Dangerous Games: A Standalone Second Chance Romance

by T. K. Leigh

  “About what?” I scoff. “I studied nursing, not journalism.”

  “So?” She shrugs. “You have an analytical mind. That’s all you need. You just need to know how to take the facts and process them.”

  “No thanks. I’ll stick to nursing.”

  “Suit yourself. You could be the next Erin Brockovich.”

  “She was a paralegal.”

  “She was still a badass who refused to give up until she had all the answers. Kind of like you. You refuse to give up.”

  “I’m about ready to give up.” I lean back in my chair and blow out a breath, defeated.

  “No, you’re not.”

  I meet Chloe’s eyes. “You’re right. I’m not. Even if I am frustrated.” I return my attention to the papers, grabbing my highlighter and marking any websites in the victims’ search history related to pregnancy, adoption, abortion, and the like.

  As I run my highlighter along a line of text, I furrow my brow.

  “What is it?” Chloe asks, noticing my expression.

  “I’m not sure,” I respond, my voice distant.

  I grab another printout from another missing person case and flip through their search history. Finding a similarity, I place a star by that line. I do this with five more printouts, noticing five more similarities.

  “Look at this.” I line the papers up and push them toward her. “Each of these girls visited the same website. Faithful Living Christian Charities.”

  She sighs, pushing them back toward me. “That’s not unusual. If you’re a teenager and see two lines on that pregnancy test, the first thing you’re going to do is some online searches. And I guarantee you Faithful Living will be the number one search result. They’re nationwide and the top adoption agency in the country.”

  “That’s not what’s odd. It’s the fact that each of these missing girls filled out an online form requesting more information about their services. This link that shows up in their search history is a form submission page.”

  I grab one of the boxes and yank out a folder labeled e-mails, flipping through the hundreds of pages, coming to an abrupt stop when I find the one I’m looking for. I do the same thing with each of the victims, finding the email containing their responses to the form.

  “They each requested more info. But to do so, they filled out personal information. Name. Date of birth. Address. Phone number. Email. Parents’ marital status. Income. Religious affiliation. How far along in the pregnancy.” My breath hitches, mind reeling as I fumble through the papers again, scanning them. “In each case, approximately five days passed between the girls filling out this request for information and going to a clinic. What if…” I look up, but don’t see anything other than a thousand puzzle pieces I can’t quite put together. “What if Faithful Living gave them information about the closest clinic, then when they went, they scooped them up?”

  My intense gaze pierces Chloe’s stare, which is a mixture of disbelief and amusement, like she’s humoring my insane theory. Then she exhales deeply, tying her blonde locks into a messy bun on top of her head.

  “I understand how that might be suspicious, but Faithful Living facilitates thousands of adoptions every year, have a huge public presence. There’s no way they’d be able to get away with something like this. Plus, your mother went missing in the early nineties. The internet was just starting. No websites for you to fill out a form to request information. Even if there were, it was all dial-up. Can you imagine how slow that must have been?” She snorts a laugh.

  “I’d rather not. But maybe they advanced with the times. Oliver pulled phone records. My mother did place a call to Faithful Living, just like Avery.”

  “It’s a huge adoption agency. Plus, you heard Avery. I think we’re dealing with some extreme religious faction. That’s the angle the FBI has been looking into, as well. They have their cult specialist combing through police reports in Maryland to see if anything raises red flags. They also looked into Faithful Living. There was nothing to substantiate them being involved in any way, other than the girls contacting them about their services. Like I said—”

  “I know. I know.” I sigh, my shoulders slumping. “Pretty much every teenage girl who unexpectedly becomes pregnant contacts them.”

  Chloe reaches for my hand, covering it with hers. “If I were in your shoes and had learned my mother had been through what yours had, I’d want answers, too. But you’re burning yourself out. You need to give your brain a rest, think about something else.”

  “It’s hard not to think about this.”

  Her phone buzzes and she glances at the screen, her face lighting up as she types out a quick text. Based on her expression, I can only assume it’s Lincoln. She stands from the table. “Sometimes when I’m working on a story and feel like I’m missing a piece of the puzzle, I take a break. Step away. When I return, I have a fresh set of eyes, a fresh perspective. Maybe that’s what you need.”

  She turns, heading down the hallway toward the bathroom. When a knock echoes, I float my gaze to the front door.

  “Can you get that?” Chloe shouts. “I ordered a little something for you to nibble on.”

  “I suppose you want me to pay for it, too.”

  “My wallet’s on the kitchen island.”

  I reluctantly drag myself to my feet. Finding Chloe’s wallet, I continue toward the door, pulling it open.

  “How much do I owe you?” I don’t even glance up as I rifle through her wallet. It would be just like her to order an obscene amount of takeout and not realize she didn’t have enough money to cover it.

  “I’d settle for a kiss.”

  I dart my eyes up, dropping the wallet. I tackle Asher as I fling my arms around him, pressing my lips against his, both of us laughing and kissing at the same time. I thread my hands through his hair, tugging at it, eliciting a satisfied moan. God, I missed that. There’s nothing sexier than that deep, guttural vibration.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask once I manage to pull my lips from his.

  “I have the day off.” He lowers his mouth to mine once more. “And there’s no one I’d rather spend it with than you.”

  “You flew all the way from Charleston just to spend a few hours with me?”

  He shrugs. “That, and hopefully get laid.” He playfully waggles his brows.

  “Is that all I am?” I teasingly pout, making a show of crossing my arms in front of my chest. “A long-distance booty call?”

  His eyes darkening, he grabs my ass, yanking me against him. “And what a nice booty it is.” He kisses me again. I melt into him, my heart full.

  “Get a room.” Chloe’s voice cuts through our moment.

  We tear our lips from each other, but I remain in Asher’s possessive hold, his hand still firmly planted on my backside.

  “No need to get a room when I have an entire house.” He places a kiss on my mouth, then releases me. Approaching Chloe, he hugs her, kissing her cheek. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Anytime. She needs a break. So go give her one.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Asher salutes her before turning to me, holding out his elbow. “Shall we?”

  I hastily grab my cell and shove it into my purse, then loop my arm through his. “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere you want, darlin’.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “You know what just occurred to me?” I ask as I lay on my back, using Asher’s stomach as a pillow while he reclines in the same position.

  We’d spent our day doing whatever I wanted. After a casual lunch at one of my favorite pizza places, we walked along the high line in Chelsea before heading out to Gramercy Park. As if able to read my mind, Asher grabbed a bottle of wine from his place, then took me to the residents-only park, where we’ve been for the past hour, watching the sky turn from blue to pink to almost black.

  At first, I worried some paparazzi would appear and snap his photo, or an adoring fan would recognize him and ask for a selfie. Not becau
se it would interfere with our time together, but because of our fear that Jessie would learn the truth before Asher had all his ducks in a row. Thankfully, that never happened, the sunglasses and baseball cap a sufficient disguise until we were safe behind the locked gates of Gramercy Park. I look forward to the day we no longer have to sneak around like this.

  “What’s that?” He runs his fingers through my hair, his touch light.

  “This is our first official date.” I adjust my position so I can peer into his eyes, resting my chin on his chest. “We’ve never gone out. Not like today. Until now, we’ve only hung out at your place or mine. Or Grams’ lake house. This is the first time we’ve gone out in public and held hands, like real couples do.”

  “Huh.” A furtive look momentarily crosses his brow before he floats his eyes back to mine. “Well, I hope it met all your expectations of a first date.”

  I inch my lips closer to his. “It did. I liked getting a taste of what it’ll be like to be your official girlfriend.”

  “Soon, darlin’. I promise we won’t have to keep it a secret much longer.” He brushes his mouth against mine, treating me to a sweet kiss.

  I can’t remember ever being this happy, this at ease in a relationship. Sure, we still have the matter of Jessie, but Asher’s handling that. His lawyer has most of the paperwork drawn up. Essentially, Asher will buy Jessie out of his contract, offering him a substantial amount of money up front that equals a large percentage of royalties on future albums. In addition, he’ll retain his royalty payments on all albums already released. Of course, that all depends on how Jessie takes the news. Asher remains hopeful he’ll understand. I have my doubts.

  “Tell me about your first date,” I murmur against his lips, then pull away.

  “Ever?”

  “Yeah.” I hoist myself into a sitting position, pour a little more wine into both of our glasses, and hand him one. “Who was the lucky girl?”

  He squints as he sits up, searching his memory. “It was probably Lauren Donovan.”

  “When was this?”

  “Eighth grade.”

  “Where did you take her?”

  “Mini golfing.” A nostalgic smile tugs on his mouth. “I had to swallow my pride, since I’m absolutely horrible at mini golf. But that’s what she wanted to do.”

  “What happened with you guys, other than the fact you were both only thirteen and incapable of being in a real relationship?”

  “Jessie started dating her younger sister, Angela. At first, it was perfect. We were able to double date, but one day, Angela wanted to go see some chick flick and Jessie wanted to see an action movie. So they broke up.”

  I laugh. “If only life could be as simple as it was when we were thirteen and thought a disagreement about which movie to see was the end of the world.”

  “Exactly. So, since they weren’t together anymore, Lauren broke up with me.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Everything in my life brought me to you. And trust me. As lovely as Lauren was, she couldn’t hold a candle to you, darlin’.” He digs his hand into my hair, pulling me toward him. “Have I told you today how addictive these lips of yours are?” He nibbles on the bottom one, tugging it gently.

  “Yes. But you can tell me again.”

  “I fucking love your lips. Love the way they taste. Love the way they feel. Love the way they love.” He claims my mouth with a kiss, then drops his hold on me and takes a sip of his wine. “How about you?”

  “Me?” I pant, electricity humming through me, my body still on high alert from his kiss.

  “Yes. Your first date.” He sucks in a breath. “As long as it wasn’t with Jessie. I’d rather not go there.”

  I roll my eyes. “I was almost nineteen when we got together. I did date before him.”

  He worries his bottom lip, and I can see the question on the tip of his tongue. “But you were a virgin, weren’t you?” he asks, a hint of sadness in his voice. “That’s what he… Well, he said you were.”

  I close my eyes, slowly nodding. I hear him expel a shaky breath.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, and I lift my gaze to his. “That should have been me. If I just—”

  I cup his cheek. “No. Like you said, everything that’s happened before now has brought us to this place.” I laugh slightly before launching into my best Asher York impression, my voice turning gruff. “And as wonderful as Jessie was, he couldn’t hold a candle to you, darlin’.”

  He sets his wine glass on the ground, then pushes me onto my back, caging me in with his arms as he hovers over me, his eyes skating over my lips. “Is that right?”

  Reaching up, I scrape my fingers through his locks, relishing in his reaction as he arches into the touch. “Definitely.” I grab the back of his neck, forcing his mouth to mine. He resists, a lust-filled tug-of-war as I plead for his kiss, wrapping my legs around his waist, pulsing against him.

  “Goddamn, baby,” he groans. “Do you have any idea how hard you’re making this?”

  “I believe I do.” I grin coyly.

  He lowers his mouth to my neck, tracing a circle with his tongue. “I’ve been trying to be good all day. Didn’t want you to think I only came up here to have sex. Wanted to spend some time with you fully clothed for a change.”

  “Clothes can be overrated.”

  “But still.” He pulls back, meeting my eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m only interested in you for sex. I’m not. I mean, I love the sex. The sex is fucking fantastic. But that’s not why I’m with you. I’m with you because I can’t breathe without you.”

  “It means a lot you’re not only interested in sex. But right now, I’m extremely interested in sex. While I’ve enjoyed every single second of today, I need my happy ending.”

  He arches a brow. “Happy ending?”

  “Or hole in one.”

  It’s silent for a moment while he gives me a sideways glance. Then he laughs a full belly laugh, collapsing on top of me, his body shaking. His mood is infectious, so I join in. These are my favorite memories of us. No elaborate dinners. No designer clothes. No fancy chauffeurs. Just us. The way we began. The way I hope we’ll always be.

  “Come on.” Asher pushes off me and climbs to his feet. He extends his hand, helping me up. I dust off my jeans as he collects the blanket and our wine. “Let’s go work on that hole in one.” He leans toward me, nibbling on my earlobe. “Last I checked, I had a zero handicap on that.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Hurry,” I beg the second we’re inside Asher’s townhouse, both of us frantically trying to rip each other’s clothes off as quickly as possible. Our kisses are interspersed with moments of heavy breathing before our need for one another gets the better of us and we return to the source of our addiction.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been this desperate to get a woman naked.”

  “Bedroom. Now.” My demand is an animalistic growl.

  “First one there gets a spanking.”

  “God, I love the way your mind works.” I dive in for one last kiss, then start up the stairs, my squeals echoing through the space when he lands a hard blow against my ass.

  “Is that the best you’ve got?” I call after him as I crest the top of the first flight of stairs. “I barely felt that.”

  “Careful what you wish for, Isabella. When I’m done with you, that ass will be sore for days.”

  I squeal again, rounding the corner and about to dash up the next flight of stairs when a light snaps on in the living room, causing us to come to an abrupt stop.

  Disoriented, I scan the space. The instant my eyes fall on Jessie, sitting in the reading chair, his cold eyes trained on us, my heart plummets, face burning. I part my lips, struggling to come up with something, anything to explain what he’d overheard. But I can’t. Asher can’t, either, as evidenced by his own silence.

  “So it’s true then, is it
?” Jessie’s eerily calm voice cuts through the thick tension.

  “Jessie, I—”

  He holds up his hand, cutting Asher off. The muscles in his face tighten in a pained expression as he looks away, almost like the sight of us makes him physically ill.

  “I didn’t want to believe it. Didn’t want to think my own brother would do something like this.” With each word he speaks, his tone becomes more hurt. More distressed. More broken. He stands and begins pacing, agitated. “I thought I must be overreacting. That there was no way my brother, my own flesh and blood, my best friend would do something so deceptive, so cruel, so insidious as to go behind my back and sleep with my ex-fucking-fiancée!” he roars, his voice seemingly causing the liquor bottles on the wet bar to rattle. His face reddens, his nostrils flare, his lips curl. “God!” He bends over, tugging at his hair.

  My throat tightens as I watch this man I once loved break into pieces. I thought I’d seen him at the lowest of his lows when he begged me not to leave him. But that was nothing compared to this.

  I open my mouth, wanting to offer him some sort of comfort, but what is there to say? Nothing can make this hurt less. When we started down this path, I knew this would happen, that Jessie would be a casualty of our love. It doesn’t make this any easier, though.

  “Do you want to know how I figured it out?” Jessie asks, his tone almost cruel in its severity. He pins his stare on me, the vein in his neck pulsing. “Next time you sleep around behind someone’s back, make sure you don’t leave your shoes and purse lying around for anyone to see, then wear those same shoes and purse around that person a few hours later. Chances are, they’ll put two and two together.”

  I blink, having difficulty breathing. How could I have been so stupid? Jessie had seen my purse and shoes. Had commented on them. That hadn’t even crossed my mind as I got ready for Asher’s concert that night. I don’t exactly have a closet full of purses and shoes. I have one purse. As far as shoes, I have a few options, but the black ones are sexy. And since I was seeing Asher, I opted for sexy.