Playing House: A Black Widow Novel (Dark Secrets Duet Book 1)

by Christa Simpson

  Everyone in the room, myself included, erupts into applause.

  “She was bang on with those moves, and right when you think it can’t get any better, in walked Clarisse with those long, flexible legs to steal the limelight.”

  The girls are all nodding their heads, making me feel proud and empowered.

  “You all have a little something different in you. Your task for tonight is to go home and figure out what that thing is. Here at the Fox Shoppe we deliver fantasies,” Savari explains. “While one man will love Candy’s hair, another won’t. Where one man will be attracted to Clarisse’s self-sufficient personality and dark sophistication, another will despise it. I’ve been in this business long enough to know that a successful dance club has more than one weapon. I need a whole belt of you if we want this business to stay at the top of the night scene.”

  Everyone is so spellbound by everything Savari does and says. I wonder when she became such a great public speaker.

  “With every change of the song, I want my next girl to steal the audience and make every man and woman in the place forget about that last girl. I believe that we’ve found a few stars among you today.” She glances at the stage and winks at Candy, but Savari—or should I say Miss Fox?—refuses to make eye contact with me.

  I can see this is going to be fun.

  “Tomorrow, I’d like to see what you think makes you unique to the stage,” Savari says with pause for dramatic effect. “Thanks for coming out today, ladies.”

  The group erupts with applause, not knowing that the hard part is just around the corner. Savari flips up a page on her clipboard where she had been jotting notes the entire time. A few agonizing minutes of silence pass before she starts hollering off names.

  “Tonya, Tammy, Kristina, Nikki, Abbie, Lori, Jocelyn, and Cassandra, please form a line over here.” Savari points toward the wall.

  At first, I can’t believe she hasn’t called my name, but then I realize Candy too is standing with me and four other girls of differing heights and abilities.

  “If I haven’t called your name, please follow Derek. He’ll show you to the fitness center where you will find a copy of your new meal plan, exercise regime, and scheduled choreography, assuming you make it through the remainder of your training with The Fox Shoppe.”

  “As for the rest of you,” Savari starts, turning her eyes on the ladies whose names she called. “I would like to see each of you in my office. Please come in when I call your name.”

  Savari promptly disappears from the room while Derek helps me off the stage. I bend forward to slip my shoes on, hanging on to my shirt, as he leads the lucky ladies to the fitness center. Candy scowls at me, showing her jealousy in true colors, as she helps herself down from the stage and stomps past me.

  “Tonya,” Savari shouts, causing the adorable girl with an edgy haircut but a much too sweet smile to hurry toward Savari’s office.

  I’m the last of the chosen women to step out of the room, leaving the other girls fidgeting with their fingernails in waiting. It doesn’t bode well for them. I’m almost sure they’re getting the axe.

  When I enter the fitness center, I’m surprised by how bright and clean it is. I pick up a nutritional calendar and give it a quick once over, wondering if I’m a lost cause after all. The plan requires that I eat three to four square meals a day. I haven’t been doing a good job of that lately. Since I left New York, I’ve been living off of coffee, and when I do eat something, it’s been chips and chocolate or ice cream sandwiches.

  “Hey, Derek,” I say, pulling him aside to whisper privately to him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Sure you can. I believe in you.” He pats me on the back like we’re old pals and leaves me with a smile.

  I exit the back door of the Fox Shoppe feeling nervous, and it has nothing to do with the darkening alleyway and my lack of companionship. I sure hope I can pull this off. I have a strong bark, but have I bitten off more than I can chew? I guess it doesn’t much matter. This is my last chance. Without Savari, I’ll be living in the streets within a matter of weeks. I have no other choice but to do this. My entire life depends on it.

  30: And so we meet again

  I wake in a cold sweat, and it’s like it’s happening again. Everything I’ve done comes rushing back to me. My hands feel wet with blood. It’s my punishment for murdering them. I relive that night when that gun fired, the weight of Finlay’s death bearing down on me. I remember Zayne lying on the ground in a pile of blood and bones. Then I remember Devlin bleeding out beneath me.

  No!

  I blink my eyes repeatedly, and Zayne and Devlin disappear, but the vision of Finlay sitting in bed next to me doesn’t go away. He’s sitting there with the barrel of a gun to his ear.

  I’ll do it. Don’t think I won’t.

  Blinking away that final vision, I pull on a pair of old sweat pants and tie my hair into a tight knot. I flash a glance at the alarm clock and realize I fell back asleep after turning off my alarm. It’s not like I had to get up, but I did want to get into a healthier routine, and that includes getting back into my early morning exercise plan. It sure beats the crap they have me doing at The Fox Shoppe.

  I blow out a harsh breath as I pull on my running shoes. I need to get out of here and go for a run to clear my head and shed some of this tension in my neck. I try to focus on my last pleasant image of Zayne, the morning before he was taken from me, but I can’t seem to drum up a happy image today. Being away from our house in New York has done exactly what I feared it would do.

  My good memories are fading.

  I pull on a hoodie, flip the hood over my head, and plug earbuds into my ears so I can listen to my favorite running music. I turn it up loud, thriving on the pain of my bleeding ear drums and the fact that I can focus on something else for a change. I warm up with a light jog, quickly picking up the pace. Oxygen rips from my lungs as I sprint down the sidewalk at full speed in hopes of stripping my head of all thoughts entirely.

  When I squeeze my eyes closed, I see him—Zayne—at least what was left of him after the car ran him down. It makes me feel like I’m standing in the middle of an arena, and a team of hockey players are repetitively slapping pucks at my stomach. That’s how much it hurts to remember Zayne in those last moments, right before I lost my baby. It’s easier to forget—to tuck those memories away for private moments of remembering only—but the memory of Zayne will never leave me... until the unthinkable happens.

  The image of Zayne transforms into broader shoulders, thicker legs, and winking dimples. If it stopped there, it would be okay, but then there’s the unforgiveable attraction. Only Parker Varela could draw out such inexplicable sensations in me.

  That man. This City. I knew I’d find him here eventually, but what are the odds that we would meet up in that racy club? How likely was it that we would walk into the same shitty little corner store at the same time? More importantly, what are the odds of us crossing paths again? The thought brings an undeserved smile to my face as screeching tires bring me back to reality.

  I jump backwards with my hands raised to the sky, just barely moving out of the lane of speeding traffic in time to save my face. Fate has a cruel way of reminding me of my sins.

  What is wrong with me? I stand here on the edge of the curb, my life swirling around me in a rush of ignorance and suggestion while another car trims every thread on my shirt. Parts of my body ache with the reminder of what it feels like to be hit by a car. What if I just did it? I could end it all right now. One step into the street and my life would be over. No more Black Widow.

  No more Parker Varela.

  I stare straight ahead, trying to get my gut to override my fear, when a new reflection appears behind me in a passing car window. I spin around to see whether this is all in my head, but he’s still there, in the distance. It takes a minute for my breaths to catch up to the irregular pattering of my heart. Parker snares me with a glance, numbing the pain and helping me forge
t.

  He’s standing very still with his hands buried in his jean pockets. I wonder whether he’s truly there or just a figment of my imagination. I want to call out to him but don’t know what I’ll do if he answers back. Sweat teases over my forehead. The brisk wind hardens my nipples. I turn back toward the busy street, leaving my previous decision alone and focusing on a new one.

  Run like hell.

  I wait for an opening and sprint across the road, running as far away as I can, pushing my body to its limits, until my legs scream, and I have nothing left in me. As soon as I stop, I peel over in a fit of mental and physical exhaustion. I squeeze my eyes closed and pinch off tears that are trying to publicize my issues. Now is not the time for that.

  I dig deep for air and walk it off, taking a different route back to my motel. I assess my surroundings when I notice a man turning the block behind me. If I didn’t know any better, I would say Parker is still following me. This is not happening. This is not happening.

  This is not happening.

  I try to ignore him as he gains on me, but when I glance back at him, he snares my eyes with that familiar smile again. The way those dimples strike me and the way his eyes sweep over my rear end remind me how long it’s been since I’ve let a man like him pleasure me. My body burns for touch. No. This is not real. I’m making this up. I refocus on breathing and stare at the ground. When I look up, he’s gone from the sidewalk.

  I knew it!

  “Am I catching you at a bad time?”

  “Shit!” I jolt upright while he smirks about catching me off guard. “Do you always sneak up on people like that? You could’ve given me a heart attack.” I force a scowl when he moves closer to me. Does he really need to smell my armpits? I gasp for air, now starved of it, seeing how close he is to me. A phantom side stich has me bending forward again; at least that’s what I tell myself. It’s all I can do to avoid his mesmerizing eyelashes.

  “The only person having a heart attack here is me.” Parker doesn’t disguise his thorough assessment of my ass. “You really shouldn’t be sticking that booty out there,” he informs me, making me stiffen my spine and spring upright.

  “Want a piece of advice?” he asks, without waiting for my answer. “You’re not bulletproof. You will get yourself into trouble in this neighborhood with that thing.” He nods in the direction of my rear-end like it’s an amusement park ride. The erotic tone in his voice makes my body tingle in places that haven’t had enough attention lately.

  I clear my throat and say, “This is nothing. Seriously, I’m wearing stinky sweats and a pair of old runners. I’m at no risk in this neighborhood at this hour.” The only person I fear will make trouble for me here is him.

  With a quick glance, I reassess my surroundings. When I look back, I find the darkness in his eyes hasn’t subsided. I need to find a way to get that dangerous look out of eyes. I don’t like the places it makes me tingle.

  I swallow hoping to moisten my dry throat. “I don’t remember you being a morning person.” I’d say anything to get him to quit looking at me like that.

  “I could say the same thing to you right now,” he answers, looking to my mussed up hair.

  Little does he know, I’ve been out every day this week at this hour, trying to stick to Savari’s rigorous training schedule. In fact, my next stop could almost be pegged to the minute. I race up and down the same sidewalk every day and then speed walk to the park around the corner. I would usually saunter around the grounds three times, leaving me enough time to cool down before I hit the small coffee shop for my morning dose of caffeine. I can’t believe how predictable I’ve become.

  Has he been watching me all this time?

  That thought forces me to meet his eyes again. Damn, but those are naughty Varela eyes. What is he doing here? I know he feels the electricity between us. He shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here.

  I open my mouth and snap it shut before saying, “I really should go.”

  He lifts his eyebrows, like he’s an innocent man. “I thought maybe we could grab a coffee, first. You quit returning my calls. I worry about you.”

  “Yeah. Not ready to go there right now.”

  He reaches out for my hand and holds it. He strokes my knuckles with his thumb, once. “I know why you sent me off. I get it.”

  I feel frozen in place, but shake my head with downturned eyes to break free from the grip his passion has over me. Does he know, really? My late husband would be rolling in his grave if he knew the feelings I started to have for his brother. I read on the internet that this is a normal response after the death of a loved one. I was trying to fill a void. That explains how I felt then. What about now?

  Parker warming my bed would be my greatest mistake. I’m still wearing my husband’s ring on a chain around my neck when I picture all that man lying naked in my sheets with pink cheeks and a glistening chest.

  Parker’s grip tightens on my hand, making muscles across my body squeeze and release. His lips move closer toward mine, his breath rushing over my skin. I should stop him, but I don’t look up, my eyes remaining half-mast, my entire body curious to see where this crazy ride will take us.

  His lips brush gently against mine. It’s an innocent kiss—over before it even started—but it takes my breath away. I soon realize that’s all he has in store for me. My eyelashes flutter upwards until our eyes meet. He’s got me in a daze.

  A dimple appears on his handsome face. “Hey, you still there?”

  I gasp for a breath, my eyes flashing away to stare at the place on my hand where the small gold band used to sit on my ring finger. I jam my fist into the pocket of my hoodie and tear my other hand away from him, my shock wearing off in an instant.

  “Look, I can’t do this right now.” I briefly look for traffic and jog across the road as soon as it clears, shouting back to him. “I’m sorry!”

  I decide to cut across another road and get back on schedule. I can’t let this ruin me. I can’t let him ruin me. That’s exactly what would’ve happened if I had stuck around to see where it would take us. Since I’ve shown up in San Francisco, things have changed for the better. I have a friend, the prospect of a good-paying job, and a respectful body guard. I’m still staying at a shitty motel, but that changes today. I will not let this set me back.

  I jog to the park and make two passes around the pathway, deciding to skip the third pass. That dose of caffeine can’t come soon enough today. I enter the café, take my usual seat near the window, and order a coffee. “A large, please.”

  I’m still struggling to answer why I feel the way I do while I unlatch the necklace holding my wedding band and dangle it before my eyes to inspect the cheap gold ring. With a sigh, I clutch the small circle in my hand and slide it into my sweater pocket. I know it’s time I face the fact that Zayne is never coming back, but why now? Why today?

  I flatten my hand atop the table and stare at my splayed fingers, glaring at the naked band of skin where my ring used to sit. My finger looks empty without it.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” the waitress cuts in.

  I shove my empty hand into my pocket as the waitress lowers my coffee to the table, the hot liquid sloshing over the side of the stained mug.

  “Thanks,” I mumble sarcastically as the girl walks off.

  I dry up the mess with napkins from the dispenser and glare at my coffee, as if that will cool it faster. I need that good stuff in my mouth. I lean forward and inhale the delicious fragrance, as it rises up to my nostrils. This diner is the one place I can relax. I’ve appreciated this seat every day this week, because it’s tucked off to the side, overlooking the park. Everyone always leaves me alone, here. I wouldn't be so lucky today.

  I’m blowing on my drink when my eyes flash forward. What the fuck? Parker is coming through the door. He avoids my gaze but I don’t stop watching him. He saunters right toward me.

  Parker doesn’t sit at my table, but he might as well have. He takes the seat at a small table
next to me, which is just as close if not closer. I turn away, my heartbeat taking off in a gallop.

  What is he doing here?

  I stare into the window and ignore the reflection, but even with my back to him, I can feel his eyes on me.

  Is he trying to intimidate me?

  I swivel around and scowl at him. He whistles a non-probing tune, with his hands clasped on the table in front of him. He’s ignoring me. As if he’s waiting for someone else to join him.

  Yeah, okay.

  I continue to stare at him, knowing the act all too well, until I connect with a startled chestnut gaze.

  “Oh! Fancy meeting you here,” he says.

  “You followed me.” Could he be any more obvious?

  “I did no such thing.”

  I don’t for one second believe the incredulity in his facial expression or his choice of words. “Really?”

  “I may have seen you taking your seat, but this happens to be my favorite place.”

  I roll my eyes and brush a hand across my sweaty brow. “I can't believe this.”

  “If I'm bothering you, I can move.” He makes to stand up, and I instantly feel the emptiness rushing toward me.

  I lift a hand to stop him. “No. This is a public place. I can go.”

  He nods toward my full cup. “Don't leave on my account.” He then pulls out his cell phone and resumes ignoring me.

  I huff. Fine. I don’t mind watching him through the reflective glass, anyway. He is easy to look at, but it brings memories back to me that I thought I’d lost forever. I take the first taste of my coffee and try to sink into relaxation. “Mmm,” I sigh.

  I hear his chair scrape across the floor, and soon Parker’s sitting in the chair across from me.

  “Uh, can I help you?” I ask crisply.

  “You really think you’re going to get away with that?”

  “With what?”

  “Mmm,” he moans, pulling out his best feminine mockery.