His phone buzzed, making his heart leap a little. What this shitty day needed was Rachel. Talking to her would definitely improve his mood.
But when he looked down at the screen, he saw a number he didn’t recognize. He ignored it—and the disappointment—and refocused on his work. The phone stopped only to immediately start up again. And again after he ignored it for a second time. Somehow, the consistent buzz of his phone echoed louder in the quiet room than a ring would have. Gabe picked up the phone and looked at it for a second before giving into temptation and accepting the call. “Gabe Torres.”
There was silence for a beat before a throat cleared. “Hi. Gabe. Uh, wow, sorry. I know I called you, but I guess I hadn’t thought of what to actually say when you answered.”
“Well, you can start by telling me who’s calling,” Gabe said.
“Oh, shit. Yeah, it’s, uh, it’s Cole Barnes.”
Gabe leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Why the fuck did I answer the phone? “What can I do for you, Cole?”
“I…” a large sigh whooshed out of the man. “I just wanted to apologize. Make amends for being such a dick.”
Well this… wasn’t what Gabe had expected. He hadn’t heard from Cole in a couple months and had hoped the guy had disappeared off the face of the earth. But he sounded sincere, so while Gabe was skeptical, he figured there was no harm in hearing him out. “Okay,” Gabe replied because he wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Seriously, man, I was out of control. I don’t even know why I was so fixated on getting back into the club. It was like once the thought popped into my brain, I started treating it like a crusade. Maybe I figured I could focus on that instead of what a disaster my life was becoming.”
Gabe opened his mouth a couple of times, but couldn’t make a coherent thought form on his tongue. He finally forced out a, “You all good now?”
Cole sighed again. “I’m getting there. It’s going to be hard to stay in recovery after all the years of partying I’ve done, but… I need to do it. I don’t want my kids to remember me as some asshole who fucked up their lives. They deserve better. Better than me for sure, but I’m what they got stuck with, so I need to get my shit together.” There was a hint of a joke in his tone when he said the last sentence, but there was also a sadness.
“It’s cool, man. I hope it all works out for you. No hard feelings.”
“Wow. Really? I thought for sure you’d wanna put my head through a wall after what I did.”
Gabe laughed. “I was pretty annoyed. Threatening to go public about the club was pretty shitty, but at least you didn’t go through with it.”
The silence on the other end of the phone made Gabe increasingly anxious as it stretched on. “You didn’t go through with it, right?”
“I was sure you would’ve heard by now. The guy at All Access seemed excited about it.”
“All Access? As in All Access Sports? Are you fucking kidding me, you asshole!” Being sensitive and forgiving was forgotten as Gabe let his anger pour out. “What the fuck is your problem?”
“Oxys, cocaine, and whiskey. Among other things,” Cole replied with the serene voice of someone who’d already confronted his demons and decided it was time to move on to the next phase of his life.
It pissed Gabe off. “That’s great that you’re so calm, dickhead. You may have sunk this whole place. Everything Mike worked for, everything he sacrificed—”
“You think you’re telling me something I don’t know? Something I haven’t regretted since I went into treatment?” There was a hint of steel behind his voice that hadn’t been there before. Seemed Cole still had some fire in him after all. “The only thing I can do is apologize. Whether you accept that or not is up to you.”
Gabe groaned and pushed a hand through his short hair. “I have a contingency on my forgiveness,” he finally said.
“What’s that?”
“I can forgive you if you promise to never talk to me again. You are one pain in the ass I never want to feel again.”
“Are there other pains in the ass you do want to feel?” Cole asked, humor lacing his voice.
“Fuck off, man,” Gabe replied, though he knew his smile could be heard in his tone.
Cole laughed. “No problem. I can definitely fuck off. And for what it’s worth, if they haven’t sent that reporter woman to talk to you yet, they probably figured I was too unreliable a source to build a story on.”
The back of Gabe’s next prickled. It was a silly connection for his brain to make. There’s no way it could be her, but he couldn’t help asking about it anyway. “Do you know what the reporter’s name was that they were supposed to send?”
“Eh, I’m not sure. She left me a voicemail once, but I deleted it. Began with an R I think. Rebecca or… Renee? Fuck, I don’t know.”
Gabe’s stomach dropped. “You don’t happen to remember a last name, do you?”
“Nah, I’m not sure he ever even said. And if he did, there’s no way I’d remember it. I could probably ask if—”
“No, no,” Gabe interrupted. “It’s cool. I’ll just keep an eye out for a woman with a name beginning with R.” The words felt sour on his tongue. There had to be a logical explanation for all this shit. But he couldn’t think logically while he was still talking to Cole fucking Barnes. “Thanks for the apology, man. Best of luck.”
“Thanks, Gabe. You too.”
Gabe hung up quickly and dropped his phone onto his desk. He propped his elbows on it and let his head drop into his hands. This couldn’t be happening. There was no way Rachel could be the reporter they sent to investigate the club. She’d never do that to him.
Would she?
Because the more Gabe thought about it, the more he convinced himself that he shouldn’t be so sure. Rachel had shown up in Philly right around when the shit was Cole was going on. And she’d never actually told him who she was working for, had she? Or did she and he just didn’t remember? Gabe wracked his memory trying to remember if she’d ever said, and concluded that she hadn’t. And what did he really know about her? They hadn’t spoken in ten years. She could be a serial killer for all he knew. Well, maybe a serial killer was a stretch, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that she could be an accomplished liar who was getting off on messing with him. Just because he didn’t think it was true didn't mean it wasn’t.
It was all so fucked up. He snatched his phone up and went to her number. He found her name. There was nothing to do but ask her. She’d tell him the truth, right?
But if she’d been lying this entire time, she could easily lie to him now. And if she wasn’t from All Access, she may never forgive him for thinking she’d do that to him. He thought about what to do for the rest of the afternoon, completely ignoring the work he promised to himself he’d get done.
Finally, a plan came to him. It was time to investigate the investigator.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rachel had been stressing out over this damn story. The more she uncovered, the more people she talked to, the less she wanted to write it at all. There was no way around it. This story was going to destroy her relationship with Gabe. Her interview with Jamie Privy had solidified the fact that, not only was there a club, but it was definitely located in Philadelphia. Then seeing Gabe with the cards…. It all led Rachel to a conclusion she didn’t like one bit.
Rachel could refuse to write the story. She knew that was a completely plausible option that would get her out of the mess she found herself in. But she also knew that would be career suicide. Because for as nice of a guy Rick was, he demanded professionalism. Not to mention the fact that he had his own bosses to answer to. If she didn’t come through after all of the resources they’d spent keeping her in Philly, she’d be out on her ass with a trail of bad references chasing after her. And she’d spent most of her career chasing this story. It would’ve basically reduced the last ten years to nothing.
She hated to think that she was cho
osing her job over Gabe. It made her sick to know that, by writing this story, that’s the decision she was making. But the relationship with Gabe was new. There were no guarantees there. He could decide tomorrow that he was over her and move on. While part of her understood how unlikely that was because the same part of her knew Gabe—knew what kind of man he was and how he felt about her—another part screamed at her to get the job done and accomplish a goal that had been ten years in the making. It had taken years of slogging through copy and writing fluff pieces that ended up on the cutting-room floor. Dozens of bullshit assignments and failed leads had led her to this story: the one that could make her entire career.
Not writing this story would feel like a slap in the face to everything she’d fought through and for. It would be like reaching a finish line and then turning around and running back the way she’d come. It would be a failure, and there’d be no one to blame for it but herself.
Rachel didn’t know how to choose between the two most important things in her life. So she decided to go with what seemed to be less of a gamble, and hope that when the bottom fell out of this thing with Gabe, that he’d one day be able to forgive her. Though she knew that was probably a long shot.
She also knew that she needed to tell him. There was no way she could let him find out when the story hit the paper. He was at least owed that much. Today. She’d tell him today. Before she had time to chicken out.
Rachel grabbed her phone off the coffee table to call Gabe, but it dinged in her hand before she could pull up his number. Coincidentally, it was a text from Gabe.
Hey, you around? I thought you might want to come over and I’ll order us a late lunch/early dinner.
A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach made her nauseous. For the first time since she could remember, she didn’t want to see Gabe, even though she knew she had to. She’d just walk in there and tell him—like ripping off a Band-Aid. Then he’d kick her out, and she’d be depressed for a while. Maybe years, but it wouldn’t be anything she didn’t deserve.
Sure, she typed back. I can be there in a half hour. Does that work?
Perfect, he replied.
She threw the phone on the couch and practiced some deep breathing exercises. She could do this. Would do this. She grabbed her stuff and went downstairs to hail a cab. Traffic was picking up in the city, but she still managed to get there a few minutes early. By the time she made it to Gabe’s door, he was standing at it waiting for her.
“Hey,” he said with a soft smile that was a little dimmer than the one he usually shone on her. He opened the door wider so she could walk in, and then closed it behind him. “I’m sorry to do this, but Jace just called and asked if I could help him at the hospital. Aly has a new patient that’s evidently a baseball fan.” He maintained his smile, but seemed to be avoiding her eyes, though it was probably because he felt bad canceling.
“I know you wanted to come to my volunteer outings, but I don’t think this is a good time for that,” he explained, which made Rachel feel like a jerk that Gabe would think she’d want to gawk at him while he helped a sick child.
“I totally understand,” she replied.
‘It’ll take me no more than two hours,” he continued. “I thought that, since you came all the way over here, you’d maybe wanna hang out and wait for me? Then I can take you out for dinner to make it up to you.” Gabe said the words in such a soft way, it made her heart flutter. The fact that he wanted her to wait for him was endearing.
“Sure. I’m free for the rest of the day, so I can definitely hang out.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and smiled at her again. “Great.” He picked up his key ring and looked down at it. “I called for a car, so I don’t need my keys.” He held them out to her. “Why don’t you hang on to them in case you decide you want to step out for a bit? That way you can lock up and get back in.”
She gingerly took the keys from him. Warning bells sounded in her mind as the journalist in her knew what this could mean. He was leaving his keys with her. She’d have access to whatever these keys opened. And maybe he had another set of keys for the club, but there was still a chance. “Okay,” she said. “Thanks.”
He nodded. “No problem. See you in a couple of hours.” Then he opened the door and was gone, leaving her alone in his apartment with his keys.
She looked around as she let her fingers rub over the metal. The main issue was—aside from the fact that she was a horrible person for even considering this—she didn’t know exactly where the club was.
Or did she?
She pulled her phone from her pocket and went into her email to find the one Jared had sent. The one she’d never opened because she was a good person who didn’t want to pry into the personal business of her boyfriend. The truth was, she was way beyond that now, probably had been from the beginning. She’d been lying to him from the start. She was the villain in this story. She may as well go all the way.
She skimmed the information that included a credit history and his social security number, until she came to properties he owned. And there’s where she found an address for a property in Philly that wasn’t the one she was currently standing in. She grabbed her purse and Gabe’s keys and ran out the door to put the final pieces of the puzzle into place.
She tracked down a cab and gave the driver the address. As he drove her away from Gabe’s part of the city and into a decidedly more rundown section, she looked down at the email and then out the window, her brows furrowing in confusion. This can’t be right. “Are you sure this is the way to 578 Espiar Street?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
About ten minutes later, and in an even more decrepit part of the city, the cab pulled over to the curb. “Here we are,” the driver said.
Rachel looked around. They were in front of a building that had an alley leading down the right side. The windows were boarded up, and it looked like it hadn’t been occupied in years. “Can you wait?” she asked.
“Absolutely.”
Taking a deep breath, Rachel pushed open the car door, and walked up to the building. There was a door, but it was blocked by wood that had been nailed over it. Pursing her lips, she wondered what the hell this place was. She walked to the corner of the building and looked down the alley. With one last look at the cab, she started making her way down the narrow, concrete space. Even though the sun was still high in the sky, the towering building on either side of her plunged the alley into shadow. It was creepy and scary and she wanted to be out of there yesterday. But still she walked until she arrived at a large fire door. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered to herself.
She held the keys up to the door and began trying them in the lock. Finally, she got to one that pushed in easily, but she stopped herself before turning it. Tears sprang to her eyes, and as she tried to blink them back they began to fall down her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? She was here. She’d already committed the ultimate betrayal. What difference did it make if she went inside? The damage was done.
A shudder worked through her as she stood there, holding the key in the lock with a trembling hand. “Fuck,” she whispered.
Rachel wasn’t sure why this was the thing that felt too far, but it was. This was the hurdle she couldn’t—wouldn’t—jump. She hadn’t known it until right this second, but she could not do this to Gabe. Because everything she knew now was still hypothetical. Without seeing a club, there could always be plausible deniability that there was one. But if she went inside…
Granted, she could always deny she’d gone in. She could go take a look around, find out the truth for herself to satisfy her curiosity. She’d always know she could’ve written the story, but that she’d chosen not to.
For Gabe.
But she owed him so much more than that. She owed him not to completely obliterate his life.
Letting out a deep breath she hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding, she made her decision. She went to slide the key out o
f the lock when a voice spoke behind her.
“Congratulations. I guess you’ve finally found what you were looking for.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Gabe, I—”
Gabe interrupted whatever she was about to say by grabbing the key from her and opening the door himself. He’d hoped this wouldn’t be how it all played out. He hoped that she’d just hang out in his apartment and wait for him and it wouldn’t be true that she was investigating him and the club.
He’d worried that even if she was the one investigating the club that she wouldn't know where it was and he’d still have doubts about who she was. But as he’d followed her here in his car—using his spare key—it had quickly become clear that he didn’t have to worry about that. It also became impossible to deny that everything he thought he knew about Rachel was about to collapse around him. “Go ahead,” he said as he gestured her through the doorway.
She didn’t move, tears streaming down her face as she looked at him, the dark hall, then back at him. “Please, let me explain.”
“What’s there to explain? You came here for a story. It’s in there,” he told her as he pointed inside.
She stared at him for a second before she walked into the hallway that led to the club. It was lined with boxes and skids, intentionally left to look like an abandoned building so that even if someone got this far, they likely wouldn’t see a point in going farther.
Gabe flicked on the light. “It’s at the end of the hall through another set of fire doors.” He was working hard to keep his voice even, controlled. Letting her know how angry he was, how hurt, wasn’t something he was willing to do. He’d shown her enough of himself already, and gotten nothing but lies in return.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, her voice almost a whisper. “You don’t have to show me anything.”
“Don’t act like you gave me a choice. You brought us here, to this. There’s only going forward from here.”
She swiped at her cheeks with her hand before making her way down the hall. When they arrived at the other set of heavy fire doors, Gabe unlocked them and pushed them open. He paused, steeling himself for what would come next. The reality setting in of what he’d cost everyone associated with The Players’ Club, simply because he’d fallen in love with a girl who’d only pretended to love him back. He heaved the doors open and held them so she could walk through.
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