Playing for Keeps: A Scorching Hot Romance (Game Changers Book 2)

by A. C. Arthur

  “So instead of calling Lance or me, Del called you? Why? Because you’re his favorite pseudo-sister?”

  Del and Lance had called her that a lot when she was growing up because she was at their house more than she was at her own. She obviously liked being at their house more and the title they’d given her had seemed less annoying and more endearing than she supposed it should have. Until this morning. Now, hearing it made her stomach churn because the things she and Del had done last night and this morning were definitely not something siblings should do.

  “Yeah,” she said simply, without looking up.

  Lying to her best friend wasn’t something Rylan did on a regular basis. If there were anyone in this world who deserved her honesty, trust and devotion, it was Camy. They’d shared everything from their fears to their hopes and dreams, tears and laughter and everything in between. So yeah, lying to her wasn’t going to work. All Rylan could hope to do was brush her off. But that wasn’t so easy with a woman like Camy.

  Camy made a buzzing sound as if they were on a game show. “Wrong,” she snapped. “Try again and this time look at me.”

  Rylan’s fingers still on the keyboard as she wondered how this was going to turn out. Del clearly didn’t want anyone to know they were sleeping together. And really, Rylan wasn’t sure she wanted to make a public spectacle of the event either. It was temporary. Clearly not one time as they’d previously planned, but neither of them were looking for anything more than good sex. And wow, were they getting that.

  Ugghhh, she was not thinking that with Del’s sister sitting just a few feet away.

  “Rylan Sophia Kent,” Camy said in a tone that meant she was definitely playing the we’re-best friends-so-stop-bullshitting-me card.

  Rylan sighed and spared one look at Camy before falling back in her chair. She closed her eyes and said as quickly as she could, “I slept with Del. We didn’t plan for it to happen. It was sort of a fluke. Like really, on online mistake that went way too far and before we could stop it, we were having sex in the garage and then…again at my apartment last night…and this morning.”

  Her voice had gone from nervous and jittery to disgraced and quiet in a matter of seconds. The following silence had her peeking one eye open to see if Camy had picked up the letter opener from the mug on her desk and was coming around the desk to stab her with it. But that wasn’t what she saw. Both eyes opened and Rylan sat up slowly in her chair. Camy was smiling.

  “Well it’s about damn time,” she said with another shake of her head.

  “What?” Rylan asked incredulously. “I told you we didn’t plan this. It was a mistake.”

  “The best lessons are learned from mistakes,” Camy continued. “You’ve been in a sexual drought for far too long and Del, well he’s been in his own dark place since returning from D.C. So, this is good. It’s damn good.”

  “I don’t understand how you can say that,” Rylan replied honestly and proceeded to tell Camy all the details of how she and Del came to be sex partners.

  When Rylan was finished with the story, Camy laughed. And laughed.

  “Girl, that is too good. It sounds like a movie with Tika Sumpter and Morris Chestnut playing the leads,” she said. “I can’t even imagine my brother chatting online and having phone sex!” Camy laughed some more.

  “He’s the uptight one of us. The very serious one, always in control of every damn thing. I wish I could’ve seen the two of you.” Then she stopped and held up a hand. “Ah, no that may have been too much.”

  “Ya think?” Rylan asked, still shocked at Camy’s reaction.

  Was she really happy that her best friend was sleeping with her brother?

  “Are you serious?” Rylan asked when Camy continued to chuckle. “I mean, this doesn’t bother you at all?”

  “Bother me? Why should it? Because you’re my closest friend and I trust you with my life? Doesn’t it stand to reason that I would also trust you with my brother’s heart?” Camy asked.

  Her words made sense, but it still didn’t sound right to Rylan.

  “Hearts aren’t involved here,” she replied quickly because she wanted there to be no illusions as to what was going on.

  Not on Camy’s part, and certainly not on her own.

  “We’re just kickin’ it,” Rylan continued. “And we’re not even telling people because you know, it could end whenever.” The last was said with an inconsequential wave of her hand.

  Camy’s laughing ceased, but her smile stayed in place. The girl-please-stop-playing smile.

  “Okay, you may believe that right now because this is still new. But I know you and I know Del and neither of you are the “just kickin’ it” type. That’s why you’ve both remained single and emotional entanglement free for so long.”

  “Camy, no. That’s really not how it is. I am not trying to hook Del. I’m just…just…” Rylan couldn’t think of the words.

  “You’re just getting your thing off?” Camy asked and chuckled. “That’s cool. But when the hot and sweaty glow of great sex wears off—because honey you are absolutely glowing this morning, even dressed in those drab ass clothes. But when that wears off, you’re gonna find that hearts tend to do what they want, regardless of what the brain insists.”

  “Not for me,” Rylan said sternly. “I’m not in this for any happy ever after. Fairy tales are definitely for you and Naomi. I’m the realistic one.”

  “So realistic people don’t deserve love and happiness?”

  Rylan shook her head. “Oh no. I’m realistic, not cynical. I’m certain I’ll get married at some point and I’ll have a family which will hopefully be happier than the one I was born into. But I don’t believe in some sweeping tale of love where the most unlikely people in the world realize they can’t live without each other and defy all the odds to be together. That’s just not me.”

  Camy’s response had been more laughter. Until Rylan had shooed her out of her office. Her friend had left after giving Rylan a tight hug and saying, “I love you even though I swear you can be the blindest and most stubborn person in all the earth.”

  Rylan accepted the hug and admitted her love for her friend, especially after hearing that Camy wasn’t angry about what she’d done with Del. That had relieved some of the stress about what was going on between the two of them. The rest—which included how Del had looked when she’d offered to drop him off at work and the words he’d said before getting out of her car—still had her puzzled. But Rylan pushed those thoughts out of her mind and decided to focus on work, because that was the one thing she could control right now. She could bury herself in the jobs they were being paid to do and nothing else. Because everything else in her life was a hot mess.

  It was almost seven-thirty in the evening and Del was still at the bar. He was sitting at one of the tables in the Bullpen area with his tablet and spiral notebooks spread out in front of him. He also had a beer that he’d only half finished and his cell phone within arm’s reach.

  “Read over the last financial statements you sent out this morning,” Jeret, the former Texas Ranger said after taking a seat across from Del.

  “We’re pretty damn close to working in the black. Not many businesses can say that after only eighteen months,” Jeret continued.

  Del nodded without looking up from what he was doing.

  “Yeah. I was pretty encouraged by the numbers after I ran them three times,” he replied.

  “You know Noah’s claiming full credit because of his awesome marketing skills,” Jeret said.

  Del did look up then, and he frowned. “Of course, he is.”

  Jeret laughed, an infectious sound that Del knew he’d never forget. Jeret’s Game Changers t-shirt was a couple sizes too small, which was exactly the way the guy liked it. This combined with his fitted jeans and chiseled good looks kept the women swarming the bar waiting for the opportunity to see him come out of the kitchen. And Jeret with his dark brown hair and hazel eyes loved every minute of the attention.<
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  “He gave you a little credit for handling the social media thing,” Jeret added.

  Del shrugged. “It’s not as bad as I thought it’d be.”

  If only they knew. While logging onto the social media app and posting about the bar since finding out who MercedesGirl926 was had felt a little different, he’d continued to do so, seeing growth in how many people replied to or simply liked the posts. Also, after figuring out how to go live on the app and starting a Karaoke Check-In on Wednesday nights, traffic in the bar on those nights as well as online interaction had increased. So yeah, it was working.

  “This is working out a lot better than I thought too,” Jeret said. “You know I had my reservations.”

  After mistakenly taking the life of an eight-year old boy who’d come out of nowhere when Jeret and his team were engaging a suspect, the military trained officer, turned chef, now had reservations about a lot of things. Del could relate to being cautious as well, his time at the DEA and the scandal that precipitated his early retirement was a prime example.

  “Our plan was to come back and make a statement,” Del said, trying to be as positive as possible. “We’re doing that. Especially with our sponsorship of the youth little league and cheerleading teams and now Ethan’s idea for the new youth center.”

  “Speaking of which, wedding plans are in full swing. We’ve gotta get the bachelor party together. Ethan’s adamant about no strippers, which is fine, but we still need to come up with a fantastic going away celebration.”

  Del shook his head. “He’s not going anywhere.”

  “Yeah, he is, going off to married life. The land where none of us have gone before,” Jeret continued with a chuckle.

  Jeret was right. None of them had ever talked about getting married. Their conversations about girls and then women had covered only the basic topics, dates and break-ups. Nothing about long term commitment, ever.

  Del closed the book he’d been using to copy notes onto his electronic file and logged out of his tablet. “He seems pretty happy about it.”

  Jeret sat back in the chair and folded his arms across his chest. “Portia’s a good woman. I don’t think any of us saw that in her when we were in school.”

  Del agreed about Portia. “We weren’t looking for it back then. He contemplated how true that statement was especially since he knew he’d never looked at Rylan the way he was now.

  Jeret ran a hand over the stubble at his chin. “Yeah, we weren’t looking for a lot of things back then. Anyway, we’ve rented a room at the resort for the actual party and a few guest rooms for afterwards because I’m pretty sure none of us will be in any shape to drive home.”

  “Sounds like a smart plan.” A plan Del was glad he wasn’t in charge of. He was about to say something else when his phone vibrated on the table. His frown was immediate the moment he recognized the number.

  “Do me a favor and take this stuff back to the office for me. I’m gonna take this call outside,” he said to Jeret.

  “It’s like twenty-five degrees outside and the temps are supposed to dip even lower as the night goes on,” Jeret stated, confusion clear in his tone.

  Del had already stood and picked up the still ringing phone. “I’m not gonna freeze to death taking a five-minute telephone call. But if I do, all my shares in the bar go to Camy.” He walked away heading to one of the side doors.

  Cursing came next as he stepped outside because it was rather brisk as the sun that had been high in the sky earlier—offering very little warmth—had long since set and now the indigo sky gave way to the cold. So, he stuffed one hand in the front pocket of his pants and answered the phone before it stopped ringing.

  “Hey Del, it’s Clark.”

  The familiar voice didn’t make him feel any better about this call. “Hey Clark. What’s up?”

  “Sorry to call after normal business hours but I just wanted to give you a head’s up that trial’s starting next week in the Wimbley case.”

  Del’s fingers clenched the phone. Renaldo Wimbley was a drug kingpin who was the subject of his last case while he was with the DEA.

  “Okay,” Del answered recalling the subpoena he’d stuck in his desk drawer at home. He’d wanted this case and that chapter in his life out of sight and out of mind for as long as possible. Apparently, that wasn’t long enough.

  “I know I can’t tell you what to say when you take the stand, but I wanted to remind you that—”

  “No.” He snapped, cutting Clark off and shook his head before realizing the guy couldn’t see him. “You don’t have to remind me. I know what to say and more importantly what not to say.” In the end, everything had rested on what Del hadn’t said or done, including a woman’s life.

  “It’s a delicate situation, Del,” Clark continued.

  “I know,” he replied even though he still didn’t totally understand what had happened. All he knew for certain was that he’d been the only one from the team to resign from the Agency. The only one who saw a problem with how things had played out the night of the raid on The Xstasy Club.

  And probably the only one who felt guilty about Shannen Cranston’s death.

  “Look, I’ve got my own attorney and we’ve gone over the testimony I’m going to give. So, you don’t have to worry.”

  “I wasn’t worried.” Clark lied.

  Special Agent Clark Jones was deathly afraid of what Del could say, because in one sentence, Del could end Clark’s illustrious career with the DEA and take a few politicians and other law enforcement agents down with him. But Del had no intention of doing that. Not now because all of that stuff was behind him.

  “I just wanted you to know it was coming up, so you’ll be prepared to face Wimbley again.”

  “I’m not afraid of him,” Del said. “I never was.” Which was all the more reason why testifying in this case was probably a very bad idea. Wimbley wasn’t the forgiving type, nor was he the type to ever forget a face.

  Clark cleared his throat. A sign that he didn’t like what Del had just said. Del didn’t give a damn. He didn’t work for Clark anymore and he definitely didn’t need the guy’s approval of what he thought or said.

  “So, thanks for the heads up. Guess I’ll see you next week.” There was no need in prolonging the call and besides that, Del had nothing but contempt for Clark and all the others that were wore the badge but acted like him.

  “Yeah, see you next week,” Clark replied and the call was disconnected.

  Del pressed the button to clear the call from the screen and the call log on his phone. He stuck the phone in his back pocket and yanked open the door to the bar. Stepping back inside to the heat and the noise, he tried to find his center once again. Breathing in deeply, out slowly, he let the combined sounds of the televisions, music and guests chatting remind him of who and where he was now. He was a business owner, not a DEA agent. His job was to help run this bar and restaurant, not take down national drug lords or protect confidential informants.

  But he couldn’t help but remember the time when that was his job and he’d failed dismally. Flexing his fingers at his side, he started moving, cutting through the tables of people and heading past the bar. He pushed through the kitchen doors and walked by the shelves of pots and pans and supplies, the two large sub-zero freezers and a host of sous chefs and waitstaff, to another door. This one led to staff bathrooms, the storeroom and two offices that the guys all shared. Del went into one of those offices and slammed the door closed behind him. He paced back and forth across the ten by ten space, trying to tamp down on his temper as the memories came crashing back, and with them the guilt and disappointment. Not that he’d felt, but as Del had always thought his mother would’ve felt if she’d lived to see what he’d done.

  “Hey, you alright?” Lance asked the moment he opened the door and stepped inside.

  When Del only stopped pacing and looked up at him, Lance closed the door.

  “What happened? Jeret said you took a call outside. Who
was it?”

  He almost didn’t answer Lance’s question. Talking about his problems wasn’t something Del subscribed to. But Lance wasn’t just his twin—making them even closer and more in tune with each other than anyone else in the world—he’d also worked in law enforcement as a homicide detective at the Metropolitan Police Department. Which meant Lance was just as good as Del, if not better, at knowing when someone was lying.

  “My old supervisor. He wanted to give me a heads up about the trial next week.”

  Lance knew the whole story. He was the only one Del had told every sordid detail to. The other brothers knew the reasons behind Del’s resignation, they just didn’t know the background emotional stuff. Some things only a twin could know.

  Lance came over and sat on the side of the desk. He hated the chairs in the offices because he said they weren’t built for men over six feet tall.

  “Did you tell him to jerk off?” Lance asked snidely.

  Del shook his head. “I should have.”

  “Look, you knew the trial was coming up and you know what you have to do. Just do it and get it over with. Don’t let that asshole try to persuade you to do things his way. You don’t work for him anymore.”

  “I didn’t do things his way when I worked for him,” Del said. “And look what happened as a result.”

  Lance shook his head. “That investigation was bound to go bad, man. We both know that.”

  Del stopped pacing. He dragged his hands down his face and took a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

  “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Listen, I’m just gonna head home. I’ll call Andy and let him know that Clark called me and then I’m not thinking about this mess anymore until I absolutely have to.”

  Which in Del’s mind meant the moments before he walked onto the witness stand. He was through giving up parts of his life to a system that had given him nothing in return. Not when he was a teenager and accused of vandalism—the original cause for him ending up at the Grace House for Boys—and then again when he’d graduated from college despite his haters doubting he ever would.