Draw Play: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 4)

by Jami Davenport

  “So you’ve been living his life for him?”

  Bruiser looked up and nodded. No tears, no anguish, just sorrow and uncertainty.

  “I’m so sorry.” Mac put her hand on his arm, and he leaned his head on her shoulder. He’d told her his deepest pain and it meant the world to her.

  “You can see why I’ve kept it quiet all these years. I felt responsible.”

  “But you weren’t. It was an accident. He made the decision. He blamed you because he was hurting and had to lash out at someone. You’d proven you’d be by his side no matter what, so he knew you’d be there, despite the abuse he heaped on you. Shanna said your parents couldn’t stand seeing their imperfect son and that they laid a major guilt trip on you.”

  “Yeah, they did. Brice couldn’t deal with his friends shrinking away at the sight of him, strangers staring at him and pointing. None of it. And he didn’t have support at home. I tried but I was just a kid. Our mom was a single mother by then and ill-equipped, monetarily and emotionally.”

  “Guilt is a powerful motivator. I should know. You can’t keep blaming yourself. Cut Bruce—the child—some slack. While you’re at it, the adult Bruiser should cut himself some slack too. You’re a special person, Bruiser; let the world see it, let them have the privilege of knowing what a generous, caring man you are.”

  Bruiser shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “It’s time to put Brice to rest and move on.”

  Bruiser’s eyebrows climbed at her suggestion, and she knew exactly what he was thinking—that she should talk.

  “And you?” He nailed her with his stormy-sea eyes. “I’m willing to take a risk, make some changes, and create a better person out of tragedy. I just trusted you with my most painful secret, and you aren’t offering anything in return.”

  “My situation isn’t the same.”

  “The guilt is the same, Mac; whether you admit it or not, you’re living your life out of guilt, just like I was.” Bruiser tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “If we could just get an answer to what happened, then Dad and I could both get on with our lives.”

  “I don’t want to live with you gone every evening and every weekend, putting yourself in danger, chasing after the next rumor or hunch or tip.”

  “I don’t expect you to wait. I just need a little time to figure this all out.”

  “Where do we go from here?” Bruiser asked.

  “I don’t know. I want to keep seeing you.” Mac studied him, really looked at him. There was something there, something permanent and lasting, a promise in his eyes she’d only dreamed of, yet she was blowing him off.

  Tonight if he’d said I love you, she would have followed him to the ends of the earth, but declarations of love had to be given freely, and neither of them were quite there yet.

  Instead, he made love to her so sweetly and tenderly that she couldn’t deny the obvious.

  Bruiser loved her.

  Mac loved Bruiser.

  What hell did a woman do with that information?

  * * * * *

  The Steelheads won the next game on Sunday Night Football, and Bruiser ran for his third consecutive hundred-yard game. He invited Elliot to attend, but Elliot’s uncle wouldn’t let him go. Sunday was for worship, not watching grown men play a violent game.

  On Tuesday evening, Bruiser and Mac picked up Elliot, the first time Bruiser had been able to carve out the time in over a week.

  The kid was reverting to past behaviors, not wanting to go out in public, pulling into himself, and avoiding contact with strangers.

  Bruiser hated to see the changes and knew it came from Elliot’s overbearing, self-righteous uncle and judgmental aunt, not to mention the cousins. The good work the mental health and hospital staff had done to improve Elliot’s confidence and attitude was unraveling right before Bruiser’s eyes, and he intended on doing what he could to sew the ragged edges of Elliot’s confidence back together.

  Elliot loved to bowl, so Bruiser and Mac took him bowling. Brice had hated bowling, but Bruiser liked it, so this was a step in the right direction for all of them. Bruiser was working on taking Mac’s words to heart. He’d done a lot of thinking about his life and knew she was right. He couldn’t shrug off years of guilt just like that, but he’d chip away at it a little at a time doing things Bruiser would do, not things Brice would do.

  After they picked their bowling balls, they sat down on the plastic chairs and Elliot took the scorer’s desk.

  “People are staring at me.” Elliot pulled his Steelheads’ baseball cap down farther until you could barely see his eyes.

  “No, Elliot, they’re staring at Bruiser. He’s a big celebrity around these parts. Remember?” Mac tugged on his sleeve and smiled at him.

  “Oh, yeah. You’re right.” He grinned his toothy grin. “Can I go first?”

  “Sure, bowl away. Take a few practice shots,” Bruiser said and glanced at Mac to find her looking at him with an expression on her face that would’ve scared the hell out of him if she’d been any other woman. He reached over and took her hand and squeezed it. She squeezed back.

  For a moment, the old “time stood still” thing happened. Everyone but Mac faded away. Her thoughts mingled with his; her needs became his needs. Everything that mattered to him revolved around her. God, he was a sap, a lovesick sap—because what the hell else could possibly be wrong with him?

  “You’re Bruiser Mackey, aren’t you?” A middle-aged man wearing a Steelheads cap with his wife and two kids diverted Bruiser’s attention. The little boys were wearing Steelheads jerseys.

  Bruiser nodded. He’d been lucky so far that only a few people had ventured into his space and asked for an autograph.

  “This must be your family,” his wife gushed.

  For a moment silence reigned except for the sounds of balls rolling and the crash of the pins. Without glancing their way, he felt Mac and Elliot’s eyes on him as they waited to hear what he’d say.

  “Yes, this is my family.”

  “So nice to meet you.” Neither the man nor the woman paid much notice to Elliot, for which Bruiser was grateful. He gladly signed the guy’s hat and the kids’ shirts. After thanking him, the family trundled off, leaving Bruiser with—

  His family.

  Yes, they were his family. And he’d see to it that it became official.

  One way or another.

  Chapter 23—Handoff

  Bruiser stifled a yawn and stared at nothing. Once he fulfilled his current contractual obligations, he’d never model again.

  “Bruce, I need that smoking-sexy look only you can do.”

  He snapped to attention and totally faked the photo shoot. Hell, he didn’t even remember what he was endorsing, other than his shirtless body. God, he hated this shit.

  “Come on, one more pose, and we’re done.”

  “Damn right, we’re done.” Bruiser was crankier than hell, but he’d been like this for two weeks. After what seemed like a few hundred more clicks of the camera, Bruiser got dressed and headed out. His cell chirped, sounding a lot happier than he fucking felt. He hoped like hell it was Mac calling. He could use her brand of therapy.

  He glanced at the text message.

  I need to talk to you. It was from Trudy.

  Bruiser started to call Mac and stopped, not wanting to get her hopes up. He texted Trudy back. Where to meet you?

  Bar. Soon.

  Bruiser stared at the phone, wondering what to do next. He called the one person he knew with a level head and no-nonsense advice. In a few short minutes, he’d filled Brett in on the latest.

  “So how far are you willing to go to get this information?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t cheat on Mac, even if it might crack this case.”

  “You are so hosed.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Another good man bites the dust for a good woman.” Brett laughed, but the sadness lingering in his voice made Bruiser fee
l like a shit. Once he settled his own problems, he’d put the Terrible Trio to work finding Brett a nice woman. Or maybe they’d become the Formidable Four, since Mac appeared to have joined their little group of strong women.

  Bruiser headed for the bar, making it in record time.

  His cell continued its merry chirping, and he checked it. Several calls and texts from Mac asking him to call her. He would call her. Later. He needed to take care of Trudy first. Bruiser turned into the parking lot and got out.

  Taking a deep breath, he walked into the bar. It was empty of customers, and Trudy looked up as he walked in. She frowned at him, as if he were distasteful medicine she had to take. Interesting. She wasn’t happy to see him.

  Ignoring her less-than-welcoming glare—she’d invited him after all—he sauntered up to the bar, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He could and would do this for Mac and her father. They deserved to know what happened, and Will needed to be put to rest. Maybe if he poured on the charm, Trudy wouldn’t be able to resist. But Trudy seemed agitated. She scrubbed the same spot on the counter with a bar rag over and over.

  “So, what’s up?” He leaned on the bar and took the beer she offered.

  After glancing over her shoulder, Trudy got right to the point, not even taking the time to proposition him. “The house is being foreclosed on.”

  “What house?”

  “Ben and Sonja’s. They have to be out within the week. They’re worried; I think there’s incriminating evidence. Like on the property.”

  “And why are you telling me this now?” Bruiser eyed her with suspicion, fearing he might be walking into a trap.

  “I can’t sleep. This is really wearing on me.” Trudy kept glancing around as if she expected Sonja and Ben to walk in.

  Bruiser didn’t buy it. Trudy only cared about herself. “What do you get out of this?”

  Trudy leaned forward across the bar and grabbed a handful of his shirt. “I’m scared shitless. I think I’m next.” Her face was whiter than his away jersey, and her lower lip quivered.

  “Why did you call me instead of the police?” Bruiser extracted her hands from his shirt and backed out of range.

  “I’m afraid. They’ll think I helped do it.”

  “Did you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You can ask for immunity before you tell them anything. I’ll get you an attorney to help make a deal.”

  “Will you? Will you go with me? I don’t have anyone else. All of my friends are her friends.”

  Bruiser hesitated. He didn’t trust this woman. Her story could be part of a trap. He’d seen firsthand how a female like her could ruin a man’s career and reputation. It’d happened too many times to teammates. If she involved him in any kind of scandal, even on the periphery, he could kiss goodbye to his efforts to gain guardianship of Elliot.

  Bruiser studied her closely and hoped like hell she wasn’t that good of an actor. He nodded, his decision made, for better or worse. He’d take the chance. For Mac and for Elliot he would do this. And for their future.

  He pulled out his phone to make a call. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll drive.”

  His cell was dead.

  * * * * *

  Mac paced the floor while Elliot sat huddled in a corner and her father channel-surfed. She tried Bruiser’s phone one more time, furious he wasn’t returning her calls or text messages. Once again it went straight to voicemail.

  The Joneses would be here any moment. She needed Bruiser here now. Mac and her father had just spent several harrowing hours looking for a kid they thought was lost in downtown Seattle.

  Elliot had taken a wild bus ride all over town, texting Mac with clues every half hour or so on the cell Bruiser had given him. Like this was some kind of game. Mac and her father were frantic to find him, and Bruiser was AWOL. Mac was pretty pissed at the world in general right now.

  Thanks to Craig’s incredible sleuthing skills, he tracked Elliot’s journey on a bus through different parts of Seattle until Elliot’s tracks led right back here to Mac’s house. Craig had found the kid hiding in the tool shed in the backyard.

  The Joneses claimed they hadn’t noticed he was missing until late last night and refused to call the police for reasons Mac didn’t understand.

  She didn’t know whether to hug Elliot or chew his ass out, but she did know she’d had her share of drama lately and was fed up.

  “I’m sorry,” Elliot mumbled as he hugged himself, looking lost and small.

  She stopped pacing in front of the boy. “Did you realize we were scared to death?”

  Elliot shrugged and fingered the fabric on his sweatpants.

  “You could’ve been hurt or worse.”

  “I won’t go back there.” He stuck out his lower lip, and it quivered. His eyes glistened with tears and something close to fear, effectively deflating Mac’s anger.

  “Elliot, you have to. They’re your legal guardians.”

  “I want you and Bruiser to be my guardians.”

  “Things like that take time.” Mac sighed with exasperation. God, she would have cut through the red tape if she could, but she couldn’t.

  “You aren’t even trying. Neither of you. You’re telling me you are, but you aren’t.”

  “Bruiser has an entire team of attorneys on it.”

  Elliot rubbed his eyes with his fists and hiccupped. “He stands in my doorway and watches me. I pretend to be asleep, and he goes away. Tonight, he didn’t go away, he came in after everyone else had gone to bed. When he pulled back the covers, I grabbed my cell phone and ran.” The dam broke and tears streamed down Elliot’s blotchy face.

  Which totally explained why the Joneses didn’t want to call the police.

  Mac dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Elliot. “Oh, Elliot, I didn’t know. Has he touched you?”

  Elliot shook his head, sobbing uncontrollably now. “No, and I don’t want him to either. Don’t make me go back there.”

  “I won’t,” she promised. Knowing what she knew now, Elliot would never be going back to the Joneses. She wouldn’t allow it, and Bruiser certainly wouldn’t. In fact, she’d have her hands full stopping him from killing the asshole. If only she could find Bruiser.

  Mac glanced at her watch, frustrated. She needed Bruiser here. He’d know what to do and how to fix this.

  A few minutes later, Mac heard his beast of a vehicle in the driveway. She ran out of the house, ready to rage at him, but something in his weary yet satisfied expression stopped her cold.

  “Where’ve you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

  “I know, I’m sorry. Trudy called, then my cell went dead, and we’ve been down at the station all night long. I didn’t want to wake you and—”

  “Trudy? The station?” Mac’s mind whirled as she tried to process his words into something that made sense.

  “Yeah, she gave the detectives her statement. She’s—” Bruiser’s words were cut short by a convoy of police cars pulling up next door. Illuminated by the orange light of a rising sun, Mac recognized the lead detective on Will’s case as he led uniformed men up the front steps, pounded on the door, and yelled for Sonja and Ben to open up. When no one responded, they broke the door down and entered the house.

  Mac grabbed Bruiser’s arm. “What’s happening?”

  Elliot walked onto the porch to watch. “Wow, look at all those cop cars.”

  Bruiser’s brow furrowed as he focused on Elliot. “Elliot, what are you doing here?”

  “That’s why I tried to call you. He ran away.”

  “I didn’t run away. I went on an adventure.” Elliot wiped his eyes with his T-shirt and put on a brave face. “Mac says I don’t have to go back.”

  Bruiser looked from one to another with an adorably puzzled frown on his haggard face. He ran his hands through his already rumpled golden hair and sank down on the front steps. “Elliot, we’ve had this discussion. I can’t—”

  “He isn’t going bac
k,” Mac interrupted Bruiser.

  “I’m missing the meat of this story, aren’t I?” Bruiser held his hand over his mouth as he yawned.

  “Here they come,” Elliot hid behind Bruiser and grabbed his arm, as the Joneses’ minivan weaved its way through cop cars and parked across the street.

  Mac clutched Bruiser’s other arm, talking as fast as she could. “His uncle has been standing in Elliot’s doorway late at night. Elliot fakes like he’s asleep. Tonight, after everyone else was asleep, he approached Elliot’s bed and pulled back the covers.”

  Mac didn’t have time to say more as Ruth and John crossed the street. Bruiser’s face turned hard and formidable. That muscle jerked in his jaw, and he looked ready to beat the crap out of someone—a very fat and pompous someone.

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” Mac hissed as she held his arm.

  “Can I castrate the bastard?”

  Mac shook her head, even though she’d love to give Bruiser the thumbs-up.

  Bruiser balled his hands into fists, spread his legs apart in a fighting stance, and waited for Ruth and John to walk up the sidewalk. He looked more than intimidating.

  “Get in the car, Elliot,” Ruth ordered, pointing a pudgy finger at Elliot.

  “He’s not going with you. I’ll have my attorney draw up the papers and deliver them next week.” Bruiser’s deadly quiet voice carried a threatening undercurrent.

  John stepped backward a few steps and moved behind his wife, not hard to do since she was as wide as she was tall. What a fucking coward.

  The big woman puffed out her chest and snarled at Bruiser. “He’s going with us. I’ll call the police and report you for kidnapping.” She looked down the street. “Even better, I’ll go get them right now.”

  “I’ll report your husband for child molestation,” Bruiser countered, his voice as frigid as the waters of Puget Sound in the winter.

  Mac noticed the woman didn’t blink once, which meant this might not be the first accusation she’d heard of this nature.

  “I never touched that kid,” her husband insisted.

  He hadn’t, according to Elliot, which meant they might not have a legal leg to stand on.

  “You bastard, I’m going to—” Bruiser surged forward, hands fisted.