PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (52 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

I
woke up to
much more favorable circumstances. My eyes fluttered open and filled with
visions of a room full of flowers. Every kind and color were strewn about,
bright bursts of warmth and romance in an otherwise dismal space. The smell of
impeccable floral arrangements filled my nostrils as I found myself nearly
blinded by light streaming in through the unfettered windows, the curtains
drawn to reveal the magnitude of the beauty around me.

It should have
been special. It should have made me happy.

Instead,
the pretty flowers put a cold coil of dread in my
stomach.

Nathan was sitting on the end of the couch, a
triumphant smile on his face as he watched my eyes open and focus on the
innumerable vases and bouquets around me. “I couldn’t guess your favorite,” he
told me, “but after the last few nights, I figured you might need a little
pick-me-up to remind you that world’s not such a bad place, after all.”

I stared at
him, my mouth dry. “Where’s the rookie?”

“Gone. The captain moved him back down the hall early
this morning. I thought you’d be happy,” he said, his head tilting to the side
as he studied my obvious displeasure.

“Nathan… you didn’t charge this to the card the
department gave you, right? I mean… there’s no way it’s loaded up with enough
money for this…”

He frowned at me like I was insane. “Of course not!”
he laughed. “I used my personal one. I’d never put your job in jeopardy like
that.”

I sat up, clutching the blankets to my chest and the
semi-sheer cami covering it. “Your
personal
card? You aren’t supposed to
have
a personal card! You just put
yourself
in jeopardy, Nathan,
and right now, my job
is
you! Jesus fucking Christ, have you lost your
damn mind?”

“It’s a card for a subsidiary business. There’s almost
no chance anyone could track the purchase back to me…” His face fell as he
watched me. His lips parted as if there was something more he wanted to say,
but I ran him over before he could get the words out.

“Did you have
them delivered? Please tell me you did.”

“Well, yeah. I
couldn’t just carry them by myself…”

“You ordered
online? Over the phone?”

“No. I wanted to see what they had. I took a drive
down there myself.”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. He
couldn’t possibly have done something so stupid!

“What’s the big deal? It’s not like the Paddies are
hanging around at flower shops…” Nathan said.

“Let me guess: you went to the closest one, right?
Leslie-Anne
Floral Designs
?” He nodded, and I snorted in disgust. “And what’s her shop
across the street from?
McFadden’s
-fucking-
Pub
! Or didn’t you notice when you were
ignoring everything the Captain tried to drill into your skull before we came
to the Peachtree Overlook to spend seven miserable days together?”

Nathan recoiled as if I’d physically struck him. I
damn sure felt like it, but it almost looked as if what I’d said had stung him
worse than any slap ever could. What can I say? I’m not normally a morning
person.

“Sandra, I just… I just wanted to be good to you. I
wanted to do something nice—”

“Then you should have listened!” I raged. “You
shouldn’t have put both our lives in jeopardy, and by extension, my fucking
job!” This was a disaster. All my panic, my self-doubt, and the pent-up
frustration I’d been carrying around with me exploded, showering Nathan with
the hot ash of my rage. “You think the men out there didn’t notice two thousand
dollars’ worth of flowers being carted up here? The whole damn neighborhood
probably watched it happen! What do you think the Captain is going to say about
this?” I shook my head, flinging off the blanket and pulling a shirt out of my
duffel bag. “Just when I’d thought you’d started to change…”

“I don’t get how buying you gifts is a bad thing,”
Nathan said, standing up and following me. “Okay, so I took a risk. But I
wasn’t followed. I made sure of it. I…”

“You don’t get to hear me say ‘no,’ and then do it
anyway,” I snarled, whirling on him so fast our noses almost collided. “That’s
not being
nice
, Nathan. That’s being a fucking entitled asshole who
thinks they know best, even when he oh-so-clearly doesn’t. That’s deciding that
what
you
want to do matters a hell of a lot more than what others want.
That’s the spoiled rich kid in you coming out to play, and I don’t think it’s
fucking cute
.
”

“Sandra—”

“No! Absolutely not!” I turned back to my bag and
stuffed my blanket into it. I didn’t give a shit that I was still in my pajama
bottoms, and I didn’t care that there was a big part of me that just wanted to
jump into bed with this man and fuck the life right out of him. I was done. I couldn’t
do this. Staying here could cost me everything I’d worked so hard to achieve,
and Nathaniel Hale wasn’t worth it.

I stepped out
into the hall. “Hey!” I shouted. “Hey!”

I waited to see who opened their doors. Nathan once
again followed me, staring at me from the threshold, his face losing all color
as he realized what I was doing.

“Sandra,
please… Please don’t go.”

I looked at him over my shoulder. “I can’t be here
with you. I could
never
be with someone like you. And I won’t waste my
time on an man who puts my life in danger on a fucking whim. I should have
never…”

I looked away as one of the doors down the hall
opened. Despite his casual attire, I recognized the officer behind it and
strode up to him so anyone else listening wouldn’t be able to hear.

“The witness has been compromised. I’m heading back to
the station for reassignment. He’ll need to be moved as soon as possible.”
Before the officer could argue, I began to walk away from him. “Oh,” I threw
over my shoulder, “and he’s got a personal credit card still on him. You might
want to confiscate that before he puts anyone else’s life in danger.”

I didn’t even look at Nathan as I took the stairs two
at a time to the shitty Honda waiting for me in the parking lot. I didn’t
bother to see if he was still standing there where I’d left him as I backed out
of the space and shifted into drive. I didn’t glance in my rearview mirror to
see if he still looked as broken as he had when I first walked out.

Those were things I didn’t want to see, because I was
sure that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done.

Nathaniel Hale was bad news. I’d let my guard down for
a man who didn’t give two shits about anyone but himself. I’d let his sweet
nothings and handsome face cloud my judgment again and again. I’d let him
convince me that I could be
better
with him around. I’d lost sight of myself, and for a cop, that was just as
dangerous as letting a perp get the drop on you.

Hell, maybe it
was even
more
dangerous.

I had to protect myself, and serving Nathan wasn’t
going to let me do that. It was time to put some distance between us. I let him
have his way with me once, and I couldn’t believe I’d almost made the same
mistake twice…

CHAPTER EIGHT

It
had been days
since I’d last seen Nathan Hale in person, and yet I couldn’t stop seeing him
in my dreams.

My guilt-inspired nightmares no longer just involved
my dead mother and sister. Now I saw Nathan with them too, the back of his head
missing, brain exposed from a gunshot wound I might have prevented if I’d just
stuck around.

“Are you happy?” he would ask me every time I closed
my eyes for more than a few minutes. “Did you save yourself, detective?”

I’m the only one I actually can save,
I thought as I
slipped into the driver’s seat of my police cruiser. I normally drove a less
obvious vehicle, but today, I was acting as part of the escort crew moving
Nathan to his final destination before the trial began. It was a hotel downtown
right near the courthouse with much nicer accommodations than the Peachtree
Overlook had to offer, and probably better than the next safe house they’d
moved him to after I’d left. At least he’d get one night in a comfortable bed
out of this.

“Hey, Marco,” I called out through my open door,
referring to the officer coming around the side of the building. My eyes almost
immediately fell to his hand as he tried to stuff a white envelope into his
pocket. I knew exactly what that was. Every cop did. There was a team of
reporters just around the corner, and they would pay cash for the right kind of
information for their next big story. A few bills in a plain white and
everybody ate just a little better at night.

He stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me with
the faintest flicker of fear. I frowned. “Marco—you’ve been talking to the
press? We’re about to move a witness. What the hell did you tell them? If you
put this move in jeopardy, I swear…”

The flicker died out. “Relax. I… uh…” he said, then
held his finger to his lips. “I just spilled a little sugar for the nine o’clock
news, that’s all. It was nothing serious though. Nothing about the witness... I
swear.”

I nodded and watched as he walked back into the
station through the revolving door. I knew a lot of cops were hard-up for cash
these days, and I tried not to judge, though I thought talking to the press
usually did more harm than good. There was a part of me that wondered what
little police secret he’d just sold, but I supposed I could just wait a few
days to see it on the front page. Journalists no longer cared about
integrity—they were paid to sell headlines. I was sure we’d hear all about it
in the next department meeting, and I couldn’t say what annoyed me more: the
fact that Marco had sold us out, or knowing that I’d have to hear the Captain
bitch about it.

But why did I care? Even if Marco told the press about
Nathaniel Hale, maybe he deserved it. Nathan’s reputation was no longer any of
my business. I wouldn’t out him for the secret he’d told me, as I could only
imagine how that would detract from the prosecution’s case, but I also wouldn’t
worry about whether or not he walked out of that courtroom looking like a
saint. Everybody wanted the scoop on who was testifying against Mr. Wallace,
and if that meant Marco could afford a few new pairs of shoes for his daughter,
I wasn’t going to get in the way.

Still, I couldn’t help but shift uneasily as I thought
about the witness transfer that was taking place today. It wasn’t just the
bulky Kevlar vest making me uncomfortable. There’d be plenty of cops around to
protect Nathan, but what if it wasn’t enough? What if he got hurt and couldn’t
testify? What if he got hurt
period
? Wallace wasn’t known for being kind
to witnesses. I was angry with Nathan, sure, and even more angry at myself for
thinking that billionaire asshole could ever change his stripes, but I didn’t
want anything bad to happen to him, either.

I convinced myself that was all it was—a healthy,
professional obligation to an innocent—as I turned the key and listened as the
cruiser stuttered to life. I put on my shades to block out the glare of the sun
as another officer hurried out of the station’s doors.

This was a guy I didn’t recognize. Cutbacks meant
forced retirement for some of the old guard, but this guy didn’t look like a
rookie. Something about him—maybe the way he walked, or the scar on his
face—set off warning bells. I was about to get out of the car when I saw him
shake hands with Officer Kimball, a man I
did
know pretty well. From the
expression on Kimball’s face, there was nothing to worry about.

You’re being paranoid,
I told myself,
letting out a breath to get rid of the jitters coursing through me.
The
department’s done everything right. You’ve made some mistakes, but getting out
of there was the right move. You probably saved Nathan’s life, and you
definitely saved your career.

Somehow, that didn’t feel like enough. It didn’t quell
the part inside me that wanted to be
part
of his life, not just the
woman who’d made it possible for him to have a shot at living it.

How could I ever be with a man so out of touch with
reality?
I
thought to myself. There was no way I commit myself to someone who put his
selfish needs above everyone else’s.

Maybe you should’ve given him more than seventy-two
hours to change his entire personality.
I took a moment to try and silence the little voice
in my head as I shut my door and put my cruiser in reverse.
Maybe you
weren’t being entirely fair.

That wasn’t an issue I could contend with today. That
was something that could be dealt with later after the transfer was complete.
Until then, I needed to focus on keeping Nathan alive and putting Peter
Wallace’s sorry ass away for good, and then maybe finding the guy who’d waltzed
into Nathan’s mansion with a gas can and four groupies ready to kill me to get
their way.

“Sounds like a plan,” I muttered out loud, blasting my
A/C as I followed the other cruisers onto the highway.

There was no rush today. We were making good time, and
Nathan was secure with two officers at the safe house. In fact, we’d been ordered
to keep our lights and sirens off so as not to announce the fact that we were
picking up the most valuable witness this trial had to offer. No need to
broadcast our intent to any unsavory characters that might be waiting for the
opportune moment to strike.

What happened next went against all of that wisdom.
Kimball’s cruiser turned on his lights, broke left into the emergency lane, and
took off ahead of us. I felt the hairs on my nape stand up.

Something isn’t
right.

I picked up my radio. “Kimball,” I said, tuning into
his frequency. “What’s up, man? I thought we were coasting, K.”

A voice crackled through the speaker. It was Kimball,
but he didn’t sound like himself. “Change of plans. Captain Pierce’s orders.”

I frowned, waiting on him to end transmission. “K” was
what we said to let the other officer know we were done speaking. It was simple
protocol, and protocol was something Kimball always followed without question.
As the seconds passed in silence, I felt a twinge of fear rising inside me.

“Really? I didn’t hear anything about that, K,” I said
into the CB.

“It’s no big deal,” Kimball assured me over the
crackling radio. “Captain Pierce’s orders. They want the transfer to happen
now.”

No “K.” No “over.”

“Ten-four, K.”

I still couldn’t shake the feeling like something
didn’t quite add up, though, and as minutes passed, that sense of impending
doom rose up my spine, breathing on the back of my neck like some dark and
lethal menace until I couldn’t take it anymore. Call it a detective’s intuition,
call it my own personal bullshit detector, but I had to be sure.

I pressed the accelerator down, sweeping into the
emergency lane. Kimball was nowhere in sight as I dialed the Captain’s direct
line on my cell. If something was going on I couldn’t risk sending a message
out over the radio.

“Captain
Pierce.”

“Captain, it’s Detective Williams,” I said, carefully
hugging the side of the highway. “I just talked with Officer Kimball. They took
off ahead of us with the lights and sirens on. Said they were headed up to the
safe house early on your orders.” I paused, trying to think of some excuse for
prying. “…should I help?”

The captain was quiet for a moment. In that silence, I
read his thoughts loud and clear, but my stomach still lurched when he finally
voiced them. “I didn’t send them, Detective, and I didn’t assign any rookies to
escort Mr. Hale to the hotel.”

My blood ran cold. I hung up immediately and got back
on my radio. “All units, we have a possible breach of security at the safe
house. I repeat, a possible breach of security at the safe house.” I flipped on
my lights and sirens and hit the gas as hard as I could. “Officer Kimball may
have been compromised. He’s got a five-minute head start. Full speed ahead, K.”

But just as the other cars lit up around me, I saw
Kimball’s cruiser coming down the opposite side of the highway, lights off but
doing at least ninety. There were bullet holes along the side and one of the
taillights was shot out.

“Shit!” I snarled, turning the wheel hard into the
grassy median and spraying dirt and grass all over the road.

The cruiser bounced over the ditch and scraped hard on
the incline. The back end tried to fishtail, but I got everything back under
control as I forced the old tired crown vic up over the shoulder and onto the
road. Her engine screamed as I put my weight on the gas, shifting gears until I
was hitting a cool ninety-five miles an hour, dodging between the four lanes of
traffic.

“Car nineteen in pursuit,” I reported over my radio,
shifting again as the single taillight of Kimball’s car came into view. “Got
‘em in my sights.” I squinted past the sun glaring off the tinted back window.
“Witness is in the car. I repeat, they have the witness, K.”

“Ten-four, car nineteen,” dispatch replied in that even
tone of voice they all had down to a science. “Can you see his condition, K?”

“Negative, but he’s alive. K.”

I could see Nathan moving in the back seat, but I had
no idea why. They could’ve just killed him at the safe house. My heart thudded
so hard I was sure it would crack my ribs. “I need backup, K.”

“Sending units.
What’s your position, K?”

“Headed southbound. Just passed mile marker one-twelve
approaching the mid-town exit. K.”

Please don’t turn, please don’t turn,
I prayed. If
they got off there, it’d put us in the traffic-heavy streets filled with
civilians, and dispatch would order me to back off.

But they probably knew that, which was exactly why
they swerved at the last second and barreled straight down the exit ramp into
the warehouse district.

Motherfuckers!

I cut off at least three other cars crossing lanes to
follow and narrowly missed clipping the exit sign as I took the same path.
Kimball’s cruiser was nosing past the truck stopped at the light, and I took
the shoulder to get behind him, hoping to cut him off before he blew the
intersection.

“Suspects took the mid-town exit. Car nineteen still
in pursuit, K.”

“Halt pursuit, car nineteen,” dispatch predictably
ordered. “Civilian concentration is too high, K.”

I shook my head, hot tears burning the corners of my
eyes. Goddammit, they weren’t going to walk away from this. Not again.

Peter Wallace had killed enough people. I wasn’t going
to let him add Nathan to that list.

“Negative, dispatch. Car nineteen still in pursuit.
We’re eastbound on Fontaine Boulevard. Requesting backup, K.”

The dispatcher sounded a little rattled now, as though
they weren’t sure how to respond to resistance. “Car nineteen, halt pursuit—”

“Negative,” I
repeated. “Send backup, K.”

And then, lowering the volume down to a dull chatter,
I watched as Kimball’s cruiser surged into the intersection and followed suit.

It was harder for both our cars to maneuver here.
Sure, they’d slowed me down, but they weren’t faring much better. Fontaine was
busy this time of day, and traffic tended to bottleneck up ahead at the
Carthage intersection. The only advantage either of us had was that we were in
police cruisers, and the lights and sirens were enough to convince most cars to
move out of the way.