Player & the Game

by Shelly Ellis

  She slowly turned around to face him. She was terrified at what she might find when she looked at his face. Was he horrified by her confession? Would he doubt her again?

  Instead, she found understanding in his eyes. He reached out and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

  “It took a lot for you to say that, didn’t it?”

  She lowered her gaze to the crumpled bedsheets. “You have no idea how much. The women in my family don’t fall in love. We certainly don’t admit that we did.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I’m in love with you too.”

  Her eyes leapt back to his face in surprise.

  “I don’t know when it happened. I don’t know how it happened. We haven’t even known each other that long, but it’s what I feel.” He slowly shook his head in bafflement. “I came charging into that bar ready to beat the hell out of any man who put his hands on you. I went in there to get you and bring you back, because you belong with me, Stephanie Gibbons.”

  He trailed a finger along her cheek. They both climbed to the top of the bed and lay silently for several minutes, holding one another.

  Stephanie felt as if she could stay this way forever wrapped in his arms. She raised her head and watched as Keith’s eyes started to drift closed. She shook his shoulder and smirked. “Oh, no, you don’t. Don’t go to sleep on me,” she whispered. “Not yet.”

  His eyes popped back open. He gave a tired smile. “It’s your fault I’m falling asleep. You wore me out, lady.”

  She trailed her fingers along his chiseled chest, then his stomach. Her eyes lingered on a jagged one-inch scar that marred his torso. She felt the callused skin underneath her fingertips. “How’d you get this?”

  He raised his head and leaned forward to get a better look at where she was pointing. He cocked an eyebrow. “That is a stab wound.”

  She sat up from his chest and gazed at him in amazement. “Are you joking?”

  He laughed. “Believe me. I wouldn’t joke about something like that.”

  “When did you get stabbed?”

  “Back when I was a cop. Before I joined the ATF,” he said, fingering the scar. “That little souvenir was from a perp who didn’t want to go to jail quietly.”

  “Good God, Keith!” she exclaimed. She cringed in anguish as if she was the one who had been stabbed. “You must have been terrified.”

  He linked his hands behind his head. “No, not really. I didn’t even realize that I was stabbed until about a half an hour later, when my partner pointed out that I was bleeding all over my uniform. I was more pissed that the guy got away from me when I tried to get him in handcuffs. I chased him for a good half a mile before I could tackle him to the ground and get those handcuffs back on.”

  Her gaze returned to his body. She wondered what other tales lay on his dark, smooth skin. Her eyes stopped when she noticed a brand on his right arm, just beneath his shoulder. It was about the size of a silver dollar and it looked like the number nine but the branding was so crude, she couldn’t really tell what it was.

  “So what’s this?” she said, pointing at it. “How’d you get this one? It definitely doesn’t look like someone stabbed you there.”

  He slowly shook his head. “No, no one stabbed me. I did that one myself.”

  “How?”

  “I took a coat hanger and used a pair of pliers to make a 9. Then I put it over the kitchen stove and burned it into my skin.”

  She cringed all over again. “Why on earth would you do that?”

  “To fit in,” he answered bluntly. “All the guys I looked up to had one. It was the symbol of the 9th Street Crew and I wanted a brand just like theirs.”

  Stephanie fell silent. She rested her chin back on his chest and gazed into his eyes. “Was this back when you were in East Baltimore?” she asked, remembering what he had told Myra Beaumont more than a week ago.

  He nodded.

  “And that’s what you had to do to belong?”

  He pursed his lips. “Among other things,” he said cryptically.

  She trailed her fingers along his chest again. “Among other things?”

  “Yep.”

  She looked at him expectantly, waiting for details.

  When he continued to gaze at her and not say a word, she hesitated.

  “It doesn’t . . . It doesn’t sound like you want to talk about it.”

  “It wasn’t a high point in my life, Steph. Who would want to talk about it?”

  She didn’t want to pry, but part of her ached to know more about him. The more she found out about Keith Hendricks, the more complex he seemed, and she wanted to know every facet of him. She was in love with a man whom, admittedly, she barely knew anything about. She felt like she was playing a game of catch-up. What food did he like? What books did he read? What did he do to relax? Where and how did he grow up?

  “But you were young, Keith,” she persisted, tilting her head, trying to draw him out. “A lot of people do crazy things when they’re kids, honey.”

  “Yeah, well, when most people talk about the crazy things they did when they were younger, they’re talking about the candy bar they stole from the drugstore. Or they’re talking about the time they broke into their parents’ liquor cabinet and took a sip from their dad’s bottle of schnapps. They aren’t talking about the time they got chased down by police, or when they skipped school to be a drug dealer’s lookout. They won’t tell you the story about when someone shot through their window and almost killed their mother because all the dealers in the neighborhood had marked them as a snitch.” He gritted his teeth. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what they mean when they say, ‘I had a wild youth.’ ”

  He was right. When she thought of most people’s crazy childhoods, none of those stories came to mind. Stephanie had been wild and rebellious in her youth. She had been the spoiled little rich girl who would climb out of her bedroom window and shimmy over the balcony railing of her mother’s terrace to sneak to a party with friends. She had bowed to a dare and skinny-dipped in a lake not far from Chesterton. She had partied and got drunk with the rest of them, but she had never experienced anything remotely close to what Keith had experienced in his life.

  “All of those things happened to you?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah, and none of it I’m proud of. Some people like having street cred. Frankly, I don’t.” He closed his eyes. “If Mike hadn’t found me on that corner twenty-five years ago, who knows where I would be right now.” He opened his eyes and shook his head. “No, I know exactly where I would be: I would either be serving twenty-five years to life in prison, or lying six feet deep in a cemetery.”

  “You had it hard, didn’t you?”

  “More than you know. But other people had it worse.” He shrugged. “At least I got out. A lot of my friends didn’t. I bet most of them are dead or in jail now.”

  She let the gravity of what he had just said sink in, now at a loss for words.

  He tilted his head. “So . . . why don’t I ask you a few questions?”

  She hesitated, wary of what he might ask. But she had made him discuss his painful old wounds. It only seemed fair that she do the same. She swallowed. “Oh . . . OK. Go . . . go right ahead.”

  “Have you ever been married?”

  Stephanie licked her lips and shifted uncomfortably on top of him. She had expected this question to come eventually—just not this soon. “Yes, I’ve been married.”

  “When . . . and how long?”

  “Well, I married my ex seven years ago. We were married for four of them.”

  “Who wanted the divorce, him or you?”

  “I did,” she answered honestly. “I knew the marriage only had a short shelf life anyway. Besides, I knew I wasn’t in love with him . . . and he had already moved on to someone else.”

  Keith squinted. “What do you mean he had moved on to someone else?”

  “I mean he had a mistress, Keith . . . a couple of them actually. W
hen I married him, I was still in my twenties. I figured my expiration date was drawing close once I turned thirty. He’d have to move on eventually.”

  He traced his finger along her jawline again. “You think men see you like that . . . as something with an expiration date?”

  Stephanie nodded. “Of course, they do! That’s just a fact of life.”

  She could tell from the look on his face that he was confused by her response.

  “Look, Keith, I learned at an early age that beauty can get you lots of things. It can give you money. It can get you power. But your beauty won’t last forever. You only have a short time frame to use your looks and your charm to your advantage. Mama always says that a man who’s head over heels in love with you now, may not be when you’re covered in wrinkles. He’ll also be more than happy to forget about you if a better, younger model comes along.”

  Keith’s finger shifted from her cheeks to her lips. He traced their circumference with his fingertips. Her eyes drifted closed as she enjoyed the sensation of his touch. He leaned in for a kiss and she eagerly kissed him back. Gradually, he pulled his mouth away, but not before taking one last nibble at her lips. He gazed down at her.

  “Do you think I’d fall out of love with you once you got wrinkles or if I found a better model?”

  Her eyes fluttered open at his words. She had accepted her ex-husband leaving her to run to the waiting arms of another woman as par for the course, but she didn’t know how she would react if Keith did the same. “Maybe you will.”

  “You really think that?”

  “I . . . I don’t know, Keith. All I could do is to try to prepare myself for that day if you did,” she answered softly, feeling her heart break a little at the future prospect.

  “You don’t give men a lot of credit do you, Steph?” he whispered.

  “I’ve been taught not to.”

  “Well,” he said, staring into her eyes, “then you’ve been taught wrong. You don’t have a shelf life with me. I’m not some millionaire who wants to buy you like he would a house or a car then trade you in for a new one. I don’t want to add you to my collections.” He tilted his head. “Now I admit that I don’t have a lot of money. I certainly can’t buy you lots of things—at least not the things that you’re accustomed to, but I could love you and respect you . . . and treasure you. I could offer you more than any of those millionaires could.”

  Stephanie felt the tears flowing again, except this time they were happy tears. She reached for the hand that lingered near her cheek and held it. She kissed the inside of his palm tenderly then leaned over to kiss him. It didn’t take long for the kiss to deepen. Stephanie closed her eyes and Keith eased her back onto the bed. He slowly climbed on top of her.

  That night they made love several more times until the wee hours of the morning. They expressed with their bodies and with words what they felt in their hearts. When they finally drifted off to sleep, Stephanie was delirious with love and with happiness. She snuggled against Keith, feeling a greater sense of peace than she had felt in quite a long time.

  Chapter 28

  Stephanie slowly opened her eyes to the sun-dappled hotel room. She stretched, turned, and looked at the pillow beside her. She saw that it was empty. She slowly pushed herself to her elbows and looked around the room. Keith was nowhere in sight.

  For one fleeting moment, she feared that last night had been only a dream. None of it had really happened: their making love, their confessions, and falling asleep in each other’s arms. But she turned when she heard the bathroom door open. Keith walked out of the door and into the hotel room with a towel wrapped around his waist. His muscular chest was bare and covered with droplets of water from the shower. He smiled and relief washed over her face.

  “So you’re finally up then?”

  She returned his smile and yawned. “Yeah, did I sleep late?”

  “I would say so. It’s almost noon.”

  “Noon?” She glanced at the alarm clock on the night table.

  Keith was right. It was 11:53 a.m.

  “Yep, and you were snoring too. You have a very cute snore.”

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands, remembering roughly when they had finally fallen asleep, which was sometime around dawn. “I was just tired, I guess.”

  “I figured.” He leaned against the doorframe. “My lovin’ tends to have that effect on women.”

  “Oh, please!” She rolled her eyes heavenward and laughed.

  “I remember you shouting that a few times last night too.”

  She made a face, grabbed one of the pillows on the bed, and playfully tossed it at him. It landed near his bare feet.

  “Throwing stuff at me again, huh?” He reached down, grabbed the pillow, and walked toward the bed. “That’s kind of a bad habit of yours.”

  He tossed the pillow back beside her. He then flopped on the bed and stretched across her legs. She leaned forward and gave him a languid kiss. He absently rubbed her thighs.

  “So now that you’re awake,” he said, “I suggest we order breakfast. Then talk about what we should do next about Isaac.”

  She nodded. “Big Red gave me an idea of where he might be. He thinks Miami.”

  Keith stilled. “Why Miami?”

  “Something about it being his old stomping ground. Big Red said he used to run a lot of cons down there. Rich lovers were ripe for the picking, and it’s a big enough city for him to stay inconspicuous.”

  “And also big enough that it may be hard for people like us to find him,” Keith said.

  “But it’s worth a try.”

  He nodded. “You’re right. We’ll go anyway. Might as well.” His smile returned. “In the meantime, let’s order breakfast.”

  “Good, because I’m starving!” she exclaimed, holding her stomach. To illustrate that point, her stomach growled loudly.

  She watched as Keith walked across the hotel room, opened the cardboard menu on the dresser, and dialed room service. He made the orders and returned to the bed.

  “They said it’s a twenty-five-minute wait.”

  She nodded and pulled back the bedsheets and tossed her legs over the edge of the mattress. “Well, that’s plenty of time for me to take a shower and do something with my hair.”

  Her hair was still tussled and matted from the night before. She hadn’t seen herself in the mirror yet, but she was sure she looked a fright.

  Just as she was about to rise to her feet, Keith stopped her by firmly wrapping his arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. She yelped when he pulled her back to the bed. She fell back naked beside him.

  “Hold on for a second there,” he whispered. “Twenty-five minutes may be plenty of time for a shower, but only just enough time for something else.”

  His hand shifted from her waist to one of her breasts. He caressed it, tantalizingly running his hand over the nipple until it hardened. He circled his thumb around its peak then squeezed it gently. Her eyelashes fluttered closed. She bit down hard on her bottom lip.

  His hand drifted from her breast to the soft skin of her stomach then glided lower. “Want to shout ‘oh, please’ a couple more times, sweetheart?”

  When his hand rested between her thighs, she spread her legs slightly, inviting his touch. “I take that as a ‘yes,’ ” he whispered with a chuckle before lowering his mouth to hers.

  Under his skillful hands, her legs went slack and he took advantage of the opportunity. While one hand toyed with her nipples, the other slowly massaged her clit, making her moist, making her moan. She threw back her head and she began to slowly rock her hips, meeting each of his languid strokes. When he slipped his fingers in her, Stephanie cried out. The rocking only increased. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the delicious thrill of sensations cresting over her body.

  Minutes later, he pulled his hand away and she whimpered. She opened her glassy eyes and looked almost drunk.

  “Why’d you stop?” she moaned.

  He reached fo
r one of the condom packets left on the hotel night table and lowered his mouth back to hers.

  This time she kissed him with a hunger that was almost overwhelming. She began to explore his body with her hands, her mouth, and her tongue, making him shudder. They rolled around on her bed, seeking better access to one another, enjoying each sensation. Finally, Keith couldn’t take it anymore. He put on the condom, eased her legs apart, and raised her hips. When he entered her, she whimpered his name against his ear and he groaned as the warm wetness enveloped him.

  He slowly rocked and grinded on top of her with both hands cupped beneath her bottom. She wrapped her arms around him and brought her mouth back to his and their tongues danced, becoming almost entangled. Minutes later, he suddenly picked up the pace of their lovemaking.

  That’s when she felt it. Not just the tingles starting to surge over her body like mini-electric shocks, but she could feel her heart becoming lighter and lighter. So this is what it is like to be in love, she thought, and to be loved in return.

  Stephanie cried out his name again. Her muscles tightened and so did his grip around her, to the point that she wasn’t sure if he was going to hurt her. Keith clenched his teeth and let out a slow guttural groan. It sounded like sheer agony but she knew that it wasn’t. It was the exact opposite.

  The final spasm shook his entire body. Suddenly, he loosened his grip. His hands fell away. He slumped on top of her, like a heavyweight after a knockout punch. He took a long, deep, shuddering breath.

  Stephanie was pretty sure the waiter from room service heard her cries of ecstasy when he finally arrived with their waffles and pancakes exactly twenty-five minutes later, but she was too happy to care. She bashfully sat in her robe on the edge of the bed with her hair still wild and matted and a silly grin on her face while Keith paid the bill.

  “You enjoying breakfast?” he asked as they shared a plate of pancakes.

  “Immensely!”

  That’s when they heard the pounding a few doors down.

  “Open up, motherfucka!” someone yelled. “I know you’re in there! Open the goddamn door!”