Playing Hard

by Melanie Scott

  If any of them had been approached like she had, they were keeping it quiet. So she did, too.

  By the time she made it back to her office at lunchtime, she was wondering how she was going to get the day’s work done in half a day. The thought gave her a headache and made the cake she’d eaten sit uneasily in her stomach.

  Might as well start at the beginning. Make a to-do list. Prioritize. Break it down. All those things that were supposed to make tackling massive piles of work less daunting.

  But the first message in her email was one of the firm’s automated “you have voice mail” messages. The number attached was Em’s cell.

  Hmmm. Em rarely called her work landline. Usually went straight for the cell. The cell that was currently sitting in Amelia’s purse, because she hadn’t bothered to grab it when the invitation to this morning’s celebrations had arrived. She hadn’t expected to be gone for several hours. When she pulled the phone free of all the miscellaneous crap in her bag, the home screen told her she had three missed calls. All from Em.

  Crap.

  That couldn’t be anything good.

  She swung her office door shut and dialed, not bothering to listen to the voice mail. Thankfully, Em picked up straight away.

  “Where have you been?” Em demanded.

  “Work function.”

  “On a Tuesday morning?”

  “End-of-project celebration,” Amelia said, not ready to tell Em about the acquisition. Hopefully she was still too caught up in her case to be paying any attention to the financial pages. “What’s up?”

  “Have you seen Finn?”

  “Not since Saturday night.” She hadn’t told Em what had happened at the Saints party.

  “Saturday? At the Saints party?”

  “Yes,” Amelia said. “But not since. Is something wrong?”

  “I called him this morning. He sounded drunk.”

  Okay. So he was okay. Alive, at least. She’d half expected Em to be calling to say he’d gotten into trouble somehow. “Sweetie, he’s pretty upset about the loss. I’m sure the guys all get together and party for a few days. Blow off some steam.”

  “It’s been a week. I’m worried about him. Can you go see him?”

  Amelia sighed. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “Why not?” Em sounded confused.

  She was going to have to tell Em eventually. So now was as good a time as any. “We kind of had a fight.”

  “When? About what?”

  “Saturday night. At the party,” Amelia said. Damn. She hadn’t wanted to tell Em any of this. Well, other than the Oliver part. She’d been trying to figure out how to tell Em the Oliver part. She’d half expected that Finn had done so already. But apparently not. Which explained the lack of Em calling her, demanding an update on her love life.

  “As for why he was mad, well, I’d say seventy percent of it was him being half drunk and pissed off at the world.”

  “And the other thirty?”

  “He objected to my choice of company.” Amelia said. When Em didn’t immediately reply, she added. “I was there with Oliver Shields, not because Finn invited me. We’re kind of, um, dating.”

  “You’re dating Oliver Shields?” Em shrieked.

  Amelia couldn’t tell if it was excitement or irritation because it was mostly just loud. “Yes.”

  “Finn hates that guy.”

  “Yes. I’m aware. But I don’t. Like I’ve already told Finn several times, this has nothing to do with him.”

  “Which is reasonable,” Em said, and the knot in Amelia’s stomach eased a little. Apparently Em wasn’t taking Finn’s side on this particular issue. “So you finally broke the no-jocks rule, huh? You must really like this guy.”

  Amelia sighed. Em, unlike her brother, was probably too tactful to bring Amelia’s dad into the conversation. Amelia had never even told her that she worried about her taste for athletes being some sort of weird looking-for-a-guy-just-like-Daddy thing. But she had told her she’d decided guys like that weren’t a good idea. Which was true. “Yes. I do. Oliver is … different.”

  “Different, how?”

  “He’s … Oliver.”

  “Dude, you are in trouble,” Em said, sounding half amused, half worried.

  “I know. It’s stupid. But I really like him.”

  “Doesn’t stop this being kind of a messy situation.”

  “Why, because Finn wants Oliver’s spot on first base? Well, tough. He’s going to have to earn it.”

  “That’s a little harsh.”

  “After what he said to me on Saturday, I’m not inclined to cut Finn much slack at the moment. Your brother can be a prick sometimes.” She held her breath, waited for Em to leap to Finn’s defense.

  “I know,” Em sighed. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not worried about him. Can’t you go see him?”

  She could. But she didn’t want to. It was definitely time to resign from Team Finn. Or at least the part of it that refused to acknowledge that Finn wasn’t the perfect human. “I don’t think it would help. He made it pretty clear that he wants me to keep my nose out of his business. I think you’re right to be worried if he’s still drinking after a week, but if I go charging over there, he’s just going to be even more pissed off at the world. I think you’re going to have to handle this one on your own.”

  “What the hell did he say to you?” Em asked, sounding upset.

  “I’m not going to tell you that,” Amelia said. “I don’t want to put you in the middle of this. But if you want someone to check on Finn right now, then you’re going to need a second choice.” She took a deep breath. Now that she’d broken one piece of her news, she might as well just keeping ripping off the Band-Aid. “In fact, you might need a second choice in the future, too.”

  “Why?”

  “There’s an opportunity with Pullman in Hong Kong. Daniel is putting my name forward. If I want him to.”

  Em sucked in a breath. Then went silent.

  “Em?”

  “Wow,” Em said. “So you’re going to say yes?”

  “I haven’t decided.”

  “It’s what you’ve always wanted. Isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why don’t you sound over the moon?”

  Amelia hesitated. “It’s complicated.”

  “Because of Oliver Shields?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you can’t have been dating him very long?”

  “No.”

  “Then what? You’re in love with him?” Em’s voice was disbelieving.

  “Maybe. A little. I don’t know.” She shivered, feeling suddenly cold. Scared. No. Terrified. Of staying. Of going. Of what the hell being so scared might actually mean.

  “How long have you been dating?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Nobody falls in love in two weeks. Other than in Hollywood,” Em said.

  “I know,” Amelia said. “But it feels like it could be something. I know it sounds crazy.”

  “What does Oliver say?

  “I haven’t told him yet. Daniel only told me yesterday. I need time to think. To figure out what I want to do.” She pressed her thumb into the spot between her eyebrows where a headache was beginning to build.

  “How long’s the transfer?”

  “Six months. Maybe a little longer.”

  Em blew out a breath. “That’s not that long. Maybe he’ll wait.”

  “Maybe. But he’s not just any guy, Em. He’s kind of famous. He’s got women throwing themselves at him. Why would he?” It’s not like he could come with her. He wouldn’t want to stay away from the game he loved. Not for someone he’d known two weeks. Would he?

  “If he cares, he’ll wait. If he won’t, then he’s not the guy you want.”

  Amelia choked back a laugh. “That is far too logical.”

  “Sometimes logic is hard to beat. When would you leave?”

  “End of the month.”

  �
��So soon?” Em sounded stricken.

  “Like you said, it’s only for six months. Hey, we don’t live in the same city anyway. We could still Skype and do all the things we do now.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Now who’s being illogical? You and your big lawyer salary can afford a trip to Hong Kong, and I’d be back for Christmas.” She hoped. If the project team was being assembled so quickly, then there was obviously a lot of work to get done.

  “Okay,” Em muttered. “You’ll tell me when you decide?”

  “You’ll be my first phone call. Well, maybe my second. I’ll have to tell Mom first.” She didn’t know what her mother would say. If Em was freaking out about the idea, then what would her travel-averse mom think? She squelched down the guilt. If she did this, it had to be for her.

  * * *

  The phone jolted Amelia awake sometime past midnight. Beside her, Oliver stirred as she rolled away from him, fumbling for the phone.

  She squinted at the number. Raina Easton. Maggie had texted Amelia the day after the party to see how she was. And followed that up by sending her Sara’s and Raina’s numbers as well, just in case she wanted to talk.

  Which was nice but what the hell was Raina doing calling her so late at night? She felt her pulse going into overtime as she hit the answer button. “Hello? Raina?”

  “Amelia, is that you?”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank God. I was worried I hadn’t put the number Maggie gave me in right.”

  Maggie, it seemed, was efficient when she distributed contact details. “Raina, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s Finn,” Raina said. “He’s had an accident.”

  Amelia went cold. Struggled to breathe for a moment. “Is he okay?”

  “He hit his head pretty good. Lots of blood. The paramedics are on their way.”

  “What is it?” Oliver asked beside her and she shook her head at him, focusing on Raina.

  “Paramedics?” she asked, feeling sick. Paramedics meant serious.

  “No messing with head injuries,” Raina said.

  “What happened?” Her hand was gripping the phone so tightly, it was digging into her palm. She tried to make her fingers relax a little but couldn’t.

  “He and a couple of the guys—Sam and Leeroy and Paul—have been here all night. Commiserating, I guess. Some harder than others.”

  By which she meant Finn, Amelia assumed. “And?”

  “Well, some idiots came in with Yankees shirts on and they recognized the guys and it got a bit heated.”

  Heated. Heated was one thing. Paramedics were another. Raina Easton was apparently a master of understatement.

  “There was a fight?”

  “Yeah. Finn somehow climbed on a table. Then he fell.”

  “Is anyone else hurt?”

  “Let me worry about that,” Raina said. “Look, the closest hospital to me is Brooklyn Med. That’s where the paramedics have taken people who’ve gotten hurt here before.”

  “You get this a lot?”

  “No,” Raina said. “We try to keep things smooth here.” There was an edge to her voice. She clearly wasn’t impressed with trouble at her club.

  “Brooklyn Med. Right. I’ll come now.”

  “Good. I’ve already called Alex and Lucas. I’m sure Maggie will let Finn’s family know, but I know they’re not in town. So I figured you’d want to know, too.”

  “Thanks. I do. I’m coming now.”

  “Good,” Raina said. “Make sure you go straight to the hospital. Don’t come here.”

  “Why not?

  “We’ve had paparazzi hanging around the last week or so. Hoping for shots of Saints guys getting into trouble, I guess. There’s not really a back entrance that would fit an ambulance so they’re going to have to pull up in front. So the photographers are going to see the paramedics. Then they’ll go into a feeding frenzy. If someone hasn’t already tipped them off.”

  Damn. It was bad enough that Finn had been in a fight and hurt himself. But to have the story get into the press, too? She couldn’t see Alex and Lucas and Mal being impressed with that. “Thanks for letting me know,” she said to Raina and hung up. For a second, she sat, pressing her fingers into her temples where her head was starting to throb. Her gut was churning, too.

  “What?” Oliver asked, sitting up in the bed.

  She pulled a face as she climbed out from under the covers. “How do you feel about a trip to Brooklyn?”

  * * *

  Oliver followed Amelia into the emergency room feeling a nasty sense of déjà vu. He didn’t really remember much about what had happened between the car accident and waking up after surgery, but the smell of hospital hit him like a slap to the face.

  And it was Castro’s fault again.

  Amelia had been tense and locked down all the way on the drive over. Not talking except when Em had called. Even then she’d finished the call fast after telling Em she didn’t know anything yet and that she’d call her back.

  He didn’t like seeing her like this.

  Didn’t like not being able to fix the situation.

  They hadn’t even reached the reception desk when Mal loomed up beside them.

  “Where’s Finn?” Amelia asked.

  “Getting some tests,” Mal said.

  “What sort of tests?” Oliver asked. Mal sounded calm, which was a good sign; then again Mal had had many years of practice staying calm in a crisis.

  “A head CT for a start,” Mal said. “They’re not happy with him having a head injury so soon after that concussion. Lucas is on his way, I’m sure he can tell you more.” He looked down at Amelia, his displeasure with the situation clear in every inch of his rangy frame despite the control in his voice. “How much did Raina tell you about what happened?”

  “Just the basics,” Oliver said, seeing Amelia looking overwhelmed. “That the guys got into it with some Yankees fans.”

  Mal nodded. “Yeah. Kind of. From what I gather Finn started things. One of the guys he objected to has a broken nose and Paul has a fractured knuckle. Sam apparently was sensible enough to try and break things up but he has a pretty banged-up set of ribs for his trouble. The cops are going to want to talk to Finn.”

  Oliver had never really understood the phrase deathly pale until he watched the color drain away from Amelia’s face, leaving her a ghostly shade that didn’t belong on any living face. “Hey.” He caught her arm, steered her to the row of plastic chairs nearest them. “Breathe. I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay.” He looked up at Mal. “Right, Mal?”

  Mal blew out a breath. “I’m not going to lie, Ollie. Alex is pretty steamed. He’s not the only one. This is the second time in less than a month, that Finn has gotten into trouble and someone’s ended up hurt. And this time the cops and the press are involved.”

  Amelia pressed a hand to her mouth. Oliver wrapped an arm around her. “Ease off, Mal, none of this is Amelia’s fault.” He felt her shudder as she took a deep breath. Then another.

  “Are you going to fire him?” she asked, staring up at Mal.

  “Too soon to tell, darlin’,” Mal said, tone softening slightly. “Let’s worry about the immediate problem for now. We’ll get you in to see Finn as soon as the doctors are done.”

  * * *

  “As soon as the doctors are done” stretched into ninety very long minutes. By the time a nurse came to tell them that Finn was back in the examination room, Amelia’s nerves were shredded. Lucas and Sara Angelo had joined her and Oliver in the waiting room. About ten minutes after they had arrived, Alex and Maggie had turned up.

  They were all nice to her. Too nice, she thought. Oliver was speaking to her as if she was fragile. She wasn’t fragile. Just worried.

  Em called again to tell her that she had gotten a flight to New York and would be there early morning.

  Which left nothing much to do but hold Oliver’s hand and wait. It was taking too long, wasn’t it? Raina had said it was a
head injury. Amelia had figured Finn had whacked it on something. Cut it. But a simple cut to the head shouldn’t take this long to sort out, should it?

  She’d been about to snap. To ask Lucas to go and find out what the hell was happening when a nurse appeared.

  The woman was short with dirty-blond hair scraped back from her face into a ponytail. She looked tired. Amelia knew how she felt.

  The nurse regarded the group of them and her eyebrows raised slightly as she took in the four men. Understandable. The four of them were very nice to look at. Even at three o’clock in the morning.

  “Are you all here for Finn Castro?”

  “I am,” Amelia said, getting to her feet.

  “We are,” Alex said at the same time.

  The nurse looked from Amelia to Alex. “Anyone family?”

  Amelia shook her head. “I’m a friend.”

  “I’m his boss,” Alex said. “And Lucas, there, is his doctor.”

  “O-kay,” the nurse said, clearly starting to think they were a little weird. “He can only have a couple of people in the exam with him at a time for now. He’s got a pretty nice concussion going on, so we need to keep him quiet. So, who’s it going to be?”

  “Me,” Amelia said firmly. She narrowed her eyes at Alex, daring him to disagree. He smiled at her and stepped back.

  “Fine by me,” he said. “You and Lucas go. The rest of us will stay here and drink some more bad coffee.”

  “There’s a cafeteria,” the nurse said. “The coffee is slightly less terrible there.”

  * * *

  The room they were shown into had lowered lighting. Out of deference for Finn’s head, Amelia presumed. She squinted a moment, letting her eyes adjust as she looked at Finn, lying on the hospital bed, half draped in a pale-green cotton blanket. A doctor was bandaging Finn’s head. She finished the job and Finn didn’t move as she eased his head back down on the pillow before she turned around.

  Finn’s eyes stayed closed as the doctor stepped away from his side. Amelia wasn’t sure he was even awake, so she focused on the doctor. The woman ran a hand through close-cropped dark curls and then lifted her eyebrows a little at the nurse.