Going All In (24 page)

“If you go with him tomorrow, you’ll have plenty of time to talk while his buddies are diving. You can’t get a more captive audience than on a boat in the middle of the ocean.”

Callie sucked in a breath and fought off the shudder threatening to rip through her spine. She’d never been on a boat in the ocean before, and she wasn’t sure she could bring herself to do it, even for the opportunity to talk to Wade. Plus, she had another problem. “I don’t know what time or where they’re leaving from. And even if I just show up, there’s no guarantee he’ll let me get on the boat with them.”

Sam smiled and shoved off the desk. “That’s easy enough to take care of.” She rounded the desk, stripped a sticky note off the top of the pad, scribbled a note, and stuck it to Kevin’s computer. “When Kevin comes back, I’ll have him take care of everything.”

Fear jerked Callie from her slump. “I don’t want to involve Kevin. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”

Sam waved off her concern and leaned back in her chair. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We girls have to stick together when it comes to these hardheaded men. Either Wade or Kevin will call you with the details. You get ready to present your case.”

*

Saturday night was usually the boys’ night to howl at the Sunset Strip, but after his shitty day, Wade needed the stress relief tonight. He’d called Tyler to make sure the guys didn’t mind moving their play date up a night—the general consensus was spending two nights at the gentleman’s club wouldn’t hurt anyone—and then he called Mercy.

Callie had connections at her kind of club; he had connections at his.

Mercy’s timing in returning his call couldn’t have been better. Or worse. It had saved him from conversation with Callie, but he’d felt awkward and uncomfortable talking to a fuck-buddy in front of her. Then he remembered why he needed Mercy in the first place. His guilt evaporated on the wind, and he couldn’t have cared less if Callie overheard.

He pulled into a parking space in the Strip’s side parking lot, put the truck in park, and scrubbed his hand over his face. Okay, saying he couldn’t have cared less wasn’t exactly true.

Conversations with Mercy were always humorous, as well as exceptionally hot and tinged with innuendo. Normally, it became a game to see who could make the other squirm the most with provocative comments and implied promises. But with Callie riding shotgun, he’d tried his damnedest to keep the conversation as close to PG as possible, so yeah… Fuck him, he supposed he did care.

His stretch for the keys was interrupted by his ringing cell phone. His heart pitter-pattered out of rhythm and he held his breath, wondering if Callie was giving another go at talking. Gratitude warred with disappointment as Kevin’s name popped up on caller ID. Wade was leery about talking to Kevin because he didn’t want to hear shit about any phone calls he received from Gavin, but Kevin was better than Callie.

She’d tried talking to him when she brought him lunch, but he’d thrown up his hand and cut her off with a grumbled,
Not now.
Realizing he’d moved up the scale from saying they had
nothing to talk about
to
not now
and that
never
hadn’t been a part of his vocabulary, some part of him must be considering hearing her out.

But not tonight. The wounds were too fresh.

Before his phone tossed Kevin into voicemail, he answered with a casual, all-is-cool, “Yo.”

“Hey, how’d things go in Anticue today?” After eight years of friendship, subtle nuances in one’s voice often gave away undercurrents of irritation, even when the speaker tried to sound casual and normal. Kevin’s words were benign enough, but irritation bled through, giving Wade warning that the shit was about to hit the fan.

Kevin told him Gavin would pick up on any tension arcing between Wade and Callie, and at the time, Wade assumed Gavin was just that damned intuitive. Now he understood Gavin wasn’t super sensitive to everyone, only Callie.

He slapped his forehead as another dimly lit bulb sparked to life. “Is Gavin the client who recommended Callie to you?”

“Yep.”

Fuck
. He was screwed.

“I have a feeling you already know how things went.” Which meant he probably also knew today’s meltdown had nothing to do with the job. Throwing in a quick defensive jab to cover his hurt, he added, “You’re the one who told me to be nice, and I always follow orders.”

“I told you to be nice, not date her.”

“Yeah, well, you know me. You tell me to be nice to a lady and I’m going to give it”—he paused for effect—“and her all I have.” Heavy sarcasm was his natural tendency when threatened or backed into an uncomfortable position, but comparing Callie to his “usual” left a bitter taste in his mouth, despite the pain she’d inflicted.

“Seems you’re back to your normal assoholic self.”

Wade blew out a breath and let his head fall against the seat. “Is there a purpose for this call?”

“Just checking in. I hear you’re diving tomorrow.”

Wade shook his head to force his brain to catch up with the sudden change of subject. “How did you know that?”

“I have my ways.”

Callie.

“Yeah, well, your
informant
is partially right. Tyler and Alex are diving. I’m manning the boat.”

“What time are you heading out?”

“Six.” His hesitant response was as much a question as an answer. “Why?”

“Where’re you leaving from?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention as suspicion crept in and grew heavy in his chest. “No more answers until you answer my question. Why?”

“Callie needs to know where to be and what time so she can go with you.”

“What?” Wade’s screech sounded like a pre-pubescent boy with his nuts caught the wrong way in his jockstrap. Taking a deep breath to settle his choppy breathing and racing pulse, he clamped down on his phone and ground out between clenched teeth. “Did you know she has a huge trust fund?”

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” His voice was a little lower, like he’d matured ten years since the last time he spoke, but no less incredulous.

“Not my place to tell, and it’s not important.”

Wade shook his head and fought off the urge to beat his steering wheel. “Not important? Are you serious? She’s just like Miranda, yet you forced me to work with her. And be nice.”

“Again, I’ll reiterate, I told you to be nice. I didn’t tell you to date her. And despite your attempts to sound unconcerned and unaffected, I see through your facade, dickhead. If you went the extra step to start seeing her, you already know she’s nothing like Miranda.”

Wade really,
really
hated it when Kevin was right.

“So tomorrow… which marina?”

“This is an abuse of power.”

Kevin laughed.

“Seriously, who’s being an ass now?”

Once again, his argument was only met with laughter, so he tried a different approach. “The weather is supposed to be bad, which is why I’m still trying to talk Tyler out of going.” Even though it was a waste of breath. Once Tyler had his mind made up, there wasn’t any stopping him.

“If it gets so bad you need to cancel, I expect you to notify Callie ahead of time.”

“You suck. You know that? Really, really suck.”

“Sam never complains.”

Wade wanted to slap his hands over his ears, but instead, he slapped his forehead, then rubbed back and forth a couple of times. “Why is this so important to you?”

“It’s important to my wife.” Kevin’s voice held that soft,
I’m such a sap
tone it always carried whenever he spoke of Sam, and Wade had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Although, in truth, he was glad Kevin found Sam, and he could imagine himself getting the same gooey-eyes and syrupy-sweet tone when talking about Callie.

If things hadn’t gone down the shitter.

“Why does Sam care?”

“Don’t know, but she’s become a regular old Cupidette lately.” There was a pause before Kevin finished. “Give Callie a chance to explain. I don’t care what happens after that, and if you decide you can’t live with the truth, so be it. But do yourself a favor and let her explain why she didn’t tell you about the trust fund and why she doesn’t use it.”

She doesn’t use it?

Kevin’s final words bounced around in Wade’s head long after Kevin disconnected the call. Why didn’t she use it? And if she didn’t…
Shit
. If she only lived off her Mazze Builders’ salary, then it would stand to reason she might have to save up for a pair of boots.

Shit, shit, shit.

Hope flickered to life in his chest. Maybe she hadn’t intentionally deceived him. Maybe this was all a big misunderstanding. He still wasn’t ready to talk because he feared this newfound hope would make it impossible to be objective, so he took the chicken-shit way out and sent her a text.

Byron’s Marina 5:45 a.m.

He’d leave it up to her to figure out where the marina was. If she made the effort to find them, that would tell him a lot. And if she got out of bed in the middle of the night to go out in the ocean, something she’d told them the other night she’d never do, it would be the equivalent of hogtying him with his ears wide open.

W
ade spent so much time at the Sunset Strip, finding his way through the crowded room in total darkness wouldn’t be a problem. But getting to Mercy’s dressing room or an exit was different than locating a specific table with a certain group of guys. After several moments of absorbing the thumping bass and giving his eyes time to adjust to the club’s dim lighting, he spotted the guys in the VIP section of the club, front and center for the action.

“’Bout time you got here,” Tyler yelled over the hip-grinding, down-and-dirty music pumping through the club’s top-of-the-line sound system. He saluted Wade with a double shot glass, tossed it back, then licked his lips and held up his hand to catch their server’s attention.

Sheila, a longtime Sunset server and friend to Wade, wove through the red and black club chairs on the main floor. As she approached their table, Tyler circled his finger around the group, indicating another round for everyone. She tossed him a thumbs-up and caught Wade’s eye. Her smile was bright and she seemed glad to see him as she notched her chin and raised her eyebrows. Over the past year, they’d gotten damn good at playing charades, so he understood the unasked question and nodded yes, he did want his usual beer.

He flopped down in the empty chair next to Tyler and scrubbed his hands over his face. He really wanted something stronger than beer. Hell, even Tyler’s moonshine sounded good right now. But getting hammered tonight and spending tomorrow hung-over wouldn’t solve his problems.

The music pumping through the speakers was loud, but not nearly loud enough to drown out the words that kept echoing in his head.
She doesn’t use it.
Proving there was no end to his idiocy, he found himself clinging to those words like a frigging life raft and hoping against all hope they actually meant something. Like she hadn’t so much straight up lied to him as deceived him by omission.

Right… because there was totally a difference between the two.

“Hey, stranger,” Shelia said, interrupting his thoughts by dropping his beer into his field of vision and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Where the hell have you been?”

He smiled and shrugged helplessly. “Work’s been kicking my ass.” The excuse was lame, and based on the way she rolled her eyes hard enough to tug her head sideways, she didn’t buy the story any more than Mercy had. But being honest and saying he needed a change of pace and scenery seemed insulting, so he stuck with the lame train, riding it all the way to the end of the tracks.

“Next time,” Tyler said as she set out the rest of the drinks, “save yourself a trip and bring us two rounds.”

Based on the last time he talked to Tyler, Wade figured the boys had already been at the Strip about forty-five minutes. Considering Tyler was about to polish off his second shot in five minutes, he’d be down for the count in another thirty minutes. Not good when he planned on diving tomorrow.