by Amber Malloy
“Brooks is here,” she muttered into the phone.
“Fuck, are you kidding? Can you leave?” Knox’s voice had hardened.
“No.”
“Stop the car!” he yelled, likely to Hawk.
“This is so exciting,” the editor babbled drunkenly behind her. “He told me you’ve been traveling and thought this would be a good surprise.”
“Find me,” Remy said to Knox before she disconnected the call. Photos of her work appeared on the screen behind the congressman.
“What can I say about my niece, Remy Bell? I’m her only living relative, and although it’s by marriage”—choking up, he held his hand to his mouth—“it feels like we’re blood.”
Remy wanted to throw something at the man or, at the very least, simulate gagging. Instead, she reminded herself to appear empathetic.
“For a very brief time, I was her custodial guardian, and I have to tell you that I’m beyond proud at what this young lady had to overcome. Remy reinvented herself into one of the most amazing storytellers of her generation.” She caught the insult he’d gift wrapped into a crappy compliment. Sympathy and tragedy had made this man’s career. Something big was on the horizon for him, which made it dangerous for her.
Different locations of her world travels graced the screen behind Congressman Richard. “The award for Most Influential Photojournalist of the Year goes to my niece, Remy Bell.”
Plastering a warm smile on her face, she snatched her purse off the table and approached the stage. Although he was silver-screen handsome, she couldn’t understand why her aunt hadn’t seen past the Southern charm of this psychotic predator.
Remy took the steps to the stage and accepted his hand. He pulled her into a tight embrace.
“Long time no see, baby girl,” he growled into her ear.
Instead of sprinting to the nearest exit, she kept the same fake smile in place. “Thank you, Uncle Brooks,” she said sweetly into the microphone once he’d let her go. “And thank you to the journalists who voted for me. I’m not in the States much, but when I am, there’s nothing better than getting a surprise such as this…
“My husband is right outside, and I would like to thank Gavin Knox for holding down the fort, so to speak.” Met with polite laughter, Remy went on for another minute before she left the stage with the congressman.
Applause followed them.
She scanned the room, checking for all the exits. Brooks must have sensed her hesitation, because he tightened the hold he had on her waist, commanding at a good six-foot-one-inch. His security team guided them backstage. The guard opened the door to a side room—where no one would be able to hear her scream.
* * * *
The background noise made it hard to understand anything, but he could have sworn the drunk woman had mentioned Remy’s uncle.
“Brooks is here,” she’d whispered into the phone, while Knox had tried to calculate his distance to the hotel.
“Stop the car!” he’d screamed at Hawk.
“What? Are you kidding? You can’t wait five minutes to see her?” his friend had joked. “Give me a second for valet.”
“Seriously, stop the car.” Weekend traffic clogged the downtown streets. It would take Hawk another ten minutes to get them a couple of blocks away.
When they slowed down at the light, Knox opened the door and took off.
“What the hell, man?”
From everything he knew, Remy would have to keep cool to make it out of the award ceremony intact. Playing crazy only worked to the congressman’s advantage. Knox’s dress shoes slid across the sidewalk, but thankfully the salt on the streets allowed him enough friction to run. The bellhop opened the door to the ritzy hotel.
“The Hunter Thompson Awards?”
“Blue room around the corner and to the right.”
Already breaking a sweat, he skidded around the corner. She wouldn’t be in the hall anymore, but likely she’d be somewhere near the backstage area. Laughter poured from the award ceremony. Two guards stood in front of a door a little farther down from the banquet hall. Knox swiftly moved past the journalists and headed straight for Brooks’ security.
Chapter Thirteen
The hotel’s overflow of chairs and tables separated Remy and the congressman. She made sure to keep a ridiculous amount of space between them.
“Gotta tell you, baby girl, that you grew up to be a knockout. I’m glad I told Billy to leave that pretty little face of yours unmarked.”
She’d always known that the congressman’s goon had worked on Brooks’ orders when she’d been attacked in college. “Billy has a bad aim. Maybe you should take your inbred cousin off the payroll.”
“That mouth of yours… I nearly forgot how nasty it is.” They circled one another. He wanted to throw her off balance, but the congressman had never posed a threat in person. Usually idiot relatives or employees did his dirty work. “I’m going to have to wash it out.”
“Nice suit. What is that…Tom Ford?”
Brooks stood tall, arrogant and ready to inflict pain on any and all who were near him. He chuckled in that ‘aw shucks’ way that she despised. “Good eye.”
“That’s the thing I never understood.” She shook her head. “How do you still get away with that ‘poor country boy, pulling himself up by his bootstraps crap? Shit, Brooks, your worth is quadruple your state’s median household income.”
“What do the kids say?” He unbuttoned his suit jacket while throwing her a dashing smile. “Don’t hate the player. Hate the game. Besides, your family is the gift that keeps on giving. Tragedy is an awesome drug.”
“True,” she agreed. Remy slipped her hand into the mouth of her clutch purse. “Aunt Valentine’s ‘suicide’.” She threw up air quotes with her available hand. “Then my parents’ carjacking. Instead of thinking you’re a murdering psycho, your voting base just thinks you have bad luck.”
“Don’t forget how altruistic this white country boy appeared when he inherited a black orphan.”
“A rich black orphan,” she corrected. “And thank goodness I turned seventeen before that nightmare could officially take place.”
“The honest truth of the matter? I believe you’re the only reason I got voted into congress. That liberal bitch I ran against was hot on my heels in the election.” He snapped his fingers. “And just like that, my tough-on-crime platform became the state’s new bible. It was a shame your parents had to get their brains blown out to make that happen. Like I tell my constituents, you can’t trust those urban areas.”
When Remy had accused him of murder, he hadn’t batted an eye. Related by marriage, he had used her sweet, quirky Aunt Valentine’s personality to his advantage. It was obvious to anyone with more than two brain cells that the woman hadn’t killed herself, but at thirteen, who would listen to Remy? Once her parents had finally caught on to Brooks Richard’s bereaved widow act, their unfortunate deaths had soon followed. If he’d had them killed one month earlier, custody of their teenage daughter would have gone directly to him.
They stared at one another across the room. With that winsome political smile etched into his face, Remy knew she’d hit a nerve. The Bell family money had become the one thing he wanted but could never get. The maniac was pissed. He still had to shake that political stripper ass for a living.
“Remy!” Knox screamed from the other side of the door as a pit of dread dropped into her stomach. Then she heard, “Get the hell off me!”
“Lookey here, it’s showtime,” Brooks said.
“Nah, not today.” She matched his sinister smile with one of her own. “We’re going to walk out of here together, and you’re going to tell those rent-a-cops to let my husband go.”
“Why would I do that, baby girl? We’re not playing that dummy’s game. Was it football?” He jerked his thumb at the door. “We’re in a different league, if you know what I mean.”
“Exactly.” The sound of a crowd forming outside filtered into the room. “
The first casualty of this new shit won’t be the quarterback of the Mavericks. I’m going for that idiot son of yours. What happens when your constituents find out you had to blackmail the little idiot’s way into private school? And”—she held up two fingers on her free hand—“that he shares the same pill-popping habit as your whore wife.” Remy opened her eyes wide. “Whoa, now that was a mouthful.”
Brooks’ genteel southern façade slipped from his face as he stalked toward her. She snatched her hand out of her purse and let him see the blue charge from her Taser. “Watch it, fam. It’s going to be a bitch explaining why you have burn marks on those dimpled cheeks of yours.”
* * * *
Rage coursed through his veins at the thought of Remy alone with the congressman. Knox tried to walk past the guards to get into the room, but they immediately blocked him.
“Remy!” Knox screamed. Not big on worthless conversation, he struck out. Connecting with the guy’s chin, he body checked the guard on his left. Blind with rage, he didn’t think words would help.
The biggest guy of the bunch tried to bring him down but couldn’t get a good grip. Knox wrapped his hand around his partner’s throat.
“Get the hell off me! ” the guard shouted.
“What the hell?” Hawk rushed in. He tackled the guy Knox had been choking to the floor. Fists flew before the guards leaned against the wall, winded and out of breath.
“Both of you, hands on your head.” Three officers stood in front of them with their guns drawn.
“Shit,” he groaned
“Isn’t that our freaking quarterback?” one of the cops asked.
“And that’s the enforcer on the Dallas Bucks.”
“These guys attacked us,” the crybaby guard whined. “They’re trespassing.”
“What’s going on here?” The middle cop dropped the muzzle of his gun toward the floor.
“An award ceremony. We’re on protection detail for Congressman Richard.”
“Who?” the cop asked.
“Not our state,” another cop replied, while he holstered his weapon. “I’m not arresting our freaking quarterback for some yokel-ass congressman.” The other cops followed suit and put their guns away. Hawk opened his eyes wide and shot him a ‘what the fuck’ glance. Knox shook his head. He hated that he had gotten his best friend involved in this mess.
“Get up, you two. Sorry about that.” The police officer offered them a hand.
“They assaulted us!” the guard with the bloody nose complained.
“Well, I didn’t see anything.”
As they stood up, someone opened the door. “Gentlemen,” Brooks Richard walked out of the room with a huge country-boy smile. “All this for little ole me?” On cue, a herd of reporters piled out of the convention hall and the congressman laughed, loud enough to draw even more attention.
“This man tried to bust down the door and attack you, sir.”
“And the Chicago PD doesn’t want to do anything about it.” The congressman’s security tattled like children.
Knox itched to hit them again.
Remy followed him out of the room a few seconds later. Keeping a safe distance between her and the congressman, she headed straight for him.
“Oh, I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding,” Brooks said.
“Hey, can we get a selfie?” one of the cops asked.
Already in deep caca, Knox couldn’t afford to piss off the cops. He jerked his head at Hawk for him to join them.
While they shoved in tight to take the picture, a reporter made her way to Remy. “What happened?” she asked. Most of the journalists already had their phones out, ready to record.
“It appears the congressman’s security detail were Steers fans,” Remy joked, loud enough for everyone in the hall to hear.
Once they were done, he wrapped his hand around Remy’s waist and rushed them toward the lobby. “Good seeing you, sweetie. Call me for the holidays. We’ll do Thanksgiving,” Brooks called out.
Close to running, Remy stumbled slightly. He held her tighter and kept moving. Pulling her to the front, he shoved her into the revolving doors.
“What was that?” Hawk asked, as soon as they’d made it outside. Knox slipped off his suit jacket and placed it over her shoulders. “Gavin!”
“Keep walking.” He wanted miles to separate them and the congressman.
“Are you going to tell me or is this shit going to be one big secret, too?” Hawk snatched Knox’s arm back. He turned to swing, but Remy stepped in front of him.
“Don’t you dare.” She sniffed as tears filled her beautiful brown eyes to the brim.
For the first time that night, he took her in. She was stunning to a stupidly gorgeous degree, and he swallowed the acrid lump of bitterness in his throat and nodded. Why does this evil man get to win?
“I’m sorry,” he said before he reached for her. Encasing her in his embrace, he took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Hawk.” Knox glanced over his wife’s head at his best friend.
“Yeah,” the big guy muttered. “Call me when you can talk.” Instead of waiting for his reply, the hockey player jogged across the busy Chicago street.
Chapter Fourteen
Two weeks after the congressman’s ambush, Remy had fully reverted back to her old habits—paper currency, no credit cards and leaving the damn phone at home. She would never exit or enter the condo from the same doors, and she would make no habit-tracking stops. Unfortunately, the whole cash thing only worked if she went to an ATM to get money, not to mention that she could only make it a block from the condo before she needed a coffee fix.
“Sorry,” she told the long line forming behind her in Starbucks. Pockets helped, but she had worn a dress that day. It was a cute denim number that became worthless on her journey to score a caffeine hit.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it,” a well-dressed blond guy said. Since they were across the street from the courthouse, she pegged him as a lawyer.
“No, thank you. Really, I do have it. Who just wanders into a random Starbucks and thinks they’ll get free coffee?” she mumbled, mildly annoyed that the man thought she needed to be saved.
“Someone who looks like you. I thought at least buying you coffee would make it easier to get your phone number.” He grinned shyly at her.
“Sorry, playboy. She always leaves that shit on the nightstand.” Knox reached over her head and swiped his iPhone across the card machine.
“Oh my goodness, it’s Gavin Knox!” the cashier squealed.
Remy strolled over to the next counter to wait for her coffee. Thankfully, it was already done. Grabbing it, she headed for the door, not wanting to stick around for the There Goes My Hero sing-along that broke out every time Knox showed up in public.
“I hate your team,” the guy said.
“Yeah, and my wife doesn’t date losers, so it would have never worked.” Placing his hand on her back, he pushed the door open for them. Double parked, he rushed her to the passenger side of his truck.
“What the hell, Supastar? He was just being nice,” she complained.
“Sharks are cuddly and snakes are cute.”
Remy fought against it but laughed in spite of herself.
“Now my turn. What the hell, baby?” He tossed Remy’s phone into her lap once he got back into the SUV. “My mom called your phone. What’s that about?” Since she couldn’t come close to responding to that one honestly, she put in her code and checked her email. “Also, your noon appointment cancelled.”
“And you answered?”
“Uh, yeah? How else am I going to catch you slipping?” He winked. “But the good news is you’re stuck with me for the day.” Putting the truck in gear, he moved into traffic.
“Presumptuous much?”
“Now, now… I can always take you back to that lawyer perv who was totally checking out your ass.”
“And you know this—”
“Because I was checking it out first.” Knox threw her a dazzl
ing smile before he put his hand on her knee and squeezed.
* * * *
Knox had no idea how Remy had stayed two steps ahead of the congressman this long. He hated for her to be out of his sight for any extended period of time, but with the way their careers were set up, he had no choice.
Not having been assigned anything since the Wave Festival, she appeared to keep busy with meetings, emails and calls. The needling feeling that she had a plan that didn’t include him messed with his chillaxed energy.
More often than not, they would be in the same room, but a ton of distance remained between them. Knox hated it. Deep in his thoughts, he pulled into the stadium parking lot. After swiping his keycard at the gate of the players’ garage, he steered the truck around the twists and turns of the lot until he got to his private spot and parked.
“Why do you keep leaving your phone?” he blurted out.
“Do you want to rub out a quickie?”
They’d asked their questions at the same time, but hers had caught him off guard. He honestly never knew what to expect from his wife. Of course, random requests for public sex tended to be a hint that her muscles must have been tight—her euphemism for them to bone, not his.
“With you? Always. Now answer my question.”
She had the first three buttons on her dress undone before he could stop her. “Sorry… I meant this minute.” A lacy black bra cupped her awesome breasts. Reaching behind her, Remy had the dainty thing unhooked in seconds. Then she performed that wondrous magic trick where she pulled it from one arm of her dress and out of the other.
As Remy’s brown tits bounced free, she threw her bra into the back seat. Knox licked his lips and tried to concentrate on something other than his dick.
“Oh…the phone.” She hypnotized him with her slutty and completely sexy antics, and he almost let it slide. However, too much was on the line for them.