He turned back to her, his incredible eyes reflecting the sun like prisms. “Sounds like you know these little ones pretty well. You must watch them a lot.”
“About all I can do nowadays. Sit and watch. The little ones like the attention. It’s hard being young and living away from home. I just think it’s nice to let them know someone is around to look out for them.”
What the heck was she babbling about? The guy was a punk. Not a friend you shot the breeze with. She straightened in her chair then tossed her braid over her shoulder with a snap. “Look Mr. Whoever-You-Are, if you are truly here to help, then help. But, otherwise, would you leave my table and head back to whatever thug convention my father found you at.” She was harsher than she intended, but impressed she had the guts to say anything at all. She braced herself for an angry reaction but he just smiled and reached across the table for the water pitcher.
“So what did you do to your arm?” he asked gesturing to her with his empty glass. “Fall off your throne or something?”
She followed his gaze to her limp left arm, then looked back up at him. “You’re kidding right? You really don’t know what happened to me?”
“Should I?”
“It’s the whole reason why you’re here in the first place.”
“What reason is that?”
She flipped her fork on to the table and their eyes locked as if in a challenge. “You aren’t kidding, are you? You honestly have no clue who I am?”
“You’re Al Riley’s daughter.”
“Yeah, and world class athlete, model, spokeswoman, celebrity.” She stared at his blank face. ”Summer Riley the tennis star! How can you not know me?”
He laughed. “Well, unless you play for the Marlins or the Dolphins I wouldn’t know you from Jack.”
“You don’t know who I am or why you are here. Perfect.” She hated snobbery, and with any luck so did he. It occurred to her that maybe if she was unbearable enough he would refuse to work for her and her father would give up on her all together. It was worth a try and if this guy was as brain dead as the rest of her father’s stooges, she may have more than a fighting chance.
“Listen sweetheart, if you’re trying to scare me off it’s not going to work. I got a call from Big Al telling me he wanted me to meet with his daughter about an assault investigation and that she needed a bodyguard. Instead of a ‘thank you,’ I get attitude and a lecture on women’s tennis from a woman who all I know about her is that she hates olives, and that she’s freaked out by something because she keeps looking around like she waiting for it to jump up and get her.”
She wasn’t sure if she was impressed by his perception or shocked by his accuracy. Either way, she wanted no part of him. “That’s it,” her voice cracked, “If you aren’t going to leave, I will.”
“Wait!” he reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “I think we both know ditching me wouldn’t be in your best interest.”
His touch sent her rational thoughts scattering. What was it about him that scared and stirred her all at once? But maybe that was his plan. Dealing with Big Al was like navigating in a fog. You never knew where you stood, blind to where danger lurked until you were trapped by it. She pulled her hand away, his fingers slipping over hers.
“Look lady, I realize I might have made a bad first impression, but you really should think twice about blowing me off. I would think a nice girl like you would like to please her daddy.” He produced a business card from his breast pocket. He held it in front of her a moment before sliding it across the table. “Make sure you take care of yourself, sweetheart.”
She watched him go, his stride as confident as it had been when he first walked up to her. The view was just as good too. His slender hips and tight butt made her remember why she had always admired the Armani men’s line.
Chapter Two
It was unseasonably cool for a late summer night in South Florida. The breeze blew stronger than usual, tousling the palm trees and throwing sand clouds in the air. Jake had the top down on his BMW, a new purchase he made during his latest bout of nostalgia. He couldn’t think of anything better than a fast car and the wind against his face.
Well, maybe a beautiful woman.
He pulled out on the empty causeway and dropped it in fifth gear. The speedometer pushed a hair past ninety and Jake’s heart raced to keep up. The moonless night gave no hints what lay before him and a weird energy zipped through his veins. The blinder the better he figured as his calloused hands clenched the wheel.
One-hundred. One-ten. His foot pushed harder on the pedal. At these speeds, one false move could mean death.
His lips contorted to a smile.
This was the edge of control, a fine line he had flirted with all his life. Like a tightrope walker in a circus, he loved tempting catastrophe. Some regarded it as a talent that made him a champion, others an addiction that cost him his career.
When he saw the lights of the beachfront, he regretfully tapped the breaks. The car purred as it slowed and something inside him released. Like a carnal need had been satisfied. It was a merciful relief from a feeling that had nagged him since his meeting with Summer Riley.
Hot damn, was she incredible. A knockout of the rarest kind. Great face, hellacious body. And that smile... The first time he saw her outside of Giovanni’s he thought she was built for sex and after seeing her at the court today he was sure of it. He shifted in his seat picturing her emerald eyes and the perfect pink lushness of her lips. The mere thought of slipping himself into her was enough to send him careening off the road.
His research didn’t give much insight on her personality, but whatever he had expected, she wasn’t it. He had never met a woman who had as sharp a tongue as she had. He’d bet his last dollar it was soft too, and as crafty and quick as the words it conjured.
He shook his head and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. What the hell am I thinking? Long-legged blondes with nice racks and sweet smiles were a dime a dozen. Besides, Big Al Riley’s blood coursed through her veins. He couldn’t think of anything uglier than that.
The vibration of his cell phone hummed against his hip. He slid it out from his pants pocket, glanced at the caller ID and smiled.
“Harrison”
“Hey Jakie!” The hardy voice greeted. “I’m checking in. Are you with my daughter?”
Jake took a deep breath. In three years of practice, he still found it hard to play polite to his mortal enemy. “How ya’ doing, Al?” He managed. “I was just on my way to her house.”
“Good, I like it when things move along. Look, I know she may not warm up to you right away, but keep on her. I don’t want her hiring some other numbskull who’ll just take her money.”
Jake nodded. He didn’t want that either. The success of the operation hinged on his close proximity with Summer and gaining her trust. Just like he had with her cretin father and the rest of the Riley gang. “Don’t worry, Al, I can be pretty persuasive when I want to be.”
“I know you can. Hey, why don’t you tell her about your big crash?” Al chuckled. “She’ll respect the hell out of you for that.”
Blood pooled in Jake cheeks. How dare he laugh at his misery? The crash was the single reason why Jake had embarked on this whole vengeful crusade in the first place.
And the asshole thought it was funny.
Al’s silence told Jake he was thinking. Ever careful and always crafty, even Al’s words were chosen with the painstaking strategy of a chess match. Jake sat up straighter in his seat eager for his move.
“So whad’ya think of Summer?”
“What do you mean?” Jake smiled. He knew exactly what he meant.
“Come on, Harrison. You know your way around good-looking women. You can’t tell me you didn’t look at my girl and think she was gorgeous.”
Al was baiting him. Everyone knew Al Riley regarded his daughter as his prize possession. He was telling Jake “hands off”.
“She’s nice,” he sa
id slowly, meaning to sound as vague as possible.
The old man chuckled. “That’s what I like to hear. You keep your mind on the business at hand.”
Al could threaten all he wanted, but it would do nothing to change the strategy. Sex was a powerful weapon, one that had worked well for him in the past. He wasn’t above using it in this case. In fact, the possibility excited him.
“I shouldn’t have to warn you, Jakie. I know we’ve had our disagreements in the past, but that’s history. You and I are pals now, and a good friend to Summer is a good friend to me. Your job is to keep her safe and keep an eye on the investigation. But that’s it. Remember, to respect me is to respect my daughter.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will, kid.”
Jake flipped his phone closed and jammed it back into his pocket. For now, he had Al where he wanted him. It was his daughter who still needed convincing.
Turning into a private driveway, he parked then checked the address he had scribbled on his palm. Gazing up at the front door, he smiled with anticipation. “Gentlemen start your engines,” he said to himself as he headed up toward the house.
***
Summer pulled the toilet brush from the bowl and placed it back in its holder. Cleaning wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but it passed time, especially on lonely nights when the quiet was too loud to ignore. Solitude never used to bother her. Growing up at a boarding school she was used to it, and not having family made her all the more self-reliant. But there was something about fear that bred helplessness. A feeling she hated and couldn’t seem to shake. At least if she was cleaning she felt useful and her brain was otherwise occupied.
Pulling a rag from her shredded sweatpants, she began her nightly ritual of dusting the living room shelves. Picture frames were dust magnets she told herself, but in reality she enjoyed looking at the pictures. It offered the illusion that there were people around her. Even if most of the faces were nameless.
Hundreds of snapshots covered the room, spanning her quarter-century lifetime. Her favorites were the old ones. Some so yellow and faded she could barely make out the little pig-tailed girl staring back. Her with toothless grins, holding trophies she didn’t remember winning, sporting checks she couldn’t believe earning. In a few her father stood next to her, a rigid hand on her shoulder sporting a smile so tight it looked painful. This is how she remembered her childhood. Incredibly lucky but incredibly cursed, never knowing if her father loved her, or loved what she could be worth.
She jumped when she heard the door bell. A glance at her watch told her she should be suspicious. No one she knew would drop by unannounced at this hour, even if sometimes she wouldn’t mind. Chucking the rag across the room, she cautiously made her way to the foyer, smoothing down her frazzled hair as she went.
“Who is it?” she called with a crack in her voice.
“Asking will only ruin the surprise.”
In spite of herself she smiled, recognizing the enticing baritone. “What are you doing here, Mr. Jake?”
“It was a nice night and I felt like hanging out at the beach.”
“There are hundreds of miles of public beach in the state of Florida.”
“And I ended up here, what luck. Are you going to let me in, or what?”
“Fine. Hold on.” She sighed then methodically unlocked a half-dozen dead bolts before pulling the door open. “What are you doing here Mr. Jake? It’s a little late for a visit, don’t you think?
He pulled his hand from his khaki pants pocket and checked his watch. “If I was a six-year-old, maybe. Why? Is eight-thirty past your bed time?”
He showed himself to the living room, flopping down on the recliner like he owned it. He wore a denim jacket and a white t-shirt underneath. Even through the two layers Summer could make out the lines of six pack abs. “I thought I would stop by and tell you that after we parted ways this afternoon I did a little legwork. You’ll be happy to know I am now an expert on the life and times of Summer Riley.”
“Really?”
“Would you like a brief rundown?”
“It looks like I don’t have a choice.” She followed him into the room and eyed him. “Go ahead Mr. Harrison. I’m listening”
With a dramatic clearing of his throat he produced a small pad of paper and a pen from his pocket. “Well,” he began, “for one thing you weren’t lying when you said you were a decent tennis player. Number one female in the world for over four years. Eleven Grand Slam titles.”
“Twelve,” she corrected.
“Most experts consider you the best the sport has ever seen.” He looked up from his list. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“I also took it upon myself to explore some of your business ventures.” He flipped through the pages, touching the end of his pen to his chin. “Contracts with Nike, Prince, Sketchers, Pepsi, Kodak, Mercedes, Revlon, and L’Oreal. Huh, and I had you pegged as a real blonde.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you finished?”
“Almost. I was also impressed by your immense collection of print work. Glamour, Vogue. You take one hell of a picture, by the way. And you also donate an exorbitant amount of money to an assortment of children’s charities.” He stuffed the paper back in his pocket and flashed a smile. “Over half your earnings. You’re a pretty generous person.”
“You act like that shocks you.”
“It does quite frankly. I had you pegged as a selfish princess.”
“In that case, remind me not to trust your instincts.”
“I also had a chat with the U.S Tennis Federation and they were really pleased you had hired someone privately to look into your attack. They’re pretty frustrated with law enforcement and the direction of the case so far. I also don’t think they’re too crazy about the guy who handles your affairs, Geoffrey something-or-other.”
“Martin,” she prompted. “And why do you say that?”
“Bumbling Buffoon is a phrase most people don’t throw around lightly.”
“Oh.” She sat down on the couch and exhaled. “Look, do you have a point?”
“I do.” Motioning for her to stay seated, he stood up in front of her. “I don’t mean to scare you even more than you already are, but the fact remains there is someone out there who wants to hurt you, Hell, maybe something worse. You need help, and fortunately for you, I am prepared to give it to you.”
She studied his face for a moment, desperate for any sign of insincerity. But if there was one she missed it, too caught up in gut feeling to believe him. A sudden ache spread through her bandaged arm. She grimaced as she ran her other hand over it.
“You okay?”
She adjusted the sling, then leaned back against the pillows. “I’m fine,” she said. “It happens from time to time.”
He nodded then walked around her, glancing up at her wall of pictures. “This is cool, Summer.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.”
He pointed to a large snapshot of her holding the Wimbledon Platter. “You think you’ll ever be one hundred percent?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a tennis star, right?” He motioned like he was swinging a racquet. “Don’t you need your arm?”
“Of course I can play.” She looked down at her chest. Her fingers peeked out from the bandage. “I just need time to heal.”
“Okay, then you have some time to kill. What do you say in the meantime you play detective with me and help find the guy who did this to you?”
There was an energy surrounding him that swept her up like a wave. It had nothing to do with his designer clothes and drop-dead smile, but more like a vibe he radiated. Something wild and spontaneous. And scary.
“Daddy says I should give you a chance.” she finally said. “So I guess I’ll have to give you one. I’ll go see if I can find some of Geoffrey’s files on the investigation. Maybe that’s a place you can start.” She got up from the couch, knocking him in the shoulder as
she breezed by.
“You need help?” He called after her.
“It’s not like I’m paralyzed. I can do it myself.”
Summer flipped on the light in Geoffrey’s office and pulled open his closet door. She was shocked by all the stuff he’d stashed in there. Papers and boxes and crates. The shelves were lined with small plastic bins neatly labeled with colored markers.
Her eyes moved from high to low, cursing his penchant for being a pack rat, yet thankful things were in chronological order. He had business documents dating from the early eighties all the way through to his most recent labeled ‘Vitale Acquisition.’ She rolled her eyes. She wished he would give that whole thing up. Anston Vitale would never give up his lucrative tennis empire no matter how much money Geoffrey threw at him. Why he wasted his time was inexplicable to her.
Finally, she spotted the boxes labeled “investigation.” She stood up on her toes and looked inside the ones on top of the stacks. Nothing. One by one she pulled them off the shelves, all as empty as the last. “Why would he get rid of everything?” she asked herself as more boxes crashed to the carpet.
She lunged over a pile of papers and pressed the ‘ON’ button on the computer. Her foot beat the deep-pile Berber while she waited for the hard drive to boot up.
“How ya doing back here?”
Frantically she maneuvered the mouse on the computer screen. “It’s gone.” she stammered. “All of it. Everything. Gone.”
“What do you mean gone?”
“I mean gone! The investigation stuff. All of Geoffrey’s files.”
Jake came toward the computer. He reached around her for the mouse and stared at the screen. “Maybe he put it somewhere else.”
“I looked,” she insisted. “Even the hard drive has been emptied. All these boxes were filled with police findings and USTF reports.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Why would he get rid of all the paperwork?”
“Search me,” Jake replied. “Why don’t you call him and see what he knows?”
“He turns his phone off after eight p.m. when he’s on location.”
Break Point Page 2