Playing To Win: The Complete King Brothers Collection (A Contemporary Romance Box Set)

by Teagan Kade

  “How’s that King kid working out for you?”

  I lean against the counter looking at a photo of Gordy and I up on the windowsill. It was my seventeenth birthday and he decided to take us to this crappy theme park in Jackson County. It was my first time on a Ferris wheel. I was panicking the whole time thinking we were going to fall.

  I snap out of it. “He’s, ah, a little stubborn, I guess,” realizing that’s not really the right word. “Confused, maybe.”

  “About you? He’s a damn fool then,” says Gordy, straining as he works. Handyman stuff like this is not his strong suit.

  “It’s not me, or at least I don’t think it is.”

  “Whatever it is,” continues Gordy, “he should be treating you like a gosh-darn goddess. I won’t accept anything else.”

  “He’s having a hard time. There’s a lot of pressure on him, and he did get the soup kitchen rolling again. Do you know how much money that auction raised? It’s going to be incredible.”

  “Yeah, yeah, he’s a saint, but he hasn’t walked in your shoes.” He hands the wrench back. “I think that will do it.”

  Suddenly, water blasts from under the sink, Gordy’s legs kicking around on the floor like he’s being defibrillated.

  “Wrench! Wrench!” he shouts.

  I hand it back, copping a face full of water in the process and trying not to laugh.

  With a grrrr the water slowly subsides, and Gordy’s legs relax, but the kitchen’s a mess.

  “Pull me out,” he says.

  I take his legs and slowly drag him out onto the kitchen floor. He’s soaked, the hair he does have left is plastered to his forehead.

  “There are easier ways to take a shower, you know. I could have grabbed the garden hose—”

  “Enough, you,” he laughs, folding his arms over his chest. “And yeah, I should have called someone. You were right, yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “I always am,” I smile back, head high. “What’s next, and please don’t tell me it involves anything like fixing the roof or replacing the alternator. Wet is one thing, but a hospital trip is quite another.”

  With a grunt he pushes himself up off the floor, teetering there before me. “Yeah, yeah. You’re relived.”

  I pick up my backpack. “It’s been fun, Gordy.”

  He reaches for a nearby cloth, toweling off his face and neck. “Watch that boy, H.”

  I roll my eyes. “So people keep telling me. I can handle him just fine.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I,” I wink, waving as I head towards the front door. “No more DIY, got it?” I shout.

  “Oh, I think I’m quite done for the day, maybe the decade,” comes the reply.

  I’m smiling as I leave, but it slips when my thoughts wander to Phoenix. They blast through my head in a kaleidoscope of our dates, helping me out in the kitchen, baking, the sex… God damn, the sex. I quiver there on the spot thinking of the heat of his hands against my skin, the perfect way he pressed inside me, unrelenting until all I could see were stars. It’s almost enough to forgive his recent sins.

  Almost.

  Get a handle on yourself, Heather, I warn. People are counting on you.

  Priorities refocused, I make it home and prep another batch of sandwiches, box up the leftover cookies and dump it all into the back of the car, nodding once in satisfaction before I close it and head off.

  *

  There’s light rain as I unload the car near the bridge. It’s cold out and people start to emerge wearing blankets, holey jackets, old Jack wearing a work sock as a beanie—whatever’s on hand. It’s not a fashion show down here. It’s survival.

  And it’s not even winter, I think.

  It’s odd being here without Phoenix, but as I hand out the sandwiches and cookies, I start to smile again with the knowledge at least the new and improved soup kitchen will be running soon. That’ll be a hell of a lot better for everyone around here.

  “Looking good, Heather.”

  I hand the old man in front of me a sandwich. “Thanks, Knobby. How you doing?”

  Knobby’s been here as long as I can remember, once had a penchant for getting his you-know-what out. He’s a bit more subdued these days, used to panhandle around town until the authorities sent him packing.

  He smiles and I don’t think he has a tooth left. “Eh, you know the life of a bum. Keeping warm and keeping fed. That’s about all there is to it.”

  “I remember,” I say, and I do. It’s hard to describe to someone what it’s like having an empty belly for a week if they’ve never experienced it themselves. It eats at you, that hunger, turns you into something less than human.

  “Where’s that strapping young man of yours, hey? You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

  It’s really turning into déjà vu day. Most people down here have stopped asking about him, but Knobby’s got the memory of a goldfish these days.

  “Oh, he’s busy picking out a pro basketball team. Going to be quite the star.”

  Knobby chews on his gums. “I used to whirl and twirl the skinsack myself, even snuck in to see the Harlem Globetrotters.”

  “I bet you were real good,” I smile.

  “You know much about it, basketball?”

  I shake my head. “I know you throw a ball through a hoop and that’s about it.”

  “That’s about it!” shouts Knobby, far too loud for normal conversation and doing a jig on the spot. “That’s about it!” he repeats. “Girl, you’ve got a lot to learn.” He gets close, whispering. “It’s a gentleman’s game, physical chess.” He pretends to put up a shot. “You’ve got to have all the moves.”

  With that hip-shaking I bet Knobby had some moves back in the day.

  He goes off daydreaming while I shake my head, reaching into the box for another sandwich when I see a patrol car snaking its way down the road.

  It parks and I prepare to wave to Teddy, but he’s not alone.

  Teddy’s there all right, but so are two others with buzzcuts and a look on their face that says this is no social visit.

  Shit.

  The homeless scatter. I place the box down as the cops approach, the two newbies muscling in front of Teddy, a wall before me. Even the aviators are cliché.

  The one of the left talks first. “Ma’am, do you know what you’re doing here is illegal?”

  I notice the one of the right has his hand on his weapon, Teddy looking like he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole.

  I fold my arms and try to remain calm. “I don’t believe it is, officer.”

  Teddy tries to step forward, but he’s blocked. “Why don’t we hand out a little warning here and be on our way, boys. Lunch is on me.”

  They ignore him, the left one stepping over and looking into the box. “This food in here?”

  “It ain’t gold,” I reply.

  The officer smiles at that. I see myself in the mirror-like lens of his sunglasses, I look kind of badass, actually.

  That’s shafted fast when the officer raises his foot and stomps down into the box repeatedly, squashing the twenty or so sandwiches left.

  By reflex I go to push him away. “Hey!” I shout. “That’s good food there. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I see the officer on the right move, the left one continuing to slam his foot down, crushing everything until the box is flat and broken, what’s left of the sandwiches completely unusable.

  I go to shove him again but this time the officer on the left takes out his gun, taking a defensive stance with the thing pointed right at my chest. “Back, now!” he shouts.

  I put my hands up and step backwards, Teddy leaping between us with his hands out. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not let this get out of hand.”

  “Step aside,” says the officer. “She’s coming with us.”

  I keep my hands raised, trying to look at Teddy for what to do, but he seems as clueless and powerless as I am.

  I do my best to steady
myself while the second officer takes out his cuffs and reaches for my arm, twisting it around behind my back and slamming me over the trunk of my car.

  “Easy now,” pleads Teddy, definite panic in his voice.

  “I’ll remind you the Supreme Court ruled feeding the needed is protected under the First Amendment. I have a right to be here,” I tell them, but the only reply I’m receiving is a Miranda warning.

  I grimace as the cuffs are pulled tight into place, my shoulder blades pressed awkwardly together. There’s no use arguing with these boneheads, even with Teddy here.

  The cop with his gun raised leans right over to my ear. “I don’t like your attitude, miss. I don’t like it one damn bit.”

  Teddy’s still trying to intervene. “I think she gets the picture. Why don’t we let her go and we can kick back? What do you say? You really want the paperwork? It’s going to be a shitshow.”

  The cop behind me yanks me so hard away from the trunk my arms are almost pulled from their sockets. “Hey!” I shout.

  I notice the people I’ve come to feed have started to surround us, more and more of them coming over in a silent mass.

  Now both cops have their weapons drawn.

  This is going bad—fast.

  I’ve got to do something.

  Teddy’s pleading away, but even he looks scared. It’s three against sixty or more. One shot and…

  Think, Heather.

  “It’s okay,” I tell the homeless. “I’ll be fine. I know you want to help, but it’s fine,” I repeat. “Let them do their jobs. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  “Listen to her,” says the cop leading me to the patrol car, his gun waving from person to person. “Don’t give me a reason.”

  Slowly, they back away, their hollow eyes watching closely as I’m pressed into the back of the patrol car, the door slammed closed and nothing but a cage in front of me.

  You did the right thing, I tell myself. I could have argued, whipped them into a frenzy, sure, but I don’t want their blood on my hands. These people have been through enough.

  So, I let them take me.

  It’s all I can do.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  PHOENIX

  Nolan jumps over the back of the couch, landing beside me and taking the remote. “What’s got you so down in the dumps?” He notices what I’m watching. “Is this fucking Jersey Shore? You’ll get cancer watching that shit.” He changes the channel to hockey. “Better.”

  I couldn’t care less, was barely paying attention until he arrived.

  “But seriously,” he continues. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you brooding around the place. It’s like I’ve got a wet mop for a brother.”

  We both continue to stare at the TV.

  “Can’t say I’ve seen you ’round much,” I say.

  “Don’t you worry about me. I’m doing fine, baby.”

  Now I eye him. “I thought you were supposed to be the shy, reserved King?”

  He laughs. “Even black sheep can have their secrets.”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to know what kinky sexual shit you’ve been up to.”

  “You know me. I don’t roll like you guys, sleeping with anything within sixty miles. I have principles.”

  I laugh so hard I fall into a coughing fit, reaching for my chest to steady myself. “Thank you. I needed that.”

  “Glad I could be of service. Now, you going to start talking or should get a car battery and nipple clamps?”

  “And there we go again with the kinky sexual shit.”

  “Hey,” he fires back, jabbing the remote at me, “at least I’m not turning into Betty Crocker. I’ve seen you in the kitchen. We’ve got a guy for that, you know.”

  “I’ve already asked him for a few pointers.”

  “Keep it up and your dick’s going to be run back inside your body, leave you with a pussy.”

  “Wouldn’t be so bad. I get sick of tucking it into my tube sock as it is.”

  He shoves me in the side but I barely budge. “Everyone knows I am packing the biggest—”

  I put a finger up to silence him, taking out my cell, Heather’s name on the screen.

  “Your boyfriend?” asks Nolan.

  “Not quite.”

  “Better take it.”

  I ignore the call, swiping it away.

  “Suit yourself,” he says, placing his feet up on the coffee table and continuing to watch the hockey.

  My phone pings to register voicemail has been received. There’s a split second of hesitation before I stand and move down to the front lounge.

  I check I’m alone before answering, pacing there on the cream carpet of the lounge. I bring my phone up and listen to Heather’s message.

  She sounds panicked. “I don’t have a lot of time, so please listen. I’m in jail downtown. They threw me in here with some bullshit charge and I’ve used my one phone call on you because you’re the only person I know who has an attorney.”

  Holy shit. She hasn’t said why she’s in jail, but I have a pretty good inkling.

  “Look,” she goes on, and I hear someone wolf whistle in the background, “I hate asking for your help, but I’ve got no other options here. I need you and that’s really all there is to it. I hope you can understand.”

  The line goes dead.

  I take a seat staring at the phone considering what to do. I’m conscious of a new tension enveloping me, a protectiveness I haven’t felt in a long time, but there’s something else. I probe and pick at it until it reveals itself.

  Shame.

  That’s what it is. I feel an inch fucking tall that she’s apologizing for asking me to help her. Am I really that much of an asshole?

  I go into contacts and pull up Weston’s number, the family attorney. It’s been a while, but he’s on retainer for good reason, for precisely this kind of thing. If Dad wants to argue details, fine, but I’m going to get Heather out no matter what.

  Weston answers. “Phoenix, dare I ask?”

  I get straight to the point. “I need you to bail out someone, downtown.”

  “Which one and what’s he done?”

  “None of them, and it’s a she.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Give me the details. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And Weston?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s keep my father out of this one.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I give Weston the details and hang on, slumping deep into the wingback and thinking of Heather there behind bars. Can’t say it’s all bad. She is a badass, probably has a bigger set of balls than the entire basketball team.

  Ah, but you know that ain’t true.

  I twist at the thought of our previous encounters, the hot iron of her hand around my cock, the way she ground down against me, wet as a summer storm.

  An idea occurs to me. It is completely, out-there, batshit crazy, but the smile it’s bringing to my face is telling me I’m going to go through with it.

  Dad’s going to freak, of course. It might even raise an eyebrow or two around campus, town even, but it could also bring attention of a different kind. It only takes me five seconds to decide.

  I head back into the kitchen and take my keys out of the bowl by the microwave, grabbing my jacket from the hook on the wall.

  “Where you off to?” asks Nolan, refusing to turn around.

  I pull my jacket into place, looking at myself in the mirror of the oven door. “Destiny.”

  I drive downtown and pull into the supermarket, impressed I’m starting to get to know my way around the place. I stop at the pre-made counter up the back, a young kid there with a face like the surface of Mars suddenly standing to attention.

  “Hey, I know you,” he says. “You’re Phoenix King.”

  “Spot on.”

  “What team are you going to sign with?” He’s excited now. “Lakers, Blazers? Bulls? You’d look great in re
d.” He realizes what he’s said. “Not that I’m saying, like, shit… you know. Ah, what do you want?”

  Poor bastard. I point down to the lower shelf between us where there’s a stack of pre-made sandwiches and wraps, salads and sushi boxed up ready to go. “All of it.”

  He looks stunned. “All of it?”

  I take out my Platinum card, holding it aloft between two fingers. “All of it,” I repeat.

  *

  I come to a skidding halt by the bridge. I get out and have to admit the Corvette looks a touch out of place around here, but it’s certainly attracting attention. Already the homeless are emerging and making their way over, keen to see what curiosity today has brought.

  I pop the trunk and start to unload the stuff from the supermarket. This car wasn’t made for delivery work, but I managed to squeeze it all in.

  The young girl with the waxen face from last time is the first to come up to me. “You came back.”

  I hand her a sandwich. “Of course.”

  She unwraps it immediately, winking at me. “Good. I always like a bit of eye candy with my meal.”

  She walks off smiling, the next guy reaching out to shake my hand first. “Bless you, my boy, but you know they took Heather, don’t you, the police? Two of them that looked like god damn Terminators.”

  I hand him a boxed meal. “Sure do, and I’m going to give them hell.”

  He laughs through crooked teeth. “Thadda boy!”

  It takes less than five minutes before Crestfall’s finest arrive, Teddy nowhere to be seen leaving only the aforementioned Terminator twins.

  I continue to hand out food blatantly as they approach, hands on weapons.

  “Sir,” one of them says, “I’m going to have to ask you to stop”.

  I ignore him. “Now why the hell would I do that?” I roll out the classic. “You know who I am right?”

  The one on the left gives a slight snigger, takes a grip of his belt. “I know you can’t be down here doing what you’re doing, and I think you know that.”

  I keep handing stuff out, refusing to make eye contact. “Maybe I do. Maybe I don’t.”

  “Enough of this shit,” says the one of the right, spitting to the ground. “Read him his rights.”