Tease Me (18 page)

“I asked for the job, Jackson. I’m here because I want to be. I’m going to talk to my brothers right now. Show me where they’re sitting.”

“Heidi, don’t do this.”

“I have to.”

He took her arm to stop her, but she glared at him, so he let go. “What are you trying to prove?”

“That I’m in charge of my own life.”

“They’re at table forty-five and I’m going with you.”

“Don’t you dare.” She shot him a ferocious look that made him step back.

He settled for trailing her, prepared to jump in and soften the shock if he could, offer her brothers his jaw to pound if it helped. He half wanted that. Hell, he deserved it.

H
EIDI MARCHED TOWARD
table forty-five, furious at herself for not handling the situation this morning at the house. She’d acted like a child and now Jackson was treating her like one. The last thing she needed was another protector. She’d chosen her job and her life and she might as well own up to it.

Except table forty-five was empty. “Where did the guys that were here go?” Heidi asked Rox, who breezed by.

“Yeah, that’s choice. A wife called and the guy went white and they all decided they’d better eat dinner instead. Why…you know them?”

“Yeah,” she said, filled with incredible relief. She did not want to tell her brothers about Moons. Not at all. She didn’t want to tell them about Jackson, either. Not until she’d talked to him, sorted out what was really going on between them. She turned and saw Jackson coming toward her.

“They’re gone,” she said.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded, though she wasn’t all right at all. And she could see Jackson knew that, too.

“Look, I have to take off for the audition, but I’ll be back in two hours. Call my cell if you need me. I’m sorry I got you into this.” He looked so grim and troubled and—this gave her a sick feeling—far away. “We’ll talk later.”

“Yeah,” she said. “We’ll talk.” But what exactly would they say?

She went back to work and tried not to think about Jackson. An hour later, she stood at the bar. Taylor had just set off to fill her order when Dupree, the new guy, jerked up from behind the bar like a spastic jack-in-the-box. The guy creeped her out. Every look was a leer, every comment had sexual connotations and he was so jumpy he made her own heart pound.

“Do me a solid and put these away, babe.” He thrust one of the plastic sacks that held bar towels at her. “Special delivery.” He winked. The bag was tied shut, signifying the towels were dirty. Odd, since she’d seen Rox bring out a fresh sack just a bit ago. Must have been some big spills to use up all these towels. She noticed Duke’s nephew Stan at the end of the bar watching the exchange with close attention. He weirded her out, too, and haunted the bar whenever Dupree was on duty.

She carried the bag of towels into the break room, but a commotion from the lounge made her lean into the hall to see what was going on.

Stan practically plowed her down as he ran past, a towel bag, of all things, in one hand. Behind him, she heard shouts, cries and running feet approaching. Behind her, the door alarm went off, so she knew Stan had ducked out the emergency exit.

A man thick with dark protective gear, straps and buckles burst into the hall, a gun extended. A
gun
.

She yelped.

“Stay in that room,” he snapped at her. He tilted his head at the break room, then continued down the hall. She went where he’d indicated and more waitresses and dancers
were ushered in, everyone looking scared. “I think it’s a drug bust,” Jasmine whispered.

A drug bust.
Heidi looked down at the laundry sack that Dupree had just given her with a wink and remembered that Stan had taken off with another one. Why would Stan care about bar towels? Her stomach sank to her knees and the hand clutching the plastic bag felt clammy. She carried the towels to a grim-faced agent. “Officer, sir. You might want to look in this.”

He took the sack, looked her over sternly, then emptied it onto a table. Dry towels were wrapped tightly around what turned out to be small plastic bags. She’d seen enough cop shows to guess the white stuff inside wasn’t baking soda. She’d been holding a sack of drugs—coke or heroin or speed or some other illegal powder. She calmly explained about the bar towel procedure and showed the agent the hamper, which turned out to hold several more suspicious plastic bags.

She’d sounded as innocent as possible, but the agent insisted she come along to the station to “sort it all out,” along with most of the Moons employees.

Could she be arrested for simply holding something? Maybe. Accessory after the fact or some terrible charge. Her blood ran cold as ice and she had the urgent need to pee.

She was led with her co-workers to the parking lot, where people stared and cameras flashed, and toward a police van. She felt like she was sleepwalking.
It’s just a bad dream,
she told herself.

“Heidi?” Her brother Mark stood behind crime-scene tape, pale and horrified.

Make that a nightmare.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.

He had the decency to look embarrassed. “My sunglasses fell out of my pocket, so I came back—guys from
the conference dragged us here. It wasn’t our idea. We tried—It’s a long story….”

“Let’s go.” The agent urged her into the van.

“You’re being arrested?” Mark asked, even more horrified.

“It’s a mistake. I can explain.” But how? She climbed into the back of the van and slid past the knees of worried employees on the benches.

“This is bullshit,” the normally taciturn Taylor muttered. “It’s Stan and that twitchy dick Dupree.”

“What are we going to do?” Jasmine wailed, her voice high and shaky.

Heidi had no idea. She’d been
holding,
as they said in the movies. She could be arrested and charged. She needed an attorney. She needed a miracle. She had to get out of this.

What about Jackson? Sure. Jackson would save her. He was probably on his way back from the audition by now and could straighten this out before the van drove off.

She stopped moving and Rox banged into her from behind. “Sorry,” Heidi said, reaching for her purse to get her phone. Except her purse was still in her locker.

She struggled to switch with Rox in the narrow aisle, banging into seated people, who huffed at her, so she could beg the officer outside the van to let her fetch her purse.

She was leaning out the door when she saw Jackson…wearing handcuffs and being led her way. Nevada was beside him, also restrained.

“You got my sister arrested!” she heard Mark shout at him.

“I’ll take care of it,” he called over his shoulder, then climbed into the van, pausing as he saw her. “I’ll make it right,” he said, then surveyed the worried group. “This is all a mistake. We’ll straighten it out right away.”

“What’s with the handcuffs?” Taylor asked him.

But Nevada answered. “Jackson kept me from kicking that cop where it counts. I warned the guy to watch his hands, show some respect for the talent.” She practically glowed with defiant pride. The van door slammed, an exclamation point to her words, and they began to move.

During the drive, Jackson took charge, asking questions and piecing together what had happened in a way that calmed everyone. Stan and Dupree had been taken off in a separate car, and, judging from what the agent in charge had said to him before Nevada got into a kicking match with an officer, they merely wanted to get everyone’s statement at the station.

Jackson caught her eye.
I’ll fix this. Don’t worry.
She wanted to believe him, but she knew suddenly that her problems weren’t his to fix.

How had she ended up like this? In front of her brothers, no less. She could still see Mark’s pale and frightened face. Working at Moons was teaching Sunday school compared to a drug bust.

Her life was out of control, completely off the track. The idea rolled through her like sudden ice. The buzz of conversation slipped to the background and she did a long-needed reality check on herself. What the hell was she doing? She’d let her plan slip away. She wasn’t pushing to get into school. She hadn’t signed up for an online class. She’d barely touched the books Jackson had bought for her. Heck, he’d been more supportive of her dream than she’d been.

She’d been hiding from her future in the little world of Moons and Shear Ecstasy, turning them into her new small town, where she was doing amateur counseling behind a makeup mirror in a cloud of hairspray just like before.

She’d been hiding out the way Jackson had been doing when she met him. But he’d pushed on, put together the band, taken steps to change his life. She’d dropped off the path, distracted by the comfort of Moons. And Jackson. There was no forgetting the distraction of Jackson.

The truth was that she’d been relieved to be off the hook with school. School scared her. She’d hunkered down and gotten comfortable in her own Copper Corners. And as for Jackson, she’d latched onto him like a life raft in a storm.

Granted, he was a good guy, but she’d read far more into what was between them than ever could be. She didn’t belong in his world. She’d landed there and let him rescue her. He’d been taking care of her just like her brothers wanted to. She’d invited him to, welcomed his help, cuddled right into it and escaped from responsibility for her own future.

But that was over. Starting here, starting now in this police van, she was taking charge of her life. As soon as she got out of jail.

H
E’D MADE A MESS
of his dad’s rules, Jackson realized grimly, as the van bounced over the curb into the police station lot. Not only had he shredded the “something between you and the wolves” admonition, now he’d blown “watch out for the people you love.” He looked at the tear-streaked faces and worried frowns of the Moons crew and realized he’d let them all down.

The worst was Heidi, who was trying to look brave and determined, but she was as shrunken and scared as a wet cat. Her brothers had watched her get arrested, for God’s sake. They wanted to rip him a new one. As well they should. He’d promised to look out for her and he’d blown it. Jackson wanted to hit something. Hard.

What the hell had happened in the bar when he wasn’t looking? That scumbag Dupree had been dealing drugs right under his nose. He’d sensed Stan and Dupree had been up to something, but he’d been too preoccupied with Heidi, then with the band, to stop and straighten it out. Charging after another dream, he’d let down the people he loved.

He’d screwed up big-time, but he would correct it—make sure everything was made right. Then he’d get Heidi a decent job, pay her damned tuition, if he had to, get her safely out of his life, so she could meet some solid, respectable guy who wouldn’t get caught dead in a strip club. He’d only meant to help her, but falling in love with her had only caused her pain.

I
T WAS SIX
in the morning before Heidi was able to leave the police station. She was the last to go. Her situation was more complicated because of the drugs she’d been holding. Now she was clammy and sweaty, her clothes grimy and her eyes scratchy with exhaustion. The harsh clang of bars opening and closing, the yells and loud conversations, the scrape of feet, the hollow echo of the cold walls around them still rang in her ears. Not to mention the smell of metal and sweat and despair. What she wanted now was sleep and a bath.

She’d told her brothers she’d meet them at their hotel after their conference ended that day to explain everything. She dreaded their worried eyes, their I-told-you-so lecture. They were right, of course. She’d used bad judgment, gotten in over her head, expected Jackson to bail her out in too many ways. She’d tell them the truth and then she’d start over. Do it right this time. But first she’d get some sleep.

She would say goodbye to Jackson, too, but not until she was sure she could look at him without her heart filling up and spilling over. That was the hardest part.

An officer had her sign for her belongings and gave them to her. She balled up her apron with her order pad, clicked on her watch and poked her earrings into her ears. Just like her arrival in Phoenix, she was down to a few belongings, starting over again. She thanked the officer and headed down the hall to meet her ride.

Except there were her brothers. And Jackson. And all three were huddled together in loud conversation, too intent to notice her. Seeing Jackson rocked her, so she paused to collect herself before making her presence known.

“I talked her into the job,” Jackson was saying. “It was totally my fault. And she’s been an incredibly good influence on the strippers. She’s got one of them looking at college and another one on a budget. It’s been practice for becoming a shrink.”

“Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds?” Mike said, his voice cracking.

“You got her arrested,” Mark hissed, unusually hostile for him.

“She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, that’s all, and her statement will help them get the real criminals doing time. She was only questioned.”

“Why should we believe anything you say?” Michael asked.

“Because none of this is Jackson’s fault,” she said loudly, making them all turn to look at her. “He’s done nothing but watch out for me.” She sighed, then pointed at chairs along the wall. “Have a seat, guys. I have a story to tell and you’re going to listen to it all.”

The three men sat in a row on a bench. She wished
Jackson wasn’t there, but it couldn’t be helped. She sat across from them all and told her brothers about the stolen car, about Jackson offering her a room and the job she’d insisted on taking. She left out sleeping with him. That was personal and it was over, so it shouldn’t matter to her brothers.

Every time her brothers or Jackson interrupted, she stopped them, and kept talking, ending with the laundry bag incident. “These were my choices, my decisions, and now it’s my mess to clean up.”

“If you’d told us in the beginning, gotten our help, none of this would have happened,” Mike snapped.

“I wanted to make it on my own.”

“At least you should have kept the money,” Mark inserted.

“What would you have thought if I’d suddenly accepted a thousand dollars after all my insistence on doing it myself?”

“That something had changed,” he replied, shrugging.

“That something was
wrong,
you mean, and you would have jumped into my life when I didn’t want you to.”

“But we knew something was wrong,” Mike said. “You sounded funny on the phone. We assumed you were homesick. We should have demanded you tell us the truth. We should have come sooner and got you.”

“The real problem,” Mark inserted, “was that we made her so miserable at home, she felt better off living with some strange guy—”