by Tiffany Snow
Parker and I didn’t say much until we were on the road, then I took the opportunity to quiz him about Leo. Parker had acted like he’d known who he was and I didn’t see a better chance to find out, especially since I had significant doubts that Ryker would be forthcoming with information.
“So you knew that guy?” I asked. “Leo Shea?”
Parker glanced at me, then back at the road. “Yeah. Supposedly, he runs a drug trafficking ring that helps get narcotics into Chicago and distributed. They arrested him a few years ago, but the case got thrown out on a technicality. It was a big deal at the time.”
I vaguely remembered something about it, but watching the news had never been one of my favorite pastimes.
“He called Ryker ‘McCrady,’ ” I said. “I kept waiting for Ryker to correct him, but he didn’t. Instead, Leo said something about how he thought Ryker was supposed to be dead.”
That earned a sharp look from Parker. “What happened?”
“I intervened because Leo said something about taking Ryker for ‘a ride.’ ”
Parker was silent for a few moments and I waited impatiently. “Well?” I said at last. “What do you think it means?”
His gaze was steady when he replied. “I think it means that Ryker has a past he hasn’t told you about. And I think it’s extremely unfortunate that Leo Shea knows you’re involved with a man he knows as McCrady.”
Yeah, that’s what I’d been afraid he’d say. “You think maybe Ryker worked undercover or something? And that’s why Shea knows him?” We’d both been thinking it. I just put it into words.
“Yes, I do.”
“I wonder if Ryker had anything to do with him getting arrested then,” I mused.
“Probably.”
We pulled into the lot of my building and while I’d expected Parker to drop me off, he parked instead.
“You don’t have to walk me up,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will,” he said, beeping the car lock. “But just in case, I’ll make sure.”
My nerves were jangling as we went inside and waited for the elevator to take us up to my apartment on the third floor. At work, there was always something to talk about. Outside of work … all I could think about was how much we hadn’t discussed, like That Night (which was how I always thought of it inside my head).
“I didn’t realize you knew who my dad was,” I said.
“The firm does background checks on everyone,” he said with a shrug. “Since you were using your mother’s name, I assumed there was a reason and didn’t see the need to pry.”
The elevator dinged and we stepped inside. As usual, Parker looked impeccable even after a day of work. His tie wasn’t even loosened and the smooth wave of his hair fell over his brow in an almost seductive kind of way.
I realized I was staring and jerked my gaze from him to the elevator doors as the floors slid by. When my floor opened, I tried again.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” I said, stepping into the hallway ahead of him. But he just smiled in a benign sort of way and followed me.
“You’re welcome.”
I wanted to gnash my teeth in frustration and barely restrained myself from stomping to my apartment. I’d done a lot of work inside my head to get over my feelings for Parker, and being in close proximity to him outside of our usual environment and the rules that governed it wasn’t helping.
“So are Ryker and you having a … disagreement?” he asked, smoothly taking my keys out of my hand and unlocking my door. He stepped inside and I had no choice but to follow him.
“We probably shouldn’t discuss Ryker,” I said, tossing my purse down on the kitchen table. “Our relationship is between us.”
“Fair enough,” Parker said.
I stood in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed. I didn’t want him there and wasn’t about to play hostess. However, it appeared I didn’t have to, since he went to my cabinet where I kept my glasses and liquor and proceeded to help himself.
“Would you like one, too?” he asked, loosening his tie with one hand while he poured with the other.
My gaze was caught on his fingers as he tugged the silk and I had to shake myself back to awareness. Dragging my eyes up, I saw him looking at me, the tip of his mouth curving upward just slightly. As though he knew exactly what I’d been watching him do and the thoughts that had flitted through my head.
“If you’re offering me my own liquor, then yeah, I guess so,” I said, sounding more belligerent than I felt.
Parker didn’t reply, just retrieved another glass off the shelf and splashed some of the amber liquid into it. Carrying it, he walked to where I still stubbornly stood and handed it to me. I had to uncross my arms to take it.
“Wouldn’t Monique have a problem with you being here?” I asked, and yes, it was said in that bitchy tone that had most men looking for the nearest exit whenever they heard it.
“Why should I care?” he asked with a shrug, then clinked his glass against mine. “To a nice dinner with your parents,” he toasted.
I eyed him as I took a sip. “It wasn’t nice,” I said. “It was awful and uncomfortable, and I have you to thank for most of that.”
“It’s not my fault Ryker still acts like a teenager instead of a grown man whenever he sees me,” Parker replied coolly as he took another drink.
“Well, we’re together now,” I said. “So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t antagonize him.”
His expression went carefully blank at that, then he turned and walked to the windows. I didn’t have the kind of view Parker did at his apartment, but the city and the lights were still pretty.
“Are you in love with him?”
I stared at his back, sure I’d misheard.
“What?”
“I asked, are you in love with him,” Parker repeated.
“Again, none of your business.” In dire need of the liquor in light of where this conversation was heading, I tossed back the bourbon in one swallow. I coughed a bit as the liquid burned a fire down my throat, but not as much as someone who wasn’t used to it. Which probably said more about my alcohol consumption than I’d like.
“Are you in love with Monique?” I shot back. If he was going to get personal, then so would I.
“I’m not looking for love,” he replied. “And neither is she.”
I shouldn’t have been as glad to hear that as I was.
“I knew it was you, Saturday,” he said. “Right away. As soon as I saw you and Ryker on the boat.”
Well, that put that question to rest, but I didn’t know what to say in response. So he’d seen us. So what?
At last, I said, “I saw you and Monique. Does it matter?” I was tired and this conversation with Parker was going nowhere, not to mention I didn’t even know why we were having it in the first place. I dropped onto the couch and kicked off my heels.
Parker didn’t answer. He turned and watched me, his back to the window. His face was thrown into shadows, though his body was outlined against the backdrop of Chicago at night.
“I thought I could handle it, you and Ryker,” he said. “These past few months, God knows I’ve been trying. But seeing it like that … his hands on you … his mouth on you.” He paused and when he spoke again, it was a low rasp of sound. “I didn’t like it.” Swallowing the rest of his drink, he set the glass aside.
I stared at him in openmouthed shock. Hurt twisted in my gut, followed swiftly by anger, and I jumped to my feet.
“Tell me you did not just say that,” I snapped. “What exactly do you expect me to do with this information?”
Parker’s gaze was steady on mine. “I’m not expecting you to do anything. You’re dating Ryker.” He walked toward me, not stopping until only inches separated us and I had to tip my head back to look him in the eye. With my heels on, Parker topped me by a good three to four inches. Without them, he towered over me. “I just wanted you to know.”
“You were the one who said ther
e was never going to be an us,” I said, poking him hard in the chest, which probably hurt me more than it hurt him, considering the layers of muscle beneath the expensive fabric of his shirt. “So the fact that you don’t like seeing me with Ryker only tells me that you may not want me, but you also don’t want anyone else—”
“I never said I didn’t want you,” he interrupted, his voice hard. “And trust me, I’ve been doing everything I can to get you out of my head, trying to convince myself things are better this way.”
“So what are you saying? That you’ve changed your mind?” God help me if he said yes …
But he didn’t answer. Instead, he moved past me toward the door, then stopped and turned back around.
“Ryker was in love with Natalie,” he said. “Christ, he was about to propose to her. What he didn’t know was that she was sleeping with me behind his back. I thought they’d broken it off. By that time, she’d already succeeded in pitting us at each other’s throats. I found out she was lying to me, and I confronted her.” He stopped, his lips pressing tightly together.
I waited, but he didn’t continue. “And then what?” I prompted.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “I told her she had to choose, him or me. She said if I made her do that, I’d lose both her and Ryker. I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t seem to resist her either. Ryker walked in on us, and went crazy. He knocked me out and the next thing I knew, she was gone and they were pulling her car out of the river the next morning.”
My anger drained away.
“Ryker’s never forgiven me,” he said. “I’ve tried to tell him what was really going on, how she lied to us and was using us, but he’s refused to listen to me. He’s convinced I’m lying to him. Eventually, I gave up trying.”
“Do you blame yourself for Natalie’s death?” I asked.
His eyes were empty when he answered. “I should have listened to her, believed her. But she made me choose between being with her or lying to my best friend. I felt like I’d already betrayed Ryker. I wasn’t about to keep doing it. It was a no-win situation.”
It was heartbreaking to watch him as he told the story. The guilt emanating from him was like a living thing, despite the stoic way in which he spoke. Amy was right; it wasn’t kind to speak ill of the dead, but Natalie sounded like she’d been one really messed-up person.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “What does this have to do with me?”
“I just thought you should know the whole history before you got further involved with Ryker,” he said.
“You mean, in case Ryker’s really just using me to get back at you for what happened with Natalie.” A suspicion I’d once had myself, though it had faded as the weeks with Ryker had passed.
Parker’s expression didn’t change. “The thought had occurred to me. He knows, or suspects, how much you mean to me. Just like he knows where I dock my boat.”
“So you’re saying he planned on you seeing us together Saturday?” I asked. “That’s ludicrous. We’ve been dating for months. Why now? And besides, that wasn’t even his boat.”
“I just want you to be careful,” Parker said. “I’d hate to see you hurt.”
“I think that’s an awfully big reach—and a huge insult to me—to imply he’s just using me. You say you didn’t like seeing us together. Why? Because you think he’s using me? Or is there another reason?” I held my breath, waiting to see what he’d say. What did I want him to say? Yeah, I didn’t want to think about that.
“You want to hear that I’m jealous,” he stated.
“I didn’t say that.” But yeah, okay.
He moved toward me, his long legs covering the distance between us in the span of one heartbeat to the next. Leaning down, he put his lips by my ear. He was so close, I could smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body. My eyes drifted closed of their own accord.
When he spoke, his warm breath brushed my skin and I shivered.
“I’ve wanted you since the day you walked in my office,” he said. “And every day, every moment, since.” I could have sworn his lips touched my neck, and I forgot how to breathe. Then he was out the door and gone.
* * *
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was still upset about how dinner had gone and I tossed and turned, doubts as to whether I should continue seeing Ryker spinning in my head. Of course, he may not want to see me anymore either. It felt like one of those milestones in a relationship where we could either turn the next corner or it would go down in flames, and I didn’t know which way it was going to go.
To my surprise, I heard the faint click of the lock on my front door opening. After a moment, I heard the familiar sounds of Ryker setting his weapon, holster, and handcuffs on the kitchen counter. A thrill went through me that he’d come, but also a whisper of caution. Was this a sign? Or just a booty call?
To avoid succumbing to the latter, I scrambled out of bed, hurriedly running my fingers through my hair to straighten it. Sliding my feet into my Ugg slippers—best things ever—I ventured into the living room.
It was chilly and I shivered. The pajama shorts and tank I wore provided little warmth without a blanket over me.
Ryker was standing in the kitchen, the outline of his body dimly lit by the one light I left on over the stove. He was looking at his phone, but glanced up when I got closer. He slid the phone into his pocket as his gaze raked me from head to foot and back. A shiver danced across my skin and it wasn’t from the cold.
“I didn’t know if you were coming,” I said. “After dinner tonight, I didn’t even know if we were still dating.”
Ryker leaned back against the counter with a sigh. “I’d hoped we could discuss this later,” he said. “It’s late.”
Nausea churned in my stomach. Oh God, was he breaking up with me?
“So you thought you’d pop by for a sleepover, and then break up with me?” I asked. “I don’t think so. I’d rather we discuss it now.” No sense prolonging the inevitable. “You accused my father of being a mob boss.”
Ryker scrubbed a hand over his face, glancing away from me. I waited. That had been a pretty big accusation to level and I hadn’t taken it lightly.
“Sage, the Muccino family is huge in Chicago. I don’t have to tell you that.”
I shrugged. “My father has five brothers. They all run their own businesses, started from the ground up. They help each other out from time to time.” The list of cousins and relatives was endless on my dad’s side.
“Our organized crime division has been keeping files on them for years,” he continued. “You don’t think your father’s paid off government officials to get the kind of monopoly he has over the liquor distribution in Chicago?”
“My father is a good businessman,” I said staunchly. “And just because they have a file doesn’t mean he’s done anything wrong. Obviously, if he had, they’d have arrested him. If anything, this only proves that he’s an honest man because how could a criminal undergo such scrutiny without being arrested for something?”
I wasn’t an idiot. My father had paid an army of lawyers over the years to keep the feds off his back. It seemed if you were Italian, lived in Chicago, and ran a very profitable liquor distribution company, you must be doing something illegal.
I wanted to talk about the other thing he’d said after dinner. The whole in love part. Was that really how he felt? Or had he just said that in the heat of the moment? I was dying to ask, but didn’t want to be the one to bring it up.
“Let’s say you’re right,” Ryker said. “Let’s say your father is all aboveboard—”
“Because he is,” I interjected.
“Fine, let’s say he is. There’s still the whole part about you … your family …”
I waited as he hesitated.
“Christ, Sage,” he finally blurted. “You’re worth millions.”
“I’m not,” I corrected him. “My father is.”
“Really,” he said dryl
y. “And who would be your parents’ heir?”
My face heated and I was glad for the semi-darkness. “So what?” I asked, avoiding stating the obvious answer. “So what if my parents have money? What does that have to do with us? Most men like the idea of a wealthy wi—girlfriend.” I stopped myself from saying wife just in time. Yeah, really didn’t want to go there.
“Sage …” He broke off, shoving a hand through his hair and muttering, “God, how can I explain.” When he met my eyes again, he seemed determined. “I was brought up dirt poor. Most of the time we barely had enough to eat, and what we did have was provided for by food stamps. I was the kid on the free lunch program at school.”
“You’ve told me that,” I said. “I still don’t see why it makes a difference. You’re an adult now, you have a steady job. It’s not like being poor growing up was some kind of disease that tainted you.”
“Of course you don’t see why it makes a difference, because you’ve never been poor.”
I pressed my lips together, staring at him. “So you’re going to break up with me because I’m not poor?”
“I didn’t say that, but I can’t pretend that us being from opposite sides of the socio-economic scale doesn’t change things, because it does,” he insisted. “I’m a cop, and cops don’t make shit for a living.”
“I see,” I said, though really I didn’t. I didn’t care if he was poor growing up or how much money he made now. “Listen, I’m not a gold digger. I don’t care what kind of money you make. It’s more important to me that you like your job, that you’re good at your job, than what kind of salary it pays.”
His lips twisted. “You say that now, and it sounds all nice and romantic and idealistic. But life’s not like that. And you’d feel differently down the road.”
I stiffened. “So … what? Is that it? Before, when you thought I was just a secretary with well-off parents it was fine, but now that you know my father’s a millionaire, now it’s over?”
“Listen, today’s been shitty. Let’s get some sleep, okay? We’ll talk about it tomorrow.” He pushed off the counter and wrapped an arm around my waist, but I dug in my heels.