Hard Target (All or Nothing Book 1)

by Rhonda Laurel

  “Actually, I do have an errand to run.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s important.”

  “We can get a specialist to do it for you. And to be honest, I’d rather you stay here until we have a schedule hammered out by the end of the day. What do you need?”

  “It’s something I need to do myself.” He’d love to dive into his bed the minute everyone left, but he had to track down his wallet.

  “He’s breaking protocol already.” Parker shook her head. “What’s so important that you have to go out?”

  “I think I left my wallet at Bliss last night.”

  “Bliss? The strip club?”

  “Hey.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the finest upscale gentlemen’s club in Dallas.”

  “So if they let you in last night they made an exception?” Parker taunted.

  “Bliss is a pretty wild scene,” Sam added. “You do anything that we have to worry about?”

  “No. It was all pretty tame. I was there to babysit the guys. I’ve been leading by example these days. Showing them you can enjoy yourself without becoming a public spectacle. And Maurice doesn’t get into trouble when I’m around.”

  “Read that somewhere, did you?” Parker smiled tightly.

  “I see your talks with Seth are paying off.” Sam gave him a nod of approval.

  “Yeah, he’s like a little annoying, righteous bird in my ear reminding me that my actions have consequences that affect my life and the franchise.” He smirked. “J.J.’s the other bird in my ear, but it’s usually telling me things like he’ll wring my neck if I mess things up.”

  “That sounds like my husband,” Sam replied.

  “Sam, can I talk to you for a moment in the living room?” Parker motioned her head in that direction.

  “Sorry, Sis.” Sam picked up the evidence bag that had the clock and note. “I have to get this to our lab and have a chat with Regency’s liaison at the police department. You two enjoy Bliss.”

  “Thanks again, Sam, for everything.”

  “Anything for my favorite non-retired quarterback. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re in good hands with Parker.” Sam smiled reassuringly.

  “How about it, Bruiser?” He flashed a devilish grin at Parker and rubbed his hands together. “You up for a visit to Bliss?”

  “I told you not to call me Bruiser,” she growled.

  “I know. That’s when I knew I’d found the perfect nickname for you.”

  “Ground rules.” She clenched her jaw. “We go in and discreetly ask around for your wallet, period. Then we’re out of there.”

  “What’s your rush? It may turn out to be a very interesting afternoon.” Riley winked at her.

  * * *

  Parker gripped the wheel tighter as Riley chirped away on his cell phone. Of all the things she could be doing right now, taking a pampered bad boy quarterback to a strip club was not at the top of the list. He’d lost his wallet. Whatever. He’d probably spent every dime he had and maxed his credit cards at the joint. She knew his type. He loved to indulge in hedonistic pleasures until a health scare or some woman wielding a knife, threatening to cut his junk off would scare him straight.

  In the brief time he’d been in the car, he’d made a total of ten calls, each more obnoxious than the next. Everyone was congratulating him on his win yesterday, which was to be expected. But he didn’t have to be so arrogant about it. According to him, he whipped around the field simultaneously throwing and catching the ball, while blocking tackles and finally sprinting down to the end zone for a touchdown.

  She cringed when he told his publicist he had to go because Aubrey was on the other line. Aubrey must have been his latest fling. There wasn’t a day that went by when some gossip show wasn’t broadcasting his love life. She likened it to a slow-moving train wreck. The good-looking, model-like star quarterback might be egotistical, shallow, and narcissistic, and yet people couldn’t get enough of him. His every move was reported like it was some wondrous feat of America’s new sweetheart, and he loved every minute of it.

  “Hey, thanks for getting everyone on board. I know you’re busy. I can’t wait to see you for the Super Bowl. I know it’s amazing it’s going to be in Houston this year. Talk to you soon. Love you, bye.” He hit the red button on the screen and ended the call.

  Parker’s ears perked up at the word love. It was surprising to hear him say that, especially since he wasn’t in front of a mirror.

  “Is this the fastest this car can go?”

  “It’s goes as fast as it should. We’re going to track down your wallet, not get to you the stadium for a game. We normal folk like abide by the law. If I get pulled over, I can’t give someone an autograph and take a selfie with them to get me off the hook.”

  Riley gave the interior a onceover. “Where did you get this thing from, a museum? Did it come with a complementary leather trench coat and platform shoes?”

  When most of the world was zipping by in new, fancy cars on technological steroids, she relished in her classic blue Chevy Camaro with racing stripes on the hood. She’d had the car since high school and never caved when everyone kidded her about getting something more up-to-date. The car reminded her of a simpler time in life, even if she were too young to experience it. But mostly it reminded her of her dad. It had run pretty good for years, but after Tyler’s racing team got their hands on it, it purred like a kitten.

  “No.” She caressed the dash. “He didn’t mean that, Blue Steel. He’s just an elitist snob with money to burn. He knows nothing about real cars. You should see his. It’s a phallic symbol on wheels.”

  “Hey, I know cars. I prefer cutting edge to the throwbacks.”

  “Uh hum. What do you know besides, I go fast, I go boom? I bet you’ve owned three cars in the last three years.” She turned into the parking lot and found a spot.

  “Five.” He beamed.

  “And you’re proud of that?”

  “Immensely.” Riley peered out the window. “Bliss is around the corner.”

  “I know.” She got out of the car and waited for him to exit. Once he was beside her, she looked up at him. She’d always felt like she was a decent height, but, at six foot two, he still towered over her five-foot-seven frame. She continued her trek and noticed he was matching her stride so she wouldn’t have to scurry to keep up with him. She gritted her teeth, annoyed that she’d noticed. “Since it’s my job to protect you, that includes avoiding any scandals on my watch. It’s one thing to visit a strip club at night when you’re hanging with your teammates. Visiting during the day implies you may have a problem.”

  “I don’t think anyone would think I had a problem getting women.”

  “If that’s true then you wouldn’t have to frequent strip clubs.” She opened the door to the bakery and waved to the person behind the counter.

  “Parker, so good to see you.”

  “Hi, Steve. It’s always smells so good in here. I wish I could bottle this scent and take it home with me.”

  “It doesn’t smell half as good as you.” Steve smiled. “What can I get you today?”

  Parker went into her purse and retrieved a fifty-dollar bill. “How about a way out?”

  “Sure thing.”

  Parker motioned for Riley to follow her as she followed Steve to the backroom. The bakery owner then took them to a storage room. He shifted a huge metal shelf a few feet and pressed on the wall panel. It opened and a secret passage was revealed.

  “Whoa.” Riley whistled.

  “Thanks, Steve. We shouldn’t be too long.”

  “Not a problem.” Steve grinned. “Hey aren’t you Riley Sloane?”

  “Sure am.” Riley shook his hand.

  “I look forward to seeing you in the big game. You’re about to put Texas back on the map in the NFL. I’ll be rooting for you.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Parker grabbed a flashlight off the shelf and went down the corridor with Riley close behind her.

>   “What is this place?”

  “This is a hidden gem for this part of the city. These steam tunnels run to a series of businesses in a five-block radius. I think they were originally designed to get important men out of less-than-reputable places back when doing morally bankrupt things like visiting strip clubs weren’t as in vogue as it is today. One of the places this corridor leads to is Bliss.”

  “Wow. This is awesome. I feel like I’m on a clandestine mission to find lost treasure.”

  “While you’re romanticizing milling around in a dingy tunnel, Indiana Jones, watch out for the rats.”

  “Right.” He jumped and looked down at his feet.

  “Dallas has a rich history for several reasons. One of them being secret chambers. There are a lot of cool things the general public doesn’t know about. I suppose it’s for the best.”

  “How do you know about these things?”

  “My dad.” She shrugged and flashed a light on a numbered door. Wrong one.

  “Yes. I’ve heard J.J.’s stories about the legendary Deke Carson. I have to tell you, the man sounded super human. Is that where you get all your gumption?”

  “Gumption?” She laughed.

  “I know. I think I’ve hanging around the Twelve Horseshoes too long. I’m starting to talk like Bo Sr. and John Jacob.”

  “Mimicking two successful, salt-of-the-earth men is never a bad thing. Or take a page from Seth’s book. When you’re faced with a problem ask yourself, what would Seth Blake do?”

  “Whatever Morgan says.” Riley laughed. “I think a little more of Texas is getting into me than I originally wanted.”

  “Because you thought the Tomcats were a stepping stone, not the final frontier?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Sure you did. In your interviews. You’ve said little things that alluded to you not wanting to plant any roots. I think you weren’t upset about landing with the Tomcats because they were popular even if they weren’t winners. You could hone your skills and work on your brand. How many teams can boast the record number of collective endorsement deals for their players when they haven’t seen a championship in decades? T.K.’s always been good at old-fashioned yarn spinning.”

  He cleared his throat. “It did seem like a strategically ideal decision at the time. I never said Texas was forever.”

  “The people who live here wouldn’t agree,” she mused. “But things changed when the Blakes bought into the team. Now you’re in conflict about wanting to stay or opting to move on to a bigger team. I suppose that conflict must be a little daunting for someone who only thinks of himself.”

  There was a light up ahead. The people at that end of the tunnel system obviously used it more. She turned off the flashlight.

  “Hey, I’m dedicated to the team,” Riley protested. “The current season is evidence I’ve changed my point of view.”

  “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you’ve changed what’s in your heart.”

  “You don’t know me. You’re very perceptive, but you don’t factor in a person’s ability to change their minds.”

  “People are who they are, and I accept that. Who you are is in your nature. It manifests one way or another.”

  He stopped and folded his arms across his chest. “So what does quitting the force to do this gumshoe routine say about you?”

  “It means it’s none of your business,” she shot back.

  “Not so much fun when you’re being analyzed. Is it?”

  “I don’t put myself on display with narcissistic behavior for all the world to see. I’m sure you’re the topic at many parties about spoiled celebrities who revel in excess while secretly wanting to be admired by the world. Did you not get enough hugs when you were little?”

  “You must be a really fun date. I bet a man can’t survive your self-righteous gaze for more than an hour.”

  “It’s not a problem unless you have something to hide.”

  They walked a few more feet before she reached another door. She pounded on it three times, paused, then pounded three more times. She paused again and pounded two more times. A guy draped in gold chains finally opened the door.

  “What’s the password?”

  Parker thought for a moment. “Pixy dust.”

  “Wrong. That was last week’s password. What the new one?”

  “That’s the last one I got. I think I should be given a little leeway for knowing it.”

  “That’s not how this works.”

  “Where’s Mario? I don’t have time for this.”

  “You can’t see Mario until you tell me the right password.” He smirked.

  Kendrick probably knew the current code word, but she wasn’t standing in a dank tunnel trying to get a cell signal to appease some sleazy guy with enough chest hair to make a wig.

  “I promise I’ll have it next time.”

  “Nope.”

  Riley stepped forward. “Listen, buddy.”

  “I got this.” Parker held her hand up. “I just remembered the new password. It’s Berretta 9mm with a full mag if you don’t open the door.” Parker pushed the door in so hard it hit Mr. Gold Chains in the nose.

  “Damn it!” He covered his bleeding nose. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “A little blood is the least of your worries. We’re not in a tunnel for kicks.”

  He moved toward her, but Riley stepped in front of her.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Riley said.

  “Hey.” Parker scowled at him. “Let me do the talking. I said I got this.”

  Riley didn’t reply, but he did reluctantly move back.

  She turned her best cop stare on Mr. Gold Chains. “Mr. Sloane left his wallet here last night. We’re hoping someone turned it in to management. We’d like to check around.”

  “Riley Sloane?” Mr. Gold Chains nasally asserted while clamping down on his bloody snout.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh my goodness, it’s him in the flesh. He’s the best thing since sliced bread.” she said with a sarcastic twang, then folded her arms over her chest. “Did I cover all the accolades?”

  “You left out incredibly handsome and sexy with a lethal throwing arm,” Riley replied.

  “He’s right,” Mr. Gold Chains chimed in. “It’s great to meet you. I was busy throwing some riff raff out last night, so I didn’t get a chance to congratulate you on the game.”

  Riley pointed at his face. “Sorry about the nose.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I suppose someone as important as you would have Xena Warrior Princess looking out for him. She’s got spunk.”

  “Can we look around or talk to the manager?” Parker said.

  “Sure.” He motioned for them to follow him. “Irv may know something about it.”

  “Good going, Bruiser.” Riley looked at her. “Subtle and charming as ever.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Riley had known Parker wouldn’t let something silly like an updated password deter her from getting into the club. Her dogged determinedness was one of the things he secretly liked about her. He did, however, feel bad for Mr. Gold Chains. The guy looked like he might wet his pants when she mentioned the gun. Strangely enough, Riley was almost disappointed they’d arrived at the secret entrance because they were having quite the conversation. As usual, she was wound tight and uppity and obviously thought he was celebrity vermin.

  But it had unnerved him a little how easily she’d pegged it when she said he’d had no intentions on staying with the Tomcats long. Although Seth and the team’s turnaround had him pondering his options these days. Winning the Super Bowl would put him in demand, but he’d really just gotten started in Texas. Sure, it wasn’t his home state of California, but the people were friendly and it got just as much warm weather.

  So he’d settled into his condo and had forged friendships with a few teammates. And he’d met the Blakes. They were the rare cluster of famous people who preferred private lives. The ranch was brimming wi
th stars who’d rather spend time with each other than partying and spending their billions. He visited when he needed a break from his own fast-paced, camera-in-your-face, manic lifestyle. Lately he’d been visiting every weekend. They didn’t mind that he showed up for the family dinner on Sunday or went horseback riding whenever he wanted. He’d become a staple in their lives and they welcomed him in and made him feel like family.

  Once they’d reached the top step, he knew immediately where he was in the club. To the left would be the bathrooms, and the right led back to the main dance room. So he went right in search of Irv, the owner, and prayed someone had found his wallet. There was an older DJ spinning records, not the guy who’d been there the previous night. He was playing an old hip-hop song from yesteryear. The club looked stark in the daylight. There was more desperation than titillation as the dancers gyrated unenthusiastically on the stage. Parker was right. The men sitting there while they munched on hot wings did have a creepy air about them. To make matters worse, his stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten anything yet.

  Parker looked around the room. “How does your hangout look without the beer goggles? Doesn’t look quite as sexy in the daytime, does it?”

  “OK. So it takes on a different tone during the day.”

  Parker listened to the music and perked up. “I’m pretty sure the song that’s playing was out in the nineties. This must be their Throwback-themed day.”

  It was pretty old, but he recognized the singer’s voice. “So what? It still has a good beat.”

  “Sure. That’s why the chick on the pole looks like she’d rather be knitting.”

  “You young kids today don’t know squat,” Irv said as he approached. “Let’s Ride was a club favorite back in the day. It was an intoxicating blend of provocative rap lyrics and a seductive rhythm. It really got the girls moving.”