Play to Win (15 page)

He looked at me. “You're fucking kidding me, right? Like I give a shit about the seats. Get in.”

“Okay, okay. Don't get cranky.” I felt odd; the relief of having survived had melted into an almost jovial feeling. My emotions were giving me whiplash.

“That makes how many times I've not died?” I asked Parker as he slid behind the wheel. “I hate to pat myself on the back, but I'm turning into a total badass.”

He glanced at me, grimacing. “You shouldn't have to be a badass,” he said.

“C'mon,” I urged. “You know you love it. I'm freakin' hot.”

Parker shook his head, a smile creeping to his face in spite of himself. “You've always been freaking hot,” he said. “Being a badass just means your health insurance premium is about to go up.”

I grimaced. Oh yeah. Another ER visit. More stitches. My insurance company was going to put me on the hazard life insurance plan soon. That was enough to take the wind out of my euphoric sails and I settled back in the seat for the drive to Cook County General.

I
figured my mom would be with my dad, so when I got done in the ER, Parker took me back to his place for a change of clothes before going back to check on him and my mom.

“How is he?” I asked, pulling up a chair next to the bed where Mom sat. It was painful, seeing my dad so quiet and still. The machines he was hooked up to were quietly doing their jobs and I had to swallow down the tears that threatened. My mom needed me to be strong, not go on another crying jag.

“The same,” she said, setting aside the magazine she'd been thumbing through. “But the doctors say he's healing well and they seem optimistic.” She looked more rested today, though I could still see the worry and distress in her eyes. I felt the same. Things just weren't right without Dad.

“Did you need some food?” I asked. “Why don't you come get dinner with us?”

“That's a great idea,” Parker said. “I know a quiet spot nearby.”

Mom hesitated, but I took her hand. “You need to eat,” I said gently. “And we need each other. Come have dinner.”

She squeezed my hand and smiled. “You're right, of course. Just let me get my purse and touch up my face.”

Mom always looked perfect, her skin criminally good for her age, but I nodded. She went into the bathroom and emerged a few minutes later with her hair freshly brushed and lipstick on. Even just putting on makeup was one of those daily activities that made you feel more “normal” when circumstances were anything but, and she looked more like herself.

Parker took us to a tapas place with Mediterranean cuisine. They'd given me pain medication for the cut on my leg and palm, so I had to reluctantly turn down a cocktail, but Mom didn't.

“Whatever happened to your hand?” she asked, getting a look at the white gauze.

“I broke a glass,” I lied. “Klutzy move, then I went and cut myself. I'm fine, though. Just needed a few stitches.”

She looked worried, so I smiled. “I'm fine; don't worry. They said I'll just have a little scar but no permanent damage.” I didn't mention how very permanent the “damage” would have been if Rafael had gotten his way. Even just thinking about it sent a shudder through me, and I covered it up by taking a hurried sip of water.

“It's good you're here to take care of Sage,” she said to Parker. “And myself as well. I know her father will appreciate your concern.”

“Sage is very important to me,” Parker said, taking my injured hand in his and carefully cradling it in such a way as to hold my hand but not cause me any pain.

My mother watched as she took a sip of the sangria she'd ordered. That crafty look was back in her eye, but I had no desire to dissuade her. If matchmaking Parker and me distracted her from worrying about Dad, then that was fine with me.

“I'm glad to hear that,” she said. “You two make a very striking couple. Don't you think so, Sage?”

My face heated and I refrained from saying that anyone standing next to Parker would look good, simply because they were with him. “So what are you having for dinner?” I asked, hopefully deflecting any more pointed compliments.

“I do hope that you've been able to spend some time together, now that Sage is no longer working for you,” she continued, ignoring me.

“Not as much time as I'd like,” Parker said. “But I'm hoping to change that.”

Warmth spread through me from the inside out and I glanced at him. He was looking at me, a softness in his eyes that I hadn't seen before, and it was several moments before I looked away again.

The smile on my mom's face was good to see, and it eased some of the worry lines around her eyes and mouth.

We ordered dinner and chatted about inconsequential things. It felt good—normal—in a way that my life hadn't been for a few weeks. Changing jobs and my evolving relationships with Parker and Ryker had taken a toll on my peace of mind.

After we dropped my mom off, I saw Parker glancing at his watch, and I thought I knew why.

“Did Ryker say what they were going to do about the ransom demand?” I asked. Ten o'clock was just three hours away.

“He was going to try to convince Natalie to get the FBI involved.”

“And if she won't? Surely he won't try to handle it by himself, right?”

Parker's lips thinned. “What do you think?”

Shit.

“I need to check in, give him some kind of backup,” Parker said. “If he's keeping this off the books, I don't want him to be alone.”

I mulled this over as he called Ryker, unsurprised to hear that no, of course Natalie was adamant about not involving the FBI and that yes, Ryker was going to go with her to the location specified in the ransom note.

I wasn't at all happy about any of this. Natalie had somehow gotten both Ryker and Parker involved with dangerous people who she said were holding her sister hostage. The only proof we had that she was telling the truth was her word and the note that had been left.

Natalie's word didn't carry a helluva lot of weight with me.

“What if she's lying?” I blurted.

“What are you talking about?”

“What if Jessie hasn't disappeared and Natalie is playing you both?”

Parker was shaking his head. “She wouldn't do that. She has no reason to.”

“Her reason could simply be that she wants you two back in her life,” I said.

“So she'd lie about her sister being in danger?” Parker scoffed. “No. That's ridiculous.”

Fine. Obviously, I was alone in my suspicions. “Are you absolutely sure you want to risk life and limb for her?” I asked, trying a different tack.

Parker shot me a look. “I'm not doing anything for her. I'm doing it for Ryker. And because it's the right thing to do.”

“It's not the right thing,” I argued. “The right thing would be for you and Ryker to turn all this over to the FBI.”

“And leave Jessie or Natalie to be killed because we didn't follow instructions and take care of it ourselves?”

“You don't know that's what will happen.”

“And if it does, it'll forever be on my conscience.”

Parker pulled the car over in front of his building and stopped. “Go inside,” he said, “and stay. I'll be back as soon as we're done.”

“Just answer me this,” I said. “If it wasn't Natalie who was in danger, would you still be so hell-bent on playing the hero and throwing yourself in harm's way?”

“I threw myself in harm's way for you,” he countered.

“Considering what you said you feel for me, that doesn't make me feel any better.”

“I'm not still in love with Natalie, Sage. Why won't you believe that?”

I wanted to, I really did. But I just couldn't trust his feelings. What if the moment I gave in, the moment I said yes, I loved him, too—what if that was when he decided I wasn't what he wanted after all? That the wanting had been the best part?

“Just go,” I said, opening my car door.

“Sage, wait—”

But I was already gone, heading inside. I didn't look back, but heard him drive off. That's when I turned around, staring after his receding taillights.

I stayed up as late as I could, but the pain meds got to me and when I woke in the morning, it was to the buzzing of my cell phone. Carrie, calling from the office. I glanced over in Parker's bed and saw blond hair.

That made it two days in a row I'd woken up next to Natalie. There wasn't going to be a third.

“You'd better get down here,” Carrie said, and the urgency in her voice jerked my attention away from Natalie.

“Why? What's wrong?”

“The cops are here. They have a warrant to search the offices.”

By the time I arrived, the police were tearing the office apart. I watched in horror as men carried box after box of files by me on their way out of the building. Rushing upstairs, I saw Carrie and Charlie standing in the middle of the chaos.

“What's going on?” I asked.

Wordlessly, Charlie handed me a sheaf of papers. I scanned through them.

“Collusion? What the hell?” I looked at Charlie. “They're looking for evidence of collusion between”—I glanced back at the papers—“between us, Johnson & Halloway, M&R Trading, and Sikes? That's absurd.” It was every liquor transportation company I'd ever heard of growing up in the area.

“Not absurd, Ms. Muccino.” A plainclothes cop spoke from behind me and I turned. “We have reasonable cause to justify this warrant. I suggest you contact your attorney.” With that, he gestured to the few remaining officers who followed him to the elevator.

I glanced around at the havoc they'd left in their wake. Employees stood or sat silently, their expressions ranging from confused to scared to resigned. Then I realized…they were all looking at me. Not Charlie. Me. I needed to say something. They were waiting for the boss to reassure them. And since the boss wasn't here, I was next in line.

“Everyone,” I began, not even knowing what I was going to say. “First, thank you for maintaining your professionalism during today's events. I appreciate that.” I cleared my throat, tightening my sweaty palms into fists. What would I want to hear if I was them? “Second…I can assure you that this company has not broken the law, regardless of what the police say. And last, you can rest assured that your job is safe and that we will fight this. Now please, let's get back to work. Thank you.”

People began cleaning and the low hum of conversation picked up. Papers had been scattered and drawers had been pulled out. I overheard someone saying not-very-nice things about cops and their search etiquette, which I rather agreed with.

“Nice job,” Charlie said quietly. “Now let's go talk.”

I followed him into his office and he shut the door behind us. Collapsing into a chair, I vented my frustration.

“What the hell was this all about?” I asked. “I bet you anything that Shea guy is behind it. Too much crap has happened in the past few days to point to anyone besides him. Did the cops even mention anything about Gary getting attacked the other night and our offices being broken into?”

“No, they didn't, but that's not what I want to talk about,” he said, sitting in the chair behind his desk. Something in his tone made me halt my fuming tirade.

“What?” I asked. “Charlie, what is it?”

He didn't answer. He just looked at me. And he looked…tired.

“Oh no,” I said, my anger melting into dismay. “Please tell me I didn't just lie to our employees. Tell me this company didn't participate in collusion.”

“I wish I could, sweetheart.” Charlie heaved a sigh.

I was stunned. “How?” How had my father broken the law? And why?

“It goes back over a decade,” he began.

“We've been colluding for that long with these people?” I interrupted.

“No, no. I meant, what happened was over a decade ago,” he clarified. “That Leo Shea business. He came on the scene nearly fifteen years ago, over on the north side.”

“And he started cutting in on Dad's territory,” I said, remembering the files Parker and I had found earlier in the basement. “I read the file.”

“Then you know. Shea was intimidating people, threatening them. There were a few who disappeared like Hoffa, never to be heard from again. Your dad was the only one who didn't cave to the pressure. We lost one of our best security men. Gunned down by Shea's people. Your dad, he was devastated. Tony had been a personal friend of your father's since way back in school. Most people”—Charlie shook his head—“most people would've rolled over at that point. But not your dad.

“He went after Shea. The cops wouldn't do anything; too many of them were paid off, so somehow we got somebody on the inside, feeding us intel. I didn't know how your dad did it and I didn't ask. But we got the info and we were able to convince the other suppliers to price match with us to stop Shea in his tracks.”

I wasn't surprised that losing a friend would make my father fight back. That's the kind of man he was. He couldn't be intimidated because he'd not only hit back, he'd hit back harder. And while he may have been on the side of the angels, he'd been on the wrong side of the law.

“Okay, so in other words, while it may have been justified and the only way to put Shea in his place, technically we still broke the law.”

“Not you, sweetheart. Me and your dad.”

“I realize you two personally may have made those decisions,” I said, “but the warrant lists the company, and I'm part owner of the company. So it's not just you two who'll take the fall. Steven Shea is getting back at us over Leo's death. He wants to kill me, kill Dad, and destroy the company. So far, he's making headway on all those objectives.”

We both sat in silent contemplation for a moment. I was deep in thought. Dad wasn't available for me to ask for advice. My gut twisted. I had to save the company. I didn't want him to come out of the coma only to see that I'd lost his company. And he
would
come out of the coma.

Finally, Charlie asked, “So what do you want to do, kiddo?”

“Call the lawyers,” I said. “Get them in here and start talking strategy. I don't know what files they got or what evidence they may have. Prepare for the worst.”

“What about you?”

“I'm going to pay a visit to Steven Shea.”

The offices for SLS Enterprises were north of downtown. With traffic, it took me a while to get there, which was fine with me. I was nervous and had dressed carefully, opting for a black pencil skirt that hit just below my knees and hugged my hips, along with a white silk blouse. I'd left the top two buttons of the blouse undone and tied a scarf around my neck to accessorize. With my hair loosely pulled back and in two-inch heels, I'd hoped to strike the right note of professional yet still feminine. To end this war with Shea, I needed all the weapons in my arsenal.