Players to Lovers (4 Book Collection)

by Ketley Allison

  Mike’s definitely the type of super-villain to use his weapon when he’ll sustain the most damage.

  I can’t take it anymore. I text Astor:

  * * *

  If you’ve changed your mind, I’m cool with it, but you have to let me know. I’m seeing your bro in an hour.

  * * *

  Nothing. No response, not even three dots to let me know she’s typing.

  “Fuck this.”

  I stand, grab my duffel, and head to Brooklyn.

  Locke meets me at the entrance to his nearby gym.

  He looks happy, I think as I walk up to him. Got that look about him, the coloring of a man with a good woman at his side. And a baby.

  With zero knowledge about his best friend diddling his sister.

  “What’s up, man,” he says as I approach. “Was about to think you weren’t going to show.”

  “Nah, just delayed on the bridge,” I lie.

  He claps me on the back. “Let’s get to it. I only got forty minutes now.”

  I nod, but I’m too busy searching his face in an attempt to discover what he knows. Unfortunately, I suck at it.

  “What’re you doing, bro? Checking me for ticks?”

  “No, man.” I rear back and check my phone instead. Still nothing from Astor. “Just thought you had something on your face.”

  Locke frowns at me, as if confused I’d be pointing it out rather than let him go about the rest of his day with shit on this face.

  He has a point.

  I stay mum throughout the entirety of our workout, preferring to get out aggression caveman style and heave around a bunch of weights.

  We finish, with little small talk, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Locke voices concern.

  “You seem … distracted. Everything good?” Locke asks as he pushes open the door to the men’s locker room.

  “Yeah. I’m just—” my phone buzzes, and I check to see if it’s Astor. It’s not.

  “You got a chick blowing up your phone?”

  “Nah. I mean, yeah. I guess.”

  “I get it now.” Locke throws his sports bag from the locker to a bench. “You look exactly how I used to, when all I did was fuck around and not bother to know any naked chicks in my bed. You’re getting tired of it.”

  “Believe me, brother, it’s not that.”

  If I told you what it is—your sister—we’d both have a helluva lunch break.

  I glance at my phone again before tearing off my coat and throwing it next to my gym bag. Zero notifications.

  “I think it’s time you get a woman,” Locke says, and when I look up, he’s so serious I want to laugh in his face.

  “You’re a professional matchmaker now?” I say. “Because you found the love of your life, me, Ash, and East have to find ours? Get a big family BBQ on?”

  “Not those two idiots, they’re lost causes,” Locke says. “But you. I dunno, you seem like you need someone to come home to.”

  “Well, thank you for the Hallmark card, but I’m good.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  You’re right, bro. My parents’ murders are front-page news. You don’t know it, though, because they’re part of a past I had to go into witness protection for because I was there to see them die. At four years old. I’m not who I say I am, in so many ways. Oh, and did I mention me and your sister tried anal last night?

  “What kind of guy am I?” I blurt.

  “Huh?”

  Fuck. I didn’t realize I said it out loud. But it’s true. I’ve got the best buddies in the world, won the lottery in so many ways with a happy, stable family life with a bomb-ass career, and it can be taken away at any second.

  I’ve survived fire, but now I’m playing with it.

  Giving in and having Astor in all the ways I want except for the heart she protects. Pretending my past doesn’t exist. Letting strangers in the legal system sort my parents’ killers out.

  All I gotta do is tell Locke the truth, unload some of this weight, and maybe I’ll come out of it okay.

  Which truth?

  What’s gonna come out first? My true name, or my true feelings for his sister?

  My phone vibrates with a text, and finally, it’s the woman of the hour.

  * * *

  I’m dealing with something at the office right now. Have to talk to you later.

  * * *

  I frown. Then glare. What’s more important than telling her brother about us before fuckin’ Mike does? Her work? Astor’s goddamned, all important files that take more priority than Locke’s feelings? Our betrayal?

  I don’t care if it has to do with the Delaneys. They’re long dead. It’s been twenty years of trying to figure out their tragedy. They can’t be brought back. The cruelty can’t be taken away or branded out of my mind. This, here and now, can be fixed.

  What the fuck, Astor?

  She’s not going to be any help. Once again, her heart has frozen over.

  “Locke, I have to tell you something.”

  “No kidding?” Locke says jokingly, then takes a seat next to our bags. “What’s up? You know I’m here for you, whatever’s going on.”

  He’s right. I could tell him I’m taking steroids, and he’d still be there for me.

  “I…”

  I can’t tell him about Ryan. There’s too little known about the killers’ affiliations and who waits for the verdict in the shadows. I can’t put him, Carter, and Lily at risk.

  It’s a nightmare, picturing men in black clothes breaking in to their insecure, creaking, second-floor brownstone apartment that slopes slightly because of its sagging weight. Having them tied to chairs. Tortured the way Rose and Tim Delaney were. Lily, screaming for her mom. Crying out for her dad, Locke, to save her…

  Daddy! Daddy, help Momma! Help Momma!

  I—I can’t son. I’m so sorry, I—Punch. Smack—Ryan, close your eyes. Close them, there’s a good boy—A crowbar, crunching against bone.

  I’d never forgive myself.

  “It’s about Astor,” I say thickly.

  I expect Locke to angle his head, maybe pierce me with questions. After all, what does his sister have to do with anything?

  Instead, his stare narrows, and, if possible, goes flat. “Oh, yeah?”

  I swallow. At no point is Astor going to burst in here and do the dirty work. She made her choice clear when she failed to show this morning.

  “Something happened between us.”

  Silence.

  I grind my teeth, unwilling to be a coward and look away from my friend. But he isn’t giving me any sort of emotion, anything to let me know what he’s thinking.

  He says, at last, “I know.”

  My jaw unlocks. “You do?”

  “I was wondering when you’d ever admit it to me.”

  Oh man, do I ever have to tread carefully. “When did you find out?”

  “You joking?” At my naked surprise, he continues, “Pretty much that week.”

  “Week?”

  “It’s not like the pictures didn’t make it to my side of the dorm.”

  “The—” Oh. Oh, motherfucking shit. “During sophomore year, you mean.”

  “As soon as they hit my desk, the minute I saw my sister, wrapped in a sheet, standing beside you, I wanted to rip your fucking dick off.”

  I swallow—more like gulp. “Um. But you didn’t. Hell, you didn’t say a word to me, bro.” It finally hits me. “What the fuck? This entire time, you knew? You knew what happened and you didn’t say shit?”

  “Not for you.” Locke stands, and the look he gives me … shit. I never thought that kind of coldness could reach his eyes. But then, he’s a Hayes, just like Astor. “Not a goddamned reason for you. It was for her. My sister.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Mom was sick. Her prognosis wasn’t good, and Astor, as much as she likes to pretend otherwise, wasn’t handling it well. Falling apart, actually. My beating you up, maybe amputating a leg, wasn�
�t going to make it better for her. I wanted her to tell me, to come to me and talk about it, if she chose to. There wasn’t a whole lot to go on, with that picture. You were fully clothed. She was as white as the sheets she was wrapped in. I wanted her to tell me what went on, not hear it through college gossip.”

  “And did she?”

  “No.” Locke crosses his arms. “Not a word from her. But I’m not stupid, man. I know what was said about her around campus, how she was made fun of. She was too smart for the morons who gave her that stupid fucking nickname. Too intimidating for those scrawny-assed dickfucks who thought they could belittle my sister and get away with it.”

  “I remember. We beat many a stupid boy up.”

  “That’s the kicker. One thing about you, Ben, is your honor. You were right there beside me to defend Astor. You treated women with respect, even your one-nighters. It made no sense to me that you’d sleep with my sister, not tell me about it, and laugh behind our backs. It didn’t fucking compute.”

  “Locke, I—”

  “Why didn’t you come to me yourself? Why not be a man about the whole thing? The two of you, you kept this as your secret, despite the snapshot. You stopped talking to each other. Began hating one another, and still, you didn’t talk to me about it. As smart as you two think you are ... how can you not see the amount of tension you bring into any room? Anyone with a single functioning cell can see the history between you two. Carter did within about ten minutes of meeting you both.”

  “Astor and me, we weren’t thinking,” I admit. “We were both so hurt over the whole thing—”

  “And here I am, waiting to be let in on it, six fucking years later. My twin sister and my best friend. Anytime now, guys.”

  “She thinks I slept with her on a dare,” I blurt.

  Locke goes quiet. “Come again?”

  “We had that stupid game—you, me, Ash and East.”

  “I know what the fuck we did.”

  “Well … Astor figured she was made a part of it. When I, when we…”

  Locke says, slow, lethal, “And why would she think that?”

  Ah, fuck. I’m really in it, now. “Dodge. Dodge had something on me, and he said if I didn’t sleep with Astor, he’d tell everyone.”

  “Wait a minute—” Locke holds up a hand, his brows shadowing his eyes almost completely. “Dodge dared you to sleep with Astor?”

  “More like blackmailed.”

  “And you did it?” Locke stalks forward and throws an arm out with the viper reflexes he was known for on the field. “YOU FUCKING DID IT?”

  My head slams into the lockers behind us as Locke grabs me by the neck.

  Telling him to calm down is about as futile as telling me to shut up. I leave my arms limp at my sides, though every instinct tells me to fight him. But this is my friend. “No. No, man, not in the least. I denied him right then.”

  Locke’s grip won’t leave my throat, and if I don’t get the truth out in the next three seconds, my nose and jaw will never look the same again.

  “Locke, you gotta stop. Pull up, man. Because if you throw a punch, I have to defend myself, too.”

  “You have two seconds.” Locke is breathing hard through his nose.

  I don’t waste time and speak through his strangle-hold. “I had to go to Astor’s that night, after our game. To finish studying for finals. She was helping me. You know that. So, I drive there—my right hand cracked and bleeding from punching Dodge’s face in, by the way—and go to her door, and when she opens it, she’s in…”

  Oh, man. Not a good segue.

  “In what, Ben.”

  “In her…” I clear my throat as much as I’m able. “Unmentionables.”

  Locke’s upper lip lifts in a snarl.

  “Dude, she had a crush on me, okay? And I had one on her. And when she asked me—when she wanted … ah, fuck. It’s like talking to her father right now.”

  “Our father’s a bastard. So, it’s actually worse, talking to me.”

  “The timing wasn’t excellent, I give you that.”

  “You think?”

  “But it was real, all right? My night with her was real.”

  “I don’t fucking believe you.”

  “How is it with Carter?”

  Locke stills. And thank fuck, he drops his hand.

  I suck in a huge gulp of air, then say, “Do you feel different with her? Better? Happier? Fuller? ‘cause that’s what I felt with your sister. She made everything different. There’s a lot going on with me, man, more than I can admit, but Astor, she made me forget all that was wrong in my life and became everything right.”

  “You made her think she was nothing but a bet.”

  “Not intentionally.” I rub my throat, but I’m wishing Locke would strangle it again. I hate that I did this to Astor. “I was caught up in … her. Wasn’t thinking about any sort of repercussions, because what we did was pure. Honest. It was only in the aftermath that I—that things went to shit. And she hasn’t believed me since. It’s why she hates me, man. And it’s taken me a long time to stop hating myself enough to want to do something about it.”

  Locke’s head comes up. “And are you? Do you want to? Fix things with Astor?”

  “More than anything.”

  The words come so easy, and taste pretty sweet on my tongue, too.

  Locke digs a hand into his hair, but he’s not breaking our stare. “I want my sister to be happy. It’s what I’ve always wanted. Our dares were fucked up. I’m the first to admit it, for obvious reasons.”

  I nod in agreement.

  “Astor thinks we’ve never grown up from it. That we’re still those guys who fuck shit up and bang chicks for fun,” he continues. “If it weren’t for Lily … hell, Astor would just be waiting to throw more screwups in my face. If you can make her understand that what happened in college was nothing like what she thinks, well, I wish you luck, man. Because she’s not easily convincible.”

  “You’re tellin’ me.”

  I’m also waiting for the right moment to admit I want more than the truth from Astor. I want her. I would like her beside me when the truth sets me free—all of them. But I don’t know if he’ll be okay with it.

  “We’ve been friends a long time,” I say to him.

  “Yeah, we have.”

  “We’ve never come to blows.”

  Locke sighs. “No. We haven’t.”

  “Locke, I—”

  He holds up his hand. “Let’s table this for now. I have to go, or I’ll be late for the boys.”

  I nod, relieved and disappointed I can’t completely unload.

  “I’ll see you later, bro,” he says, swinging on his sports bag.

  “Yeah. See ya.”

  Locke leaves, and I bask in the peace and quiet for a brief moment before starting my life up again. On a sigh, I heave on my jacket.

  The doors burst open, drawing my attention, and a trio of men in suits barge in, devoid of any gym bags.

  I say to them while zipping up my coat, “No aliens in here guys, you might want to try the women’s change room next.”

  Right at the moment I look up and recognize the smirking guy on the left—what the hell is Mike doing in Brooklyn?—the one in front says, “Ben Donahue?”

  “Yeah,” I say on automatic. “Who’re you?”

  “Altin Yang. A pleasure. We have something to discuss, you and I.”

  26

  Astor

  2 Hours Earlier

  * * *

  My heart’s at my feet.

  It’s like trying to walk on the bottom of the ocean when I move, but I push through the barrier and get out of the hired car, hook my tote on my shoulder, and step through security of my firm’s building as if it’s any other day and not the one where I ruin Ben’s life.

  “Miss Hayes, you’re late,” one of the security men, Mortley, jokes.

  My usual mornings consist of getting here at 5:30—6:00 if I’m slacking.

  “Big day
?” he asks as I fish for my swipe card.

  “Always,” I try saying in my usual voice.

  “You okay, there?”

  I can’t turn my attention from my bag to him. If I do, I’ll see concern, and I have to fix this mess before I worry about insulting a security guard I’ve known for two years and who’s always been kind to me.

  “Yes … I’m … uh, I can’t find my swipe card…”

  “It’s all right, Miss Hayes. Go on through.”

  “Are you sure?” But I’m already pushing through the waist-high turnstile next to his desk.

  “You are who you say you are, unless you’re an agent with a Mission Impossible human mask.”

  Mortley chortles at his own joke.

  “Thank you,” I say sincerely. “And I’m sorry I forgot to bring you coffee this morning. It’s been a crazy day.”

  “Not even sunrise, and you got crazy in your day. You need the caffeine more than I do.” Mortley winks. “See you soon, dear.”

  I wave as my heels clack across the polished marble and to the hallway of elevators. One comes immediately, and I rehearse what I’m going to say to Taryn, to Yang, to fucking Mike.

  Each of them has a very different outcome.

  The matte metallic doors slide open, and I step through, into the firm’s lobby area, sparse in furniture but chic with uncomfortable white leather chairs and a half-circle receptionist’s desk. No plants are allowed, because nobody in the office ever remembers to water them.

  The floor is also sparsely populated, as most high-level attorneys like to pull all-nighters rather than come in at dawn.

  I’m half-walking, half-sprinting down the hallway of glass-sided offices when I see Taryn at the other end, flying out of one of the conference rooms.

  “Taryn!” I say.

  She glances over at me, then scurries to meet me halfway. “Astor, where have you been?”

  “Battling bridge traffic. How much do they know?” I say while still walking to my cubicle. Taryn keeps pace close to my side.

  “We hadn’t gotten all the way to the check’s endorser, but I had some emails with your theories. A lot of our work on the cloud has been deleted. Do you know anything about that?”