by White, Pat
“Can’t I put on a T-shirt or something?” he asked.
“No, sir,” Burton said, not making eye contact.
They passed the first aid room. Thank God that door was closed. He couldn’t handle it if Sandy saw him being led away by the Feds. He didn’t care about the half dozen guys who walked alongside him, or bimbo Missy who skipped beside the group.
“What did you do, man?” Rey Risque asked.
“Nothing,” Jason answered.
“You had to do something. You kill someone or something?”
“No.”
“I’ll bet he’s a drug dealer,” Missy said.
J glanced at Agent Burton, who looked nervous about the crowd of bulky men following him.
“What the hell’s going on here?”
Damn, it was Sandy’s voice. She raced in front of them and blocked their way.
“Ma’am, please step aside,” Agent Burton said.
“Not until you explain what’s going on. Who are you and where are you taking Jason?”
She rarely called him by his first name.
“We’re FBI,” Burton said, eyeing her, then glancing at the four guys lined up behind Dunn. “We’re taking this man in for questioning.”
“Why?”
Burton took a step forward.
She blocked him again. “Answer me.”
“With all due respect, ma’am, we don’t have to engage in this conversation.” Burton nodded at his partner, who took her arm and tried moving her out of the way.
“Don’t push me around.” Sandy struggled to shake free. “Let me go!”
J couldn’t stand that sound in her voice. “Back off.” He shouldered Dunn from behind.
WHACK!
Something slammed into the back of his knees and he went down, chest first, on the cement floor. “Everyone disperse or we’ll call for backup and drag all of you in,” Burton threatened.
Jason heard panic in the guy’s voice. He was grossly out numbered only he didn’t realize none of these wrestlers would put their neck on the line for a newcomer like Jason. Sandy, on the other hand…
“Get off of him!” she cried. “This is abuse. I’m calling CNN! Oprah! David Letterman!”
“Ma’am,” Burton said, pulling Jason to his feet. “This is our job.” He nodded at Dunn, who released her and shifted his hand to his waist where he kept his firearm.
“This man is being questioned about the distribution of anabolic steroids,” Burton said.
She pressed her hand to her stomach. “Jason, no,” she whispered.
Shame coursed through his body.
“I didn’t do it,” he said—cliché words uttered by so many criminals.
She shook her head, her hands framing her cheeks. Damn, she was able to sense when he lied, so why couldn’t she sense he was telling the truth? Did she really think him capable of breaking the law? She knew him better than that.
What the hell was he thinking? She knows only what he wants her to know.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” J said to Burton. They marched toward the door, Agent Dunn trailing behind them.
Suddenly, Sandy was there again in Burton’s face. “He’s not answering any questions until his lawyer shows up.”
She had balls for a woman. Why was she being so damned protective, especially since she believed the lie?
“Jason?” she said. But he couldn’t look at her.
“Hey.” She touched his chin and he turned to look at her. Her green eyes, shining with concern, tore at his heart.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said. “I promise.”
And he knew in that moment it would never be okay again.
* * *
“What are they doing in there?” Sandy paced the lobby of the Federal office building, furious that they were spending time alone with Jason when she’d specifically said he wouldn’t talk without legal counsel present.
“It’s probably a misunderstanding,” BAM’s attorney, Lou Sherman, said. He pressed reading glasses to the bridge of his nose and studied a Hollywood gossip magazine. “This is where the money’s at. Movie stars.”
Lou was a good guy and a very talented attorney. One thing Cosmo did invest in was good legal advice.
“Holy smokes,” he went on, looking down through his readers. “Jennifer Lopez was arrested for being a public nuisance. Yes, ma’am, I’d let her nuisance me any old time.” He paused and looked up at Sandy. “I wonder if Cosmo ever thought about recruiting her? One match with J. Lo would sell enough tickets to pay my fees for half a month.”
“Stop reading magazines.” Sandy snatched it from his hands.
He slipped his readers to his forehead. “What’s the deal, kid? I’m starting to think this Stripper character has got you wrapped up tighter than a present at Christmastime.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She slapped the magazine back into his hands. “My job is to take care of the boys.”
“As a medical tech, not as a nursemaid.”
“I hate that expression.” She sat down on a cracked, vinyl chair.
The wall clock ticked away, fueling her anger. Lou flipped pages, occasionally whistling at a celebrity gossip story.
Five minutes, seven ... Damn it to hell. What was going on in there?
“You should find yourself another line of work,” he said.
She glanced at Lou, who was studying her with concern in his grey-blue eyes.
“You’d be a great nurse, a medical tech at a hospital, that kind of thing. If I were your father, I’d insist on it.”
“You’re not.” She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. You’re such a sweet kid. Too sweet for this business.”
So sweet she’d been sucked in again, this time by Jason a man she’d thought she could read. In reality, he was an enigma.
Steroids. He was dealing them? Jerk. As soon as she got him alone she was going to let him have it big time. But first she needed to spring him from this place.
The door opened and one of the agents stepped into the lobby. He eyed Lou. “You the attorney?”
“Yes, sir.” Lou stood and grabbed his briefcase. He glanced at Sandy. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
The men disappeared and she jumped to her feet, pacing the small waiting area. What got her so wound up, Jason being dragged away by the Feds? The fact she didn’t want to believe he’d done anything wrong? Her feelings for him?
BINGO!
She pounded her right fist into her left palm. Cripes, she’d drifted off course again, being drawn to another loser’s lies.
No, something wasn’t right. Jason wasn’t a loser. Okay, so he lied a little, maybe a lot, but they both knew he lied to cover up his pain. They’d never said as much, but there was an unspoken understanding: Jason lied; Sandy cut through the lie; Jason came clean. He lied to protect himself. It was as if he was afraid of anyone seeing the real Jason because something terrible would happen.
Well, that obviously wasn’t the case with Sandy. Chump that she was, she was still hanging around, wanting to make sure he was okay.
No, she was waiting to get him alone so she could give him a lecture on the dangers of steroids and the stupidity of breaking the law. What was he thinking? And what was she thinking by letting herself get so personally involved? Why was she in this business again?
She folded herself into a vinyl chair, pulled out her cell phone and called Pops.
“Hello?” he answered. Was it her imagination or did his voice sound weaker than the last time they’d spoken?
“Hey, Pops, it’s Sandy.”
“It’s about time you called. I’ve been worried.”
She sat straight. “Really?”
“Sure, I heard the cops busted up the place and I thought I’d have to wait until tomorrow for the scoop. What gives?”
She deflated in the chair and sighed.
He was concerned about the show, not his daughter. Someday that would change. Wouldn’t it?
“It was pretty crazy,” she said. “The Feds brought one of the boys in for questioning.”
“I heard you got right in there, trying to keep him from being hauled away. That’s my girl!”
“Thanks.” She closed her eyes, wishing he’d praised her for being smart or clever, or simply for being herself.
“Who’s the rat? Which one of the guys turned him in?”
“We don’t know.”
“When they find the snake who called the cops, Cosmo should suspend him indefinitely. He broke the code.”
Ah, yes, the code. Take care of one another. But who was taking care of Sandy?
“How’s your boy doing?” Pops asked.
“He’s not my boy.”
“Aw, come on. Your brother said you were great out there with The Stripper—strutting around the ring, saving your man.”
“I wasn’t very good.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. I still can’t believe you went into the ring.”
Was that pride in his voice?
“Surprised myself, too,” she admitted.
“Has Lou found a way to spring The Stripper?”
“I don’t know. He’s in there now.”
“Help him any way you can, Sandy-Bee. The Stripper sounds like a guy that’s good for the organization.”
Right, by supplying steroids. She’d heard the inference. But then, Pops approved of anything that helped a wrestler’s career.
“I’ve gotta go,” she said.
“Good girl. Keep ’em safe.”
“Will do, bye.” She ended the call.
Keep ’em safe.
Who was going to keep her safe from The Stripper? She was already sliding into that danger zone, the place where she turned her back on her good sense because love—or lust, or whatever you call it— tugged at her heart.
Time to nip this thing in the bud. She eyed her phone and scanned her contacts for Decker Smitts’ number. She’d tell Jason his job as boyfriend for the barbeque was off and she’d ask Decker to pinch-hit.
She had to. If Mama ever found out Sandy was bringing not only a pro wrestler, but a drug-dealing pro wrestler to the family barbeque… She shuddered at the thought. Talk about an ugly scene. She’d save both The Stripper and herself some grief by using Decker as fill-in boyfriend.
She ambled to the window overlooking the street and punched in Decker’s number. Light rain tapped against the glass, blurring her view of passing cars. She wasn’t technically using Decker. After all, she hoped to develop their relationship.
One ring, two. Her heart raced with nervous energy. Was he still angry with her? That scene with Madame Bovary and Decker’s hairpiece wasn’t all that easy to forget. On the fourth ring his answering machine picked up. “Hello, this is Decker. I’m not here. If you want me to call back leave your name and number. ”
BEEP
Quick, think fast. Sound seductive.
“Hey, Decker,” she rasped. “It’s Sandy, Curt’s sister. I have a favor to ask. There’s this party, a family thing. I know they’re boring, but I could really use a date. So, call me, okay?” She ended the call and sighed.
A man cleared his throat. She spun around to find Jason standing towering over her.
“You’re out,” she said, surprised, relieved, and nervous.
He stared at her like she’d just lost him the championship belt. The anger in his eyes made her take a step back.
“He’s free as a pigeon,” Lou said. “Released in the custody of a BAM employee. I said Cosmo’s organization would be responsible for The Stripper until his hearing.”
“So, what does that mean?” Sandy asked, avoiding Jason’s gaze.
“It means he’s BAM’s responsibility. Since Cosmo is on a plane to Vegas, and I’ve got commitments, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
“Mind what?” she asked.
Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “You get to keep me.”
Chapter Twelve
She stared at him like he’d announced plans for a sex change. Jason almost laughed. Almost.
“Keep you?” She swallowed.
“Take me home, watch me, make sure I hang around for more questions and don’t skip town.”
She took another step away from him. Apparently she didn’t appreciate the humor of this situation. Once J had cleared things up with the FBI agents and explained he was undercover DEA, they’d dreamt up this scheme to protect his cover and stick close to his primary suspect, Sandy. He still couldn’t believe someone planted those drugs and set him up to be arrested.
“I can’t take you home,” she said. Her gaze darted to the interrogation room door, then back to Jason.
“Fine, maybe they’ve got an empty cell for me.” He turned back to the office.
“Jason, stop,” Lou said. “Sandy, do your job and take him home with you.”
“He’s a criminal!”
“It was all a mistake,” Lou said.
“He was dealing steroids,” she said between clenched teeth.
Jason towered over her. “I’m innocent.”
And he was, damn it. He wanted her to believe him.
“Let’s take this outside, kids.” Lou herded them outside and they hovered beneath an awning. “It goes like this. Sandy, you drive off with The Stripper. I don’t care where you drop him as long as you pretend like you’re taking him home. And Stripper, you stay out of trouble until this thing is cleared up.” He checked his watch. “I’ve got a date with a redhead and a bottle of cabernet. Everyone good?” He looked from Sandy to Jason. “Good.” Holding his raincoat over his head, Lou shuffled to his midnight blue Cadillac.
“There’s a 7-Eleven down the block. Drop me off,” Jason said, a part of him hoping she’d believe the bluff, the other part wishing she’d argue with him.
“Looking like that?” She eyed his bare chest, then her gaze drifted to his spandex trunks.
Damn, he always got hard when she did that.
“You’ll get arrested and tossed back in jail,” she said.
“They’re keeping my duffel as evidence,” he said, keeping with his cover. “I don’t have much choice.”
She sighed and shot him a look of pity. The one thing he couldn’t stand, not from her. He turned and reached for the door.
“What are you doing?” She grabbed his arm.
“I can tell you don’t want any part of this, so I’m calling a cab.”
“Wait, you don’t have a wallet, do you?”
He plucked his wallet from between his skin and his trunks. Her eyes widened.
“Oh,” she said.
Was that disappointment in her voice? Probably. She liked the guys who were wounded, hurt and totally dependent on her.
“Still, you’re my responsibility,” she said.
“You mean,” he leaned close, “I get to come home with you?”
Panic flared in her eyes. What did she think he was going to do to her? He knew the answer to that: anything that would solve this case, including seduction.
“Or I go home with you,” she said.
He straightened. “Not an option.”
“Why not?”
Maybe, because he didn’t have a real home? “Bachelors live like pigs.”
“I’ve got two brothers and a father. Two are bachelors, the other is a high school athletics coach with three kids. I can take anything.”
He shook his head. “Can’t do it.”
“You’ve seen my place,” she argued.
Her place was clean, well decorated and welcoming—a real home. His place was a pit—and three hundred miles away, although she didn’t know that. The less she knew about him the better.
She studied him. “Okay, my place,” she said. “Let’s pick up your clothes.”
“You sure?” he asked, following her to her compact SUV.
“No.”
She unlocked the
doors and they climbed into the vehicle. He touched her shoulder and she froze, her hands on the wheel.
“Sandy?”
“What?” She didn’t look at him.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank Lou. He got me into this mess.” She shifted the SUV into Drive and they took off.
J’s hand slipped off her shoulder, and glanced out the front window. Sure, right, a mess. Of course she’d think of it that way. It wasn’t like she was helping out a guy down on his luck. She’d been ordered to take a criminal home for the weekend.
He hated that she automatically assumed he was guilty. She had a lot of nerve, especially since she was most likely the leader of this drug ring. Where did she get off being self-righteous?
“You want to give me a clue where you live?” she asked.
No, he really didn’t. He didn’t want her seeing his temporary apartment, the emptiness and anonymity. He didn’t want her seeing into anything about him because if she did, she’d get too close and she’d see that broken part of him that made Dad cut and run twenty years ago.
Let it go, McBain.
Her phone beeped and she glanced at the screen. Apparently someone sent her a text message, because a grin spread across her face. He wished he’d put it there.
“Message from the boyfriend?” he asked.
“You know I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“That’s right, you’re a lesbian,” he teased.
“Very funny.” She dropped her cell phone in a holder by the gearshift.
“The guy from last night?” he pressed.
“What about him?”
“Was that him?” He motioned to the phone.
“No, it was my dad.”
Her father’s text put a bright smile on her face. Envy warred with pain in Jason’s chest.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“About what?”
“About your dad leaving.”
He glanced out the passenger window. Ah, his confession about wanting to forget the old man was back to haunt him.
“That must have been horrible,” she said.
Yeah, but not as bad as J disappointing his mother.
Sandy pulled into a Piggly Wiggly grocery store and parked.
He glanced at her. “You’ve decided to abandon me here?”
