Players: Bad Boy Romance

by Amy Faye

  No knock, no call out, and then a trio of men the size of bears pressing through the door all at once, with masks covering their faces.

  Something's gone very wrong indeed.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  There wasn't a worse time imaginable not to have a gun than when a bunch of thugs come busting through the front door. Not in the world God damn world. So it's with a unique sense of irony that Josh Meadows watches all of this unfold.

  He'd left the backup in the car. Didn't want to freak her out. So he'd left the gun in the car. It had caused all of a thirty second delay, and everything. One that he'd been more than a little embarrassed by.

  Josh curses and put his hands up. A big mother-fucker with a mask over his face points a big gun in his face. It would do the job, all right. No problem making it so his head wasn't where it used to be.

  But something in his gut told him that they were big for a reason, and not for the reasons that might make sense. They'd brought them for show—which didn't mean that they weren't planning to use them if things got hairy.

  It does, more or less, suggest that they might not plan on using them if things didn't get hairy. Which is just one of the several reasons that Josh doesn't try to pull out some crazy karate moves.

  Another stand-out being that he doesn't have anything to pull out, so he'd be making things up as he goes. History, recent history in particular, has shown that making things up hasn't worked out for him.

  "Sit your ass down," the guy growls. His voice is uncomfortably nasally. Like he's got a bad cold. But in the middle of September, most people wouldn't.

  The detective might go so far as to guess that only a couple dozen people in the city might have a cold. That, by itself, would be an identifying factor if he had a damn cold. Just find out who's been sneezing a lot lately, and there you go. You got your guy.

  He figures it's just another part of the disguise. To disguise his voice. Which means that there's more behind the mask than just someone they could identify later. It's someone that, if they wanted to, they could identify right god damn now.

  Josh sits where they tell him to. Nobody wants to get their head blown off for no reason. Then, his hands still above his shoulders, he tries to start getting them back out of this mess.

  "What do you want?"

  "We want the fuckin' money."

  Josh does his absolute best not to look over at Anna. He can imagine the look of sheer confusion on her face, though. It probably looks a lot like his own.

  "What money?"

  "The money you didn't fuckin' pay us. We know the bitch has it, now where the fuck is it?"

  This time Josh can't resist. "A dozen different cops I know and trust can tell you, we paid the money. It's gone. She only had it for about 45 minutes on Tuesday afternoon."

  "Stop fuckin' lying to me, asshole." The big god damn gun is in Josh's face again. He closes his eyes and tries to slow his heartbeat by holding off on taking another breath.

  "I don't know what to tell you then, man."

  Two of the guys in masks look at each other, for all the good it'll do them. They don't speak. Maybe they haven't figured out the nose-hole-plugging trick, or maybe they're pretty sure that we'd figure it out anyways.

  Maybe the other guy should have been worried about that, too. It's hard to say. Josh doesn't know anyone who sounds like that, but then again he's got a long list of acquaintances, and few of them have memorable voices. Hard to tell one from the other.

  Anna Witt, with only a handful of people she's close enough to to remember their names, she might recognize something. But if she's smart, she's not going to just blurt it the hell out.

  "I don't know what to tell you. The instructions we got were, wait at the park. A black, late model four-door sedan comes to get the money. Anna Witt comes alone, delivers it. Cash. The late-model black four-door drives away, and then the call comes in.

  "Black, 2013 Subaru Impreza drives up with the plates covered up. Very convenient, very smart, and it didn't matter in the end because the car was left smoking on the side of the interstate.

  "They call to Anna, by name, she goes to the car. Instructed to put the money on the front seat. She does so. Car drives away. Like I said—side of the interstate a few hours later, and it's a towering inferno. No bag, no money, nothing in the front seat.

  "So we paid."

  "Then someone fucked us."

  "That's not my problem."

  "I can make it a big fuckin' problem for you," the guy says. He pulls the hammer back for effect, and grinds the barrel into my forehead, as if I hadn't gotten what he meant. The oil it leaves behind makes my head itch, but I'm not in a position to scratch it.

  "I just don't know what you're expecting us to do. There's not a whole hell of a lot we can do from here, is there?"

  "Yeah, so fuckin' what?"

  "So, I don't know what you're expecting. You want a million dollars? It's not going to happen. First, you three are easily the most wanted sons of bitches on the face of the planet. A congressman? Really?

  "Second, even if we wanted to pay you, neither of us have anything like that kind of money. You thought Miss Witt had it, you'd have just left a note with the kid. I don't think her parents have it. If they sold the whole apartment complex, maybe. But that takes six months, they're out of a place to live… Use your head, man."

  Josh can't see his expression behind the mask, so it's impossible to know for sure that he hasn't just pissed off a guy with a lead-thrower that, at this range, could blow his head clean off.

  But based on a whole lot of nothing at all, he looks like he's not so sure about what he's doing any more. He looks like he's questioning the logic of his decisions. And that's about all that Josh Meadows can ask for.

  He takes a step back.

  "So if you paid someone…"

  "And we did," Josh adds.

  "Then who the fuck got the money?"

  "I don't know, but that's a good question. You guys should look into that. I think you got a problem."

  The big guy lowers the gun to his waist. Josh keeps his hands over his head. "This ain't over, cop. I got my eye on you."

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It had all been going so well. Everything was going to get turned around. Everything was going to be absolutely fine. It was going to work out, even. They were going to go and talk to Mitch in a couple of hours.

  Then a handful of big guys with equally-large guns came through the door and started screaming and everything just went down around her head. So much for her good morning.

  Josh got up after they left. Waited long enough to hear the outside door slamming. She could hear the front door close, could hear the front door lock.

  How did they get a key to her apartment? That was the first question that really got her. It was possible to believe that she'd made some kind of mistake. It was even more possible to believe that they'd picked the lock or something… if it was at 5 in the morning.

  But the one thing she had definitely heard, as plain as day, was the sound of a key sliding into the lock. It was loud and they hadn't made much effort to keep it quiet. After all, it wasn't exactly long after that they'd deal with any response they might get.

  A minute later, Josh walked up with a plate full of food. "It's, uh. It's not too cold."

  Anna looked at it like she'd never seen food before. "Oh. Thanks."

  She settles into the chair as Josh pulls up on the other side. What were they supposed to talk about? What was she supposed to say about what had just happened? Everything seemed crazy. It was upside-down land.

  Worse than that, though, was that they'd absolutely bought Josh's entire argument. Hook, line, and sinker. It was the truth, of course, but it didn't make sense.

  Everyone had told them that they had paid. She had paid. It was the truth.

  If they showed up now, then it meant that they hadn't just given up on pretending that they hadn't been paid. As far as they were concerned, the fir
st time wasn't paid out.

  Which raised a second point.

  Why would they come back for a single million that they thought they hadn't gotten when they'd gotten away with three and with the congressman?

  That was beyond crazy. It was practically suicidal. Nobody would do something that stupid. It was putting the cart before the horses in the worst way.

  Josh kept his head down as he ate. Whatever good mood he'd been in before, it was gone now.

  "I'm sorry that happened," he says, finally. He lets out a long breath. "I should've brought the… should've had my god damn gun."

  Anna's chest tightens until it feels like it's going to burst. "No! No way. You'd have gotten killed."

  "You could've gotten hurt. It was lucky that they believed me. They didn't believe anyone else."

  "But if they got Mr. Queen, then. Like."

  "Yeah. They didn't seem to be thinking about that."

  "What is that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, they're not the same guys. In all likelihood."

  "What are the odds of that, do you think?"

  "Uh… about one in a million, I'd say. In a vacuum."

  The eggs were cold, but Anna ate the last couple of bites anyways. She wasn't going to waste them, after all.

  "I don't know what we're going to do if they come back."

  "We figure out what they know, and what the fuck is going on with their guys."

  Anna's head is spinning. "Okay, but. I still don't get it."

  "There's a lot not to get." Josh's fingers rub into his forehead. "I don't know what the hell is going on, but we're missing something. I don't know what the hell we're going to do next. But we can't stay here again. They've got a damn key, for Christ's sake."

  That makes a lot of sense, in theory. What doesn't make a lot of sense is where exactly they're going to stay if not here. It's not like Anna's got her pick of apartments. Her parents gave her this one.

  "Where, then?"

  The look that Josh gives her makes Anna feel a little foolish. "Where do you think? My place."

  Oh. Yeah. The thought hadn't really occurred to her. Why hadn't it occurred to her?

  "I don't want to, I dunno. Intrude."

  "You wouldn't be."

  She chews on the thought. There's nothing wrong with the idea, not really. But even after he's said that it wouldn't be a problem, it still feels like she's intruding.

  "I mean it, Anna. It's not a problem. We don't even have to sleep in the same room, if you don't want to. I can take the couch. It's a good couch. Wouldn't be the first time."

  "I don't think that's going to be a problem," she says. She tries to smile. It's hard to say if she's having success. "Same room is probably fine."

  Josh taps the phone where he's got it sitting on the table by his food. "Hour and a half until we go to meet Mitch. Are you sure that you want to do this?"

  Anna's hairs on the back of her neck stand up at the way that Josh looks when he says Mitch's name. Like he's ready to bash Mitchell's head in with a rock, just about. Like her ex is little more than something that he got all over his shoes.

  "Are you sure that you should come?"

  "If you're going, I'm coming."

  "You have to promise to keep yourself calm."

  There's a brief flash of annoyance in his face. One that that Anna's very used to seeing. "I can't promise anything, but I won't hurt him."

  "You have to promise."

  "I promise."

  "And you have to promise you're not mad at me."

  He closes his eyes and rearranges his face into a generally calmer expression. "I'm not mad at you, Anna. You didn't do anything wrong."

  "You didn't promise."

  "I promise, I'm not mad at you. I'm mad, but I'm not mad at you. Okay?"

  "That's all I needed to hear," Anna says.

  But promises don't mean a whole lot. Mitch made a lot of promises, and it didn't mean much of anything when he did it.

  Time's going to tell whether or not things are going to be different this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  There's no way to express how Josh feels about Mitch Queen. Not to anyone in the world. Maybe he could get them to understand his feelings by showing the world his knuckles, but that's hardly the same thing.

  The question now is, how is he supposed to manage to keep himself in check when he's walking into this thing? It's not hard to figure out what's going to happen. What's going to happen is, Mitchell gloats about his bullshit, hints about what he did.

  There are plenty of questions left in the detective's mind. Why is it that the left hand doesn't seem to know what the right hand is doing, for example.

  One thing that isn't in question for a second is that Mitch Queen is involved. More than likely, he's at the very center of the whole thing.

  The guy gets instructions, and then someone else exactly copies those instructions but apparently isn't the original set of kidnappers? There's a precious short list of people who could be responsible for that. A list of about five or six people.

  Anna's one of them. Josh is a second. The Queens are two more. The lawyer. It's always possible, Josh figures. Not likely. You look at likely suspects.

  Who is it that hasn't been concerned, hasn't been upset one time? Who's the one who's been pushing back against trying to get any of this shit taken care of? Who's the one who's been surprised by any of the twists and turns of this entire thing? Who's the one who knew, in spite of being several hundred yards and in poor light, that his father had been taken?

  When you take everything as a single unit, it becomes a lot easier to figure out who's responsible. It's all pure circumstance, of course. Nobody could possibly prove any of it in court. Not yet.

  But it's not hard to figure out who's responsible.

  And now, in spite of the fact that he knows better on just about every level imaginable, he's walking right into the guy's plan.

  They're putting themselves at great risk, and for what? For nothing. So that he can yank their chains some more. If he could have talked Anna out of it, then he would have. But that isn't possible.

  So he pulls into the parking spot, puts the car in park, and pulls the parking brake too for good measure.

  "You ready?"

  The place isn't packed. It's crowded enough that punching Mitch Queen in his mouth won't lack for witnesses. Which means that he'd better keep himself under control, regardless of whether or not Mitchell deserves it.

  Anna nods. She doesn't look ready, but he's not going to call her on it. In fact, he shouldn't get out of the car. He should stay here, and he should wait for her to get back with whatever the hell information she's going to get from him.

  He unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across to press a kiss against Anna's forehead.

  "Just stay calm, okay? Everything's going to be fine as long as you just stay calm."

  "I know." She doesn't look like she knows.

  Everything is upside down in her world, and as much as Josh wants to fix it all by himself, he knows that it's not going to work that way.

  They can wait a few months and get beat to hell and back by the best lawyers money can buy until Mitch Queen gets custody of a child he never wanted. Anna's whole world falls apart, but they stood up to Mitch Queen.

  Or they go to this meeting, let Mitch make some stupid demands and spit on her one last time, as just in case there's some new way to demean her that neither of them has thought of yet.

  And as unpleasant as that will be, as much as it will hurt, it's not going to hurt half as bad as letting it keep going more and more sideways.

  Josh pushes open his door and steps out. He puts an arm around Anna, his hand guiding her to go ahead of him. She doesn't go any further than his hand, pressed a little way above her ass.

  In a way that makes him think very specifically about that ass, a way that he shouldn't be thinking right before going to try to keep himself under control with a son of a bitch who abso
lutely doesn't deserve him being under control.

  Anna slips easily into a charade of being in good spirits and control of herself as they near the hostess' stand.

  "Hi, we're supposed to be meeting someone?"

  "I know exactly the one. Follow me, right this way."

  The woman is small and Asian and pretty-ish. She starts off in a hurry that belies her tiny frame. Josh guides Anna along behind. It doesn't take long to see Mitchell.

  He looks like he's had an interesting night. An interesting night that doesn't seem to have ended yet. His collar's open three buttons down, to the point where his chest is about hanging out. He's got dark glasses that don't look like much, but probably cost more than any single thing that the detective owns.

  He puts on a smile that serves to accentuate the cut on his cheek. Josh wonders who put that there, and feels a swell of pride when he answers to himself that he knows exactly who it was.

  "Nice to see you two. How are you both feeling? You came together. That's sweet. Isn't that a conflict of interests, though?"

  "I'm suspended. Case has been handed off to the F.B.I. No conflict at all."

  "Oh, well, that's too bad, I guess." He smiles. "I'm kidding. Happy for you two. Such a cute couple."

  Josh pulls out a chair, his jaw already tightening. This kid could be a real charmer when he wanted to. Knowing how slimy he could be makes it real easy for that impression to sour.

  Anna folds her hands in her lap and leans into the table. "Get to the point, Mitch. What do you want exactly?"

  "I wanted to see my new friends for a nice brunch. You two haven't eaten, have you? Oh, you have. No problem. So did I. We'll just have a light brunch, then."

  "Get to the point," Josh chimes in, echoing Anna.

  "You two are real kill-joys, you know that? 'Get to the point,' 'get to the point,' like a broken record. No, I want to eat. It's not such a long wait."

  Josh closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.