Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4)

by Jami Davenport

Elliot heaved a dramatic sigh—another tactic he’d learned on Two and a Half Men. “Okay.” He gathered up his stuff and steeled himself for the end of the evening and his return to the Hippos’ wallow. His mother had been neat and tidy, but this dump he lived in now had crap everywhere, and it stunk. His uncle gave him weird looks that scared Elliot, even though he wasn’t sure why.

  He really hated it, and he knew he’d have to do something about it because he couldn’t keep living there.

  * * * * *

  Bruiser sat in the car and stared at the door as Elliot disappeared into the house. He shook his head in frustration, hating this helpless feeling. He kept his face turned toward the driver’s-side window so Mac wouldn’t see how much Elliot’s return home affected him.

  He’d spent almost every night with Mac for the past few weeks. Neither of them had actually addressed what their relationship was or wasn’t. Other than sleeping together, he’d been buried with training camp and games, while she worked late hours and continued her brother search.

  “That was tough,” Mac said.

  “Tell me about it. It’s getting tougher every time.” Bruiser put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I hate leaving him here. It’s gotta suck being with people who don’t want you around and treat you like you’re less than human.”

  Bruiser had to do something. Elliot considered him his hero, and what kind of hero had he turned out to be? The kid needed him, and now the chance to make some of his past wrongs right was dumped in his lap. He didn’t save Brice, but he could pay it forward and save Elliot. Somehow.

  “Yeah, I wish there was something we could do.” Mac sounded sincere and Bruiser jumped on it before he wussed out, a little drunk with emotion, rather than common sense.

  “Do you? Really?”

  Something in Bruiser’s tone had Mac looking wary. “Uh, yeah, I think so.”

  Marry her, idiot. It’d work well for all of you. You’d pay for Mac’s school. She’d be there for Elliot. And you’d have a ready-made family.

  Problem was, he’d never wanted a family of any kind. He didn’t spend time with the one he had; why get a new, needier one? Because you’re lonely and something’s missing and it might well be them.

  Marriage had been a crazy-assed idea when his moronic teammates brought it up, yet an engagement to a nice girl—not some model or movie star—might convince Aunt Ruth to give him the guardianship, in trade for a generous amount of money, of course. Bruiser knew her type. In fact, he pretended to be her type, the type that did everything for appearance’s sake. Ruth Jones wanted to look like a pillar of her church by taking in this poor, disfigured orphan. Bruiser just wanted to repay a debt and do the right thing for Elliot.

  Steeling himself for Mac’s reaction, he jumped in with both of his big feet. “Elliot wants me to become his legal guardian. I told him I’d try.”

  Mac started to laugh as if she thought he had to be joking, which he found somewhat insulting. She sobered quickly at the look on his face. “You think you can manage an eleven-year-old by yourself?”

  “Not necessarily by myself.”

  Mac regarded him warily, as if he’d just told her he had a bomb in hidden in the car.

  Bruiser stared straight ahead, driving the speed limit for once. “The Joneses don’t want Elliot, but they have an image to maintain with John’s church. Ruth can look like a self-sacrificing hero if she allows Elliot to live with the right couple, a couple with the means to take care of Elliot and his physical issues.”

  “Who is this couple?”

  Bruiser took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “The guys think you and I should raise him.”

  Mac’s head snapped in his direction. “What?”

  Bruiser needed both hands and all his attention on this subject, so he glided into an empty bank parking lot and shut off the engine. He turned to Mac and took her hands in his.

  “I know it sounds insane, but they think together we’d do a fine job of raising Elliot.”

  “Define together.” Mac tried to pull her hands from his, but he wasn’t about to let go.

  Moment of truth time. “You know—together.”

  “Like ring-on-my-finger together?” Mac seemed to be having a hard time wrapping her head around the concept.

  “Uh, yeah, like married.”

  “Are you drunk? Should you be driving?”

  “I am not drunk.”

  “Then you’ve lost your mind. You and me? Married?”

  Bruiser found that somewhat hurtful. He wouldn’t be that bad of a husband. “Well, yeah. I mean we’re good friends, we like to do the same things, and I think we’re compatible, especially in bed.”

  “But marriage?” Mac shook her head in total denial. “Have those idiots been sniffing too many cleaning products or gone off their meds or something?”

  “I know it sounds like the stupidest idea in the world, but—” Did it ever. Bruiser couldn’t believe he’d even proposed it, yet once he had, he charged for the end zone, ignoring every linebacker in his way.

  “It doesn’t just sound like it; it is the stupidest.” Mac shook her head and yanked her hands from his, hugging herself like she always did when she was feeling vulnerable and upset. Vulnerable was good. He could work with that, play on it, because this “stupid” idea was gaining traction in his mind.

  “Think about it, Mac. We could be good together, and we’d be helping a kid out who really needs our help.”

  “You’re not serious about this, are you? Bruiser, I would do almost anything to help Elliot, but not that. You and I have different priorities. Right now, mine is finding my brother so my family can have some closure and my dad doesn’t end up in a mental hospital. Even if it weren’t, I wouldn’t marry you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t know who you are, and neither do you.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Mac grew quiet and started fidgeting. Bruiser narrowed his eyes and stared hard at her. “What are you trying to say?” he pushed her, not letting her off the hook.

  She looked him straight in the eyes with that determined expression that meant trouble. “Your sister told me about Brice.”

  Anger welled up inside Bruiser. For a minute, he couldn’t speak. “Shanna should learn to keep her mouth shut.” Now that fucking pissed him off. His sister had no right.

  Mac blinked and stared at him as if he’d gone even more insane than when he proposed marriage. “I’m glad she did. I understand you more now.”

  “I don’t need you to understand me or try to psychoanalyze me.”

  “Bruiser, why are you living someone else’s life? Why are you being someone you aren’t?”

  Bruiser gripped the steering wheel, more furious than he probably had a right to be. “Because I should’ve been the one who died, dammit!”

  “That’s like me saying I should’ve been the one who disappeared.”

  “You don’t know.” He looked up at her, his world caving in on him. All those carefully constructed walls to keep out the demons started to crumble.

  “What don’t I know, Bruiser?” She grabbed his hand and held it tightly.

  “I gave him those matches and cigarettes.” Saying the words strangled him. He couldn’t bear seeing the sympathy on Mac’s face because all he felt was self-loathing.

  “You were a kid. Stuff happens. It’s unfortunate, but you can’t live your life for someone else.” She squeezed his hand, and he took some strength from her touch.

  “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  Mac blinked as if unable to process his words. “What?”

  “Yeah, you. Chasing after every imagined clue about your brother, allowing your father to dictate your present and future, and giving up your life for someone who most likely will never be found. When does it stop?” Bruiser lashed out with this uncontrollable need to make her hurt as much as he did.

  Mac stared a hole right through him. Oh, he was a
hero, all right. A real stand-up guy. Sure, he’d managed to deflect her questions about him, but at what price to her?

  “If your brother were missing, and you didn’t know what happened to him, at what point would you consider it time to give up the search?” Mac glared at him, the challenge in her brown eyes.

  Bruiser mulled that over, guessing that she didn’t expect an answer but hell-bent on giving her one anyway. An honest one she damn well wouldn’t appreciate. “The question is when do you consider it time to get on with your life? To live the life you deserve to live? You didn’t ask for this. Why should you be punished for it?”

  “Hey, neither did you. We both do what we have to do. How much of your brother’s life are you living? Do you even like football?”

  Now that was a low blow, one of the lowest. He pulled his hand from hers. “What have you seen out of me that gives you the impression that I’m less than one hundred percent dedicated to the game?”

  “Nothing, and I won’t because you’re that type of person. Whatever you do—love it or hate it—you do it with everything you have, which is why you proposed this crazy idea of marriage in the first place.”

  “You’re right. It is crazy, and I’m sorry I even brought it up.” Bruiser pulled out of the parking lot. They drove in silence to Mac’s house. He dropped her off and sped away without saying goodbye.

  And he felt like a shit for it.

  Because part of him knew she was right.

  * * * * *

  As much as Mac hated weakness and women who cried over every little problem in their lives, she’d been doing a lot of that herself lately. As she stood on her porch and watched Bruiser fishtail down the street, a huge sob shook her body and tears streamed down her face. She pounded her fists against the siding of her house in frustration.

  Damn him.

  What kind of a screwy proposal had that been, or even worse, had it been one at all? And how pathetic was it that “yes” sat on the tip of her tongue? The urge to do something so completely stupid, reckless, and for herself almost overwhelmed her good sense.

  Yet how did this constitute something for herself? In reality, it benefitted Bruiser and Elliot, not her.

  She’d live in constant fear that the pretty boy would get tired of her and find more attractive ground. She might be able to survive with never having anything but a cursory piece of him as long as they stayed together, but she couldn’t live with loving him and losing him. For her, it had to be a marriage of love. For him it would be a minor inconvenience toward getting what he wanted, including a built-in babysitter.

  Maybe he could grow to love her, a small voice inside her nagged. Yeah, just like I-5 wouldn’t be backed up in downtown Seattle on game day.

  Mac wiped viciously at the tears running down her cheeks and started to go inside when she heard a noise. Voices were murmuring on the other side of the fence over the unmistakable sound of dirt being shoveled into a wheelbarrow. Mac snuck to the spot in her fence where her father spied on his former daughter-in-law and peeked through the knothole.

  They were digging something up, all right. She pressed her face up against the hole and couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but thanks to a breeze blowing the sound her direction, she could make out their words.

  “We should stop now. She’s home.” Definitely Sonja’s voice.

  “She went in the house,” Ben said.

  “Are you sure? That bitch and her dad are devious.”

  Ben snorted. “The old man isn’t here, and the daughter isn’t nearly as nuts as the father.”

  The shovel clanked against metal. Mac held her breath. The two knelt down and dug at the earth with their hands until Ben pried something free. It wasn’t a body. It was a metal box about the size of a safe deposit box.

  All of a sudden, a hand clamped over her mouth, and she tried to scream but the person held on even tighter as she struggled to free herself.

  “Shhh. Mac, it’s me,” a low voice whispered in her ear.

  Bruiser?

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed when he took his hand away.

  “I came back to apologize for being an idiot.” He breathed the words. “What’s going on?”

  Mac stepped away and let Bruiser peek through the hole, while she moved down farther to another gap in the fence, only she tripped over her cat, who’d been doing his own lurking in the darkness. She stumbled into the garbage can, which slammed to the ground with a loud bang. Bruiser gestured to her to not move and mouthed, “Are you okay?”

  Mac nodded. Under a small gap at the bottom of the fence, she could see Sonja and Ben.

  Ben pulled out a pistol and pointed it in their direction. All Mac could hear was the beating of her heart. “Is that you, Craig? You chickenshit asshole?”

  Bruiser held a finger up to his lips. Mac nodded.

  Ben and Sonja froze in place, listening. Without speaking another word, the two scurried into Will’s house like rats after cheese. Too bad Mac couldn’t find a way to bait the perfect mousetrap.

  Bruiser gestured to her to go into the house. Once inside, he turned to her. “What was that all about?”

  “I don’t know. They dug up a metal box. And Ben had a gun.”

  “Yeah, I saw. I’d tell the detective on your brother’s case, but don’t tell your dad. He’d go busting over there and get himself either shot or arrested.”

  Mac nodded, her eyes filling with tears. Her father wouldn’t stop until he found out what was in that box. Heck, maybe it wasn’t even related to Will. Though she didn’t believe that. Most likely it was. The only reason a person would hide a metal box in their garden would be if it contained something sinister or secretive or both.

  Bruiser cupped Mac’s tear-stained face in his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. Really, I’m sorry.”

  Mac sniffed and looked up at him. “So am I.”

  “Hell, I didn’t even make it a few blocks down the street before I turned around and came back.”

  “I didn’t hear you drive up.”

  “That’s because I parked down the street. I wasn’t sure if I was going to knock or not, so I pulled over and thought about it. Then I decided to walk to your house to see if the lights were on.”

  Mac had to giggle. “And you call my dad a stalker.”

  Bruiser’s face actually turned red. “I can’t explain it, but something called me back. I just knew I couldn’t leave yet. I was worried about you. You shouldn’t be spying on those people. Desperate people are dangerous.”

  “What makes you think they’re desperate? They’ve been able to keep this secret for over three years.”

  “Their actions had desperation written all over them. Something’s changed, and they’re covering tracks.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Fuck yes. That guy drew a gun. You and your dad need to stop playing amateur detectives before you get into something you can’t get out of.”

  Mac started to sob. Bruiser pulled her into his arms and held her, stroking her back. His tender touch had her losing all control, and once again she blubbered in his arms, grateful he’d come back even though she knew he’d leave, if not sooner, then later.

  * * * * *

  Bruiser spent the next few nights at Mac’s, even though he grew more irritated by the hour. Her father stayed late, and Mac didn’t make him leave. Craig showed no concern over the possible danger he created for his daughter by his constant spying on the neighbors. Oblivious to Mac’s discomfort, the man constantly badgered Bruiser to get the truth out of Trudy.

  Sonja and Ben made Bruiser nervous. Their strange behavior only compounded his suspicions. Craig didn’t help the situation, and Bruiser was within a thread of ripping Mac’s dad a new one.

  On Saturday evening, Bruiser showed up to find Craig pacing the living room and Mac packing a small suitcase. “Where are you going?”

  “Dad needs me to go with him. I guess one of Ben’s employees called Dad. Ben and Sonja have bee
n at one of Ben’s remote job sites late at night the last couple days.”

  Bruiser scowled and shot Craig an accusing glare. Craig looked away, refusing to meet his gaze. “You can’t go. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Since when do you tell me what to do?”

  Bruiser set his jaw, ready for battle. “Since you aren’t smart enough to figure out what to do yourself, and your father certainly doesn’t have your best interests at heart.”

  “Don’t you criticize my father.”

  “Your father is behaving irresponsibly because he’s obsessed. Do you even know this employee of Ben’s? Can you trust him? What if it’s some kind of setup?” He towered over her, using the difference in their height to his advantage.

  Mac pushed past him into her bathroom, tossing various stuff into her suitcase. “My father needs closure. I’ll see to it that he gets it.”

  Bruiser stalked after her. “What about Elliot? You were taking him to the game tomorrow.”

  “I’m sorry. Tell him I can’t.” She sounded like she was going to cry.

  “You tell him.” Bruiser didn’t cut her any slack. He was pissed.

  “I don’t have time.” Mac shoved her toothpaste and toothbrush along with some other girlie stuff into a plastic bag.

  “So that’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “I was thinking we might actually have something, not just an occasional lay. But you won’t even give us a chance.”

  “Keep your voice down. My dad can hear.” Mac shushed him like he was a recalcitrant child, which didn’t sit well with him.

  “Like he’d notice if it doesn’t involve Will.”

  She rounded on him, her eyes blazing. “That was out of line, mister.”

  Bruiser snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on the doorframe. “Let the police handle this. You’re both in over your heads.”

  Mac stabbed a finger in the direction of the door. “Get out. Now.”

  Bruiser locked his jaw and glared at her. He’d fucking had enough. One ghost in his life was one too many. He couldn’t handle two. “I won’t be back, not unless your priorities shift.”

  “I’m not shifting my priorities. I’m committed to seeing this through with Dad. You’re just pretending we have more than sex because you want something from me; you want Elliot.”