A Player for Christmas: Book 4 The Last Play Series

by Hart, Taylor

  Taking in a breath, she turned to face him. “Whenever I think about being so young, falling in love with Ken and having Callie, it makes me feel helpless. That’s how I was then. I’ve worked hard to change my life around. To make myself into something and be in control of my life.”

  “You’ve done a damn good job.” Brooks smiled.

  Frustration bubbled inside her. “There were a couple of years that Ken tried to be a good father to Callie. We came to see him in the summer. He owned this shop. He sent presents for her birthday and called once in a while.” She felt more tears coming on. “But I just wish … Why couldn’t he keep it together? For her? Why did I pick such an idiot to be a father to her? She doesn’t deserve that.”

  Brooks’ expression stayed neutral.

  She covered her face, giving in to the tears. “It’s a funny thing. I’m a master at spinning things, but even I haven’t been able to find a way to spin a little girl dying of cancer.” Ugly crying overcame her emotions, even though she hated it.

  Before she knew what was happening, he pulled her close. His strong arms held her.

  Letting him pull her in was something she definitely hadn’t planned on doing—ever. Not Brooks Stone. The whole-food-eating, football-worshipping, annoyingly smart man. But the way he began to stroke her back up and down made her melt into him. She found herself letting go and really crying. It was the kind of crying she hadn’t done, hadn’t allowed herself to do, since discovering Callie’s cancer. The kind she tried to have her clients do in her office, not the quiet crying on television that didn’t ruin makeup.

  “Shh.” Holding her head against his shoulder, he soothed her. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this all by yourself. I’m here. I’m right here.”

  Little did Brooks know that having him say that, and her believe it, was actually more terrifying than anything else. Thinking she could rely on someone to help her, really help her, was overwhelming. She bit back her emotions and sucked in a deep breath. “You want to be on my team?”

  Keeping her close for a few more moments, Brooks pulled back slowly, searching her face. She noticed he was frowning and looking more sincere and intense than she could have ever imagined. “If you have room for an extra player.”

  She blinked back another wave of tears, then shrugged, trying to understand this complicated man. “Okay.”

  He pulled her back in. “You all right?”

  Quickly, she pulled all the way back. At first, he still held her. Then he let her go completely.

  The cold hit her like a shock wave. It wasn’t just the cold from the lack of his body heat. She felt a chill from the withdrawal of his physical support and strength. She stumbled, then got her bearings. “I thought he might be here.” She laughed a little. “I know it’s sad to hope that if he’s drugged out, he’s at least drugged out here.”

  Brooks’s eyes surveyed the building. He quickly walked around it, and then his gaze swept over the beach. “Can’t see him.” He hesitated before turning back to the ocean. “Let’s try one more spot.”

  Ten minutes later, Ana found herself climbing up onto a bunch of volcanic rocks. Brooks reached back and helped her. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  Brooks met her eyes, then released her hand and kept walking, motioning to the down side of the rocks. “We used to get up early in the morning to surf. Sometimes we’d come to this cave and just … hang.”

  “You mean smoke?”

  The side of Brooks’s lip went up, and his hands went to his chest defensively. “Hey, I’ve always been an athlete. I’ve never smoked.”

  “But he did,” she said accusingly, knowing the answer without Brooks having to confirm it.

  He pointed to a trail that led behind the rock. Ana was impressed at how the path was right there, but still hidden from beachgoers. She guessed it would be the perfect place for Ken to use drugs.

  Unfortunately, he wasn’t there when they went in. No one was.

  It was dark at the cave’s entrance, but as they walked in, light came from up above. Ana realized that there was a hole in the ceiling that let in the light.

  Out of the blue, Brooks took her hand. “He’s not here. Let’s go. It’s about time to meet the P.I.”

  As they walked on the beach back up to the road, Brooks still kept her hand.

  Awkward. That’s how Ana felt, but she wasn’t exactly sure why.

  Brooks cleared his throat and smiled at her. “Are you okay?”

  She realized she must look like a wreck. Taking back her hand, she dabbed beneath her eyes. “Sorry about that … earlier.”

  Brooks took two steps in front of her and then turned back, stopping abruptly.

  Stopping short, she barely avoided running into his chest.

  He put both hands on her shoulders. “Don’t ever apologize for being a good parent.”

  At this moment, staring deep into his dark blue eyes, eyes that showed strength and vulnerability, something shifted inside of her. Something unhinged, as if pried open with a long lever to reveal hidden treasure. She nodded, wishing she could control the new round of tears welling up. “You don’t know how much hearing you say that means to me.”

  Brooks reached up, taking a strand of her hair and pushing it behind her ear. “Remember, I’m in this now.”

  Chapter 13

  As he and Ana reached the P.I.’s office, in a more commercial section of downtown Santa Monica, Brooks tensed and wondered about this location. This was the part of the beach that housed old ships and cargo and things being “worked on.” It wasn’t touristy, and as the sun began to go down, he wondered if it was safe. Protectively, he opened the door and waited as Ana passed through.

  She glanced back at him. “Does something feel off about this place?”

  She’d just put his feelings into words. “Yeah.”

  They winded their way up the stairs with the paint peeling on the walls and obvious scuff marks. At the top, a simple sign hung above a door, simply saying, Harris Wheeler, P.I.

  Both of them paused, and Brooks wondered if they should really do the stupid thing and go inside the rabbit hole.

  “Let’s go.” Ana looked determined.

  “You’re the one that said you had a feeling. Are you sure?”

  Giving him her stubborn smile, he watched her push the door open. “If he’s the best, then we go in.”

  The door made a loud ding as they entered, and Brooks looked up to see an old-fashioned chime attached to the top of it.

  The smell of alcohol and smoke was the first thing that assaulted Brooks. There was a small desk, an old-fashioned phone, and an old computer in the front office. Everything was dusty, and the wallpaper was peeling.

  There was another room with the door halfway propped open. Someone inside was talking in a loud voice. Then he let out a loud cackling laugh.

  “Hello?” Ana said.

  Through the door they heard, “I gotta go. Got a client.” Then a lanky Italian man bounced out into the room. “Hello.” His voice was now amplified, and Brooks thought about how even though this guy wasn’t as big as Brooks was, he had definite presence. He put his hand out to Ana. “You must be Ana Given.” Without letting her answer, he flicked a glance to Brooks. Under his curved mustache, his smile widened. “And Brooks Stone.” He reached for Ana’s hand and pumped it. “I’m Harris Wheeler.”

  He shook Brooks’ hand, and Brooks noticed that though Harris didn’t seem very tough, he looked wily. Like the kind of guy who could land some good punches in a fight. Brooks judged him to be in his late forties. He wore a flannel shirt and cowboy boots. Tiffany had told Brooks that he’d been a detective in Santa Monica for fifteen years before going out on his own.

  Harris nodded to his office. “Sorry about the lack of tidiness, but my secretary quit last year, and I just haven’t done anything about it.” He winked at Ana and nodded to the office. “Come in. Please.”

  They followed him in, and Brooks felt more relaxed. He liked
the guy. No frills. He liked his energy.

  Harris pointed to a couch. “You can sit, or you can stand.”

  The couch was covered with old brown leather, but it looked comfortable. Brooks and Ana sat. Brooks noticed she didn’t avoid sitting close to him—not that he cared, he reminded himself. He was only here for Callie. Yes, he had comforted Ana earlier. He didn’t even know what had come over him. But it wasn’t like being on a manhunt looking for Ana’s ex-husband, while trying to save her daughter’s life, was the right time to start a relationship.

  He shook his head, trying not to think about Ana—about her proximity to him on the couch, about how her mask had crumbled at the beach, about how it felt good to support her.

  “Well.” Harris lounged against the front of his desk. “Let’s talk about Ken Given.”

  For some stupid reason, it just now dawned on Brooks that Ana had kept the Given name. He wondered why, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t any of his business. Clearing his throat, he asked, “When we talked last night, you said you’d put out some feelers?”

  Harris frowned and crossed his arms. “Yeah, I talked to some guys down at the station, and he hasn’t been taken in for anything, so we can cross that off.” He turned to Ana. “From what Mr. Stone has told me, you have a daughter that needs alternative cancer treatment in Brazil.”

  Ana gave a slight nod. Brooks saw that her PR façade was tightly in place. Now that he knew her better, he realized how much it must weigh on her to keep it in place.

  Harris nodded back at her. “I’m sorry to hear that.” With a sigh, he picked up a small notebook on the desk and opened it. “I spoke with the other P.I.’s that you hired two months ago.” Harris looked back at her. “Waste of your money if you ask me.”

  Ana’s brow furrowed. “Tell me about it,” she said coolly.

  He cleared his throat. “So I went to his last apartment and spoke with the landlord. Apparently, Mr. Given took off three months ago, and the landlord hasn’t seen him since. Left him on the hook for two months’ rent, too.”

  Ana didn’t seem surprised.

  Harris penciled in a note. “The landlord gave me two names of possible friends or known associates.” He looked up. “I was working a different case all morning, but I was thinking that we could split up and look for these guys tonight, if you’re up for it.”

  Before Brooks could respond, Ana stood, holding out her hand. “Give us the name. We’ll go now.”

  Harris eyed her up and down. “I know you’re in a hurry, but I need to explain that the two places these men hang out at are bars. Not the kind of bars people go to for a social time. These are the kind of places that usually have fights. Drugs. Stuff that women like you don’t deal with.” He glanced at Brooks. “Guys like you shouldn’t be seen there, either. It wouldn’t be good for your image.”

  Not deterred for a second, Ana opened her palm. “The address.”

  Brooks stood too. He grinned at Ana. “I don’t care about my image.”

  * * *

  Admittedly, Brooks hadn’t been out in a long time. It was ten at night, and they waited in line at the warehouse. Of course, the big bouncer at the front let pretty, single girls go in, but he made everyone else wait in line. Brooks felt totally absurd in the longhaired blond wig, seventies-style polyester outfit, and cowboy boots that Ana had made him wear to be incognito. She wanted to protect his image.

  He had to smile at the outfit she was wearing. Ana had her blond hair in tight spirals. She wore red lipstick, a white faux fur coat, a silver dress that clung in all the right places, and the red high-heeled boots from the night before.

  She bit the side of her lip. “They have to let us in.”

  “They will.”

  For a second, the worry on her face relaxed, and she smiled, giving him a once-over. She took a step closer to him and whispered, “Who knew Brooks Stone could really be unrecognizable?”

  Rolling his eyes, he grinned, smelling the light vanilla scent that wafted from her, calling to him. “We’ll see.”

  They got to the front, and the bouncer looked like he wanted to eat Ana. He flashed her a grin. “I can let you in right now if you want to go in alone.”

  Brooks flashed a threatening smile back at the bouncer, thinking how he could put him on the ground with one well-placed stiff-arm as they went past. But he tried to be pleasant. “The lady’s with me.”

  The bouncer lifted an eyebrow and then shrugged. “Okay. It’ll be just a couple of minutes.”

  After some people walked out, giving a high-five to the bouncer, he let them in. “Let me know if you want to dump this guy later.” He winked at Ana.

  Brooks resisted the urge to do the actual stiff-arm, and they entered the rave-like mess of the warehouse. Brooks purposely tried to avoid places like this. It always felt too crowded and chaotic to him. Even when he’d been in high school, this had never been his scene. Without thinking about it, he put a hand on her lower back and began guiding her through.

  She turned to him. “I don’t know where to go.”

  With that permission to take the lead, he took her hand and pulled her through the crowd until they got to the bar area. He flagged down one of the bartenders. “Hey, have you heard of a guy named Willis Olsen?”

  The guy looked to be young, mid-twenties. He frowned for a second and then shook his head. “I haven’t.”

  Ana pushed a picture of Ken up to him. “Have you seen this guy?”

  The bartender took the picture, pulling it closer. “I … I’m not sure.”

  “Have you or haven’t you?” The music was loud, and Brooks had to shout.

  The bartender shook his head. “He looks familiar, but I can’t place him.” He gestured to them. “Do you want something to drink?”

  Brooks held up two fingers. “Two waters.”

  The bartender laughed. “You’re at the wrong place if you want water, dude.”

  Brooks saw the disappointed look on Ana’s face, and he wanted to slam his fist into the counter. Then he noticed the fighting ring in the center of the warehouse, and he had an idea. “Hey, where do I go to place a bet?” he asked the bartender.

  Chapter 14

  Even though this wasn’t the type of place Ana would choose to frequent, it was … interesting. She could see how there could be a draw to the energy. The ring was in the center of the warehouse, and a large screen hung above it, displaying a clock that counted down the eight minutes and ten seconds left before the fight.

  Brooks pulled her behind him, keeping her close. She didn’t know when they’d become so comfortable holding hands, but she really did feel safe being here with him beside her. She’d seen flashes of tension in Brooks when the bouncer had acted like he wanted to steal her away. It flabbergasted her that part of her liked this caveman part of him. Admittedly, it kind of made her want to laugh that he’d taken it upon himself to be her personal bodyguard, but she wouldn’t tell him that.

  As they approached one side of the ring, she saw a couple of guys passing cash back and forth. Everyone gathered around a man with wire-rimmed glasses and a man with gold teeth. Brooks walked up to them and tried to ask a question.

  The man with gold teeth said, “If you don’t want to place a bet, move on.”

  “Have you seen Ken Given?”

  The glasses guy turned to him and said, “Do you want to place a bet or not?”

  Brooks whipped out a silver clip with lots of cash in it.

  Ana put her hand over his. “No.”

  Brooks leaned into her. “This is the way it’s done, Ana.”

  “But I don’t want you to do this.”

  He shook her off. “I want to do this.” He took a couple hundreds out and passed them over. “Do you know Will Olsen or Ken Given?”

  The man with the gold teeth grinned and took the money. “Ken Given is fighting tonight.” He opened up the bills and counted them before looking back up. “On Given or the other guy?”

  “He’s here?�
�� Ana yelled out over the noise.

  The guy with gold teeth eyed Ana. “He’s here, but he’s focused. If you want to talk to him, you’ll have to wait until the end of the fight.”

  “Henry!” Another guy wearing a hat put a hand on the gold teeth guy. “There’s no fight tonight!” He seemed out of breath.

  “What?” The whole group of men turned to face the hat guy.

  “Given’s opponent wussed out. He’s already gone. No one can find him.”

  “Is Given still here?” Brooks shouted at Hat Guy.

  He threw his hands up. “I think so, but he’s packing up his stuff.”

  Glasses Guy held up a fist full of cash. “People are going to riot. We gotta have a fight tonight.”

  The buzzer went off, signaling fight time.

  The guy with gold teeth looked nervous. “Do we have any replacements?”

  Without warning, Brooks pulled his glasses off. “Go get Given. I’ll fight him.”

  Ana immediately tugged at his arm. “No, you won’t.”

  Brooks hesitated and looked down where she’d touched his arm. Then he put his hand onto her shoulder and whispered in her ear. “I may not be close to the players on my team, but I’m always willing to dish out hits for them.”

  Chapter 15

  Ana watched Brooks step into the ring in his polyester pants, barefoot and bare-chested. He still wore his dreadlock wig and he kept his hands close to his face. She was pretty sure no one had recognized him.

  After a twenty-second argument between them, he’d quickly taken off the clothes and told her this was the only way they could make sure Ken didn’t leave. Unable to risk the chance to have her ex sign the paper, she’d agreed.

  But now she knew why the bartender had thought Ken looked familiar but wasn’t sure. Ken had shaved his head and was much thinner than she’d ever seen him. Standing in the ring now, he had his shirt off and a mouth guard in.