Squeeze Play

by Pierce, Nicolette

  “I knew you weren’t a cop!” Catarina growled. “Get out before I call the real cops! You’re breaking and entering.”

  My fist curled. “I’ll show you breaking.” I lunged toward Catarina but was stopped when the man caught me and twisted me into a hold. “Ow! If you’re going to hurt someone, hurt the crazy woman over there!”

  “I’m not trying to hurt you, but you’re rather strong and volatile. I can’t let you fight a defenseless woman.”

  “She’s not defenseless. Did you see how she took down Caleb?” I asked, attempting to wiggle free.

  “I wouldn’t say ‘took down,’” Caleb said, rubbing his shoulder. “It was more of a body slam.”

  “See! He’s injured from this so-called defenseless woman.”

  “That’s it! I’m calling the cops!” Catarina marched to the phone.

  “Quick! Let’s get out of here,” I said, tugging free and grabbing Caleb’s arm.

  “Ma’am, put down the phone,” the man ordered.

  “Why should I?” Catarina glared at him.

  “Because, like I said, a cop is already here,” he said, flashing his badge.

  A real badge.

  Catarina set down the phone with a nervous titter and wet her lips. “Are you always undercover?” she asked, easing back into her flirtations. She drew hair over her shoulder and licked her lips again. “It seems a shame to have an officer out of uniform,” she said with a playful pout as she slipped next to him. “If you’re not busy, maybe you can show me your cop moves.”

  A single brow rose. “Cop moves?”

  Her arm curled around his. “Cops have so many fun ways to pin a suspect down. Bad girls need to be shown the strong arm of the law. And I’m a bad, bad girl,” she said with a sultry voice.

  He may have had an arched brow, but his roaming eyes were undressing Cat.

  I nudged Caleb to leave. No reason to become witness to the strong arm of the law. I shuddered.

  Caleb must have felt the same way. He took my hand and led us out the door.

  “Halt!” the cop said before I could close the door.

  Caleb and I stopped in our tracks and peered back at the cop. A purring Catarina was wrapped around his arm, eyeing him with obvious intent.

  “Why did you come here?” he asked Caleb and then pointed at me. “And why was she spying in the window?”

  “I don’t spy!” I bristled. “Caleb and I are searching for someone.”

  “How is Cat involved?” he asked.

  “She’s not,” I said. “She’s in perpetual heat. Caleb was blindsided.”

  Catarina huffed, “I am not! I enjoy time with men, that’s all.”

  “All men. All the time,” I countered.

  “How dare you!” She lunged at me.

  “Stop!” the cop barked. “Who are you searching for?”

  “I’m looking for my PR manager,” Caleb said. “I heard she might be staying here.”

  The cop looked at Catarina. “Who else is living here?”

  Cat shrugged a shoulder. “A poker player. He’s playing the tables tonight.”

  Caleb scanned the living room and groaned. “Is this Quiet Mike’s place? Are you sponging off him?”

  Catarina’s brow darkened. “I’m not sponging off anyone. If you must know, he’s not quiet all the time! Quite vocal when I . . .”

  “Holy hell!” Caleb put up his hand up to stop her from continuing. “I don’t want to know about Quiet Mike in bed.”

  A smile played at her mouth. “He’s almost as good as you.”

  An ashy taste filled my mouth.

  “This was a wasted trip,” Caleb said, running his fingers through his hair. “I was really hoping Jessica would be here.”

  “Jessica?” The cop eyed him suspiciously. “What do you want with her?”

  “Do you know her? Is Quiet Mike her boyfriend?” Caleb asked, looking puzzled. “I know I would have remembered that.”

  I touched Caleb’s arm. “This is unit eleven. He lives in unit ten,” I said, pointing at the cop. “Didn’t you notice the number on the door?”

  He shook his head. “I was more concerned about her hands.”

  “Why do you want to see Jessica?” the cop asked again.

  Caleb eyed Cat before turning his attention to the cop. “Can we talk somewhere private?”

  “Get rid of Nadia,” Cat suggested. “I can please two men privately.”

  “Cat, give it a rest,” Caleb growled.

  “Let’s go to my place,” the cop said, untangling himself from Cat’s tentacles. “We can talk there.”

  We followed him across the hall to his place. He unlocked the door and let us in. Cat was slinking her way in when he blocked her. “Not tonight,” he said with a smack to her bottom, sending her fuming down the hall.

  He closed the door and locked his gaze on Caleb. “What’s this about?”

  “Are you Peter?” I asked.

  His hard gaze shifted to me. “Yes. Do I know you?”

  “No. Your name was on the door,” I said, matter-of-factly.

  A small smile cracked. “So it is. Why don’t we have a seat?”

  I scanned the living room. It was large and comfortable. Nothing stylish, just functional comfort. A bachelor pad. Definitely not the home of a dominate girlfriend.

  Caleb followed as I headed to a chair. He swung around and nabbed the chair first, landing me on his lap. I tried to stand but Caleb kept his arms firmly around me.

  Peter arched his brow. “Newlyweds?”

  “First date,” Caleb said with a silly grin.

  “Odd first date,” Peter said, settling into a chair across from us. “So, who are you?”

  “I’m Caleb Usher. Jessica is . . . was my PR manager. I’m looking for her.”

  “Why not just call her?”

  “She’s not answering.”

  “Did you go to her house?”

  “Yes. Two days ago. She wasn’t there. I remembered she told me her boyfriend lives here. Are you her boyfriend?”

  He shook his head. “I’m her brother.”

  Caleb looked thoughtful. “She may have told me that. It’s hard to say. I only listen to ten percent of what she says.”

  Peter barked with a gruff laugh. “Then I know we’re talking about the same woman. She can’t stop yapping. Demanding as all hell too.”

  Caleb gave a nod. “That’s when I stop listening.”

  Peter smiled and scratched his jaw. “I wish I could help you, but I’m not sure how I can. She may be my sister, but I don’t see her that often. If she’s not answering her phone and she’s not at home, then I don’t know where she could be. Is she avoiding you?” His eyes suddenly targeted Caleb. “You didn’t compromise her, did you?”

  Caleb rubbed his temple. “If I was trying to get her in bed, I wouldn’t bring a date.”

  Peter shrugged. “That feline across the hall wouldn’t mind.”

  I groaned. How did we circle back to Catarina?

  “Jessica stole Caleb’s money,” I blurted.

  Peter’s jaw clenched. “What do you mean she stole your money? Did she forget to pay back a twenty? How much does she owe you? I’ll cover the amount until she returns.”

  Caleb shifted in his seat, causing me to shift too. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Sure it is. Just tell me how much and I’ll reimburse you. I know the economy is tight. Every twenty is needed in these hard times. Are you that gambler she keeps yapping about? The tables are probably bone dry now, right?” he asked, pulling out a wallet from his pants pocket. “So, how much do I owe you?”

  “Thirty-two million.”

  Peter and I choked at the same time. No wonder Caleb wasn’t worried about a one-million-dollar wager. He had more than enough to cover the loss. If he can make that kind of money, I want the million he owes me! Here I’ve been stewing at the peanut table while he’s making millions.

  A thirty-two-million-dollar loss!

 
That must feel horribly gut-wrenching, I thought.

  “Thirty-two million?” Peter glared. “Is this a joke?”

  “No. Check the police report if you want. She cleared out my accounts and disappeared.”

  “You reported it?”

  “Of course he reported it,” I snapped. “A person can’t just steal money and waltz away. And now I know why you didn’t care if you lost the wager,” I turned on Caleb.

  He blinked. “You knew I had the money to cover it. But I didn’t enter the wager to lose. I wanted you, but you were being so damn stubborn. The only way I could get close to you was by wagering.”

  “I’m not stubborn,” I argued, crossing my arms.

  His head cocked to the side. “You’re not stubborn?”

  “No.”

  Damn, I must be. I’m angry and I don’t even fully understand why.

  “Listen, I hate to break up a lover’s spat, but I’m heading to the station to see if I can track down my sister. I’m sure this is a big misunderstanding. Little Jess can be a tad abrasive, but she’s not a thief.”

  “I hope it is a misunderstanding,” Caleb said as we stood to leave. He slipped a card from his pocket and handed it to Peter. “Please call if you find her.”

  “A poker player with a business card?” he asked, taking the offered card.

  “Jessica’s idea.”

  He chuckled. “She’s got you trained. You think she stole your money and you’re still walking around with business cards because she insisted.”

  Caleb’s mouth twitched into a smile. “I guess I’m easily trained.”

  “Don’t let this one hear that,” Peter said, jabbing a thumb in my direction.

  Chapter 9

  “You’re not kissing properly!”

  “I’m not kissing at all!” I barked.

  Mark and I stood toe to toe.

  “I know, but it should look like you’re kissing your true love. Your face is all puckered and distorted.”

  “Maybe that’s because my back hurts from dipping you so many times.”

  He gasped as his hand flew to his chest in outrage. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  Frankie’s eyes widened as he rushed over. “She didn’t say that,” he soothed. “You check the scale every morning. And remember what you made us for breakfast?”

  “Green power smoothies. Good for the complexion and helps cleanse the body. A healthy body is a happy body,” he sang, regaining a portion of his pep.

  “Exactly. How can you be fat when you drink something so healthy? It’s Nadia who has the problem. If she’d exercise more, she could dip a three-hundred-pound man without breaking a sweat. And you’re only half that . . . or less,” he added before Mark could protest.

  My hands flew to my hips. Frankie hauled me to the side before I could protest too.

  “We’ll stop practicing the dips for now,” Frankie whispered. “Just let him believe he’s as light as air. I nearly heaved trying to suck down that green sludge this morning. If he thinks he’s fat, he’ll make us drink it all day long.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. As long as I can skip dipping. My back is killing me and I’m tired.”

  “Oh?” Mya cooed as she popped up next to me. “And why would you be tired? Was someone out too late last night?” Her wide blue eyes begged for information.

  “Yes. Caleb and I were out late,” I stated.

  “And?”

  “And I’m tired.”

  “Because . . .” she prodded.

  “Because he ravished me all through the night,” I said.

  Mya’s hands flew up to cover her gaping mouth.

  “I’m kidding,” I said, breaking into a smirk.

  We had come close. But until I figure out which man is for me, no one is getting lucky, which is really starting to suck.

  Every time I kissed Caleb, Greyson’s face appeared and I felt horribly guilty. And the kiss the previous night with Greyson made me feel guilty because he wasn’t Caleb. The whole situation was like a double-edged sword. Even if I manage to navigate across the blade without getting cut, I’ll still get jabbed in the end.

  “In other words, you haven’t made up your mind yet,” Frankie said.

  “No. Unfortunately not.”

  “What’s she whining about now?” Muffin asked, bulldozing through our makeshift stage with Piñata in tow.

  “Can you slow down a bit?” Piñata grumbled. “It’s like trying to keep up with a bull seeing red.”

  “Just be thankful I’m taking you with me. It’s not every day I let a man tag along. You’re lucky.”

  His eye twitched. “Yes. I’m so lucky that you abducted me and then forced me into marriage just so I could tag along with you to the beauty salon. You know the game is on, right?”

  “No need to thank me,” she said. “And you’ll like this.”

  “Why? Are you getting a wax?” he asked. I could only assume he wanted to see her yelp in pain.

  “That’s too painful. I prefer the au naturel look.”

  “Yes, the wooly mammoth look really gets a man going,” he drawled.

  “Are you getting your hair done?” Mya asked, baited by any conversation that involved a beauty salon.

  “My hair’s perfect,” she said, patting her frizzy corkscrew perm. “I’m getting a massage.”

  “Then why are you dragging me along?” Piñata asked with a distinct whine.

  “I thought you might like to watch a woman rub oil all over my naked body,” Muffin said.

  Piñata paled as his eyes widened.

  “See, I knew you’d like it,” Muffin said with a wide grin. “I thought you might have a voyeuristic side. I’m okay with it. In fact, it’ll spice things up.”

  “S-spice things up?” Piñata stuttered. “We’re spicy enough! We’re so spicy I need a roll of Rolaids and a bottle of Pepto to fall asleep.”

  “If you were doing it right, you’d be so exhausted you wouldn’t need Rolaids and Pepto.”

  “Doing it right?” he blustered, his round face darkening to a deep crimson.

  “I know. That’s what I’m saying,” Muffin said. “We’ll work on it. You have potential.”

  “Potential?” he blustered again.

  “Yeah. You may actually be a keeper. Most of my husbands couldn’t even get it up. Not that I’d want them to.”

  I watched as Piñata attempted to contain his anger. It was a visible struggle, and I felt his pain. How many times had I wanted to strangle Muffin? Poor Piñata had it worse. Not only was he stuck in a marriage with her, she desired aggressive mating.

  “Escape while you can,” Frankie whispered to him from the side of his mouth.

  “What’s that?” Muffin asked Frankie. “You’re not trying to give him bedroom advice, are you? That’s the last thing I need. He’s confused enough as it is without adding your advice on top of it.”

  “My advice?” Frankie blinked. “What are you trying to say?”

  “Confused?” Piñata barked.

  “If anyone needs advice, it’s Nadia,” Muffin continued without thought to the brewing hostile environment.

  “I don’t need advice,” I argued.

  “We’re wasting time,” Mark interrupted. “Practice makes perfect, and Nadia needs a ton of practice.”

  Muffin tugged Piñata. “We don’t want to be late for my massage.”

  Piñata’s eyes rounded as she dragged him toward the door.

  We watched in stunned silence as Piñata’s flailing arms disappeared from view.

  “He’s a goner,” Mark sighed, shaking his head.

  I scanned the Texas Hold’em tables for Caleb. Maybe he’s at an Omaha table, I thought as I walked around the room. Even in a roomful of men and a sprinkling of ladies, he’s easy to spot. A handsome man with carefree caramel locks and a wide, easy grin can be a novelty at the dollar tables.

  A hand slipped around my waist. “I’ve been looking for you, kitten,” Caleb murmured in my ear.
>
  “I’m sorry I’m late,” I said, turning to face him and quite pleased that I did. The sexy smile he sent was enough to keep me content for the rest of the day. “It took Mya an hour to pick out this outfit. And that was after a brutal practice with Frankie and Mark.”

  He peered down with a sly grin. “This outfit made finding you easier. The green brings out your eyes. I’ll have a killer run today with all the players so happily distracted.” The back of his fingers grazed over the low neckline. “Will you come over tonight?”

  I shook my head. “You know I have plans.”

  “A man can hope.”

  A smile escaped. “Let’s find a table. I only have a couple of hours.”

  He scanned the room. “Over there,” he said, pointing to a table two rows away. “There are two seats open. Let’s see if we can sit.”

  “Just be kind. I know you need money, but leave me with a few dollars. I have a wardrobe to buy . . . again.”

  “Don’t think you can outplay me?” he taunted.

  “I can. But you still have luck on your side.”

  “Maybe we should make this interesting.”

  I eyed him. “Interesting?” Oh, no. Not again. I don’t think I could survive anymore wagers with Caleb.

  “I want to see you tonight. If I win more at the table, then you cancel your plans.”

  “I made a promise to never wager with you again.”

  “What if I sweeten the stakes?”

  “You already owe me a million.”

  “This wouldn’t have anything to do with money.”

  Nothing to do with money? Drawn like an ant to a picnic, I sighed, “Name your stakes.” I had made myself a promise to never wager with him again, but I could at least hear the stakes.

  His dazzling smile grew ear to ear. “Whoever wins the most amount of money in two hours gets a favor from the loser. No questions asked . . . or refusals.”

  “A favor?” I asked. “That’s a broad range. Are these innocent favors or . . .”

  He laughed. “That depends on the winner. And that winner will be me,” he said, tapping my nose as his smile grew smug.

  The gauntlet was tossed.

  Damn him!

  * * *

  A fizzy pink drink was placed next to me. I eyed the fruity concoction before looking up at the cocktail server.