Played (Trapped Book 3)

by Beverley Kendall

  “Okay okay, I’ll spend the night. You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll need to get some stuff from home first.”

  “Great. Then I’ll see you in a bit.” I can hear the smile in her voice.

  As soon as I hang up with her, my phone rings in my hand, acting like a shot of adrenaline to my system. I’m so startled, I nearly drop it.

  I hastily press it to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Hi Erin, it’s Judith from 9-1-1. How are you doing?”

  Judith is the 9-1-1 operator who answered my initial call. She stayed on the phone with me until the police arrived on the scene.

  I run my fingers through my hair. A glance around reveals a crowd growing on the sidewalk, people emerging from their cars to take in the spectacle, most with cell phones in their hands as they videotape the kidnapper being led to the back of one of the many police cars blocking the road. “Better now that the police are here.”

  “I can certainly understand that. The police are going to need you to go down to the station to give a formal statement. Is that okay with you? It’s just routine stuff.”

  “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “Great. Now do me a favor and tell me the make and model of the car you’re driving, and if you’ll just sit tight for a bit, Sergeant Hopkins will be over to have a few words with you.”

  After I give her the information, I get out of the car to stretch my legs and make myself more visible. Yellow caution tape crisscrosses three of the four lanes of Roswell Road, keeping the immediate area clear of onlookers. My heart squeezes as I watch the ambulance carrying the little girl drive away, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

  Soon after, a uniformed police officer, who appears to be in his thirties or forties, approaches. I push off my car and bring myself to my full height.

  He greets me with a brief nod and a warm smile. “Are you Erin Bancroft, the one who called in the sighting?” His accent says he’s not from these parts. Georgia attracts a lot of transplants from the northeast and he sounds like he’s one of them.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “I’m Sergeant Hopkins. Good work. No telling what would have happened to that little girl if not for you.”

  “I did what anyone else would have done. I’m just happy she’s alright.”

  “Did the 9-1-1 dispatcher explain that we’re going to need you to come to the station to give a statement?” he asks, his brown eyes squinting under the glare of the sun.

  “Now?” I thought I would have a chance to go home and change out of my work clothes. As in the clothes I intended to change into when I got to Paige’s.

  “If it isn’t a problem. It’s good to do it when things are fresh in your mind.”

  He’s right. The best thing for me to do is get this over with. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “I’m sure it’s been a long day, but we’ll try not to keep you long.” He offers me a sympathetic smile.

  “Right. Thanks.”

  He leaves me holding his card with his contact information. I’m gratified to see the police station is not far from my house. Even better, it’s on the way.

  I’m busy putting the card in my purse, when I hear my name. I look up to see Josh and Mitch striding quickly toward me, and before I can react, Mitch is pulling me into his arms. “That’s from Paige.” His arms loosen then immediately tighten around me again. “This one’s from me.”

  “I don’t get a hug from Bree?” I tease, never so happy to see his gorgeous face.

  Chuckling, he gives me another hug and then Josh is pushing him aside to take his place, a move I’m not prepared for. The feel of him.

  God, he smells good, and being in his arms after so long is hell on my starved senses and weakened defenses. I inhale him like a drug and allow myself to lean on him.

  “You might want to wait for backup before you go off saving the world,” he murmurs against my hair.

  Maybe if Mitch wasn’t here, I’d have let him hold me a little longer but I’m mindful of the company and acutely aware that Josh isn’t mine to hold, to lean on. He’s with someone else and I can’t let myself forget that. Friends is all we’re ever going to be. It’s with that knowledge clanging around in my head that I step out of his embrace and create a physical distance.

  They’re both dressed in worn blue jeans and short-sleeved, graphic tees, appropriate for the warm spring weather.

  “You didn’t have to come. As you can see, I’m fine,” I say, gesturing to my very much intact body. I’m wearing a rayon, wrap dress and strappy heels, which is fine for kidnap prevention by car. Not so much if the thing had ended up in a foot chase.

  Mitch’s mouth kicks up in a dry smile. “Believe me, we had to come.”

  I’m not sure whether he’s talking about the pressure he received from Paige or Josh and I’m not sure I want to know.

  Josh, looking gravely serious, says nothing.

  “I have to go to the police station,” I inform them.

  “I’ll go with you,” comes Josh’s rapid-fire response, his tone unequivocal. “We can take my car.”

  “But—” I look around until I spot his car parked about fifty yards away on the shoulder of the road. “What about my car?”

  “Mitch can drive it back to his place.”

  “Paige says you’re staying the night with us,” Mitch interjects.

  I turn to Josh. “You don’t have to go with me.” The moral support would be great but…it’s Josh and I feel like a drunk being offered a drink knowing how bad it is for my sobriety.

  Josh’s jaw tightens. “I’m going.” His expression instantly softens as he captures my hand in his. “Erin, you’re still shaking. You shouldn’t be driving.”

  I look down at our joined hands, his larger one enveloping mine. He’s right, I’m still shaking. He squeezes gently and my hand continues to tremble.

  “I’ll take your car and you go with Josh.” Mitch’s words end all debate.

  Outnumbered and outvoted—and frankly too tired to fight them both—I find myself turning over my keys to Mitch and allowing Josh to lead me to his car.

  And despite the day I’m having, I keep having to remind myself that he’s with someone else.

  Giving an official statement doesn’t take long. I’m in and out in less than an hour. I do learn a few things while I’m there. First, the little girl’s name is Crystal Hall. Second, she’d been taken from the playground earlier that day. She was being watched by a baby-sitter, who said she’d turned her back on her for a moment. When she turned back, Crystal was gone.

  And lastly, the kidnapper, Daryl Ray Cobb, is Crystal’s mother’s ex-boyfriend. They recently broke up and she has a restraining order against him. Crystal isn’t his child, but the police believe he took her to get back at the mother. They don’t yet know what he planned to do with her. Whether he intended to harm her or use her to get the mother to come to him.

  I leave the station both shaken and relieved, thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong and feeling unbelievably lucky that they hadn’t. Josh keeps me close to his side, his hand on the small of my back, the weight of it warm and reassuring. I wish I had the strength to push him away but with everything that happened, I simply don’t have it in me.

  “What if I hadn’t gone to get gas? What if I hadn’t followed him?” I say to Josh once we’re back in his car and on our way to my house, where I have to pick up some stuff to take to Paige’s.

  “Well, thank God you did.” He reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze and I’m instantly flooded with a traitorous warmth.

  I flash him a tremulous smile and say softly, “Thanks for coming with me. Having you there helped.”

  He regards me solemnly. “You don’t have to thank me, Erin. We’re friends, remember?”

  I let out a dry laugh. If our history is an indicator, there’s only two gears to any relationship between us: fighting and fucking.

  His mouth curves into a half smile. “What’s so funny?”<
br />
  “I’m not used to you being so nice to me.”

  He compresses his lips, his expression as if he’s carefully deliberating his response. He finally settles on, “You know that’s not true.”

  Heat climbs up my neck to suffuse my face. Something in his voice suggests he’s talking about the fucking not the fighting. “I’m not talking about that.”

  “Neither am I. Or at least I don’t only mean when we were having sex.”

  I delicately clear my throat, my gaze straying to his profile. “How can you say that? We constantly fought.”

  He turns onto the road close to my home. “Nope. I tried to be nice to you. We fought because you always gave me a hard time.”

  I let out a huff. “Yeah, right. The problem was you thought you were God’s gift.”

  His laugh is low and amused. “Are you saying I’m not?”

  Feeling a smile threatening, I turn my gaze toward my house as it comes into view and mutter, “Out to prove my point, I see.”

  “I thought we’d already established you liked me plenty.”

  No need for me to respond to that. We’d both liked each other enough for the marathon rounds of sexual gymnastics we’d engaged in at his apartment.

  On his bed.

  And the sofa.

  And against the wall in the hallway.

  And on the counter in the kitchen.

  And that one time in his shower.

  My hand is gripping the door handle by the time the car comes to a stop in my driveway. “I just need to grab a few things. I won’t be long.”

  With that, I throw open the door and make a dash for the house. In less than two minutes I’m sliding back into the passenger seat, my leather sleepover bag packed with all my essentials.

  Shaking his head, Josh laughs huskily as he pulls back onto the road. “That was fast.”

  “I told you I wouldn’t be long,” I reply, slightly winded. Had he been timing me, I couldn’t have moved faster, tearing up the stairs and through my bedroom as if I were running Olympic-level track.

  I could attribute my haste to not wanting to keep him waiting as opposed to my fear of him coming inside to wait for me. Which would put us alone in the same house for the first time in over a year. And since I’m still a recovering addict where he’s concerned, that couldn’t happen. Not when he’s being so nice to me and might not push me away if I somehow ended up throwing myself at him.

  “When most women say it, they don’t mean it.” His tone is sage. “I thought maybe you didn’t want me coming in.”

  He may sound nonchalant but that isn’t idle musing on his part.

  “Why wouldn’t I want you to come inside?” I ask, adopting his insouciance.

  He shoots me a glance, eyebrows raised. “I don’t know.”

  Oh, he knows.

  “Unless you don’t trust me around the silver. Or around any of your other valuables,” he adds.

  It’s delivered in one of those sly double entendres that has my sex clenching something fierce. I’m tempted to ask him to clarify what he means by other valuables but that’s a dangerous road to venture down.

  I hastily drop my eyes from his too-knowing gaze only to be confronted by the view of his jean-encased thighs. I keenly remember what they feel like against mine. I remember the dusting of hair that covers the lean muscled mass of golden skin. And the way they flex and move when he’s inside—

  Stop!

  I give my head a mental shake to rid my mind of those memories. Swallowing hard, I jerk my gaze up and away. The view out my window is lovely this time of the year. Look, more crape myrtles.

  I take a breath and clear my throat. “I figured you’d be more comfortable waiting for me in here than standing in the hall.” As I hadn’t even been gone five minutes, he can’t argue with that.

  “Your folks still away?”

  I nod, still not looking at him. “For another two weeks.” It’s not worth mentioning that they’ll be gone a week later, this time on a two-week vacation to the South of France.

  “I’m glad you’ll be staying at Mitch’s tonight.”

  The evening’s event comes rushing back at his words. The Amber alert. The kidnapping. The little girl. The forty minutes we just spent at the police station.

  “Me too.”

  “So how’s the job going?” Josh asks after a pause. The forced lightness in his voice and the reason for the sudden change of topic is transparent. He feels the tension building between us just as I do.

  “Good. Great. My co-workers are really nice and my manager’s the best.”

  “I hear a but in there.” I don’t have to look at him. I can hear the teasing smile in his voice.

  “I’m writing lifestyle articles. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just not what I’m most interested in.”

  “That’s right, you want to cover the hard news.”

  I’m surprised he remembered. I’d mentioned it once while we were in bed, naked and sated. Pillow talk as it were. I thought his questions was him merely filling time until the next round, but it looks like he was actually listening.

  “Not hard news per se, just news in general.” Being a beat reporter isn’t for everyone and eventually, you want more. “All I know is there isn’t one male lifestyle reporter. I wouldn’t even mind covering sports.”

  “With you being a hero and all, that’ll probably come sooner than later.”

  “Very funny.” I’m not a hero. Not even close. I’m one of the lucky ones who got a chance to give back.

  The ringing of my cell phone is a welcome interruption. I retrieve it from my purse and check the identity of the caller.

  Crap. Or maybe not such a welcome interruption. I dart a furtive look at Josh.

  He must have caught the unease in my expression because he responds by quirking his eyebrow and asking, “You gonna answer that?”

  Since there’s no legitimate reason I shouldn’t—this niggling sense of guilt and betrayal is beyond misplaced and completely inappropriate—I tap the answer button and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hi, Evan.” My voice is too high. Too bright. Downright bordering on Chloe-ish. I hope I’m not laying it on too thick, but it’s either that or I’d be whispering like a spy on a covert mission.

  The change in Josh is instantaneous. It’s apparent in the sudden stiffness of his posture and the hardening of his jaw. And the look he casts my way confirms why I didn’t want to take Evan’s call in front of him.

  “Hi, Erin. You busy?”

  I peek over at Josh. I’m not sure he’s breathing but his jaw is working like a train axle, and he’s white knuckling the steering wheel. “I’m actually running late. I’m on my way to my girlfriend’s.”

  “Well, I don’t want to keep you. I just wanted to check and make sure we’re still on for tomorrow night.”

  “Yep, we’re still on.” I’ll tell him about the kidnapping and stuff when I see him. Now isn’t exactly the time.

  “Great. Looking forward to seeing you.”

  “Me too. Bye.”

  I slip the phone back in my purse and wait. And as luck would have it, I don’t have to wait long.

  “Why didn’t you tell him you were with me?” Josh asks as if he isn’t doing his best impression of strangling the steering wheel.

  But I’m ready for him. “Because I didn’t want you to have to explain it to Chloe. And I certainly wouldn’t want her getting the wrong idea.”

  “And what idea is that?” he asks calmly.

  “That I’m sneaking around with her boyfriend behind her back.”

  “She knows we’re friends.”

  I stare at him and let out a snort of disbelief. “Yeah, but not of the former frenemies-with-benefits kind.”

  Josh is silent the entire time he turns onto Paige’s street and then slowly pulls into the driveway. My instinct tells me to make a quick escape the second he stops the car. However, curiosity has my butt planted firmly in place. H
e needs to explain his reaction to my call with Evan.

  I watch as he braces his forearms on the steering wheel and angles his head toward me. Never have his eyes looked so blue beneath the thick veil of his lashes. “I think you didn’t tell Evan you were with me for the same reason I haven’t told Chloe about us.”

  Whoosh. My stomach does one of those rollercoaster drops. “Because it’s none of his business?” I ask innocently. It isn’t often I get to throw his words back in his face.

  “Touché.” He smiles a self-deprecating smile.

  “Okay, Josh, what are you getting at?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and I realized I can’t keep seeing Chloe anymore.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Erin

  I’m not going to lie, I’ve dreamt of this moment. That Josh would either say something like that to me or act on it.

  The reality of it, though…is not what I thought it would be. Initial elation collides violently with cold hard reality, sobering me up faster than a double shot of espresso.

  “Why?” And for some reason, that one syllable, three letter word doesn’t flow easily off my tongue.

  Don’t say me. Don’t say me.

  I know, I’m surprised by my reaction too.

  At first Josh seems surprised, his eyebrows shooting up and his regard intent on me. After a moment, his gaze drops to his hands gripping the wheel. “Because she deserves better.”

  What did I tell you? Cold hard reality is cold. “I see. So if she deserves better than you, who’s the lucky girl who does deserve you?”

  Laughing soundlessly, Josh straightens and looks over at me. “I mean she deserves a boyfriend who’s into her, committed to her, and obviously that’s not me.”

  I have to give him credit for his attempt at unflinching honesty. “And you’re only realizing that now?”

  The sound that emits from his throat is dry and humorless. “Seeing you again made me realize...” His voice trails off.

  “Made you realize what?” I can’t help the hint of urgency that enters my voice. I need him to say it. Nothing between us can be left to interpretation. I need to know where I stand with him.