Hard Play (Delta Force Brotherhood)

by Sheryl Nantus

  Lisa let out a soft laugh. Jessie saw her friend relax a fraction, the tension easing out of her shoulders.

  “If you hear anything that makes you nervous”—Dylan directed this to Lisa—“you call us, day or night. Don’t be embarrassed or scared about looking silly. Understand?”

  Lisa smiled and nodded.

  The pair stood in the hallway, looking at the two women.

  “We’re off.” Ace looked at Lisa. “See you.”

  Color filled her cheeks. “Yep.”

  Ace grinned and headed for the elevator.

  Jessie hugged her before retreating with Dylan. She heard the deadbolt on the door slide home with a loud click before they reached the elevator, soothing her nerves slightly.

  “Now for your place,” Dylan said.

  …

  She’d imagined it’d be a mess but this…this was devastation.

  Jessie stepped through the door, pushing a ripped pillow aside with her foot. Feathers trickled out of the gash, adding to the pile spread all over the hardwood floor. The futon sofa had been shredded with knives. The framed pictures of her life, of her time on the force, and of her with her father, lay on the floor, shattered and ripped apart.

  Jessie closed her eyes and leaned against the wall, overwhelmed.

  “Let me check it out.” She heard Ace carefully step through the mess, heading for the other room.

  Dylan took her hand. “You want me to stay? I can help you clean up.”

  “No. It’s okay.” She opened her eyes, forcing herself to stare at the trashed apartment. She drew a deep breath. “I can deal with this. Besides, you’ve got a business to run.”

  “Place is clear.” Ace came back down the hall. His feet crunched on broken glass as he moved to stand by Dylan. “Sorry.”

  “You’re sure you want us to go?” Dylan said, giving her a second opening.

  “My life, my mess. Out. Both of you.” Jessie shooed the pair into the hallway. “I don’t need you picking up my underwear or poking through my drawers. Not that there’s anything there to find, I mean.”

  Ace chuckled.

  “Okay.” Dylan looked at her, capturing her gaze. “Call me if you need anything. Anything,” he repeated. “Day or night, same as Lisa. You hear something, you call. We’ll be here as fast as we can.” He glanced at Ace who nodded his confirmation.

  “You got it. I just need…” She struggled to keep control, to push past the urge to pull him inside and find comfort in his arms. “I just need some alone time. I’ll call you later. Bye.” She closed the door before he could reply and before she gave in.

  Jessie turned, put her back to the door, and stared at the disaster that had been her life.

  She slowly slid down to sit on the floor, her shoulder aching.

  So this is what you have now, she said to herself. A ruined apartment, an office probably looking just as bad, if not worse, and don’t even think about what your professional life is going to be like for the next few months.

  If she was lucky, she wouldn’t end up on the streets, living out of a cardboard box in an alley off the Strip, begging for spare change.

  Jessie reached out and pulled one of the shattered pictures to her.

  Dad.

  Graduation day. She stood there in her brand-new police uniform next to her father. They were smiling, neither knowing that in a few months he’d be in a hospital bed, paralyzed and creeping toward a premature death.

  But he wasn’t a dirty cop. When Frank Wheeler had told her he was, she hadn’t wanted to believe it, hadn’t wanted to think it. And her instincts had been right—her father was an honest cop who had been doing his job, protecting the public.

  Jessie pressed the photo to her chest, finally giving herself permission to cry.

  I miss you, Dad. But I got him. I got the son of a bitch, and he won’t hurt anyone else now.

  I got him.

  After a few minutes she staggered to her feet, wiping her eyes dry.

  “That’s enough of that,” she announced to the empty room. “This mess isn’t going to clean itself up.” She made her way to the coffee table and cleared off a space, pushing the shredded magazines to one side before propping up the photograph.

  …

  “So.” Dylan risked a sideways glance at Ace as they drove back to the club. “Lisa seems nice.”

  Ace nodded, staring at the road. “She’s a good woman. Speaks Farsi, believe it or not. Taught her a few new swear words. I like her.”

  “Good. They’re tough, both of them. They’ll bounce back soon enough. Just need a little space to get their lives back in line. Meanwhile, let’s get back to the club.” Dylan pointed at the road ahead of them.

  In the back of his mind, he remembered the look in her eyes as she’d pushed them out the door, the reality of the situation smashing through the fantasy world they’d created up at the cabin.

  He forced his mind back to the task at hand. Right now he needed to get back to work. The nightclub wasn’t going to run itself.

  …

  It took the better part of a week to put her apartment back together and another five days to clean up her office, replacing broken lamps and cleaning up spilled coffee in short bursts of energy, her injured shoulder slowing her pace. Almost two weeks to the day after she’d been shot at Fluxxx, Jessie settled behind her desk, content for the time being with the way the office looked.

  It wasn’t pristine but it wasn’t the dumpster fire she’d walked into days ago.

  Her gaze went to one of the pictures on the wall, a generic print of the Las Vegas skyline. It was a night scene, the neon lights competing with the stars for dominance.

  She thought about the cabin, about Dylan.

  Pulling her out of the cage. Taking her to the cabin. Loving her to the extreme.

  Two weeks, and he hadn’t called, hadn’t texted.

  She shouldn’t have been surprised or upset, and she wasn’t.

  He was giving her the space she’d asked for, that she needed to get her life back in balance.

  But at the back of her mind, the niggling fear began to creep in, that she’d somehow missed her chance.

  She leaned back, wincing as the motion pulled at her stitches.

  Sneaking around catching philandering husbands might have to wait.

  That was, if she ever got another client. The old saying that any publicity was good publicity didn’t necessarily apply to working as a private investigator.

  The media coverage had been short and simple, Mac releasing a brief statement thanking the local police for helping bring down Molodavi. There’d been no mention of the Brotherhood, and only a brief mention of her own involvement, noting her father’s demise and her going undercover at Fluxxx, now being played up as an official FBI operation.

  There had been plenty of details left out, and she suspected everyone was very happy with that, from the mayor’s office on down.

  Still, her phone hadn’t been ringing off the hook other than with reporters looking for more information for follow-up stories—all of which she brushed off.

  There was no point in bringing up the past now that Molodavi was behind bars. And she didn’t want to risk any legal backlash for giving interviews or releasing statements. So the story had slipped under the waves, replaced by the latest political jousting and entertainment tidbits.

  She tapped on her keyboard. A spreadsheet came up, showing her latest financial records.

  Jessie winced.

  She might, might be able to stay flush if she dug into her savings for one more month. Then she’d have to shutter the office and run her business out of her apartment, at least until her landlord noticed and threw her out for violating her lease.

  The phone rang.

  “Lyon Investigations, Jessica Lyon speaking. How may I help you?”

  She held her breath, hoping for a chance to keep her business afloat.

  Anything. Anything. I’ll find your cat, I’ll track down your missing d
aughter…

  Anything.

  “Hello, Miss Lyon. My name is Jonathan Anderson, of Anderson Investigations.” He paused, letting the name sink in. “I’d like to talk to you about doing some work for us.”

  She frowned, recognizing the name of one of the largest private investigation firms in the world. “Excuse me. Doing some work?” She propped the phone between her cheek and shoulder, running her hands over the keyboard and bringing up the firm’s main website.

  Offices in Los Angeles and New York City.

  They didn’t have anything in Las Vegas.

  Of course. They wanted her to do some legwork here in town.

  Jessie pursed her lips. “You want to hire me to help you work on a case here in Las Vegas? Because…”

  “No, no. I’m sorry for not making it clearer.” The gentle chuckle took her aback. “We’d like to hire you to work for us. Full-time.”

  She almost dropped the phone. “I’m afraid I’m a little confused.”

  “Understandable. You’ve had a hell of a month.” The smooth voice continued.

  Another tap on the keyboard and she brought up Anderson’s image from the employee webpage. The older man smiled at her from the screen.

  “Miss Lyon, I’ll be honest with you. We’d never heard of you until you hit the newswires, and we’re always on the hunt for good, experienced investigators. You singlehandedly took down Molodavi. Didn’t you think you’d be noticed?”

  “That was in cooperation with the FBI,” Jessie said, repeating the cover story.

  The low laugh reverberated through the line. “Miss Lyon, we didn’t get to be a successful firm without having friends in high places. So we know there was more to it than that. You took on one of the most powerful mobsters in Las Vegas and won. That’s damned impressive, no matter where you stand.”

  Her pulse hammered in her ears. “Okay?”

  “We’d like you to come to New York and work for us.”

  The rest of the conversation went by in a rush as she took notes, her heart racing.

  This was the opportunity of a lifetime. If she wanted to take it.

  …

  “Oh my God.” Lisa grabbed her arm as soon as Jessie stepped out of the taxi. “This is fantastic. I couldn’t believe it when you told me on the phone. Of all the crazy things that’ve happened as of late—this is amazing good karma.” She shook her head as she maneuvered them toward the front doors of the Devil’s Playground. “We have to celebrate.”

  “I haven’t taken the job yet,” Jessie protested.

  “Then we’ll celebrate the fact you got an offer.” She smiled and waved at the hostess who held the door open for them to enter.

  Jessie hesitated, unsure. Lisa had suggested the nightclub and she’d given in, curious as to what would happen.

  Now her nerve was deserting her.

  “Don’t.” Lisa took her hand and tugged. “Don’t overthink this too much. We’re celebrating a good thing, and we need this. And it’s the one place we can go and have a good time and know we’re safe.”

  She turned and stared at Jessie. Her voice shifted, dropped to a whisper. “I need this.”

  Jessie flinched inside, knowing exactly how Lisa felt. The first evening back in their respective apartments, they’d spent the entire time on the phone together, dozing off and waking up to check on one another to make sure they were okay.

  Since then the frantic calls had lessened, as they returned to their regular lives, but the wounds were still raw.

  In Jessie’s case, the stitches were still in her shoulder, waiting to be taken out in a few more days.

  “Okay.” She forced a smile. “Besides, I’m starving.”

  …

  Dylan studied the laptop screen again, grumbling to himself as he scanned the latest financial records. After the excitement of a job, going back to the simple task of running the nightclub was always an adjustment, a jar to his system.

  This time, however, was worse than before. He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t take pleasure in the little things, like tossing Finn in the ring for losing those silver dollars. Nothing he did was enough to lift the cloud in his mind, clogging up his thoughts.

  “Boss.” Trey’s voice came through the earpiece. “We got trouble on the floor. Table thirty-eight.”

  “What? It’s lunchtime.” Dylan stood up and turned around to look out through the glass. “What the hell…” His voice trailed off as he recognized the two women.

  “Figured you’d like to know.” There was a hint of laughter in Trey’s voice. “Shall I call the cops on them?”

  “No.” Dylan brushed off the front of his dress shirt even though there was nothing there. “Where’s Ace?”

  “Finishing up a supply run.”

  “Tell him to get his ass on the floor when he gets back. Table thirty-eight.” Dylan headed for the door, catching himself before he grabbed the handle.

  He wasn’t dashing down the hall to get out on the main floor and to Jessie…

  Hell, yeah.

  He was.

  And he didn’t mind one damn bit.

  Jessie looked up and smiled as Dylan approached the table, the simple gesture shooting straight to his heart.

  Lisa laughed as he settled onto the chair between them. “Hey, Dylan. You look good.”

  “Thanks.” He forced himself to stay calm, keep his voice level. “So what’s the occasion? We’re not going to be rocking for a few more hours. Live band coming in tonight.”

  “We’re celebrating. Jessie got a job offer.” Lisa beamed. “A job offer with a big firm in New York City.”

  “Really.” Dylan swallowed hard, pushing past the lump in his throat. “Doing what?”

  “Private investigations,” Jessie replied. She ran a hand through her short red hair. The dye was washing out slowly, giving her a variety of shades. “They want me to move there and work for them.”

  “Good,” he said, and he meant it. “You deserve it.” He paused, almost afraid to move to the next question. “When do you leave?”

  “I haven’t accepted the offer yet.” Jessie stopped as the waitress came over with their drinks. She sipped the martini and sighed. “This is fantastic.”

  “Faith does her best.” Dylan lifted a hand and waved at their bartender.

  “But you’re going to take it,” Lisa said. “Right?”

  Before Jessie could reply, Ace came charging toward them, slowing to a walk as he got closer.

  Lisa smiled. “Ace. I was hoping you’d be here.” She stood up and put her hand on his bare arm. “I was wondering if I could borrow that book you talked about…”

  Dylan didn’t miss the wink she shot Jessie as she strolled off with Ace.

  “That was about as subtle as a bulldozer,” he said.

  Jessie laughed and took another drink. “Lisa doesn’t do subtle when she sees something she wants.” She eyed him over the glass. “So how are you doing?”

  “Good. Good,” he repeated. “And you?”

  “I have a job offer.” She let her breath out slowly. “My God. I have a job offer.”

  He could see the idea was still sinking in, her fingers so tight around the glass stem he feared she’d snap it in two. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  “Yes and no.” She shook her head. “I mean, it’s a chance to move up and onward. A chance to get out of Las Vegas.”

  “Do you want to get out of Vegas?” Dylan asked.

  She plucked the olive out of her drink and ate it slowly. “There’s nothing keeping me here. My goal was to take Molodavi down and I have. My father’s gone. My business is on life support, and it’s a hell of an offer, will give me a chance to jump up that ladder. Run with the big dogs and all that.”

  Dylan nodded. “How long before you have to let them know if you’re taking the job or not?”

  “I asked for a week. Figure by then I’ll know if I’ve got enough reason to stay or not.” She chewed on the thin plastic toothpick. “What do you
think?”

  This was the moment, the moment they’d spent two weeks waiting for.

  His heart raced as he weighed his words.

  “I think,” he started, then stopped.

  He looked at her. “I think you should go. It’s a chance to start your life over. New city, new life. It’s a good offer.”

  Each word stabbed him in the heart but he had to say it.

  Because if he asked her to stay, she would, and he couldn’t do that to her.

  He couldn’t put her back in that cage.

  …

  Jessie wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear from him. Part of her wanted him to ask her to stay, to offer her an alternative.

  She’d spent too many nights aching for him, imagining his touch on her skin. She’d almost picked up the phone and called him herself, unwilling to wait for him to make the first move.

  Now she was here and open to the idea of pursuing a relationship like normal people did, going out on dates and enjoying each other’s company. Maybe wake up together in a lazy tangle of limbs, slow to roll out of bed but quick to love each other without someone threatening to kill her or shoot him.

  But he didn’t want to even try. And she didn’t know why.

  It wasn’t that he’d fallen for someone else, or discovered his feelings were fleeting and now he couldn’t stand to be near her.

  She saw it in the way he shifted his weight in the chair, how he reached out and touched her arm as they made small talk. The man was still crazy for her.

  So why had he told her to leave?

  Her heart ached as she scrambled to sort out her emotions, the mood roller coaster flinging her from side to side as she sat with Dylan, trying to find the right words.

  Lisa reappeared, laughing as she tucked her arm into Ace’s, and waving a book in the air. “Got it. Didn’t think I’d ever see a poetry book in Farsi.”

  “Neither did I.” Dylan raised an eyebrow and stared at Ace.

  He shrugged as she sat down at the table. “I’m a man of many layers.”

  “Sorry, ladies. Got to go.” Dylan got to his feet. “Little bit of business we need to attend to.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, nothing dangerous. Just the usual trouble with running a nightclub.”

  Ace picked up Lisa’s hand and put it to his mouth for a light kiss, making her grin like a joker until the two men walked out of sight.