Play to Win

by Kelly Jamieson

  “He’s my only family.”

  Her doleful words yank at my heartstrings.

  “I thought we’d be there for each other after Mom died. All we had was each other. I didn’t expect him to look after me, but I at least thought we’d have each other’s backs. And then he does that! It’s the w-worst thing he could do,” she cries. “Selling me to pay his debts! He had to know what those guys wanted to do with me. Oh my God!” Then she flips and turns into me, burying her face in my chest. “What if you hadn’t been there? What would I have done?”

  I wrap my arms around her, one hand cupping the back of her head and holding her close. I don’t want to think about what she would have done if I hadn’t been there. Except…“I don’t know you very well, but I have faith that you would have been okay, baby.” I stroke her hair gently. “And you know what? I bet Chris had faith in you too. That somehow you’d come through.”

  She sniffs and pulls in a juddering breath. “He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have put me in that position. And I don’t know if I would have been okay. Those guys were serious. Seriously bad.”

  “Can’t argue with that. But you’re strong. I know it. Shhh. It’s okay. It’s done.” I keep petting her, trying to comfort her, but damn, her sweet, soft body pressed up against mine like this is distracting me. Arousing me. “You’re safe. You’re here with me. And I’m going to make sure you stay safe.”

  “Thank you.” She hiccups. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No, it’s fine. You’re okay.”

  She nods and her breathing settles down, with the odd sniffle and sigh. And she falls back asleep.

  That fucking asshole.

  * * *

  —

  I set the alarm on my phone for noon. I’d planned to leave at noon, but I hadn’t planned to stay up all night, so I grudgingly move back my departure time. I want to get on the road before it gets too late. When I hear the tones of the alarm though, I sure as hell don’t want to get out of bed.

  My head is pounding, my mouth is dry and tastes like I licked the bottom of a trash can. It hurts when I crack my eyes open, even though the drapes are drawn. And…there’s a warm, soft woman snuggled up in my arms.

  Lacey.

  My wife.

  I was pretty hammered last night but I remember everything. We went and got fucking married. Total Vegas cliché, just as I’m on my way out of town.

  A groan climbs up my throat. Lacey stirs next to me and rolls her head around. “You okay?”

  “I’m not sure.” I reach out a hand and slap it down on the night table to find my phone and shut off the eardrum-rupturing noise. “You?”

  She moans and my morning wood takes notice of the sexy sound. “I need some Advil.”

  “Me too.”

  “I have some.” She rolls out of bed, shoves both her hands into her hair and pushes it off her face, then marches to her backpack sitting on the floor by the desk. She returns with a small bottle and a glass of water from the bathroom. “Here.”

  “Thank you, Jesus.” I toss the pills into my mouth and swallow them down, then fall back onto the pillow. “Okay. Give me a few minutes and we’ll know if I’m going to live.”

  She laughs softly and climbs back on the bed, sitting cross-legged. Her tits jiggle enticingly beneath my T-shirt and her legs are gorgeous—long, smooth, and tanned. I’d love those legs wrapped around me while I— “You’ll live. Wow.” She shakes her hair back again. “I haven’t gotten that drunk in a long time.”

  “Me neither.”

  She nibbles her bottom lip. “You, ah, remember…”

  “I remember.” I blow out a gusty breath. “I must have lost my mind last night. I do not do shit like that.”

  I fucking jumped in a pool with my clothes on, drinking champagne out of a to-go cup. And then I got married. Jesus Christ.

  “Neither do I. Well. Not for a long time anyway.”

  My eyes laser on to her face. “You’ve been married before?”

  “No! I just meant I haven’t partied like that for a long time. I used to be a bit of a wild child. Then my mom got sick and I had to grow up fast.”

  I frown. “Right. You mentioned she’d passed away.”

  “Yeah. She had ovarian cancer. She died a couple of years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I miss her. We had a sort of strange life, but she was a good mom.”

  I want to know more, but we need to hit the road. “You want to shower?”

  “I’m good. I just need to fix my hair.” She rolls her eyes and ruffles it. “The bane of my existence.”

  “I love your hair.” Shit. The words popped right out of my mouth.

  “It’s that hair fetish, right?” She smirks at me and slides off the bed.

  True enough. I could fantasize a whole lotta dirty things about her and her hair.

  She disappears into the bathroom. I just showered a few hours ago too, so I drag my hungover ass out of bed and get dressed, finding a pair of khaki shorts and a T-shirt. I pack what I was wearing yesterday neatly into my suitcase. I just need my toiletry bag from the bathroom and I’ll be good to go.

  I sit on the edge of the bed and rub the stubble on my face, then roll my head to ease the stiffness in my neck. I’m afraid to think too much about what happened last night. Except thinking and analyzing is what I do best.

  Am I really taking this woman to California with me? I don’t even know her. The doubts from last night prod me again. Do I really believe her? About her brother, about getting fired from her job? Am I once again the biggest sucker in the world? Have I learned nothing?

  I can’t trust people—I’ve learned that the hard way. I thought Emma loved me. I thought my brother loved me. They both screwed me over. My dad is pissed because I took this job. Everything good in my life gets yanked away from me. I need to be more careful.

  But then I think about the way she was terrified and trembling. Her sobs last night when she was so devastated by what her brother did. She can’t be pulling a con on me. Can she?

  Welp. We’re married. I committed to taking her to California. But it’s not forever, and I’m not going to get sucked into anything more than that. She’s not getting half my money, that’s for damn sure, and I’ll start looking into how we get a divorce or annulment ASAP. But just in case she’s really in danger from those assholes—and although my memories from last night are a tad fuzzy, I do remember being pretty convinced they’re scum of the earth—she’s coming with me.

  Also, I had a reason for getting married. It may have been a quick decision, but there was a rationale behind it. It’ll be so satisfying to show up with a woman when I have to face JP and Emma.

  Lacey comes out of the bathroom wearing the dress she bought last night, her hair back up in a loose bun. She looks fresh and pretty, which is unfair because I feel haggard and old. She also does not look like a con woman. Even so, I need to stay woke.

  She eyes my shirt. “Nice shirt.”

  I look down it. It reads, I’M RIGHT 97% OF THE TIME. I look back up with a grin. “Truth.”

  I forgo shaving, just brushing my teeth, splashing cold water on my face, and rubbing antiperspirant onto my pits. The pounding in my head is starting to ease.

  “We need food,” I announce as I leave the bathroom. I set my toiletry kit into the space reserved for it in my suitcase and zip it up.

  “Sure. Want to eat here or grab something on the road?”

  “Let’s eat here.”

  We have a quick breakfast in the coffee shop, getting our coffees in paper cups that we can take with us.

  The valet brings my car around to the front of the Wellborne. It seems like it should be early morning, but it’s early afternoon. I’ve experienced t
his kind of disorientation before in Vegas…in the casinos and bars, you never know what time it is.

  “Nice car,” Lacey says as we load our things into the back.

  I just bought this Audi Q8, a sort of SUV-coupe crossover. Audis are nice, but also practical. “Thanks. I’ve already filled up with gas, and I have some bottles of water and snacks for the road.”

  “You’re prepared.” She slants me an amused glance as she fastens her seatbelt.

  “I do like to plan ahead.” I pause. “Usually.”

  She laughs softly.

  “Also, I’ve mapped out the route, so I know where gas stations are. We don’t want to run out of gas in the middle of the desert.”

  “Certainly not,” she agrees.

  I switch out my regular glasses for my prescription sunglasses because the sun is burning my eyes up, and we’re off.

  Lacey gives me directions to her place. As I drive, she pulls out her phone and busies herself with reading and sending some text messages. “My friend Karine,” she explains. “In case you’re thinking about killing me and throwing my body into the Pacific Ocean, she knows I’m with you.”

  I choke. “Good God.”

  She grins.

  A short time later, I park in front of a nondescript but well-kept apartment building.

  “I’ll be right back.” She flicks off her seatbelt.

  “Oh no. I’m coming with you.” I have visions of Ed and Lincoln skulking in her hallway. Or maybe even having broken into her apartment to wait for her.

  She hesitates. “Okay.”

  Her apartment is on the second floor, so we take the stairs. I’m on alert, and when she stops at her door I try the knob before she can insert her key. Still locked. That’s good.

  I don’t let my guard down though, motioning her to wait as I open the door and step inside. I sense the emptiness of the apartment—still, flat air scented faintly with the same fragrance I smelled on Lacey’s skin last night when she snuggled into me…apples and flowers.

  I poke my head into each room.

  “What are you doing?” Lacey frowns at me.

  “Just checking the place out.”

  “I know it’s not the greatest.” Her frown slips into a crooked smile.

  “I’m just making sure Ed and Lincoln aren’t here.”

  Her eyes widen. “Shit. You think they’d break in?”

  “Seems like they’d do pretty much anything if they’re threatening your brother’s life.”

  She glances nervously over her shoulder, closes the door, and locks it. “I’ll pack.”

  I tag behind her into her bedroom. The scent is stronger here, and the room is prettier—the walls pale pink, the comforter on the bed a sort of watercolor floral pattern in shades of bright pink, blue, and green, with about five hundred pillows stacked against the headboard. A pink shag rug sits atop worn linoleum.

  Lacey hauls a suitcase out of the closet and sets it on the bed. Then my eyes bug out and horror grips me as she opens a drawer, grabs a handful of what appear to be panties and tosses them in the suitcase. This is followed by bras, T-shirts, shorts, and some things she seizes from the closet. She makes a halfhearted attempt to fold a couple of dresses, then smashes them in with the other clothing.

  I press a hand to the pain in my chest. “What are you doing?”

  “Packing. There are some things in the bathroom I need.” She disappears and returns a moment later with a bright pink sequinned bag apparently stuffed with…I don’t even know. She flings it into the suitcase too. Next she grabs a bag with knitting needles sticking out the top—knitting needles!—and tosses it in.

  Sucking her bottom lip between her teeth, she stands and looks around. She takes a few steps over to a tall dresser, shoots me a self-conscious glance, then picks up a stuffed toy. She quickly buries it beneath the crumpled clothing in the luggage.

  I smile. “What is that?”

  “Pete. Pete the Penguin. My mom gave him to me. I was always fascinated by penguins as a kid.”

  The pain in my chest from watching her chaotic packing eases and shifts into warmth. I nod.

  “Okay, I’m ready!” She attempts to close the case, wrestling with the zipper.

  I sigh. “If you packed things neatly, you’d have more room.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. It’s the same amount of clothes. It won’t make a difference in how much room they take up if they’re arranged differently.”

  “Yes. It will.” I nudge her aside and zip up the suitcase, then lift it off the bed. “Anything else you need to do?”

  She walks out to the living room, stands in the middle, and looks around. “I have no idea how long I’ll be gone. I don’t have any plants to water. I don’t get much mail. I guess it’s all good here for a while.”

  “Okay. Let’s hit the road, Jack.”

  She smiles and starts singing the song. “No more, no more, no more,” she sings as she locks the door behind us and we start down the hall.

  We’re just entering the stairwell when the elevator dings at the other end of the hall. I glance over my shoulder and—fuck!—Ed and Lincoln step out of the elevator.

  “Shit!” My heart lurches. “Lacey—go!” I whisper, giving her a shove.

  “Jeez, slow your roll,” she mutters.

  “They’re here,” I say in her ear. “Get your cute ass down the stairs right fucking now.”

  I hear a shout at the end of the hall.

  “Fuck, they saw us. Go!”

  She scampers down the stairs and I follow. I can’t move fast enough with this goddamn suitcase, so I abandon it and leap down the stairs close behind Lacey. Blasting into the building’s foyer, I hear steps clattering behind us.

  “Run to the vehicle!” I grab my key fob and fumble to unlock the doors as we run. Lacey yanks open the passenger door and throws herself in. I sprint to my own door, start the car before my door’s even closed, pitch it into gear, and peel out.

  Lacey’s crumpled on the seat, but she leans over to peer out the back window. “Oh my God! I can’t believe this!”

  “Put your seatbelt on.” I fasten my own with one hand.

  “Thugs are chasing us, probably with guns, and you’re worried about our seatbelts?”

  “Habit.” I rub my chest. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

  “Me too.” She lets out a long breath. “Holy shit.”

  “Yeah.” I keep glancing in the rearview mirror to see if they try to follow us. I make a fast right turn, then a left, then a right, zigzagging through the residential neighborhood.

  “My suitcase…?”

  “I’m sorry. I had to leave it.”

  She’s silent, and when I glance at her a moment later, she swipes at a tear on her cheek. Shit.

  “We’ll get you new stuff in L.A.”

  She nods, her chin quivering.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Pete. I lost Pete.”

  Ah, fuck. I forgot about the penguin. “I’m sorry.”

  She nods. “I know. We didn’t have much choice if we wanted to get away from them.” She emits a long sigh. “And I was going to knit on the way there.”

  She gives me directions to get onto the freeway. Even if they followed us, there is no way they’ll find us in this traffic. “I don’t know if they even tried to follow us, but I think we’re okay.”

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice is small.

  “For what?”

  “For dragging you into this mess.”

  “I think I kind of dragged myself into it,” I say ruefully. “It’s all good. We’re fine and you’re leaving that mess behind.”

  “Yeah.” She gazes out the side window. Then she says, “Now I’m really wor
ried about Chris. Those guys mean business.” She pulls out her phone and taps away at the screen.

  “Trying one more time?”

  “Yeah. I just told him I got married and I’m moving to California to get away from him and his thugs. Let’s see if that gets a response.”

  I hope so, because much as I think the guy’s a loser, he’s Lacey’s brother and doesn’t deserve to die in the desert.

  “This isn’t the most scenic drive,” I offer once we’ve left the city and are in the desert.

  “I like the desert.”

  It’s flat, monochromatic golden-brown except for a bit of scrub here and there, even the mountains carved out of golden-brown earth, the highway stretching out smooth in front of us. The sky extends wide open clear blue above us. I set the cruise control so I’m not tempted to hit the pedal to the metal and speed past the other traffic, which would be easy to do on this road.

  “Okay,” I say. “I think we lost them.”

  “Whew.”

  I have so many questions for this woman. I’m still hesitant to believe everything she says, but she makes me curious. “Tell me about your mom.”

  Her head whips around. “What?”

  “You mentioned earlier that your childhood was a bit crazy. Why’s that?”

  “Oh.” She draws in a breath and lets it out. “My mom was a dancer. A showgirl.”

  “Whoa.”

  She smiles. “Yeah. She danced in a lot of different shows. And yes, she was topless sometimes. Other times, she’d wear pasties. She was gorgeous—tall, long legs, perfect figure.” She sighs. “And a beautiful face. She loved dancing. She was talented. She’d done well in her younger days, and she had an amazing run, really. She was forty-two when she got cancer, and well, it was getting tougher for her to find jobs. She’d actually been unemployed for a while before that.”

  “She must have had you when she was young. Although I don’t know how old you are.” I’m guessing early twenties.

  “I’m twenty-four. And yes, she was young. Accidental pregnancy.” She flashes a crooked smile. “I never knew my dad. Some dude in town for a business convention that she hooked up with, and despite protection, my brother and I were born.”