Wicked Games (12 page)

Mandy screamed and turned on her, eyes wild, teeth bared. “Bitch,” she muttered.

Stacy would have liked to reply, “Takes one to know one,” but there was no more spit in her mouth.

“And now you die.” Mandy raised the gun and pointed it at her head.

She stared down the barrel and swallowed bitter regret. This was it. She’d missed her chance to tell Ian, “I love you.”

…

Ian climbed the last few feet like a monkey on crack. He hauled himself onto the platform, pulled his gun from the waist of his jeans, and yelled, “Drop it!”

The nun didn’t drop it, and he didn’t waste time on a second warning. He fired.

The slug he put in her leg knocked it right out from under her. Her gun flew out of her hand. Stacy dove after it, snagged the airborne weapon, and landed on her knees.

He raced toward her. From somewhere behind him he heard Trevor say, “I’ve got the nun,” and then, thank God, he had Stacy in his arms.

“Ian,” she looked up at him with big, pain-hazed eyes, held out the gun, and gave him a weak smile.

“Good catch,” he replied, hoping to make the smile linger, but it was too late. She’d already passed out.

Chapter Twelve

The light hum of female voices registered first, followed by the smell of roses and lilies. Stacy lay still for a moment, kept her eyes closed, and did a quick physical inventory. Toes? Check. Fingers? Check. Head still attached to shoulders? Check.

Best she could tell, all parts were present and accounted for. She felt stiff and groggy, like she’d been asleep for a week, but nothing too alarming. A vague impression of Ian holding her hand and telling her not to worry about anything danced through her mind, but she couldn’t say for sure whether that was memory or wishful thinking. She racked her brain for something more. Other images formed—a nurse with a short brunette bob offering her water. Kylie smiling through tears while helping brush her teeth and hair—but no Ian.

Deciding to chance a look around, she opened her eyes, and blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness. Sunlight streamed through an unfamiliar window, below which sat a metal cabinet holding a farmers’ market worth of flowers. “Holy crap. Am I dead?”

“What a question, Snowflake.”

She turned her head and realized the flowers were not the wildest, most colorful things in the room. Ginger sat in a chair beside her bed, wearing short, eye-popping red spandex. Lee Ann perched on the arm of her chair, in Daisy Dukes and a pink plaid shirt knotted under her breasts. Ari stepped to Ginger’s other side and adjusted the thin shoulder strap of a slinky purple dress.

“Oh, my God. I am dead. I’ve died and gone to hell.”

Ari raised one perfectly plucked brow. “No. The devil did not want you.”

“That’s right, sugar. Instead, you’re stuck in the hospital for a few days. But don’t fret one little bit.” Lee Ann smiled her big, beaming, Southern belle smile. “We’re here to help you pass the time.”

“You’re here to hit on the doctors,” she shot back, but couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

“The upside of you being here is that we can do both,” Ginger said.

Just then a humongous arrangement of white flowers waddled into the room.

“Holy shit, Vern. What did you do, mug a flower cart on your way here?”

Vern lumbered over to the flower-laden cabinet by the window and dumped his load. “Least we could do, kid. Thanks to you, we’ve had calls for reservations tonight. Reservations! We’re a strip club, people. We don’t take no stinking reservations.”

“What makes you think that’s because of me?”

“Last night’s escapade has been all over the news. Now every agent in Hollywood wants to come down to Deuces and discover the next Stacy Roberts.”

Stacy laughed. “That’s…great, I guess.” Her voice trailed off because a lump suddenly wanted to form in her throat. She took a deep breath, looked at her friends, and said quietly, “You guys are a sight for sore eyes.”

“Uh-oh. She’s delirious,” Ginger quipped, and elbowed Ari. “We better find that cute doctor we met on the way in and get his sexy ass down here right away.”

The brunette’s lips stretched into a slow, wicked smile. “If I find him, I don’t bring him here for a while.”

“Yeah, yeah, I see what kind of priority I am for you girls.” She planted her hands on the mattress and tried to push herself into a sitting position. It turned out to be a lot harder than she expected. “Before you go seduce Dr. Feelgood, can one of you help me sit up?”

“That sounds like a job for me,” a deep voice replied. Stacy looked up to find Trevor coming through the door, carrying an enormous bouquet of cheerful yellow sunflowers. Kylie followed, holding three huge, happy-face Mylar balloons that read “Get,” “Well,” and “Soon.”

Stacy watched as everyone exchanged greetings and hugs. Then Kylie took the bouquet from Trevor and walked to the window to add their arrangement to the bounty already taking up most of the surface of the cabinet. Ginger, Ari, and Lee Ann followed to help rearrange all the flowers.

“You’re looking a little better than last time I saw you.” Trevor leaned down to kiss her cheek. Then he slid one arm around her back, hooked the other under her knees, and lifted her higher in the bed.

“Thanks.” She hit the button to raise the bed. “Of course, last time you saw me I probably looked like I was about to fall off a light rig and crack my skull like an egg.”

“Yeah.” He smiled and pinched her chin. “I could go awhile without seeing that again, so in addition to putting your Worst Nightmare in custody where she belongs, I’m putting a five-foot vertical limit on you.”

She settled back and grinned at Kylie. “Man, he’s a tough one. Bossy.”

Kylie snuggled against his side and smiled up at him. “He has his softer side too.”

“You’re not supposed to tell anybody about that,” Trevor complained, and then tipped his bride-to-be’s chin up and kissed her with a thoroughness that had every woman in the room sighing.

“All right, break it up, you two,” Ginger joked, and tossed a handful of rose petals up in the air so they rained down on the lovebirds. “Save something for the wedding.”

“Can I join the party?”

Stacy’s heart stuttered at the question. She swung her eyes toward the door. There stood Ian, leaning against the doorframe, holding a dozen red roses and looking unfairly gorgeous in wash-faded jeans and the emerald-green cashmere crewneck she’d gotten him for Christmas last year because it was the exact same shade as his eyes.

“Whoops, would you look at the time!” Ginger pointed to her nonexistent wristwatch. “We gotta go. See you tomorrow, Snowflake. C’mon, Vern.”

“What? I just got here!”

Ginger elbowed him, hard, and glanced pointedly at the door.

“All right. All right. I’m going.”

The girls headed out in a flurry of hugs, good-byes, and waves.

“We better go, too,” Kylie said. “We’ve got that thing.” She tugged Trevor’s arm.

“Right. The thing. Bye, Stace. Remember, five-foot vertical limit.” He clapped a hand on Ian’s shoulder as they passed.

Ian straightened and sent Stacy a crooked grin. “Do I know how to clear a room or what?”

She laughed, and then, to her utter horror, burst into tears.

He dropped the roses and had her carefully gathered in his arms before they hit the floor.

“It’s okay. Shh. C’mon, Stacy, don’t cry.” The low words vibrated from his chest to her cheek. His hand rubbed slow, comforting circles over her back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I’m ruining your s-s-sweater, t-that’s what. And I…I l-love you, goddammit.” Well, shit. That hadn’t come out right.

The hand on her back stilled for a moment. His heartbeat sped up a couple notches, but all he said was, “I know.” The response was so typically Ian—calm, cocky, completely in control—she almost laughed. But then he followed it with, “Glad you finally worked up the courage to say the words,” and she wanted to cry all over again, this time out of shame for how she’d handled things.

Instead she lifted her head, wiped her face, and looked at him, drinking in those patient, observant eyes, the thick fringe of eyelashes God sometimes wasted on a man, and the firm, expressive lips. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and she realized he wasn’t as calm and cool as he let on. She owed him an explanation and an apology, and hoped that for once in her life she could find the right words, because even if he’d figured out for himself a long time ago that she loved him, she’d let him think she did so against her will, or at least her better judgment. And, honestly, that’s exactly how she’d felt. He needed to know how much she regretted her lack of faith in them.

“I’m sorry, Ian. I should have told you a long time ago. I didn’t because I thought—I don’t know—I was scared.”

“I know. I get that. I always knew you were holding back—”

She snorted. “You’ve had my number, right from the start.”

“I
understand
you, Stace, that’s all. And because I do, I knew certain things would be bigger issues than others, like the whole ‘I love you’ thing. I thought I could afford to be patient. What I don’t understand…what I didn’t see coming…was you walking away.” His fingers tightened the tiniest degree on her shoulders, and the small gesture gave her a world of insight into the depth of his frustration.

“I was afraid you’d change your mind,” she confessed. “When you asked me to move in, I thought you were keeping your options open. I mean, marriage is a big step…a big public commitment. A divorce takes time. But living together?” She shrugged. “It’s not so hard to just pack your stuff and leave if things don’t work out. Not that I blame you,” she quickly added when he would have interrupted. “The show took off practically overnight, and suddenly, I realized it was only a matter of time before bits and pieces about my past came to light. Little details like me working at Deuces. These were my choices, and I always considered them part of what made me…well…me—uninhibited, a little bit wild, and shocking. But I saw how my past had the potential to embarrass or alienate people I cared about, like you, and your family.”

“I love you, Stacy. I love that you’re uninhibited, and, yeah, a little bit wild. As for shocking, well,” he shrugged, “I think you know by now I’m kind of hard to shock. Same goes for my family.”

Her heart soared at his words, but she shook her head. Get all the fear out. Drain it like venom. “Your parents didn’t sign up for notoriety. How are they going to feel when someone posts a video of me stripping on YouTube, and some tabloid reporter shoves a recorder in their faces and asks them if I pole dance at the family barbecues?”

“Honey, if you want to pole dance at the next barbecue, my parents will install a pole. And, as much as I hate to say it”—he grimaced—“my mom would probably be the first in line for a lesson. She keeps talking about what a great workout it’s supposed to be. Obviously, I can’t be there for that, or I’ll have to tear my eyes out, but—”

She thwacked the solid wall of muscle he called a chest. “Ian, I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I. Look, they know. They know how we met, where you’re from, how you got your start. Everything. They also know I love you, and you love me. That’s really all they care about.”

“I hope you’re right because they’re probably stuck with me.”

The hand at her back stilled again. “You figure?”

Now
her
heartbeat kicked up a notch. “If you still want to try…if you’ll still have me…I’d love to move in with you.”

He frowned and shook his head. Her heart did a belly flop straight into her stomach. “I’m sorry, but after everything we’ve been through, the move-in offer is no longer on the table.”

Tears threatened again, but she blinked them back.
Okay, understandable. You’ll just have to change his mind
. She firmed her chin. “I’m ready for the next step. How can I prove it to you?”

He gave her a funny look and then cocked an eyebrow. “You really think you’re ready for the next step?”

“Yes. Absolutely,” she replied without hesitation. “Bring it on.”

“Okay, then.” He drew away from her and eased off the bed until he knelt beside it, facing her. “Remember, you asked for this.”

“Ian, what are you…” Her words died away when he pulled a small square box out of his pocket and held it out to her.

“Stacy Roberts, former Two Trout troublemaker, ex-stripper, and the woman I love, will you marry me?” He opened the box to reveal a gorgeous, radiant blue sapphire surrounded by diamonds.

The gasp escaped before she could help herself.

He shrugged, but the quirk of his lips told her he appreciated rendering her speechless. “I wanted something as unique as the woman who’ll wear it. The color reminded me of your eyes.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful. And I’m waiting for an answer,” he prompted.

She shifted her attention to him and watched the slow, sexy grin she’d been dreaming of for six lonely weeks spread over his face. “This is the next step?”

“Yep.”

“You’re sure?”

His unwavering gaze locked on hers, making her head spin a little. “I am dead positive.”

“Then, my answer is yes.”

He slipped the ring on her finger, climbed onto the bed, and swept her into a kiss. By the time he was done, her head spun more than a little, and there was a strange clapping sound assaulting her ears. “Ignore them,” he whispered, cupped her jaw, and lowered his head for another kiss.

Confused, she looked beyond him, toward the door. Vern, Ginger, Ari, Lee Ann, Kylie, and Trevor gathered just beyond the threshold, clapping.

“About time, Snowflake,” Ginger called.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out,” Ian called, never taking his eyes off her. His smile held wicked intent.

The door whooshed closed.

“I’m injured,” she warned as he moved in.

“I’m careful.” He traced the front opening of her hospital gown, barely grazing her flesh.

“I guess you are,” she managed, as his fingers parted the gown.

“And creative.” As proof he tapped the bed-adjust button and eased her into a more reclined position.