Skirting the Ice (The Bannister Brothers #3)

by Jennie Marts

  “Getting into your place was easy. You still keep your hide-a-key in the same spot. I was waiting for you outside, but I’ve been traveling for two days, and it was hot, and I needed a shower. I just got out a few minutes ago, then when you walked in, I thought I’d give you a little ‘welcome home’ surprise.” She brushed her hair over her shoulder and gave him a pouty look that he assumed was her attempt at seduction.

  Her attempt failed. Miserably. Just seeing her face made his stomach churn with nausea. He wanted nothing to do with this woman.

  “You thought wrong,” he told her. “What happened to California and your big plans?”

  Her shoulders slumped, the pouty lips gone as she avoided meeting his eye. “Yeah, so California didn’t work out like I thought it would.”

  No shit. He could have told her that before she left and saved her the trip. He couldn’t believe he’d ever dated her—what had he been thinking?

  “The competition for modeling and acting jobs is ridiculous,” she whined. “Everyone there thinks they have talent.”

  Present company included.

  “So, I came back to Colorado. I missed you, and I missed my dog.”

  A sinking feeling settled in his gut, but he pushed back his shoulders. “She’s not your dog anymore. She’s mine.”

  She took a step closer, smiling up at him as she ran a finger down his arm. “Why don’t we just call her ‘our’ dog? Listen, I made a mistake, I never should have left her—or you. I didn’t realize how great we had it, and I want us to get back together. You know—try again.”

  “Forget it,” he said, pushing her hand away. “I don’t want to get back together. I never should have gotten together with you in the first place, and I’m certainly not interested in trying again. Besides the fact that you walked all over me and treated me like crap, you stole my favorite jacket and my cell phone charger, and you also left me with a butt-load of unpaid vet bills.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought that you gave me that jacket, and I’m pretty sure that was my phone charger.”

  Huh? Was this chick crazy?

  “None of that matters now.” She lowered her chin, forming her lips into a pout. “What matters is that I’m back now. And I already told you, I know I made a mistake.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  “I never should have left.”

  “Leaving wasn’t the mistake. Thinking that you could come back to me was.”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “Okay, fine. We don’t have to get back together. We can just be friends. And really, I just need a place to stay for a few days—a few weeks at the most.”

  “Well, good luck finding a place like that. Because it’s not going to be here.”

  Fire sparked in her eyes as her expression changed from pleasantly pleading to angry and defensive. “Fine. Then I’ll leave. But I’m taking Molly with me. She’s really the only reason I came back anyway.”

  “Really? That seems strange to me since her name is Maggie. I can tell she must be really important to you, since you can’t even remember her freaking name.”

  “Maggie. Molly. Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m still taking her.”

  “Like hell you are.”

  “She’s my dog.”

  “No, she’s not. She’s my dog. You gave up the right to her when you threatened to take her to the Humane Society and failed to pay her vet bills. You didn’t spend any time with her, didn’t feed her or play with her. You didn’t even want her.”

  “Well, I want her now,” she uttered, sounding like a petulant child.

  “Tough. You’re not taking her. Besides all of that other stuff, I love her. So it doesn’t matter what you say, she’s staying with me.”

  Kali plopped down on the sofa. “Fine. Then I’m staying, too.”

  “Are you high? What the hell kind of screwed up logic is that?” Why was he not getting through to her? What was it going to take? “Kali, listen to me. The dog is staying, but you’re not. You’re leaving now. And I don’t want you to ever come back.”

  “I’m not even dressed. And I haven’t done my hair. Do you want me to leave like this?” She started to pull the towel off again.

  He held his hands up and turned his head to avert his gaze. “Fine. You can get dressed, do your hair, whatever. Then pack up your stuff because I want you gone.”

  She tucked the ends of the towel back in and sauntered past him as if she’d won the round.

  “And don’t try stealing any of my stuff this time.”

  “What am I gonna take? Your nerd-cream?” she sneered before shutting the bathroom door.

  Wise decision.

  He sat down at his desk as he heard the hair dryer whir to life. Maggie curled protectively at his feet as he turned his computer on. She rested her long snout on his foot then looked up at him with devotion unmistakable in her brown eyes.

  His heart melted. He may not have picked her out, but he loved that silly little mutt, and no redheaded harlot was going to take her away from him.

  Murphy’s laptop sat next to his keyboard, a painful reminder of how much he was missing her.

  He opened the laptop, entered her information, then scrolled through the various scans and searches he’d set in place to try to ferret out any clues as to who was stalking her.

  He also checked the social media statuses of the three men they suspected for the last two days.

  They’d already ruled out Carroll, but he checked anyway and was glad to see a selfie of him and his referee wife munching popcorn at a local baseball game the night before.

  Gary’s profile didn’t show anything new, but he’d been tagged in a photo of his coworkers having appetizers at Applebee’s, also the night before.

  That left Ron Cruz, the creepy coworker. But Ron’s profile page had a picture of him, his daughter, and another woman splashing around on a beach in Mexico. The captions made it clear that they’d been there on vacation the last three days.

  What the hell? How could they all have alibis for their whereabouts over the last few days?

  There was only one way that could happen—none of them were Murphy’s stalker.

  Which meant her stalker was someone they hadn’t even considered—someone whose name they hadn’t given to the police.

  So Murphy’s stalker was out there, and it was someone they weren’t even looking into.

  And once his parents left for the day, Murphy would be on her own. Unprotected.

  He sighed and reached for the phone.

  Scrolling through his contacts, he swallowed his pride as he stopped and tapped on the one name he didn’t want to call.

  Chapter Seventeen

  It took everything Jack had to make that phone call. To dial the one who took Murphy from him the first time.

  And not just call him, but call and ask him for a favor.

  “Hello,” the familiar voice answered.

  Jack swallowed back the bile filling his throat. “Hey Rich, it’s Jack Bannister.”

  “Hey, Jackie. What’s up?”

  He hated that nickname, hated everything about making this call, but he loved Murphy. And that’s what mattered.

  It only took a few minutes to explain his favor, and misery filled Jack’s chest as Rich readily agreed.

  He hung up the phone, memories of the past filling his mind and squeezing at his heart. Memories of one of the best, and one of the worst, days of his life.

  It had been in the nineties that day, so he and Murphy were studying in the basement of his parent’s house. It was cooler down there, and Jack remembered the way her smooth leg felt pressed against his as they sat side-by-side on the old sofa.

  He remembered everything about that day. Remembered the way her hair smelled, the way she pressed the pencil to her lips when she was stuck on a problem, remembered how she’d seemed to laugh at every dumb joke he’d made.

  She had one last test to take to pass her summer school class and it was scheduled for the next mo
rning, so they’d been working all afternoon and into the evening. He could tell her attention was straying from algebra and equations by the way she kept teasing him and trying to get him to forget about the lesson.

  Then she’d taken his notebook and held it behind her back, laughing as she dared him to take it back. He’d reached his arms around her, grabbing for the notebook, his heart hammering in his chest as his hands brushed her waist.

  He’d tried to pull back, but she’d grabbed his hands, holding him there, his chest a mere inch from hers. He remembered the way he’d tried to avoid her eyes and looked down instead, straight into her cleavage. The pale skin of her full breasts burst over the lace trim of her pink bra as her breath seemed to catch at his closeness.

  He could almost feel the heat in his cheeks, the burn of embarrassment as he jerked his head up, ready to see the scorn in her eyes. But he saw no disapproval. Instead, her gaze had been trained on him, her eyes wide and expectant.

  Every second of his teenage life had been waiting for this moment. This instant when all he had to do was lean forward and touch his lips to hers.

  Every nerve cell in his body had been firing wildly. He could remember the way his heart felt like it was so big his chest couldn’t possibly contain it. And he remembered that every part of him was shaking or sweating.

  This was Murphy Ryan, the girl of his dreams, the one that he’d fantasized about every night for the past three years, imagining this exact moment when he would have his arms around her, her face close to his, and her soft lips parted, waiting expectantly.

  He remembered the way his lungs had tightened, how he’d been terrified that he’d have to use his inhaler instead of kissing her, how he’d been frozen in place, wanting to lean forward, but too scared to move.

  And in typical Murphy fashion, she’d been the one, the one that recklessly leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

  She tasted like cherry lip balm and cinnamon gum and heaven. Yeah, he’d been fairly certain that Murphy Ryan’s lips were equivalent to what heaven would taste like.

  And even though it was the best moment of his teenage life, it had lasted only about five seconds.

  Five perfect seconds before the basement door flew open, and Owen and a group of his friends had clamored in, laughing and carrying bowls of popcorn and cans of pop.

  He and Murphy had jumped apart at the sound of the door, and he was pretty sure that no one had witnessed their stolen moment.

  The group of kids flopped down on the sofa around them, scooting Murphy’s books out of the way as they made room for the snacks.

  His brother had been dating a cheerleader, and he lounged casually in the recliner, the girl on his lap, laughing as she tried to toss popcorn into his mouth.

  Jack remembered the jealousy he’d felt, the feelings of inadequacy he’d suffered whenever he was around his older brother’s friends. They were always nice to him, it wasn’t that, a few of the girls even teased and flirted with him, it was the way he felt about himself.

  Rich had been there that night and had squeezed into the space between him and Murphy and dropped his arm around her shoulders. He was already tall, and his arms were muscled and tanned from daily football practice. He had a nice car and legions of girls lined up to date him, but everyone knew he had his sights set on Murphy that summer.

  Within minutes, someone had suggested they play Two Minutes in the Closet, a version of Spin The Bottle where the person that the bottle pointed to after the spin had to go into the closet with the spinner and spend two minutes alone.

  Sweat soaked Jack’s arm pits as the first kid spun then laughed as he took off with the blond girl on Jack’s left.

  The air seemed to have been sucked from the room as Murphy was up next. She laughed, joking with Owen, as she spun the pop can, the closest thing they had to a bottle. He held his breath as the can slowed, then stopped, pointing directly between him and Richie.

  Time stood still, and Jack’s breath seemed to have stopped. All it would have taken was for him to move, to lean forward, to say something, anything to claim that he was the one that the can was meant for.

  But he didn’t.

  Instead, Richie had let out a cheer then jumped up, grabbed Murphy’s hand, and led her to the closet, a smug smile stretched across his stupid face.

  She looked back, searching Jack’s face, her eyes practically begging him to step in.

  But he couldn’t. He didn’t.

  He just watched her walk away.

  Watched her walk into the closet with Richie, the soft click of the door closing behind them roaring in Jack’s ears.

  Why hadn’t he done something? Anything?

  That moment would plague him for years.

  Because he didn’t do anything. He’d missed his chance. And all he could think about was Murphy in the dark with that cretin that should have been him.

  He remembered the raw pain, the physical trauma he’d felt in his chest, and he’d remembered that panicked feeling of needing to get out of that room, of not wanting to see their faces when they opened the closet door.

  He jumped up from the sofa, tripping over the blond girl’s legs as he rushed to get out of the basement. Owen called to him, but he didn’t stop. He ran up the stairs and out the back door, yelling at his mom that he was going to the library.

  Most moms probably would have questioned their kid’s excuse of going to the library, but his mom knew that he was a frequent visitor and didn’t question it. Or maybe she did, but he didn’t wait to find out. He’d shot out the back door and run down the street.

  But instead of going to the library, he’d slowed and walked toward the neighborhood elementary school, collapsing onto a playground bench and sitting there for hours, until he was sure the rest of the kids had gone home.

  He never saw Murphy again after that night.

  He’d never even heard if she’d passed her test the next day. Or if she’d even taken it. Not until she’d told him about it last week.

  Her dad had come back that night and picked her up and she never came back to her grandpa’s house. His mom had told him that her dad got a new job and they were moving somewhere out East, but he didn’t want to hear about it. Didn’t want to hear about her.

  He’d heard enough from Richie, who’d spent the rest of the summer bragging about how he’d gone to second base with Murphy and how she’d been all over him in the closet.

  He’d tried to hold onto the moment that he’d had with Murphy, had relived the kiss again and again in his mind, but Rich’s bragging had screwed with his head and made him doubt if the kiss had meant as much to her as it had to him.

  But he knew that the time he’d spent with her the past few weeks had been real, and she’d certainly kissed him like she meant it now.

  He’d spent years praying he could go back in time and change the events of that night. Either that, or wishing he’d see her again and have another chance to get things right with her.

  It seemed his prayers had been answered—he’d been given another chance.

  But nausea churned in his stomach as he realized that his second chance was about to end the same way his first one had.

  Murphy opened the front door, praying that Jack was the one who had rung the bell. Praying that the whole scene with the redhead had been a mistake and that he hadn’t lied, hadn’t been seeing someone else at the same time that he was seeing her.

  There had to be an explanation.

  But it wasn’t Jack at the door. Not even close.

  She couldn’t have been more surprised to see Rich standing on her doorstep, a pizza box in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he said, walking in without waiting for an invitation. He set the beer and pizza box on the kitchen counter and gave a low whistle. “Wow. You guys have really been working on this place. It looks great.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

  “Thanks,” she s
aid, her voice muffled against his shoulder as she disentangled herself from his grasp. “But what are you doing here? And what’s with the pizza and beer?”

  He picked up a can and popped the top, then took a long swig. “I was gonna bring a bottle of wine, but I figured you were more of beer kind of girl.”

  That showed how much he knew—or didn’t know—about her. Not that she liked beer anyway, but he didn’t even make an effort, showing up with cheap beer in a can. “But what are you doing here? Do you have a break in the case?”

  “Nah.” He held a beer out to her, but she shook her head. “Nothing’s panned out yet. We haven’t been able to put any of the guys you suspected even in Denver. We’re waiting to get the video footage from the ice arena, but without more of a description, we’ve got nothing to really go on.”

  “So we just have to wait until he comes after me again?” The thought struck fear in her heart.

  “Yeah, I guess.” He shrugged, opening the lid to the pizza box and pulling out a slice. “But don’t worry, babe, that’s why I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you on my watch.”

  She shook her head. What was he talking about? And why was he calling her ‘babe’? “I don’t get it. The force sent you over to keep watch on me—like surveillance.”

  “No, I’m not even on duty—it’s my night off. But Jack called me and said you were going to be on your own tonight and asked me to come over and keep you company in case that creep tries anything.”

  Jack called Rich? Seriously? Jack must be really gone then.

  He never would have called Rich if he wasn’t serious about being out of her life. A pit of despair filled Murphy’s stomach. She’d really blown it.

  She should have never called him a coward. She should have just kept her mouth shut. Now she’d really lost him.

  “I appreciate the gesture, Richie, but you don’t have to stay. I’m sure I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not really very good company tonight.” Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and her heart leapt at the possibility that it was Jack.