.

  How am I?

  Carly swooped in, holding two silver trays, and set them on the table beside ours, distracting Lana’s attention. I sucked in a long breath and hopped up from my seat. I started to help push the tables together, but Carly batted me away. “No, no. Sit your ass down,” she demanded, pushing my hand away when I reached a second time. “We got this, right, Lana?”

  Lana nodded and sprang into action to help Carly organize and merge enough tables and chairs to form a makeshift conference table right in the middle of the cafe. Luckily, it was past the lunch rush, and the other customers were out on the patio, leaving the inside space distraction free.

  When they were done, Carly turned to me and waggled a finger in my face. “Holly told me to watch out for you. Aaron, you have stitches in your side. Try to remember that, please.”

  I growled my agreement and she walked off, completely unfazed by my irritation.

  Lana started setting a meal at each place and Carly returned minutes later with two huge pitchers of iced tea, then came back a second time with glass cups for everyone. As everything was set up for the meeting, the rest of my staff arrived, and I plastered a smile on my face and forced myself to stuff down the frustration that had been building up since Gemma gave me the brush off at the hospital.

  “Thanks for coming everyone,” I started, sinking into my seat. Everyone dug into the food right away, but the chatter died off as I started speaking, and all eyes turned to me. “There have been some developments in the situation at the museum, and I wanted to get everyone together to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

  I gave them a brief synopsis of the chain of events, how the FBI was now involved, and that while the protesters had been kicked off the property, we still didn’t have an ETA on when we could reopen.

  Everyone nodded along and Lana scribbled furiously on her clipboard.

  “I have a question,” Jeremy, one of the part time tour guides said, raising two fingers above the edge of the table. I nodded for him to continue. “Are
we under investigation? I mean, if the fuel line was tampered with, won’t they start with the people who had the most access? Us?” He cast a glance around the table.

  “Honestly, I don’t know. They only arrived this morning and haven’t exactly been forthcoming on their procedures. I’m confident that none of you were involved, so you have nothing to be afraid of—even if they do call you in for questioning.”

  Jeremy looked a little more comfortable, but some of the others exchanged glances. I tried to put myself in their shoes. I wouldn’t want to be tangled up with the FBI and drilled with questions either.

  Lana cleared her throat. “If you ask me, they should be investigating that O’Keefe guy. He’s probably the jealous type…”

  I jerked my head around to look at her. She was staring down at her wrap, her remark had clearly been off the cuff, just her way of thinking out loud. “What?”

  She jolted in her seat, her eyes frantic when they found mine. “Sorry…I just mean…well, the woman who died was his girlfriend after all. Maybe he found out you were there with her…you know…after hours.”

  No one said a word, but I could hear all their thoughts kick into gear as they watched the exchange. My reputation as a playboy wasn’t a secret. They all knew I had a certain…appetite. But for Lana to throw it out there so blatantly was shocking.

  “Lana, can I see you outside?” I stood from my seat, not giving her room to decline.

  Her eyes went even wider and she shook her head. “I didn’t mean anything by it…”

  “Outside,” I growled, starting for the doors.

  “Mr. Rosen, I wasn’t trying—” Lana stammered once we were out the side door and onto the patio.

  I stalked to the far corner, away from the other customers, and spun around to face her, silencing the rest of her sentence with the fire in my eyes. “Do you have a problem with the fact that I was at the museum after hours with a woman?”

  “No!”

  “Then why are you bringing it up and throwing it out there for the entire fucking crew to gossip about? What I do in my museum, on my own damn time, is my fucking business. Not yours.”