Play You: A Second Chance/Single Dad Romance (Rebel Ink Book 4)

by Tracy Lorraine

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, really. Despite appearances, she's actually pretty laid back."

  Piper laughs down the line. "Why do I think I'm going to have a little visitor tomorrow?"

  "She's already asked if she needs to start calling you Mum."

  "You're kidding?"

  "No, but I think she was."

  "Jesus, I don't feel old enough to be called that."

  "I hate to point out the obvious, baby, but you are."

  "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I can barely look after myself, let alone a child."

  "I think you'd be an incredible mother."

  She sighs down the line, and I can't help the question that falls from my lips.

  "Do you want kids, Piper?"

  "Honestly, it's not something I've ever allowed myself to really think about. Since leaving you, I've been missing a pretty vital part of having a kid."

  "You've been with guys though, right?" I hate to ask, but I do nonetheless.

  "Yeah, but no one I ever really wanted a second date with, let alone a child."

  "I could say the same thing about Emmie's mum. I never even considered a first date with her."

  "You know, I kinda want to meet this woman."

  "You'll have to find her first."

  "Still no news?"

  "Nope. It's like she's fallen off the face of the Earth. I mean, it's not a huge loss, but Emmie deserves to have a mother at least at the other end of the phone, should she need it."

  "Yeah, she does." Piper yawns, and I feel guilty for keeping her up once more.

  "You should head to bed."

  "I know, but I like talking to you."

  "You won't thank me in the morning when you're asleep at your desk."

  "No, probably not. I'm never going to get any sleep if I move in, am I?"

  "What do you mean if? You are moving in."

  "I meant when. Don't freak out, caveman."

  "Good. Because it's happening. This. Us. It's happening."

  I can almost hear her smile. "Yeah, it is. I can't wait."

  "Okay, you need to go."

  "Okay," she whines. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?"

  "Yeah. Goodnight, baby girl."

  "Goodnight, Dawson."

  The week passes slowly as I all but count down the hours until I finish work on Friday night. I've got a solid day of clients, my most recent one currently making himself at home in my chair, making me wonder if he's planning on leaving anytime soon.

  "How's my niece getting on at that posh school you're forcing her to attend?" Cruz asks, putting his shirt back on after getting me to add to his ink.

  "She's doing good. I think it was what she needed."

  "I can't believe she agreed to it. Have you seen the uniform?" He pulls a face. "I thought the one we had to wear back in the day was bad, but that? Ugh."

  "Have you finished?" I ask, making a point of tidying up, getting ready for my next client.

  "You should have sent her to do an apprenticeship with me."

  "Oh yeah, I considered it for all of about... zero seconds."

  "What? She's going to need to know how to tune a bike one day."

  "I've ordered her a 125cc," I admit, much to his delight.

  "Yes, bro. Now you're talking." He snaps his fingers like he's still eighteen.

  Rolling my eyes, I turn my back on him.

  "When's it coming? She's gonna need some special Cruz lessons on how to ride that thing."

  "She's done her CBT, she knows what she's doing. She doesn't need you to teach her anything."

  "You're such a pussy. You want her to impress those rich fuckers, don't you?"

  "No, not really. I just want her to get some good grades and make a life for herself. I'd rather she didn't die on her bike because you taught her some stupid trick."

  "You used to be fun, you know?"

  "Really? When was that?" I bark over my shoulder.

  "You need some fucking pussy, man. When was the last time you got some?"

  "None of your fucking business."

  "Well, there are these new chicks at the club. I have no idea where they've come from, but fuck me, bro. You need to come check them out."

  "I don't need to do anything. You know you're not going to tempt me there, even with the best pussy in the world."

  "Yeah, well, that's where you went wrong, man."

  "Whatever. Are you leaving yet?"

  He doesn't get a chance to answer, because my phone lights up on the counter next to me and I snatch it up before he sees Piper's name.

  "Sorry, it's Emmie's school. I need to get this." I expect him to leave, but the irritating motherfucker just settles back in my chair. Anyone would think he hasn’t got a job or home to go to.

  "Hello," I say the second I connect the call.

  "Hey, it's me," she says as if I don't already know. "Emmie has had an accident."

  "Shit, is she okay?"

  "Yeah, yeah, she's fine. Hockey injury." There's something in Piper's tone that doesn't sit right with me, but I can hardly ask what's wrong with my brother's eyes drilling into my back. "Are you busy?"

  "Yeah, I've got back-to-back clients all day. But I can cancel them."

  "If you're happy, I can take her home. I'm pretty much done for the day anyway."

  "Are you sure? I don't want to cause issues."

  "What? Of course not. I'll make sure she's fine, get her some dinner or whatever. We're good. You don't need to worry."

  "Not possible," I admit but regret it when I hear movement behind me.

  "Okay, I'll pack my stuff up and call us an Uber."

  "Thank you for letting me know," I say stiffly, more than aware that I've got an audience.

  "No problem. See you later."

  "Yeah. Thank you, bye."

  I stare down at my phone for a second before the nosey fucker behind me pipes up. "Everything okay?"

  "Emmie had a hockey accident at school." My stomach clenches as I say the words. I trust Piper, but still, my need to know she’s okay and take care of her prevails.

  "Is she okay? You want me to go and get her?"

  "She's fine, and no, it's all sorted."

  "You know, if you don't trust me with your kid, all you gotta do is tell me."

  "Fine, I don't trust you with Emmie. Happy?"

  "You're a prick," he mutters, finally getting up from the chair and putting his cut on.

  "Don't care. I don't want her dragged into your world."

  "Careful, bro. You're forgetting that it's your world too. You can only run for so long."

  "Is that a threat, Cruz?" I growl, taking a step toward him. He might think he's the big man now he's Dad's VP, but he needs to remember who's the oldest and fastest out of the two of us.

  "Nah, just reality, bro. You'll be back and you know it."

  I narrow my eyes at him, wondering what the hell has gotten into him today. He often gives me shit about my decision to step away, but never like this.

  "Whatever. I've got work to do."

  Reaching around him, I pull the door open and gesture for him to leave.

  "Nothing like a nice welcoming visit to family."

  "It was fine until you started running your mouth."

  "Biff, gorgeous, how's it going?" he sings the second he spots her in reception.

  Not wanting to listen to him attempt to hit on her, I swing my door closed and give myself a few minutes.

  Grabbing my phone, I quickly type out a message to Piper.

  Dawson: Sorry, Cruz was here. Is she really okay?

  Piper: Yeah, no broken bones or anything. We've got it covered. Enjoy the rest of your day. I'll be waiting.

  Feeling a little better, I finish up and call in my next victim.

  22

  Piper

  I'm pointlessly staring at the clock, wondering if I can find an excuse to get out of here early so I can go and pack for the weekend at Dawson’s, when a knock sounds out on my door.

 
; "Come in," I call, turning that way when the door is pushed open.

  "Oh my God, what happened?" I gasp, pushing to stand when Emmie emerges, half her face is covered in blood.

  "I'm fine. It looks worse than it is."

  "Emmie, there’s blood dripping from your chin." I scrabble about and pull a packet of tissues from my bag and hand them over. "Sit. I'll go get the first aid kit."

  "I'm fine. It'll stop in a bit."

  "Sit," I repeat before racing from the room, glad I did my first aid training when I started here.

  I'm back in a matter of minutes to find she has at least done as she's been told and taken a seat. Crouching down in front of her, I begin wiping away the blood in an attempt to find the cut causing the issue.

  "What happened?"

  "Hockey got a little rough."

  "A little? Jesus, were you all fighting or something?"

  "Pretty much." My eyes widen, because I wasn't exactly expecting her to agree. "Some of the girls don't like me very much," she admits quietly as I work.

  "They did this to you?"

  "Yeah but..."

  "But..."

  "I might have started it."

  "Emmie," I warn.

  "What? They were chatting shit. They deserved it."

  "Em—"

  "You're going to tell Dad I've been fighting, aren't you?"

  "No." Her eyes widen in shock. "You are. I'm not getting in the middle of you two. Working here and being involved with you is a predicament, but I will not go behind your back, just like I won't go behind his."

  "Fair enough," she mutters before wincing when I find the cut just above her eyebrow.

  "Let's get this patched up and get you home. I don't think going to your last class is a good idea. Where have the others gone?"

  "No idea. Miss Peterson was dealing with them. I walked away."

  "Emmie…"

  "I wasn't standing there listening to them tell her how it was all my fault. She loves them, she'll never take my word over theirs. I'm just the new girl from the rough side of town."

  "Em—"

  "Don't. Don't try to tell me that's bollocks, because we both know it's the truth. I don't fit in here and I never will."

  "Have you been having other issues?"

  "Some stuck-up bitches can't touch me, Miss Hill. They think they're better than me? Fine, let them. It's water off a duck's back."

  "It shouldn't be. Give me their names, I'll make sure..." She stares at me, and my words trail off.

  "You just said you wouldn't get in the middle."

  "Yeah, of things with you and your dad. But this is my job. I'm here to make sure you're happy, that you're settling in okay. This," I say pointing to her head, "is not settling in okay."

  "It's fine. They'll get over it. Or they'll learn I can throw a harder punch. Whatever. Don't give me that look."

  "Okay,” I say, placing a couple of butterfly stitches over her cut. "Let's see how that does. I'm going to ring your dad."

  "Great," she groans.

  "I could have come back on my own, you know," Emmie says once we're both in the back of an Uber, heading toward their house.

  "I know, but I told your dad I'd look after you, so here I am. Plus, if I'm honest, I was more than ready to finish for the weekend. This is just a good excuse," I admit, much to her delight.

  "Here?" the driver says, pulling to a stop on the side of the road.

  Dawson lives a little more out of town than I was expecting on a really nice, homely looking street. I immediately feel at home, which is weird seeing as we're not even inside the house yet.

  "Great, thank you." Emmie hops out and, after also thanking the driver, I do the same.

  I follow her to a house on the opposite side of the road that has twisted wrought iron railings out the front and a black front door with chrome fittings. It couldn't be any more Dawson if it tried, and I find myself smiling as Emmie unlocks the door.

  The sound of a deep, rumbling bike engine has me looking over my shoulder. I feel ridiculous as disappointment flows through me when he doesn't appear. He just told me he's got clients all afternoon and evening; I know he's not coming.

  I follow Emmie inside and find pretty much what I was expecting: a bachelor pad.

  The walls are all painted a soft grey and the hallway has dark wooden flooring with just one unit against the wall with boxes in it, I'm assuming for shoes.

  "Living room." Emmie points through a door and I find another grey room with two huge black leather sofas and dark furniture. There's a pink blanket on one that looks totally out of place. I don't need to ask who that belongs to. "Kitchen. Garden." She points out to a small gravel courtyard-style garden beyond the sliding doors at the other end of the room.

  "Are you hungry?" I ask, studying his elegant kitchen. The units are—unsurprisingly—grey, but he's added a teal accent which is really quite stylish.

  "Yeah. You know what I really fancy?"

  "Go on..."

  "Nachos. Loads of cheese, guacamole, sour cream, jalapeños." My stomach rumbles as she rattles it all off. Knowing that Dawson wasn't going to appear with a picnic today, I was forced to put up with the salad I threw together before leaving the house this morning. Needless to say, it didn't really hit the spot.

  "Do you have everything for it?"

  "No," she says with a wince. "There's a corner shop right down the street. Let me get changed and we can walk down."

  "No, I'll go. Just point me in the right direction. You take some painkillers for that and clean up." I did the best job I could with some wipes in my office, but she's still covered in dried blood. "Just be careful of the stitches. I'll pick up some more if they have some so we can redo it, or we'll get your dad to grab some on his way home."

  "Are you sure?" she asks. "I don't mind coming. You've already done more than enough."

  "Yeah, I'm sure."

  "Okay, turn left out of the house and just keep walking, you can't miss it. It's not even a five-minute walk."

  "Okay, cheesy nachos coming right up."

  I leave her as she pulls the fridge open and grabs a can of Coke.

  I collect my bag from the unit in the hallway, along with Emmie's key, and head out.

  The second I step onto pavement, the feeling that I'm being watched washes through me. I look over my shoulder, but the street seems to be abandoned.

  I look into Dawson's house as I pass and find Emmie standing there. She gives me a small wave before she turns, and, I assume, heads for the stairs.

  I look around at the rows of houses, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Tugging my bag a little higher on my shoulder, I pull my phone from the side pocket and look down, ready to shoot Dawson a message, knowing that he'll be worrying about Emmie. Only I don't get a chance to even unlock it because an arm wraps around my waist as a hand clamps over my mouth and I'm hauled backward and into the darkness of the back of a Transit van.

  I struggle in the man's hold, but my strength is no match for his.

  "You really are a stupid fucking bitch, aren't you?"

  "Cruz?" I ask when he releases my mouth.

  "You remember me. I'm honoured, snitch."

  I don't get to say any more, because a length of tape is slapped across my face as whoever is driving the van floors the accelerator and I stumble backward until I collide with the backdoors, my shoulder burning in pain.

  His hands land on my upper arms and he spins me until my front is pressed against the cool metal as he binds my wrists behind my back.

  "That's it, snitch. Be a good little girl now."

  "Fuck you," I shout, but with the tape covering my mouth all he gets is a muffled scream.

  His nose runs up the column of my neck and he breathes me in as I retch. "You always were a feisty little bitch. Probably how you got my dumb-arse brother under your spell so easily.”

  I suck in as much air as I can through my nose, but my head spins.

  Cruz turns me again, his evi
l eyes landing on mine and his fingers wrapping around my throat, squeezing enough that I start to see stars.

  "You thought you could just walk back into his life and there would be no consequences? How stupid are you?" Tears spill from my eyes. "Aw, you really think he loves you, don't you?" He chuckles, but there’s zero amusement in it. "He's been playing you, baby girl."

  "No," I scream, my tears coming faster as a sob rumbles up my throat. My stomach turns over at his use of Dawson’s nickname for me.

  "Karma is a bitch, right? You're nothing to him aside from the huge cheque he gets to cash in. You mess with the Royal Reapers, you can bet your arse we're going to come for you eventually. Well, baby girl, my father and I have been waiting for today for a very, very long time."

  My stomach turns over.

  But I never get to find out if I throw up, because pain radiates from my temple before everything goes black.

  Every part of my body aches when I start to come to, and I'm cold. So fucking cold. My entire body trembles and my teeth chatter despite the gag that's now between them.

  I want the darkness to claim me again. At least there I can pretend that none of this happened. I can pretend that I'm still in Dawson's house with Emmie, waiting for him to come home.

  Cruz's words come back to me.

  "He's been playing you, baby girl."

  No. No. That can't be right. What we've had these past few weeks, it's been real. I know it has.

  I try to move to ease the ache in my shoulder and hip, but nothing helps. In the end, I'm forced to open my eyes and succumb to reality.

  Ripping them open, I find I'm in a room so dark that I can barely make out my own legs, let alone anything else.

  A cold breeze continues to blow over me. Originally, I assumed it must be a window, but it's September. It's too cold to be coming from outside.

  As I lie there, my eyes eventually begin to get used to the blackness surrounding me and I'm finally able to make out the white box in the corner. It doesn't take a genius to work out that it must be an air-con unit.

  I shift again, desperately needing to sit up, to do anything.

  I try to move but my arms are still tied behind my back. My ankles are now also bound, but I can breathe easier and I soon realise the tape has been replaced in favour of a scrap of fabric.