Playing Dirty

by Tiffany Snow

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I think you need to up your life insurance,” Megan said, spearing more lettuce with her fork. “Between the club and now the truck, I can’t believe the awful luck you’ve had this week.”

  “I know, right?” I hadn’t told her that someone had deliberately pushed me, just that it had been an accident. No sense worrying my best friend even more.

  “So did Ryker go ape shit when he found out?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, a little.” I paused before adding, “Parker kinda did, too.”

  That made her stop chewing for a moment. I waited, wondering what she’d say to that.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Who’d go pick up his dry cleaning and get his breakfast every day if something happened to you?”

  “You think that’s all it is?” I asked. “I was hoping, maybe …” I shrugged.

  “You’ve been hoping that for a long time,” she said. “I don’t want you to mess up the really great relationship you have going on because you’re looking for what isn’t there with Parker.”

  “You’re right¸ you’re right,” I said with a sigh. “I’m just … pathetic and stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. Parker is pathetic and stupid, which is why you need to focus on your leather-wearing, gun-toting badass boyfriend.”

  I laughed at her description of Ryker and went back to eating my soup. I was mulling over what she’d said when a man caught my eye. Seated alone a few tables away, he kept watching Megan and me. I caught him at it, but he didn’t look away like most people did when caught staring. He was nondescript, though not unattractive in a generic kind of way. His gaze was cold, though, and he didn’t smile, which unnerved me.

  Was it just another weirdo in a city full of them? Leo Shea and his threat to Ryker drifted through my mind. Maybe it hadn’t been just a random act of violence yesterday when I’d been pushed in front of that truck.

  I looked away, but kept tabs on him, breathing a sigh of relief when he remained at his table after Megan and I rose to leave. After yesterday, maybe I was seeing things that weren’t really there.

  We walked back to the office together and today I stayed well away from the curb. Megan did, too. She’d freaked when I’d told her what had happened yesterday, hugging me for a really long time, and she’d had tears in her eyes when she’d let me go.

  The rest of the day passed without incident, thank goodness. Parker had been stopping by my desk more often than usual today, making me suspicious that he was using it as an excuse to check up on me, though he never said as much. He hadn’t seemed a bit surprised to see me this morning, even after he’d offered me the day off.

  “My tailor’s coming by around six,” he said one of these times. “Could you stick around and give me your opinion?”

  This wasn’t a new thing. Parker spent enough on his wardrobe that the tailor came to him rather than the other way around, and when he did, Parker always asked me to stay and provide a feminine voice as to his choices. I never minded. Secretly, I enjoyed it. What wasn’t to enjoy? I got to see a gorgeous man modeling high-end suits and sport coats, then asking me what I thought. It never seemed like actual work to me.

  But tonight was my rescheduled dinner date with Ryker. After the awful dinner with my parents, then the mini-fight we’d gotten in when he’d cancelled the first date, it seemed like a bad idea to have to tell him I needed to stay late for work.

  “Um, let me check,” I said to Parker, stalling. He raised an eyebrow in question. “Ryker and I had planned dinner for tonight.”

  “Ah,” he said. “Then by all means, don’t let me keep you.” He gave me his signature bland half-smile that gave away nothing that he was thinking, then disappeared back into his office.

  I swallowed my disappointment. I was doing the right thing. It probably wasn’t that professional anyway to help your boss pick out his wardrobe. And lord knew I wouldn’t be thinking professional thoughts. Best not to let temptation get in the way.

  Ryker had texted and said he’d pick me up from work to head to dinner, so I met him outside. Even after four months, I still got a shiver of excitement when he pulled up on his motorcycle. With his black leather jacket, jeans, heavy boots, and aviators, he looked like every woman’s wet dream and every father’s nightmare.

  “Hop on, babe.”

  Alrighty then.

  I’d learned to pack a pair of jeans when I went to work for just such occasions as this. My skirt was neatly folded and packed in my oversize Tory Burch knockoff so I could straddle the bike behind Ryker. I wrapped my arms around his chest, adjusting my purse as I did so, and that’s when I saw him.

  The same guy from lunch.

  He was standing on the sidewalk, maybe twenty feet away, and was lighting a cigarette. I watched as he cupped his hand around the end to shield the flame from the wind, then he pocketed his lighter and took a long drag. His gaze shifted to me and Ryker, then the corner of his mouth lifted in a satisfied smirk.

  Before I had a chance to say anything to Ryker, he was pulling out into traffic and we were flying down the street. I twisted to look behind us and sure enough, the guy watched until we were out of sight.

  * * *

  “So that’s weird, right?” I asked Ryker as I took a sip of my cocktail. The bartender had given me a blank look when I’d asked for Absolut Mandarin (my favorite flavor of vodka), so I’d smiled and said whatever he had that was Top Shelf would be fine.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me?” Ryker asked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

  “I didn’t have time. We were already leaving when I realized it was the same guy.”

  We were sitting at the bar in a bar & grill–type restaurant downtown. It was a little more bar than grill, but who was complaining? It was dinner out with my man so I shut my trap and kept my opinions about the overly juiced Cosmo with a sadly lacking Top Shelf vodka to myself.

  “You think maybe it was just a weird coincidence?” I asked, hoping the answer was yes.

  “I don’t think you’d be that lucky,” he said grimly.

  Yeah. Me neither.

  “So what do I do?” I asked. “What if I see him again?”

  “Don’t go anywhere alone,” he said. “And if he approaches you, run in the other direction screaming bloody murder.”

  I frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Noise helps scare off an attacker,” he explained. “They’d much rather a quiet and compliant victim than a noisy pain in the ass one.”

  I could totally do noisy pain in the ass.

  “So how’s work?” I asked. “Anything more about that Leo Shea guy? Did you have to tell somebody what happened?”

  Ryker nodded. “I can’t say much about it,” he said. He had a drawn look to his face that worried me. “He’s from an old case I worked on when I was with vice. Undercover. In a city the size of Chicago, never thought I’d run into him again. Probably wouldn’t have either since he runs in pretty powerful circles. But the other night—”

  “The other night I made you go to dinner at a fancy, expensive restaurant,” I interrupted. “And he was there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, well, what parts of your job can you talk about?” I asked. I certainly didn’t want to talk about my job.

  “You don’t want to hear about my job.”

  “Of course I do!”

  “It’s fucking depressing, Sage,” he said. “You don’t want to hear about the murders I see or the other shitty things that go along with being a homicide cop.”

  “If you don’t tell me, then who do you tell?” I asked. “You can’t just carry it around, all bottled up inside.”

  He eyed me, took another long pull of his beer, then said, “Fine. Today was rough because we got a call for a homicide scene where the dad shot his three kids, then his wife. He was on his way to his parents’ house, probably to shoot them, too, when we got him. The kids were five, three, and six months.”

>   I stared at him and swallowed hard. That was a nightmare that I had trouble wrapping my head around. And it was something Ryker dealt with on a daily basis. Words were inadequate for such horror, so I reached over and slipped my hand inside his, giving it a squeeze.

  “I’m glad you got him,” I said, “before he hurt someone else.”

  His lips lifted in a grim half-smile. “Me too.” He squeezed my hand back.

  “What about you?” he asked. “You feel okay today? Still sore? Did Parker the Prick take it easy on you today?”

  I bit my tongue about the insult to Parker, knowing Ryker was wanting to take out some of his frustration.

  “It was fine,” I said mildly. “You know, he took me to the hospital yesterday and stayed until you got there, which I appreciated.”

  “And painted your toes,” Ryker added, finishing his beer and signaling the bartender for another.

  “It didn’t mean anything,” I said, which was true. By Parker’s own admission, which still bothered me but I tried not to think about it. A recurring theme over the past few days, but whatever.

  “I was wondering if you’d thought about getting another job?” he asked.

  I nearly choked on the sip I was taking of the mediocre Cosmo. “Wh-what?” I stammered. “Why?”

  “You don’t want to be just a secretary your whole life, do you?” he asked. “You have a degree. You should use it, right? Isn’t that what your parents want?”

  “What do my parents have to do with my career choice? And since when is my being ‘just a secretary’ such a bad thing?” He’d hit on a sore spot and now I was struggling to keep a rein on my temper … and my hurt.

  “I didn’t think a Muccino would want his only daughter being at someone’s beck and call when I’m sure he could pull some strings and get you a cushy job at a museum somewhere, that’s all.”

  I knew my jaw was hanging open and I shut it with a snap. “First of all,” I said through gritted teeth, “I’m an Executive Administrative Assistant, not some flunky who’s at someone’s ‘beck and call.’ Secondly, maybe I don’t want my father pulling strings for me. If I want a different job, then I’ll go get it myself. It’s my life.”

  “Okay, okay, settle down,” he said. “Don’t get all pissed.”

  “Settle down?” I echoed, giving up on holding my temper. “Did you just tell me to settle down?”

  Ryker sighed, taking a drink of the new beer the bartender had set in front of him. I didn’t speak either and the silence was tense between us. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “This is about Parker, isn’t it,” I said. “It’s not the job. It’s him. You wouldn’t care one little bit if I worked for someone else, but because it’s Parker, you want me to find another job.”

  He turned to look at me. “Do you blame me?” he asked, his voice bitter. “You’re with him more than you’re with me.”

  “I can’t believe we’re having this same argument,” I replied, shaking my head. “I thought you were over this months ago. I chose you. Not him.”

  “I’m never going to be over Parker,” he retorted. “And I certainly am tired of seeing him around you. Why is it such a big deal to get another job? If you want to stay a sec—administrative assistant,” he corrected himself, “then you could, I’m sure.”

  “So just because you want me to get another job, I’m supposed to upend my life and do it?” I shot back, ignoring his question. “We’ve been dating for four and a half months, Ryker. I don’t think you have the right yet to demand I switch careers, or jobs.”

  I suddenly did not want to be there anymore. Tipping up my drink, I swallowed the rest of the shitty Cosmo and hopped up from my barstool.

  “I’ve got to go,” I said.

  As if to underscore my point, Ryker’s cell phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and cursed. “Looks like I’d have had to cut our dinner short anyway,” he said.

  Wonderful. I didn’t even get the satisfaction of leaving him at the bar in return for him being an ass.

  Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he stood, digging into his wallet and tossing money down to cover our drinks. We hadn’t even had a chance to order anything to eat.

  He took my elbow to steer me outside and I was just pissy enough to pull away from him. He didn’t say anything.

  When we neared his bike, I passed by it and waved to flag down a taxi.

  “C’mon, Sage,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

  “I can get my own ride,” I said stiffly.

  He grabbed my arm, halting me. “I don’t want you alone. Not when someone may be following you.”

  “Then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you pissed me off.” I jerked out of his hold and slid into the cab that had just pulled up, leaving Ryker staring after me.

  “Where to?” the cabbie asked. I opened my mouth to give him my home address and heard the work one come out instead.

  Huh.

  Well, I supposed that was one way to salvage the evening, watching Parker model suits … if they were still there. It was a while past six o’clock.

  I was irritated with Ryker and upset. I’d thought we’d moved past his overt animosity toward Parker. I was with him after all, not Parker. But it was as though he just couldn’t let it go, and I was at a loss as to how to make him. What I did know was that I couldn’t keep having the same argument over and over.

  The cabbie pulled up to the building and I paid him before getting out. As I rode the elevator up, I figured even if Parker was gone, I had some work on my desk I could take home. That would help keep my mind off the argument with Ryker.

  But I was in luck, as I saw the tailor and his assistant still in Parker’s office. Parker was standing on a raised platform and the tailor was pinning the jacket he was wearing, measuring tape dangling from his mouth. As I got closer, I saw it was a tuxedo.

  Wow.

  I’d never seen Parker in a tux before, but the wait had been worth it. I drank in the black fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, the lines of the jacket perfectly cut to accentuate his frame.

  Tentatively, I rapped on the glass door, then pushed it open. Parker turned around and caught sight of me.

  “Am I interrupting?” I asked.

  A wide smile broke across his face and I was momentarily transfixed.

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “Come in. Tell me, what do you think of this tux?”

  I walked into the office, glad I’d been given an excuse to stare. From the back, he’d looked good. From the front, he was James Bond–level gorgeous.

  “Um, yeah,” I said, nodding. “That’s … um … really nice.” A massive understatement, but I didn’t think it would be a good idea to gush about how amazing he looked because a) he was my boss and b) I had a boyfriend. Albeit a boyfriend I’d just had an argument with, but still.

  “Just nice?” he asked.

  I took in the perfectly knotted bow tie, crisp white shirt, cuffs complete with links all the way down to shoes so highly shined, they were military perfect.

  “Really nice,” I murmured with a sigh.

  The tailor smothered a laugh and I whipped my head around to glare at him, but he was poker-faced as he hung some discarded garments on his rack.

  “So what’s the tux for?” I asked, wandering over to sit on the black leather couch in the corner.

  “A fundraiser thing,” Parker replied, turning to face me on the dais. The ever-patient tailor turned with him, adjusting his tape measure accordingly. “The Morris campaign for mayor.”

  “He’s never gonna win,” I said. “You know that. Not in this one-party town.”

  Parker sighed. “I know, but you still have to try. A lot of our customers are going, too, so it’ll be good for business. Maybe pick up a few more while we’re there.”

  “When is it?” Chances were my father was also donating to the campaign, but I doubted he’d attend any fundraisers.

  The tailor had finished an
d was removing the tuxedo jacket from Parker’s shoulders. I tried not to stare.

  “Tomorrow night. Want to come?”

  I didn’t know what to say for a second. Parker hadn’t ever invited me to something like that before.

  “You can help me remember all the names of our clients that I should know,” he said when I didn’t immediately reply. “It’s bad for customer relations when I have to ask them who they are.”

  True. Parker was amazing with numbers, but not always the greatest at putting a face with a name. Still, I hesitated. “You don’t have a replacement for Monique yet?” I asked.

  “I haven’t been looking,” Parker said, unknotting his bow tie and sliding it from beneath the collar. He handed it to the assistant. “Besides, no one except you can help me remember clients,” Parker said.

  Right. It was a work thing. Not like a … a date … or something.

  “Yeah, I should be able to go,” I said, wondering with a sense of unease how Ryker was going to take this. On the other hand, I wasn’t going to quit my job anytime soon, so he needed to get over it already.

  Parker moved behind the privacy screen the tailor had set up and I tried not to think about him getting undressed as he put his suit back on. Parker was discussing things with the tailor and I debated getting a drink from Parker’s stash of scotch, wondering if he’d say anything about it if I did. I’d reluctantly decided against it when the tailor and his assistant finally packed up and left.

  Glancing at Parker, I saw he hadn’t bothered with his jacket or tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. I looked away from the patch of skin peeking out.

  Just then my stomach decided to give a horrendous growl, reminding me that dinner with Ryker had been cut short before we’d actually gotten food.

  Parker gave a low chuckle. “Sounds like you could use something to eat. Me too. I’m starving. Let’s get out of here.”

  My cheeks were warm with embarrassment and I jumped to my feet. “Good idea.” I’d just grab some work off my desk and then flag down a cab. Did I have anything at home to eat? A frozen pizza, maybe. I bet Deirdre had made Parker something awesome, as usual, which made me completely envious.