by Tessa Bailey
Pushing the relentless worry aside, Ruby finished her task and set the nearly finished cue on a rack just in time for their lunch to be delivered. She tossed her goggles on a workbench and went to join Mya at her desk. “Any new orders come in this afternoon?”
Mya took a long swig of her Diet Coke. “Four.”
“Shit. I’m going to have to start working weekends.”
“Or hire more people.”
Ruby glanced at the medium-size workshop she’d so carefully arranged and decorated. Her pride and joy. Space she’d only ever dreamed of being able to afford. “I don’t know if I’m ready to share yet. I’ll think about it.”
“You do that.” Mya propped her booted foot on her knee, sandwich in hand. “Although I’m not sure Troy would appreciate you missing in action more than you already are.”
“Oh? What makes you say that?” Ruby questioned sarcastically. Mya had met Troy on several occasions. Most of them included him watching Ruby work for an hour, growing impatient when she refused to take a break, then carrying her out of the workshop over his shoulder.
“Just a hunch.”
“Right.”
Mya laughed and patted her jeans pocket, searching for cigarettes that were no longer there since she’d quit recently. “Next time I see him, I’m going to ask him to set me up with a nice, chubby cop. Someone a little grateful, you know? Heck, I’ll take a meter maid. I’m not a proud woman.”
Ruby snorted. “Liar.”
“That’s fair.” She bit into her sandwich with gusto. “But I can put my pride aside for the night. Tell Troy, the rounder the better. Just a big old chunk of man, named Ruben. Or Hank.”
“Hold on. Let me write this down,” Ruby joked. “You might be able to tell him yourself. He, uh…mentioned he was going to try to stop by the shop more often.”
“Why does that make you blush?”
“Not blushing.” Ruby grabbed her drink and pushed off the desk. “Get your eyes checked.”
“You seem better.”
Goggles in hand, she turned back with a confused expression. “Better?”
Mya cleared her throat, looking a little uncomfortable. She leaned forward over her desk, suddenly engrossed in something on the computer screen. “This morning, when you came in. You were all quiet. I had Slipknot playing for an hour and you didn’t scream at me to turn it off.”
Ruby shook her head and fired up the lathe, ignoring the sense that Mya was still watching her curiously. She threw a smile over her shoulder. “Maybe I was just humoring you for once. I’ve never been better.”
Apparently she hadn’t managed to keep her apprehension from showing. After her night with Troy, where he’d reassured her over and over that everything would be all right, she felt marginally better. Nothing, however, could alleviate the dread in her gut. She’d agreed to let Troy contact her father to arrange a meeting for tomorrow night. Until the meeting was over, she knew nothing would shake the dark cloud of fear following her around. Despite her reassurances to Troy, she knew her father better than anyone in the world. They’d spent years together on the road, bilking people out of their money on the pool table. It had been necessary to know every aspect of each other’s personality. To read each other. In order to be successful, they’d been required to know each other’s move before it was even made. If he wanted Ruby to do something for him, he wouldn’t have come unprepared. Deep down inside, she knew he’d somehow found a weakness. A way to draw her back in. It’s how he operated.
In Ruby’s back pocket, her cell phone vibrated. She dug it out and looked at the screen.
Spoke to Jim. Tomorrow night at eight. Quincy’s. I’ll be right there with you. Love, Troy.
With a shaking hand, she replaced her phone. He’d be right there with her to turn down her father’s request. She believed him in that regard.
What would he do if she agreed?
…
Troy held the door of Quincy’s open so Ruby could precede him. Tension radiated from the hard lines of his body as he scanned the bar. They were ten minutes late to meet her father, a power move she’d made on purpose. By not arriving on time, she hoped to communicate that she wouldn’t jump when he asked. Second, being late to a meeting of this nature always put the waiting party on edge. As Ruby searched Quincy’s for her father’s lanky frame and thick black hair without finding him, she realized he’d played the same game. After all, hadn’t he been the one to teach it to her?
With a muffled curse, she forced herself to relax and walked into the bar, feeling Troy following close behind. He’d been quiet on the walk over, probably figuring silence would keep him from breaking down and talking her out of the meeting. She appreciated his holding back, as well as giving her time to think. Although she suspected no amount of time could prepare her for what Jim had in store.
Her step faltered when two familiar figures caught her attention. To the untrained eye, Daniel Chase and Brent Mason, Troy’s fellow officers, would be difficult to miss because of their unique good looks and larger-than-life presence. To Ruby’s ex-hustler way of viewing her surroundings, however, they simply screamed cops.
“What did you do?” Ruby whispered to Troy out of the side of her mouth.
Hand riding the small of her back, he sighed against her ear. “Please don’t be angry. They care about you and—”
“And you wanted to give me a visible reminder of my new life. In case I forget.”
He shook his head once. “I’m not going to deny that was part of it.”
Ruby tipped her head back as if she’d find patience on the ceiling. “Troy, I hate that he knows about you. Hate it. I don’t want him knowing our friends, too. You shouldn’t have involved them.”
“They’re not involved.” He pulled her closer. “I don’t fuck around with your safety. He might be your father, but he’s a criminal. Daniel and Brent are the best cops I know, next to myself. I asked them here because I want to be prepared for anything.”
Brent spotted them then and gave Troy a barely perceptible nod. Noticing his friend’s slight action, Daniel’s beer froze halfway to his mouth, then continued its journey without acknowledging Ruby and Troy. “Wow. They’ve certainly been prepped. This might be the quietest I’ve ever seen Brent.”
Troy’s mouth twitched, but the humor didn’t find his eyes. “No telling how long he’ll last.”
“Hopefully it’ll be over quick enough that we won’t have to find out. Let’s go sit.” Ruby blew out a breath and headed toward an empty four-seat table located in a dimmer section of the bar. “God, I just want to be home.”
“Soon, baby.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby spotted Bowen Driscol sitting in the corner with his back propped against the brick wall. Baseball cap pulled down low on his forehead, he slowly nursed a bottle of beer. He kept his head down, his posture casual, but Ruby knew better. Her best friend since childhood kept himself ready to strike at any moment. Four years her senior, Bowen had been by her side those dangerous years she’d spent hustling men twice her age out of money. Countless times, he’d put himself between her and grave injury. Taking and giving beatings so she wouldn’t have to. Then again earlier this year when she’d been caught trying to help incriminate Lenny, his crime boss father, he’d still remained unwaveringly loyal to her. Fathers who valued money over their children’s safety was something they had in common.
Troy had called in her new friends for moral support and backup. She’d called Bowen. Ruby said a quick prayer, hoping Troy wouldn’t spot him. He’d never understood the nature of their relationship. Didn’t believe her that despite Bowen’s good looks, charm, and overprotective attitude toward her, their rapport had always remained platonic. She’d always suspected Troy’s dislike of Bowen stemmed from irrational guilt over not being around for Ruby those early years, and nothing she said seemed to dissuade him from his jealousy.
She hung her messenger bag over the back of her chair and sat. Troy took the chair be
side her, creating a united front. Reaching over to take his hand, she tried not to stare at the door.
“Did you think I wouldn’t see him?”
Ruby didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Please, don’t read anything into it.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “What I can’t decide is whether you lack faith in me, or—”
“No.” Wide-eyed, she searched his closed-off expression. “It has nothing to do with faith. I trust you more than anyone, Troy.” She racked her brain for a way to explain. “You wanted to remind me of my new life. Maybe I needed a reminder of the old one. But our goals were the same.”
“If he’s your past,” Troy enunciated, “why won’t he go away?”
“I don’t want him to go away. I won’t lose every part of myself to make you comfortable.”
“You think I care about being comfortable?” Taken aback by his sudden fierce expression, she didn’t answer. “I don’t want to change a single damn thing about you. I just want you to myself.”
“You have me. I’m yours. Don’t ever question that.”
His attention flickered as he brought his face close. “Keep right on looking at me. Your father just walked in.” He brushed his mouth across hers. “Don’t let him see you worried, baby.”
Their argument faded immediately to the background, eclipsed by her sudden wave of gratefulness for Troy’s presence. He was just as invested as she was in the upcoming encounter, and she would never be able to put into words how thankful she felt to have him there. It flooded her with confidence and reminded her that no matter how they fought, it always stemmed from love.
A chair scraped back at their table and she heard her father’s deceptively smooth voice for the first time in years. “Hate to interrupt this heartwarming scene, but I’m on a time crunch.”
Schooling her features, Ruby slowly faced her father. “No, you’re not.”
Jim Elliott tossed back his head and laughed. He hadn’t aged a day. Not a single gray strand interrupted his stiff, slicked-back hair. His brown eyes were full of humor, but she could see the glint of danger lurking just beneath the surface. Hiding that lethal personality was one of his most valued traits. Her father had an uncanny ability to become your best friend while walking you off a cliff.
Jim threw an arm over the back of his chair and faced them at an angle. Keeping his back turned from the entrance, she knew. The action drew her eye to the white cast on his wrist. To Jim, a visible injury equaled weakness, yet he wasn’t hiding it. Her curiosity grew. “You can take the girl out of Brooklyn…” he murmured while signaling the waitress for a drink.
“Put it on our tab,” Troy instructed the server when she took his order. Bourbon, neat.
“Oh, a generous cop. What a catch, Ru.”
Her smile faltered at his use of her childhood nickname. She slipped her hand into Troy’s strong grip. “He is a catch, thank you. If you came here just to insult us, we’ve got much better things to do.”
Jim’s fingers flexed on the table as he considered them. “What the hell is Driscol doing here?”
That gave Ruby a start. Until now, her father had shown no sign that he’d spotted Bowen lurking in the corner. Furthermore, she didn’t understand Jim’s hostility toward her friend. He had no reason to dislike him so intensely. “He’s been looking out for me ever since you took off.” She shrugged. “I guess old habits die hard.”
“Looking out for you, huh?” Jim winked at Troy. “I bet you fucking love that.”
Troy showed zero reaction. “Say what you came to say, Elliott. I’m getting impatient.”
“You young people are all in such a rush nowadays.” He smiled at the waitress as she dropped off his drink, blatantly checking out her ass when she turned around. “You know nothing about the art of anticipation.”
Ruby almost laughed at the irony of that comment, but held her tongue. “If you need me to hustle for you, forget it. I’ve moved on.”
He eyed her over his drink and her confidence dipped. “You haven’t heard the stakes yet.”
“No amount of money is worth getting tangled back up in your bullshit.”
She couldn’t tell if the flash of hurt on his face was manufactured or authentic, but the words had already been said and couldn’t be taken back.
“You have your mother’s uncanny ability to cut a man off at the knees.” Jim nodded at Troy. “I bet she makes your life a balance of heaven and hell. Just like her mother did to me. Am I right?”
“Enough.” Ruby jumped in before Troy could respond, her father’s earlier comment ringing in her head. “My mother? You never talk about my mother.”
“An oversight, perhaps.” He lifted his shoulder and let it drop. “Tonight might be a good time to start talking about the elusive Pamela.”
She felt Troy tense beside her, matching her own rigid posture. “What the hell is this?”
Jim pulled a notepad out of his jacket pocket and consulted it. Ruby knew he was just buying time. Heightening the anticipation, as he’d said. All an act. He never forgot a single detail. Which meant the mention of Pamela, her mother, hadn’t been accidental. Dread welled in her gut. She’d been a mere child when her mother walked out, leaving her with her father, a man completely ill-equipped to raise her. For years, they’d traveled while Jim hustled and she slept in the backseat of their car or a dingy motel room. Until she’d learned to pull her own weight on the pool table. Never once, during all those years, did they speak about her mother.
Ruby looked over at Troy, silent communication passing between them. He anticipated something big on the horizon, too. She could see the anxiety on his face, though he tried valiantly to hide it.
Abruptly, Jim tossed the notepad on the table, apparently still trying to keep her off balance. Dammit, he would always be better at the game than she was. It was working. “The match will take place Tuesday night. Between you, should you agree, and a man named Robert Bell. We’re still deciding on a location.”
She frowned at the unfamiliar name. “Doesn’t matter. I won’t be there.”
“I think you will.” He tossed back his bourbon. “Robert Bell is your mother’s brother. We’re playing for information on her whereabouts. He has it. You win, and he hands her location over. I’d play the match myself, but…” He held up his injured right wrist.
Time froze. Nothing could have prepared her for this. Her father’s words hit her like a roaring subway train, mowing her down in its path. She’d never allowed herself to wonder about the woman who’d abandoned them. There had never been a point. People didn’t stick around in her world. Her old world, anyway. Yet now, the opportunity to find her mother glittered like gold in front of her eyes. Had it always been a subconscious desire she’d managed to smother?
Troy squeezed her hand hard enough to snap her back to the present. She sensed he wanted to drag her into his lap and rock her back and forth, but wouldn’t allow her to lose face in front of her father. When he spoke, his voice was deadly silent. “What is Robert Bell’s interest in this? What does he get if he wins?”
Jim chuckled as if the question had been absurd. “What else? Cash. Not to mention, his dislike of his sister rivals mine.”
Troy obviously didn’t buy it. “What’s the catch, Elliott?”
“Catch?”
“Good question.” Ruby finally cleared the rust from her throat. “Why now? What do you care where she is?”
Jim suddenly wouldn’t meet her eyes, his fingers tracing moisture patterns on the table. “Look, I know I haven’t been the best father to you, Ru. You’re out of the game. I get it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “I was wrong. Not telling you anything about her. You deserve to know. Let me give you this. You can consider it a parting gift if you want.”
She sensed Bowen standing behind her, but didn’t turn. Her attention was fixated solely on her father. He looked…contrite. Sincere. A rarity for Jim Elliott. God help her, she was affected by it. This was her
father, after all. They’d been through good times and terrible times together. Sharing french fries on the hood of their car at a drive-in outside Pittsburgh. Sneaking into a Red Sox game in Boston, Jim sweet-talking them into seats along the first base line. Running through the rain to escape an angry bar owner for hustling his customers. They’d survived it all together. Could she believe him on this? She desperately wanted to, dammit. Finding out who her mother was, possibly having her questions answered, could finally be the closure stamp on her past.
Bowen finally spoke up, the barely leashed violence in his voice familiar to her. “Send her into a goddamn lion’s den and call it a gift. Classic Jim Elliott.”
“Watch it, Driscol.” Her father wagged his finger and somehow made it look threatening. “Remember, I’ve got your number. Don’t fuck with me.”
Again, Ruby was taken aback by the friction between Bowen and Jim. The three of them hadn’t spent a lot of time together in the past, Bowen having stepped in as her protector when Jim left town, but she didn’t understand the antagonism there. She opened her mouth, ready to question it, when Troy’s fist came down hard on the table. Slam. Out of the corner of her eye, Ruby saw Brent and Daniel ease back in their chairs, attempting to appear casual as they observed the situation closely.
“If you two want to have a pissing contest, do it on someone else’s time,” Troy ordered, shooting both men a look, before addressing her father alone. “You expect us to believe you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart? You think she’s not smart enough to see right through you?”
“I don’t know. Ask her.” He challenged Ruby with a look she remembered too well. “Or maybe she lets her big bad cop boyfriend speak for her now.”
Troy cursed. Bowen snorted. Ruby ignored them both, feeling slightly resentful over their attempting to babysit her. She could take care of herself. She’d done it for years. No, this was her decision and the way she saw it, she didn’t really have a choice at all. It was very likely that Jim had an angle and wasn’t being honest. She could get up and walk away. Give up the chance, dangerous or not, to find out about her mother. Or, she could do what she did best. Hustle first, ask questions later. In this case, didn’t the reward justify the risk? God hates a coward, Ruby.
