Deadly Games

by Mary Stone

  “Adoption case, you said? Didn’t you just finish one of those?”

  She rolled a pair of jeans to tuck into a corner. “Yeah. This is, um, something similar. Kid trying to find their bio father.”

  He scratched his head again. “In New York City?”

  “Yeah. Good place for people to get lost, I guess.” She laughed, but it sounded nervous as hell, so she slammed her lips shut.

  “Sounds like it. Sounds like Greg’s really giving you a lot of responsibility.”

  She smiled, more genuinely this time. “Yeah, I think he is. He actually seems kinda proud of me and seems happy with what I’ve been turning out so far.”

  Linc stood and walked over to her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “He should. You’ve given Starr Investigations a lot of good PR these past few months.”

  She pressed her face to his chest. “Right. Good PR that people remember for about five minutes. Things are a little slow right now. Greg said the phone rang off the wall the first week, but I was out with the concussion so…” She shrugged and pulled away, lifting her face for a proper kiss before returning to her packing.

  Kylie went to her dresser and picked up the airline ticket. A last-minute ticket meant she was in the middle seat, at the absolute rear of the plane. Good thing the flight was only a couple hours. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking me to the airport? It’s terribly early.”

  She had to be at the airport by five.

  He took out his phone and took a picture of the ticket, making Kylie smile. “You think I’ll lose it?”

  Linc chuckled, that low, deep sound that did something twisty to her insides. “Nah…I’m a just-in-case kind of man, if you haven’t noticed.”

  She winked at him. “I’ve noticed for sure.”

  Still smiling, he looked back at the ticket, and the smile slid away. “You ever been to New York? Big city. I’d feel better if you were going with someone.”

  Someone…like him. Ordinarily, she would have liked to have him along, but not this time. For some reason, this trip seemed too personal, and she didn’t want to be distracted by anything.

  “You been there?” she asked, heading into the bathroom to gather her toiletries.

  “Hell no. Never want to go, either. Too big for my taste.”

  She met his gaze in the mirror. “So, what good would it be if you came with me? It’d be like the blind leading the blind. I’ll be fine. I know New Yorkers have a bad rap for being unfriendly, but I’m sure they’ll help me out if I get lost.”

  “Just make sure they don’t help you out of your wallet,” he said, reaching over and batting her purse. “Keep it close to you at all times.”

  She forced the annoyed look from her expression and focused on gathering the makeup she’d need into her travel case. Ever since he found out she was going to the city, he’d been peppering her with safety tidbits, making her more and more nervous and doubtful. He was probably right to be doing so. She could be careless and forgetful at times, but she was getting better.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  She wasn’t really fine, though. Even after they made love, she wasn’t able to sleep. Part of it was because she knew she had to get up at three-thirty to get to the airport and was afraid of oversleeping. The other part was that she kept thinking, in less than twenty-four hours, she could potentially meet her father. The man of the faded photo would cross the line into a living, breathing person.

  It made her queasy, just thinking of what she’d say. What she’d do. And what would he do? Hug her? Cry? Tell her to go to hell?

  It was almost a relief when her alarm went off and she jumped into the shower. As Linc drove her to the airport, he kept drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, a sure sign that he was nervous. It only added to her worries.

  When he pulled up at the drop-off lane in front of her terminal, she leaned over the console and kissed his cheek. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll text you when I get there.”

  He caught her chin and gave her a proper kiss. “You’re gonna be in one of the biggest cities on earth, Lee. Worry is a given.”

  “I’ll text often,” she promised, then wiggled her eyebrows. “Will you text me back?”

  He was notoriously the worst communicator she’d ever known.

  Linc ran his hand through her hair. “Yeah. Maybe even more than a word or two.”

  She opened her eyes in mock surprise. “What about an emoji? Will you send me an emoji?”

  He looked horrified, but a smiled played on his mouth, giving his humor away. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  She kissed him again. “And on that note, I better go.”

  Kylie opened her door and wasn’t surprised when he opened his too. He’d never let her wrestle her own bag onto the curb. As she slipped out of the truck, he came around, pulled out her case, set its wheels on the sidewalk, extending the telescoping handle for her. Such a thoughtful man. “Do well, then come back to me.”

  Emotion filled her chest, burning into her face and making her heart pound. She reached for him and did something she been wanting to do for a long time. She took his beautiful face in her hands and waited until he looked directly into her eyes.

  “I love you, Linc. I know I’m not doing it right, and I know I’m screwed up and act crazy,” her voice grew thick with emotion, “but I’m going to try to pull myself together and be the person you deserve.”

  He swept the tear that fell away with his thumb. “I love you too, Lee. And I know I’m screwed up and act crazy,” he swept away another tear, “and I’m trying to pull myself together and be the person you deserve.”

  Kylie smiled through the tears, and hope…that awful, terrible emotion she was afraid would break her heart…filled her. She was still afraid, deeply, deeply afraid, and she’d probably faint if he dropped to his knee at this moment, but she loved him and he loved her. The words had been said. That was a start, and that was enough. For now.

  “See you soon,” she said, rising to her toes for another kiss.

  When he let her go, she found it really hard to turn away, put her hand on her suitcase, and walk to the entrance. Before she stepped through the door, she looked back, saw him leaning against his truck.

  She waved, and he waved back.

  He was so damn good. Too good for her.

  But she was working on getting better, just like his therapy sessions for his PTSD were working for him.

  This was her therapy, she realized as she went through the security checkpoint, got herself a coffee and a muffin, and found her gate. She’d find her father, probably get her heart broken just as she’d broken Barbara’s heart yesterday. Then, she’d move on.

  Her phone dinged, and she smiled when she looked at the screen.

  It was a text from Linc, and it contained one thing. A hearts-for-eyes emoji.

  She sent him the blowing-a-heart-kiss emoji in return.

  Sipping her coffee, she was still smiling when she began research on her phone, looking at all the places she was hoping to visit. Most of the hotels inside her budget were booked solid at this late notice, so she’d made a reservation at a hotel near the dive in Brooklyn where her parents once lived, and only hoped it wasn’t in a terrible area of town.

  It probably was. But it was close to Cityside Garbage Services, which would be one of her first stops. She’d also looked into the Brooklyn Diner, where her mother had worked, but the restaurant had burned down about a decade ago. That was okay. This hotel room was in the middle of the action, and that’s where she needed to be.

  She heard Linc’s voice in her head: Are you crazy? You’re just asking for trouble.

  And maybe she was. She planned to buy some pepper spray the minute she found a store since she wasn’t able to carry any on the plane. She’d packed a rape whistle and had brought the crossbody purse with the long strap so she could wear it over her head and not have it easily snatched. She was prepared.

  Of course, Linc would probably tell
her she wasn’t prepared enough. He was always coming up with dangers she never thought about. Living in his mind must’ve been a crazy experience, considering how many “what ifs” he came up with on a daily basis. It was a wonder he could still function in this world.

  Then she sighed and berated herself. She was thinking about Linc again when she needed to concentrate on her father.

  The two-hour flight to Newark International was uneventful, but when she stepped out into the taxi line, she started to wonder if she had bit off more than she could chew. Everything she knew about New York made it seem like, well, a wonderful town, as Frank Sinatra would say.

  Most of her impression of the city had been amassed by watching movies where people fell in love at the top of the Empire State Building and had amazing adventures running through Times Square or Rockefeller Plaza or under the lights of Broadway. She hadn’t really expected it to be so…cold and depressing. There were people swarming around, filling every available space. Nobody made eye contact with her. A man bumped into her and didn’t even acknowledge the contact, much less say he was sorry.

  As she moved up in the line, she started to wonder if she had made a mistake. She knew that was what Linc would’ve said. After all, there was no telling whether her father even still lived in the city. It had been nearly twenty-five years, and people moved around all the time. Maybe he’d left years ago.

  When she finally got into a cab, she heaved a sigh of relief, and then realized the driver was looking at her expectantly, a slightly annoyed expression on his face. “I’m sorry. The Piedmark Inn in Bushwick, please. That’s in Brooklyn.”

  Without saying a word, he nodded and started to drive into a sea of traffic.

  She checked her phone. It was just after ten. She leaned forward and said, “How long do you think that might take?”

  He lifted both shoulders to his ears. “Depends. Half an hour to forever.”

  The snark made her smile. It seemed that all the taxi drivers in movies had that cocky little bit of snark, and for some odd reason, the thought brought her a bit of comfort. In movies, the guy started out gruff but eventually warmed up and imparted some life-saving bit of advice to the main character that would save her life.

  So far, unless mumbled cursed words helped her out in a pinch, she was screwed.

  Kylie was excited when they went through the Holland Tunnel, but it proved to be less interesting than she’d hoped. After that, it was stop and go, all the way to Brooklyn. Kylie felt like she could’ve walked it faster, but if she had, Linc surely would’ve had something to say about it. Every block they passed looked like a bad area of town, and instead of getting better, it only seemed to get worse. When the cab driver pulled over to the curb at a run-down building, Kylie looked up at it and prayed that wasn’t her hotel.

  The driver got out and went to the back of the car to get her bags.

  Oh, god. It was her hotel.

  She stepped out and took a closer look, hoping to glimpse some of the charm she’d seen while booking the place online. She couldn’t. Where had those thick prison bars on the windows come from? There had been flowers in the windows in the picture on the internet, not bars. In fact, she was pretty sure the building on the internet was different altogether.

  She sniffed and inhaled a strong whiff of what smelled like sewage. Gagging, she looked down the street, past discarded trash of all sorts rolling around in the stiff breeze, at a gang of men who were eying her up like it was dinnertime and she was on the menu. The buildings cast sinister shadows down upon her and the rest of the street, blocking out the sun. She felt a little like Snow White in a concrete forest.

  “Thank you,” she said to the driver, handing over her cash. He didn’t respond; the second she slammed the door, he sped away from the curb, tires screeching.

  She quickly rolled her suitcase across the walk into the lobby of the Piedmark, trying her best to ignore the sixties paneled walls and lime green shag carpet, the peeling paint on the ceiling, and the strong smell of urine. It looked like the living room of a serial killer.

  Can’t wait to see what my room looks like.

  The woman at the desk had three-inch black roots under her platinum dye job, and the complexion and bloodshot eyes of a meth-head. She actually snarled at her. “What do you want?”

  “I have a reservation? Under the name of Hatfield?” For some reason, everything she said was coming out as a question, probably because she was now questioning positively everything about this trip.

  The woman looked down at something. “Yeah. Check-in’s at three, but what the hell. You’re room’s ready.”

  Kylie pushed her credit card over to the lady, promising herself she’d check online for errant charges later that night. The woman ran the card and handed her a worn key on a plastic keychain, then pointed the way to an elevator.

  The elevator was more like a death trap. At one point, it made a groaning sound and stopped, and Kylie thought she might be stuck in there, with four walls covered in gum and graffiti closing in on her, for the rest of the night. Finally, it opened on her floor, and she found her room.

  It was just as she’d thought—more sixties fixtures and a mattress so misshapen that it looked like it still had a body sleeping in it. Or dead in it. This room had an upgrade, though. Instead of smelling like cat pee, it bore the pungent aroma of stale cigarettes.

  Exhausted, Kylie wanted to lie down in bed and rest. But not that bed. Instead, she sat on the very edge of the bed and wondered if she should’ve sprung for a nicer place in Manhattan. Then she wondered, for the hundredth time, whether she should’ve come at all.

  Sighing, she got to her feet and freshened up at the cracked, rust-stained sink while looking into a mirror that had someone’s cherry-red lipstick kisses smeared on the glass. After that, she felt better. It was still early, so there was plenty of time to do a little exploring. If only what she’d seen out the window of the taxi hadn’t been so, well…frightening.

  Still, she’d be fine. Those people outside might have looked tough, but that didn’t mean they were going to mug her. Her parents had lived in this neighborhood, and they’d survived. Sure, it was a different time, but it would be okay. People were people, and in her optimistic viewpoint, mostly good. She could do this.

  She texted Linc: In the Big Apple! Just got to my hotel. So far, so good.

  Total overstatement. She promised she’d take a picture to send to him, one that didn’t make it look like she was two seconds away from getting murdered.

  She looked around. She’d have to do that later.

  Her phone dinged. He’d responded exactly as she thought he would: Stay safe.

  She went back outside to the sidewalk and looked up and down. Still nothing she could snap a picture of that wouldn’t make this place look scary beyond belief. Wasn’t there a single person in this city who didn’t look like the Big Bad Wolf? Everyone and everything seemed foreign and sinister.

  As she was trying to orient herself to the direction she needed to travel, she spotted two of the same gangbangers, possibly in the middle of a drug deal. They headed her way.

  Oh, hell no. She turned to leave but then one of them said, “Hey, mama. Where you going? Talk to us.”

  She didn’t want to be rude. But she also didn’t want to be dead. Instincts warred within her.

  Finally, she whirled, a big, bright smile on her face.

  “Hi,” she said in her gruffest voice. “Either of you know where Cityside Garbage Services is?”

  The guy in the Mets cap and a scraggly beard grinned and picked the toothpick out from between his lips. “Sure do. What’s a pretty thing like you doing looking for a place like that?”

  “Yeah,” the other said. He was bald and wore a wifebeater that showcased a sleeve of tattoos up each arm. “You don’t look like you belong there. But if you want dirty, we’ve got it right here.”

  Adrenaline shot through her system like a hurricane, causing her heart rate to pick
up by about a hundred beats. Still, she did her best to give them a nonchalant shrug, even though her whole body was trembling. “I have business there.”

  “Oh, you do?” Mets Cap Guy asked, punching his friend playfully on the arm. They both had huge biceps and Kylie’s eyes were drawn to the tattoo Mets Cap Guy had snaking up his neck and to the side of his face, though she couldn’t figure out what it was. Another one of the tattoos, this one on his hand, had a skull and said something about blood. “She’s got business. That sounds serious, mama.”

  The man with the wifebeater came up close to her, so close she could smell the cigarettes on his breath. He was looking at her, and not in a friendly way, his eyes scraping over her body like claws. His gaze stopped at her cleavage and he licked his lips.

  This was not good.

  Kylie sucked in a deep breath. “Do you mind telling me the way? I’m late,” she said primly, surprised that her voice never wavered.

  Because what she was really thinking was, These guys are going to rape me, murder me, and stuff me in a trash bin, and I’ll never see Asheville again.

  And Linc will probably stand at my grave and say, “I told you so.”

  Damn him. He was right about her. Again.

  She really did need to learn to look before she leaped.

  7

  “I can’t thank you enough,” Kylie said to the two men, Tomas and Jose, as the two of them flanked her like an entourage, delivering her right to the front door of Cityside Garbage Services. They were brothers, it turned out, and they both worked for the company as trash collectors and had just gotten off their shifts.

  She still couldn’t believe how their attitude had changed the moment she’d tapped the Facebook app on her phone and started a live video.

  “Hey, friends and family,” she’d said into the phone’s camera. “I’m live in the big city of New York and have just met two really nice men who are going to help me get to where I’m going.”