Busted Play: The Series (Players, Books 1-6)

by Stella Marie Alden

  Then, after winning the game, my whole body is sore and it feels righteous. After an ice bath and dinner, I limp down the hotel hall and swipe my key card. A quick trip to piss and I jump into bed, not even bothering to turn on the light.

  What the fuck? I know that perfume…

  As I switch on the lamp, soft arms wrap around my chest and fake boobs press to my back. That same fucking guy that followed me into the shower is there too, adjusting a huge lens focused on yours truly.

  Suddenly it dawns on me that this woman is a scheming, conniving, bitch, not even close to the sweet girl I once knew growing up. It’s time to play hard ball.

  “Out!” I tear off the blanket, wrap it around Mary Jane, and place her in the hall. Using all my speed as a quarterback, I grab the asshole’s camera and push him out as well.

  He starts shouting about his expensive shit while I try to pop out the god-damned memory card. Then I’ll fucking break the camera over his pin-head.

  Suddenly my buddy Hacksaw’s in the hall and manages to wrangle the camera out of my grip. Then he puts some space between me and the guy I’m about to kill.

  Lefty is calling the coach and someone else must’ve called the front desk. All of the doors are open down the hallway with camera phones up and pointing.

  Un-fucking-believable. Here we go again with the social media circus.

  Next up, a red-faced guy with a plastic name tag exits the elevator while explaining, “She said she was your fiancé. She stayed with you last year…”

  My patience snaps. “God damn it! The woman is my ex-fiancé. Ex. Ex. Ex! Someone get her out of my sight before I lose my ever-lovin’ mind.”

  Mary Jane snarls over her shoulder as the hotel manager leads her down the hall. “You think that low-life trash is good enough for you, Chance? Huh? You’ll be sorry.”

  “I already am.” Closing my eyes, I picture Mel, hoping like hell, she’ll never see those shots.

  How in the world had my life come to this? I just want to play football. I don’t need all this damn drama.

  I shout down the hall to the few still holding up their phones. “Show’s over. Anyone posts any of these shots online, I will personally make your life a living hell.”

  I glare down the hall until all of the doors slam shut. Hopefully, the message was received. Then I try to call Mel to warn her about tonight but no go.

  Enter my coach, my trainer, and my manager, all trying to calm me down but I’ve fucking lost it. “I want her gone, understand? She’s not to sit with the WAGS, not invited to anything. God damn it. I have a girlfriend and it is not Mary Jane McAllister. I love Melanie Sanders. Got that?”

  My fist goes right through the cheap plaster knocking a lamp off the table, glass flying everywhere. Very seldom do I lose my temper but this time it’s justified.

  Pat, my coach, watches me play out my frustration, arms crossed over his chest. Once I chill, he puts an arm over my shoulder, and walks me to a new room where the manager is waiting, door open. “Sleep. We’ll take care of everything and talk about this in the morning.”

  “Whatever. I want her on a plane home tonight or I press charges. Fuck the repercussions.”

  Chapter 8

  When I see the naked picture of CJ and his supposed fiancé posted on my Facebook page, I should be surprised. Instead, I feel like I’m an actress in my very own Lifetime movie. Knowing I should feel more anger and not detached, I call my therapist and schedule an appointment for noon.

  The new girl in the rehab center says she’ll cover my clients. That way, if I take a cab, I should make it back by early afternoon. That settled, I get dressed and head down the hill with a coffee to go. My first client is a lady with a herniated disc and the second is a teen recovering from meniscus surgery.

  At lunchtime, I have to take the subway into Manhattan because it’s raining cats and dogs and all the cabs are filled.

  Dr. Kendall opens her office door to greet me as soft music plays in the background. Then I sit in my favorite comfy chair, grabbing the nearby teddy that’s meant for kids. Whatever. That bear has been my best friend during many long hours trying to figure out my screwed-up life.

  I glance up at the speakers. “What happened to the beach sounds?”

  Dr. Kendall smiles. “You said you didn’t care for that particular loop.”

  “It’s grown on me, a lot like you.” I return her smile and sink back, bear to chest.

  “I like you, too.” She lowers her reading glasses, turns on the recorder, and settles back into her chair. “So, what’s up with the extra visit?”

  I’ve been seeing Casey Kendall once a week since late last summer and this is the first time I’ve asked for an extra session. “It’s CJ. He’s been cheating on me with his ex.”

  I go on to explain everything I’ve seen and heard for the last few days, leaving nothing out. When I finally pause to blow my nose, she frowns, tapping her pencil on her notepad.

  “Sounds pretty bad…”

  “Right?” Mr. Bear nods in agreement.

  “But…Maybe you should talk to him about it.”

  If I had a dime for every one of my doctor’s buts, I’d be rich. “Are you serious? She was naked. In his bed!”

  “I’m not saying don’t break up with him, I’m just saying to give it some thought before you act.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Think before acting. Think, then feel. Feel then think. Shit. Shit. Shit. Sometimes I really hate therapy and I hate her.

  Not really.

  In truth, I’m pretty lucky that I found her and that she’s helped me get my act together. I’ve read that a lot of women abused as young kids are a helluva lot more screwed up than me.

  She glances at her watch, signaling our time is about up. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

  I give her a half-hearted smile. “Think and then act?”

  After confirming the time of our regular session, she gives me a hug, and then walks me to the door. “Everything’s going to turn out fine.”

  I have no idea what to do about CJ. I love him so much that a life without him makes me want to weep but then again, I’m not about to stick around where I’m not wanted.

  After saying goodbye and exiting, I note the downpour has turned to sprinkles. Feeling the need for food-therapy I stop at the pizza place for an ice cream cone and take a moment before racing back to work.

  On a bench outside Columbus circle, I people watch, thinking about what I should do next. First, I should give back all of CJ’s presents. There’s earrings, a necklace, and an expensive ring. Then, there’s the white dress, the pretty doll… oh shit. There’s so much of him in my apartment, I’ll never purge him completely.

  To be honest, I don’t want to. I just want things back the way they were before Mary Jane arrived on the scene.

  When a limo pulls up, I figure it’s Jack, CJ’s driver. He’s always offering me a ride, tracking me with GPS like a kind of body guard and that’s okay. I like knowing someone’s watching over me. It’s kind of like having a big brother with a huge black car.

  Suddenly a strange guy steps out of the back seat of the limo and pulls me in. It happens so fast, I don’t have time to shout fire or kick or do any of those things you read about online. Those articles should tell you what to do if you’re so freaked out that your mouth drops open and nothing comes out but a squeak.

  When a needle is thrust into my thigh, my tongue itches and my last thought is wishing that I’d never hung up on CJ.

  Chapter 9

  I know it’s unreasonable, but I got this gut feeling that something’s terribly wrong with Mel. After I got off the plane I knew she’d be working so I went directly to the center. This new girl said that Mel had been expected back hours ago but never showed.

  I meet my brother at Mel’s outside door and let him in. “Thanks for coming. She wouldn’t just leave and not tell me.”

  Andy raises an eyebrow. “She hasn’t been too happy with you as of l
ate.”

  “That’s exactly what the cops said but I swear, it’s nothing all that serious. Just a rough patch.”

  I pray that’s true as every one of our recent arguments play out inside my head. I wish I could go back in time, change how I reacted when MJ showed up in my hotel room. I should’ve got a restraining order.

  Mel is mine to take care of and protect and I let her down.

  Suddenly, my phone vibrates in my pocket.

  Mel: Please stop calling me. I’m staying at Kit’s in the Caymans. Go back to Mary Jane.

  Me: Are u ok? Just tell me.

  Holding my breath, I wait and when she doesn’t respond, I hand my phone to Andy so he can see.

  His lips purse as he shakes his head back and forth. “Shit. That doesn’t sound like her, does it?”

  Gray matter in my brain does a reboot. Despite the fact I can be an ass, Mel loves me. “Shit. We need to trace that text.”

  Andy always knows a guy that knows a guy and I’m glad he’s got my back. Otherwise I’d get a gun and find her myself.

  So, while he makes some calls, I can’t help but picture all the horrible, evil shit that could happen. As I sit down in one of her mismatched kitchen chairs, my face goes into my hands and I think.

  “That’s it.” The ladderback topples as I spring to my feet and give her therapist a call. “Hi Doctor Kendall. It’s CJ Quinn. We met a couple months back.”

  I wait for her acknowledgment before barging ahead. “Melanie’s gone missing. I know there’s this whole doctor-patient thing, but can you tell me if she was there this afternoon? Thinking of traveling?”

  There’s a little silence, then the doc says, “I really can’t say.”

  “Please, I believe she’s in real danger. Did she say anything about a vacation? To the Caymans?”

  There’s this heavy sigh on the other side of the line and then she says, “I saw her today at noon, and no. She was planning on going right back to work. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”

  Hanging up, I’m surprised to see my brother grab a smoke, something he hasn’t done for years.

  At my raised eyebrows, he growls, and stubs it out in the sink. “I called a guy. He’s the best at negotiating ransoms but it’ll cost you top dollar.”

  “Shit. You really think she’s been kidnapped.” When I say it out loud, it becomes real and makes my stomach churn.

  “Hoping actually.” He shoots me a steely gaze with hazel eyes that resemble the ones that stare at me every day in the mirror.

  I glare back at him, knowing what he’s getting at. “She’s alive, has to be.”

  Being the oldest, he doesn’t look away, never has. “Who knows you and Mel are still together. Most everyone thinks you’re with Mary Jane.”

  I pace, glad for something positive to do. “Okay, there’s Mom who no doubt told the whole church choir who told everyone else at home. Then there’s Mel’s work. And Kit.”

  “Huh. I didn’t think you guys were close. How does he know?”

  “He’s her client. In fact, the last time I saw him, he was putting the moves on her. He believed all that shit Mary Jane was pulling. He might be trying to save Mel from me!”

  “Alright. Noted. Who else.” Andy stops typing.

  “My team and of course, Mary Jane.”

  We look at each other, both thinking the same damn thing but as I grab my car keys, my brother stops me. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To get MJ.” What the fuck?

  He grabs me by the arm and places my keys back on the countertop. “I know it’s hard, but the negotiator said to stay put until he arrives. And he said to make sure to get your alibi straight.”

  “My alibi?” My mouth drops open.

  “Chance, think. Your girlfriend’s gone missing. You’ll be the prime suspect.” His look is laced with pity.

  He’s thinking she could already be dead but she can’t be. Deep in my gut, I’d know it. Our connection is that strong. But why the hell isn’t there a ransom note?

  Andy calls the police again and explains about the email on my cell. You’d think that being the primo quarterback for the Giants would count for something but apparently not. They say we need to wait for twenty-four hours and that she’ll probably show up.

  The next few hours go by in a blur. Jack feels really bad about how he missed her by minutes and offers to ask around in the city. Me? I log into Mel’s computer, pinging every one of her Facebook friends, hoping for a hit. Then around midnight, my brother taps me on the shoulder, waking me from a quick nap.

  “My guy, Finn’s here.”

  My foot asleep, I stumble up and out of my chair, and shake hands with this clean-cut guy in an expensive suit. He’s already dropped his knapsack in a corner of the kitchen and pulled out his tablet.

  Then he looks up, directing his questions at me, thick with an Irish accent. “Tell me. Have ye had a call yet fer ransom?”

  “Does it look like it?” I grab a mug of coffee as my brother shoots me a look that says to take it down a notch.

  Whatever.

  It seems to me that’s a pretty stupid question for a supposed expert. I sip the ice-cold coffee, and spit it out in the sink.

  The dark-haired guy doesn’t seem phased by my rudeness but turns to Andy. “Have ye told the police you’ve contacted me?”

  While I make a fresh pot of joe, my brother paces and lights a cigarette, inhaling deeply. “No, not yet. They still don’t believe we have a crime.”

  “I assume you’ve checked her work, her family, her snail mail?” He holds up his tablet on some kind of video chat.

  The caffeine kicks in, I take another gulp, and more brain cells fire. “Hold on, hold on. Did you say family?”

  Intelligent eyes search my face as we face off at the kitchen table. “A victim’s mother, father, or close relative, sure enough, will often get the ransom request. Safer fer the kidnapper… What aren’t ye telling me?”

  “She doesn’t speak with her family in Iowa.” Just the thought of her dad makes my teeth clench.

  Andy hands Finn a cup of coffee, putting out a carton of milk and a box of sugar. I reach behind me to get a spoon out of a drawer.

  “Do you have their numbers?” He pulls out a top-of-the line cell phone.

  “No. But Jaz, my assistant does. Hold on.” I fumble for his contact info and then press speed dial.

  “Hello?” The voice on the other side of the line sounds pretty foggy.

  “Jaz? It’s me, CJ. Sorry to wake you, pal but Mel’s gone missing. Do you have her family’s number in Iowa?”

  “Oh my God. How long has she been gone?”

  I glance at the clock. “Over twelve hours. She went into Manhattan to see her doctor around noon and no one’s seen her since.”

  “No fucking way. I’m pasting the numbers into the chat as we speak.”

  I put the call on speaker so I can show Finn the screen.

  “Where are you? I’m coming over.” Jaz puts the phone on speaker and I hear dresser drawers opening and shutting.

  “We’re at her place in Brooklyn but right now there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Be there soon.” He hangs up.

  Finn is already dialing and looks up at me. “Explain quickly.”

  “She was abused by her father as a kid. Sick bastard. Understand?”

  He nods, then moves away to speak quietly into the phone. His tone sounds as if he’s selling insurance instead of trying to find a hidden ransom note. “I see. I see… So no one has contacted you about your daughter.”

  Shit. Another dead end.

  But Finn isn’t done as he paces. “Well then. Ye do understand that shortly the police will come and subpoena yer computer. I wouldn’t suggest ye erase anything. sir. That would probably make them think yer an accomplice. Uh huh. Uh huh… Okay. I understand… But before I go, I got Mr. Quinn here, ready to release a statement about yer past relationship with yer daughter… N
o, no, of course not. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we? Uh huh. Appreciate it. Thank ye, sir.”

  Whoa. Finn has got some serious balls. I never would’ve gone public with Mel’s past. She’d be mortified.

  Finn hangs up, checks his text messages, and flashes me a fucking ransom email. There’s just an offshore account number and an amount.

  $10,000,000.

  Damn it. Even if I sell everything I own, I’m not worth that much. Someone’s fucked up their accounting big-time.

  Chapter 10

  A headache’s in full force when I open my eyes and then close them right away due to the sickening spin. Swallowing back the bad taste in my mouth, I try again, this time focusing on one giant peony in the middle of the wall.

  With that accomplished, I try to figure out where I am. First off, I’m lying on this coverlet with way too many ruffles. This horrid floral Victorian wallpaper matches the bedspread as do the curtains and rug.

  Overall, I’d say it’s a bit much.

  That’s when I notice my wrists are cuffed overhead and there’s a gag through my mouth, making the corners sore.

  And I smell like urine. Yikes.

  My stomach grumbles with hunger pains as I piece some fragments of memories together. I recall sitting on a park bench and slurping Gelato. Dr. Kendall was there, too, along with Jack and his limo and Columbus Circle.

  No. It wasn’t CJ’s driver, it was some stranger and it was ice cream. I had just finished a therapy appointment in the city. Then…

  Kidnapped? Really?

  Tires on gravel and being uncomfortably warm come to mind. When the car stopped, I was allowed the indignity of peeing behind a bush in the woods while someone waited nearby. Then pulling up my pants, I’d prayed the three-leafed plant near my ass wasn’t poison ivy. I don’t itch so I’m probably safe.

  Despite how scary everything is, my thoughts turn to CJ and how I might never see him again. How I wish to God that I’d taken just one of his calls and told him how much I love him. Now it may be too late.

  Tears drip from the corners of my eyes, but I can’t really cry all trussed up like this. I love him so much. I wanted to have his babies and grow old together. Now I won’t get a chance to make things right with him or my family-of-origin, not that they’ll give a shit. They haven’t spoken to me since the incident last fall.