by Desiree Holt
He blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That was uncalled for. I apologize. I—” He paused, then shook his head. “Never mind. Now can we please get some food?”
Tyler wasn’t sure which stunned her more, his insult or his apology. She opted not to say anything, not that she knew what she’d say anyway, and climbed out of the car. All she needed to top this morning off was to run into her ex here.
And yup, the bad luck gods were having a laugh at her expense. They had barely settled into the booth they managed to snag when a voice she’d hoped never to hear sounded in her ear.
“Well, hey, Tyler. I’m glad to see you in here. This must be my lucky day.”
She looked up from her open menu and yes, indeedy, there he was. Mr. Metrosexual Broder himself. Today he wore gray slacks with a black V-neck sweater on his slender build, the one she’d been attracted to because it was so different from the huge musclemen on the football team. Any football team. The sleeves were pushed up as if copying the habit of men obviously more masculine than he was. His hair was gelled and styled, and he sported a gold Rolex on one wrist. He’d always told her it was a symbol of his success.
If she hadn’t been so reluctant to defend the athletes she saw as competition for her father’s attention, she would have told him they could each buy a hundred Rolexes without dipping into their lunch money. What had she ever seen in this phony anyway?
She looked up at him and pasted on a fake smile. “Hello, Nate. Too bad I can’t say the same.” She hoped he caught the vinegar in her words.
She heard Rafe mutter under his breath, “Speak of the devil.”
Nate frowned, and waved a finger back and forth between her and Rafe. “So, are you two an item now?”
“Yes.” She said it for sheer meanness.
“No,” Rafe said at the same time.
Nate laughed that weird laugh that after a time had grated on her nerves like steel on slate. “Shouldn’t you get your stories straight?”
“What can we do for you?” Tyler asked. “I’m sure you must have much more important or interesting people to talk to.”
“I always have interesting people to talk to.” He looked at Rafe again, then back at Tyler. “Tyler, I’m really glad to see you. Why have you stopped answering my calls?”
“Because I don’t want to talk to you.” She met his gaze head-on. “Don’t you get that?”
“Come on, Tyler.” He pulled out what she was sure he thought of as his charm and that she found sort of smarmy. “I hate the way we left things.”
“We left it the way it should be.” She was doing her best to control her irritation with him. Their marriage had been a disaster from day one, at least as far as she was concerned. She had no desire to rehash it now. She just wanted him gone.
“I don’t think so. I’ve really missed you.” His mouth curved in what she always called his client smile, the one he used for, well, clients.
“Sorry, I can’t say the same. And you can kill the orders for flowers and all that crap. I only throw them out, so you might as well save your money. Stop calling me. We’re done, Nate. Finished. Get the message.”
He frowned. “I haven’t sent you flowers in a while, Tyler. Not since you yelled at me over the phone about them.”
Her stomach knotted and she lowered her hands to her lap so he wouldn’t see them shake. “Y-you stopped sending them?”
“Uh-huh. So if you’re still getting them, you must have a new admirer.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m not sure I like having competition.”
Even as she fought the sudden wash of fear, anger surged through her. “Listen to me, Nate. Really listen. You are nothing to me. We are done. Over. Finito.”
“Come on, Tyler. We really need to sit down and talk.” His voice softened. “As a matter of fact, a client of the firm is having a gallery opening next week.” He pulled out that smile again. “I was hoping I could talk you into going with me. You still appreciate art, right?”
Calm, she told herself as she tried to bite back the anger. Stay calm. She needed to be firm but nice. That was difficult to do with Nate. However, getting into a spat with him here in the restaurant wouldn’t do anyone any good. Maybe if she was polite but firm he’d go away.
“I still do, but that’s a big no on the invite.”
“Do you have plans?” He looked again at Rafe, who sat silently while this little tableau played out, then back at Tyler. “I can call you with the details.” His smile faded. “Please listen to me. You know I was never happy with our split. We were good together. Very good. And you know it.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away.
“The ‘we were good’ part lasted about a week and you know it.” She forced out the next sentence. “By any chance have you been around my town house lately?”
He narrowed his eyes. “What—Why—”
“Have. You. Been. Around. My. Town house. Lately.” She enunciated each word carefully. She glanced across the table at Rafe, who was watching the conversation intently, ready to step in if he needed to. “That’s a simple enough question, right?”
The muscles in his face tightened. “If I happen to drive by once in a while, what’s the big deal?”
She could hardly believe what he was saying. “You don’t even live anywhere near me.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I have friends in the area.” He shifted his gaze to Rafe, then back to her. “What’s going on here? What’s this all about, anyway? Is something happening to you?”
He was either sincere or a very good liar. Right now, she couldn’t afford to cross him off the list.
“Nothing’s going on,” she said at last. “But don’t call me anymore and don’t drive past my house. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to study the menu.”
“What about next weekend?” he persisted. “I’m not giving up here. We had something special together.”
Rafe finally put down his menu and looked at Nate. “Apparently not special enough. The lady asked you more than once to leave her alone. It would be smart of you to do so.”
“Or what?” Nate challenged. His voice was hostile now but his face held a look of desperation. “You’ll get some of your football goons to beat me up?”
Rafe stated to rise but Tyler held out her hand. She was already tired of Nate. If he turned out to be her stalker, she’d be happy for them to lock him up far, far away.
“Enough, Nate. If you ever want to be able to score private suite tickets for a Hawks game again, you should just shut up and walk away. Now.”
It was obvious by the way his entire body tensed up that he was far from finished, but he finally nodded his head.
“If that’s the way you want it, I’ll go. For now. But I know all that snark is just a front you put up to keep people away. I’m not finished yet.” He started to leave then stopped. “I’ll say it again, Tyler. We were damn good together. You just need to be a little more open to the situation, and we can be good together again.”
“Over my dead body,” she muttered as she watched him stride toward the rear of the restaurant and slide into a booth.
She noticed there was no one else sitting there, which she thought a little strange. Maybe he was meeting someone, because Nate never did anything without an audience. Not even eat a meal.
“I might need more than coffee after that.” She forced herself to relax and nodded at the waitress. The woman had avoided the confrontation but now arrived with a full pot of coffee.
“Some of your football goons?” Rafe repeated. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of something that he obviously doesn’t mind taking advantage of. He gets free guest-suite invites?”
Tyler lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “He got them as a perk of our marriage and kept them as part of the divorce settlement, such as it was. Thanks, Dad, for your wonderful generosity. He keeps using them to impress clients. I guess I should put a stop to it. I don’t know why I
haven’t before this.”
“It concerns me,” Rafe said, “that he’s been able to get your new phone numbers and has been driving by your house. What’s this about flowers and calls?”
“I told you about it. After we divorced he started on a campaign to, as he put it, win me back.” She nibbled on a fingernail. “The flowers and candy started again about the same time I began getting the strange calls. Except he says they aren’t coming from him.”
Rafe gave her a hard look. “Don’t dismiss him as harmless, Tyler. He’s still got a thing going for you, which makes him dangerous in my book. We almost had to throw him out of here to get him to leave.”
She shuddered. “No kidding. But what can I do?”
He gave her a tight smile. “That’s what you have me for.” He slid out of the booth. “Order me a number seven. I’ll be back in a few.”
Tyler turned to look over her shoulder, frowning. He’d damn well better tell her what he was talking about when he came back. She was no dimwit to be kept in the dark. This was her life and her safety they were discussing. She turned around again and picked up her coffee, sipping at the hot liquid. Too bad it wasn’t hot enough to melt the chill that had suddenly settled right in the center of her body.
Chapter 9
While they finished breakfast, Rafe told her about the call he’d made.
“I wanted Lone Star to be sure they put Nate Broder’s name right up there with Chad Sinclair and Ed Spinelli. I’d originally put Chad at the top but Nate’s almost running neck and neck with him after this morning’s little display. And we can’t forget Ed. Before we’re through we’ll know everything there is to know about them,” he assured her. “Not that it’s my business, but what the hell did you ever see in those assholes?”
She took a sip of her coffee. “I still ask myself that.”
No way would she ever tell him marrying Nate had been her attempt to make herself acceptable to her father. She’d thought for sure a well-connected, successful attorney would do the trick. But Kurt had ignored the situation except to grant the request for game tickets. And once Tyler realized she was actually going to have to live with Nate and put herself through some very boring sex, she’d tossed him out. Kurt hadn’t made a single comment, just sent her to a shark of an attorney so her trust fund was protected.
Rafe studied her over the rim of his mug. “We need to expand on the list you gave me yesterday. I need to know everyone you’ve come into contact with on a regular basis. That even includes the guy who does your landscaping who might have a secret fetish for you. So take a minute while you’re sitting there, make another list of every male in your life no matter how insignificant, and I’ll have the agency check them out. Do it when we get to the stadium.”
His phone rang while they were finishing their coffee. From his side of the conversation she assumed it was about Nate and that Rafe wanted whoever it was to dig deeper. His comments were so terse she finally gave up trying to make sense of them. She pulled out her own cell, which she’d silenced, and scrolled through missed calls and texts. She caught Rafe looking at her, one eyebrow raised in question, silently asking if there was anything from her stalker. She shook her head and busied herself texting Betsy and Lynn.
As soon as Rafe finished his conversation, he signaled for the check. The drive to the stadium was accomplished in silence. Rafe’s face gave away nothing of his thoughts, but she could tell he was deep in concentration. She went back to exchanging texts until they pulled into the stadium parking lot. Phone still in hand, she followed Rafe to the on-site Lone Star security office. It was on the ground floor where it served as the base of operations on game days.
“Do you want anything?” Rafe asked. “I need to get my team together and discuss tomorrow.”
“I’m good.” She flipped a hand at him. “If I want something, I can go look for it.”
“No.”
“No?” She gawked at him. “Are you telling me I can’t wander around my father’s stadium?”
He nodded. “I’m not taking any chances.”
“For God’s sake, Rafe. Surely you don’t think any of those guys would be dumb enough to try something here.”
“I’m not taking any chances. Until we nail him down—whoever he is—I want my eyes on you at all times.” He waved at a chair in the corner. “Make yourself comfortable for the moment. We’ll be going out into the stadium itself shortly. Meanwhile, work on that list for me.”
Tyler didn’t know whether to be pleased he was so concerned about her safety or pissed because he was acting as if last night had never happened. She plopped down in her chair and took out her phone. Betsy had texted her again.
“R u serious? That hot man is in yr house? Alone with u?”
“He’s not all that.”
The answer came back in a minute. “If that’s what u thnk you are seriously insane.”
“So I gss I’m nuts.”
“Cn u talk? I want deets.”
“None 2 tell u.” She added a little smiley face.
“Ha-ha.” Betsy added a grinning devil with a pitchfork.
While she was texting, the security guards filed into Rafe’s office. The room was fairly large but the size and number of the men quickly gave it a crowded feeling. Rafe did not introduce Tyler nor did she make it a point to greet any of them. She finally stowed her phone and made herself as invisible in the corner as possible, curious to watch the man at his job.
She found it interesting the way he handed out assignments. She got the idea that most of the men had been with him for a while so this was more just checking their to-do lists. She was interested, though, to hear the changes that had been made.
“Tomorrow we play the Mustangs,” he told his staff. “That’s always a highly emotional game. Last year we had some fights erupt that we luckily managed to break up before anyone got seriously hurt. But between that and the episodes of violence around the country, management has decided to increase personnel on game day.”
“Are they trained?” someone asked.
Rafe nodded. “Just not by us. But they have worked athletic events before. They’ll be part of the yellow vest crew.”
Tyler knew enough about it to know that Rafe’s top crew wore soft-collared polo shirts in red with the Hawks logo. The rest of the men wore red Hawks T-shirts with bright green vests over them. Rafe believed in maximum visibility for his men at all times. She also knew that only Rafe and two other men were armed. The orders were never to use firearms except in extreme circumstances. Tyler had no idea what those would be, but she didn’t remember an incident with a shooting ever happening at Southern Bank Stadium.
She passed the time trying to create the list that Rafe wanted. About the time she was finished, had e-mailed it to Rafe, and scrolled through her texts from Betsy and Lynn again, the men began to move out of the office.
Rafe motioned to her. “Come on.”
“Come on? Where to?”
“The stadium proper. We do a final check and a walkthrough for the new guys.” He looked at his watch. “I’ll be as quick as I can. Let’s go.”
“I’ll wait here.”
“Did you already forget what I said before?” He took one of her hands and tugged her from the chair. “Come on. Up.”
She was tempted to make an issue of it, but the sooner they finished the sooner they could get out of here. There was nothing about the stadium that made her enjoy being here. It represented everything she’d hated all her life, her competitor along with the team for the affections of Kurt Gillette. But she just let Rafe pull her to her feet. He kept her hand enclosed in his as they made their way along the concourse that circled the inner part of the facility. On either side of the wide expanse, she saw the shuttered kiosks of the food and merchandise vendors. Tomorrow the lines would be ten-deep everywhere.
They came to an access point and Rafe led her up the incline to where the second tier of seats began. A ma
n stood there, obviously waiting for them.
“This is Tony,” Rafe said. “He wants to keep you company while I finish doing my thing.”
Tyler looked up at Tony and actually laughed. The man was doing his best to keep his face expressionless, but the thin line of his mouth was a good indicator that babysitting the owner’s wild child—especially a thirty-two-year-old wild child—was not on his happy list.
“I can sit by myself,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine. What can possibly happen here in all this emptiness?” She waved her arm to illustrate her words.
“You never know who’s going to show up.” Rafe spit the words out like nails as he gazed over her head.
Tyler turned to see what had caught his attention. Chad Sinclair had just emerged onto their level but two entrances away. He had two people with him who she assumed were media. They were looking at the team on the field, both sides of the ball, going through a final walkthrough of the playbook. Chad motioned for Tyler to come join them, but Rafe had a firm grip on her arm.
“Tony’s happy to sit with you.” His words were completely uninflected, a sign she’d discovered of seething emotions underneath. She imagined it was the kind of control he’d learned on the field to work his assignments in each play. He looked at the man beside him. “Right, Tony?”
“It would be my honor, Miss Gillette.” His voice was formal but he was fighting a smile.
“Tyler,” she said. “Call me Tyler.”
He was as tall as Rafe, but considerably older. Who on earth was he, anyway? Was he part of Rafe’s team?
“Okay, Miss—Tyler.”
Impishly she hooked her arm through his. “I’ll bet you’ll take very good care of me.”
“Tony has his instructions.” Rafe’s voice was tight with barely leashed control.
“Oh, look,” Tyler teased. “Here comes Chad with his reporters.”
Rafe looked at Tony, who nodded and said, “I got this.”
When she thought about it later, Tyler had to appreciate how smoothly Rafe had managed the whole thing. It seemed like only moments later that she was seated several sections over with Tony, watching the team on the field. Chad Sinclair, to her left, was walking down the steps to the field with his media people in tow. And Rafe, to her right, was on the walkway at the top of the first tier of seats with his very large security crew.