Player - The Elite Part Five Page 5

  As I strode back to my Jeep parked along the curb, I decided that Gemma would be staying with me until the nightmare was over.

  Whether she liked it or not.

  Although, I was pretty sure it wouldn’t take much to convince her. I had my ways.

  I leaned against the passenger door, folded my arms, and stared up the drive at her front door, as I tried to work out my next move.

  “Where the hell are you, Gemma?” I whispered.

  As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pushed off the door and grabbed it. The screen was lit up with Gemma’s name and my entire body sagged with relief. “Gemma! Where are you? Are you okay?”

  “I was just about to ask you that same question. I got your message. What’s going on?” Her voice was impossible to get a read on. I needed to see her face to figure out what she was thinking—or at least have a shot.

  “I’m fine. But I need you to drop whatever you’re doing and get over to your house. We’ll pack your bags and you’re coming to stay with me until this shit show has come to an end. It’s not safe anymore.” I darted a look around as an eerie feeling of being watched sunk into my skin. “Where are you?”

  “Slow down, Aaron. What are you talking about?”

  I pinched my eyes closed and tipped my head back. “Gemma, just tell me where you are. I know you’re not at the hospital and I know you’re not at home. I’m practically standing in your driveway.”

  “What the hell?” The question was sharp and frustrated. “I’m out running some errands. Things were slow at the hospital and since I’m the new girl, I got sent home early for the day, and am completing the rest of my shift on call.”

  “I think O’Keefe has people watching you.”

  She roared, “What?”

  “Have you noticed anything?”

  “Aaron, this is getting crazy…”

  I wanted to laugh. “You think I don’t know that?”

  “Let’s just call the police.”

  I shook my head. “I already told the FBI and FAA guys what’s going on. They can’t do anything. The local PD isn’t going to be able to do anything either. Just hurry back. I’ll stay here until you get here and help you pack.”

  She was quiet and I could almost hear her mind working out a way out of my demands. Why was she fighting this so hard? We’d just spent the night before together at my place, and it had been fine. Better than fine, really. I was normally the one waiting to untangle the sheets and make a getaway. I hadn’t felt that way with Gemma. Had she?

  “Gemma, please.”

  I hated to beg, but this was too important to let my pride get in the way.

  “Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it might be a while. I’m not going to let this O’Keefe asshole disrupt my whole day.” She sighed, her frustration sizzling. “Go home and relax. I’ll come over as soon as I get back.”

  My fingers clenched together. “I’m not going anywhere. Take all the time you need.”

  “God, you’re being so ridiculous! I don’t need a bodyguard.”

  This wasn’t up for debate. I ignored her comment. “Keep an eye on the road behind you. Make sure you’re not being followed and call me if you see anything weird.”

  She clicked off the line without another word and I glared at the phone in my hand. Damn it if I didn’t go and fall for the most stubborn woman on earth. With a scoff, I pocketed the phone after making sure the volume was as loud as it could go. I didn’t want to miss anything. Seconds after slipping it into my pocket, my ring tone sliced into the silence around me, and I jerked it from my pocket, nearly ripping out the pocket of my jeans.

  My heart jolted into my throat. Had something happened? Was someone following her? Was she okay?

  The name flashing on the screen told me it wasn’t Gemma. It was Lana. I blew out the panicked gasp and clicked onto the call. “Yes?”

  “Uhm, oh, hi, Mr. Rosen. It’s Lana.” She was one of those people who failed to realize that every phone had caller ID and that there was no need to announce her name at the beginning of each call. “Are you coming back to the meeting?”

  Fuck. I scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d gotten so caught up in everything with the agents, then O’Keefe, and making sure Gemma was okay, that I’d forgotten that my staff was sitting in the middle of Carly’s for a mandatory meeting. “No, Lana, something came up at the museum. I’m going to be there all day.”

  It was only half of a lie.

  “Okay. So, should I dismiss everyone? Or can we come back to work now?”

  “The investigation is still going on. Did you get their input for a relaunch?”

  “Yes. We have a whole list of ideas on themes and advertising and setup.”

  “Great,” I forced myself to infuse cheeriness in my voice. I regretted snapping at her on the patio outside Carly’s, especially with the entire staff peering at us through the windows. “Listen, Lana, I’m sorry about before. There’s a lot going on and I lost my cool.”

  “It’s all right, Mr. Rosen. I understand. And, I’m sorry about before…what I said at the meeting. I was out of line.” Her voice was small and pinched, like she was holding back tears.

  I squeezed my eyes shut as a wave of guilt ran over me, hot and smothering. “It’s all right, Lana. Already forgotten. I shouldn’t have shouted like that.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Rosen. I didn’t take it personally,” she replied, her voice brightening. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Not right now. Please apologize to everyone. Let them know their pay will continue as long as the investigation runs. I don’t want them worried about money on top of everything else.”

  “Okay. Will do.” She paused and I could imagine her scribbling the notes on her clipboard. “Take care of yourself, Mr. Rosen. And remember, I’m only a call away.”

  I wasn’t sure what that meant, but decided to take it as a show of support instead of an insinuation. It was no secret that Lana had the hots for me, but she’d never made an attempt at a move before, or even anything that could really be considered open flirtation.

  Then again, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she knew how to flirt.

  I pushed all those thoughts from my mind. “Thank you, Lana. I’ll get in touch when things are wrapped up and we can start planning the reopening.”

  I clicked off the call and pocketed the phone once again. The silence fell back over the cul-de-sac like a thick blanket. In the distance, the ocean waves provided a faint backdrop of white noise, with gulls crying out every few minutes, but other than that, there was nothing. No passing cars. No pedestrians. Not even any noise or movement from the other houses in the small circle.

  I flattened my back against the side of the car, trying to adjust to a more comfortable way of standing. My eyes came to rest on Gemma’s small house and I wondered what about it had caught her eye. It was a bungalow style home with a small porch in the front. It was painted a light green, but from the looks of it, that had been at least a decade ago. It struck me as odd that the previous owners hadn’t thought to spruce it up before putting it on the market. Holiday Cove was quickly turning into a ritzy little town, similar to the Hamptons—or, at least what I imagined the Hamptons to be like—in New York. A retreat for the wealthy.

  Granted, there were a lot less pool parties around here.

  If O’Keefe got his way that would all change. Maybe that was his overall vision. To build the West Coast version of the luxe beach town. I had to give him credit for a brilliant idea. If he could pull it off, it would make a shit load of money.

  Too bad he was such a piece of shit. Otherwise, I might have actually been interested in investing.

  I crossed my arms and scanned up and down the sidewalk, though I hadn’t heard any change in activity around me, and sure enough, nothing was happening.

  Where was Gemma? She’d mentioned it would take a while, and while logically I knew that not that much time had passed, the silence made time pass
at a deceptive rate.

  I peeked at my phone and groaned when I saw that only seven minutes had passed since we’d clicked off the call. It was going to be a very long afternoon.

  Chapter Seven

  Eventually, I gave up on standing vigil by the side of the Jeep and parked my ass back in the driver’s seat, where I spent the next hour tapping out a beat with my thumbs on the steering wheel, scanning the street, and trying not to fall asleep.

  Nearly two hours later, Gemma’s car pulled into the cul-de-sac and curved into her driveway. I hopped out of the cab and hurried to meet her, expecting that she’d have a lot of shopping bags in tow from her busy afternoon of errands. But when I reached her, she was stalking up the driveway flipping through the ring of keys in her hands without so much as a nod in my direction.

  “Gemma!” I barked, all of my impatience and frustration over waiting channeled out into the single word.

  She ignored me, but her shoulders bunched up closer to her ears as she stomped a few more steps towards her front door.

  “What the hell? You’re just not talking to me now?” I matched her steps and took a firm stance beside her on the porch as she worked the key in the lock for the deadbolt.

  She cut a glance to me and I swear an arctic burst hit me in the chest.

  I reached over and stopped her hands that were still twisting the key. “Gemma?” I softened my voice. “Let me help—”

  “I can do it!” She exploded, flinging her hands up, pulling the key from the lock.

  “Why the hell are you pissed at me?” I demanded, reaching for the keys anyways.

  She whirled to face me, her eyes blazing and dark. “Fuck, Aaron. This is insane. Literally insane!” The keys flew from her grasp at the jerky movement and clattered down to the welcome mat at our feet.

  I whipped a look around the quiet neighborhood, doing a quick sweep. “Hey, hey, calm down. I know you’re upset, but we gotta keep it together, okay?”

  She stared at me another beat, her glare sparking with fire, before jerking over to snatch the keys from the welcome mat. She flipped a couple more keys, muttering something indiscernible under her breath, then jammed the keys back into the knob, twisted, and practically kicked the front door open as soon as the lock clicked free.

  I stared after her for a moment, stunned into silence at her tirade, and then followed behind. I shut the door.

  “—call me and expect me to drop everything—never even asked—hospital is going to think—” she was ranting and raving from the kitchen and all I could catch were fragments of her mutterings.

  I followed the sound of her fury and found her stalking into a room off the kitchen. To my surprise, she stripped her scrub top off over her head and reached behind her to unclasp her bra as she stomped ahead.

  My temperature—and my cock—rose at the sight of her bared back.

  “Gemma! I get that you’re pissed off. Believe me, I am too. But you gotta slow down and let me explain.”

  She had disappeared from my sight, deeper into the dimly lit room, and as much as I wanted to follow and see the rest of her as she stripped out of her work clothes, I knew it wasn’t the best plan. There would be time for that later. When she wasn’t so angry with me. Although, the idea of her fired up and passionate sounded like fun.

  I shook my head, clearing the swarm of images and longings away.

  She reappeared seconds later, wearing a black tank top that was suctioned to her every curve and line and left a good two inches of her flat stomach above the waist of her low rise jeans. She was in the process of tying her hair up into a short ponytail on the top of her head and looked at me expectantly as her fingers worked to secure the hair tie. “I’m listening. Explain.”

  With a sigh I launched into the full story about the call with O’Keefe and his threat—disguised as a throwaway comment—and by the time I finished, Gemma had plunked down at her small kitchen table. All of her wrath and fury had dampened.

  Instead she just looked tired.

  “So he knows my name?” She asked, her voice small.

  “No. Or at least if he does, he didn’t use it.”

  She gave a shallow nod, her eyes drifting to some point on the wall, staring, unblinking as she processed everything I’d told her.

  I closed the gap between us and squatted down in front of her. “I’m so sorry, Gemma. Believe me, I never, in a million years, would have knowingly dragged you into this shit storm.”

  Her eyes flicked back to mine and for a moment we stared at one another in silence. Passing understanding between ourselves without words or movement besides the frantic searching of our eyes as they met. “I believe you.”

  “I’m going to figure a way out of this,” I told her, reaching for her hands. “And in the meantime, I’ll keep you safe and make sure nothing happens.”

  Gemma stared at me for another beat, and my lips parted, readying to kiss her, but then just like the shifting of the wind, her eyes rolled and she blew out a frustrated puff of air. She stood and sidestepped me on the floor and stalked to the kitchen sink. “See, Aaron, right there, that’s the kind of shit you need to stop doing.”

  I straightened faster than the stitches in my side wanted and my hand went to the spot at the stab of pain before I could turn to face her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “This whole macho protector thing, like I’m some kind of dainty ass flower who can’t handle herself. I’m not some party girl you picked up at a bar who’s had one too many and needs a big strong guy to take her home and make sure she doesn’t get mugged or worse. Hell, I’ve never been that girl. All right? I’m a capable fuckin’ woman who doesn’t need a babysitter.” She stared at me, her eyes ablaze again, daring me to cross her. “So, if you’re looking for a damsel in distress to rescue, like if that’s what gets you up, then you’re in the wrong place.”

  I took a menacing step towards her, my blood pressure spiking, and my heart slamming into my ribs so hard I was afraid it would cause permanent damage. “You’re my woman and it’s my job to protect you. So, back down and let me handle this.”

  She squared her shoulder. “Your woman?” She scoffed. “Last time I checked this was the twenty-first century. So, unless you have a cave to stomp off to, you need to check yourself. I’m not your possession or property so you don’t need to puppy guard me. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a soldier too. I’ve been to war and seen shit that very few people could even comprehend. I know how to use any gun you put into my hands. And if you weren’t injured, I’d knock your fuckin’ ass to the ground right here just to prove my point.”

  My hands twitched at my sides. I didn’t want to strike at her. I’d never hit a woman. But it was tempting to wrestle her to the kitchen floor and pin her to show her that no matter what her training was—she wasn’t big and bad enough to take me down.

  Instead, I threw my hands into the air. “So, let me make sure I understand, you think that if I want to protect you and keep you safe that it must mean that I’m some kind of underdeveloped Neanderthal? It couldn’t possibly be because I’m falling in love with you and couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you?”

  Gemma reared back like I’d slapped her across the face and put a hand to the counter to stabilize herself. My heart skipped and sputtered as my words echoed back to me.

  The craziest thing was that even though they had been wrenched out in the heat of the moment, I didn’t regret them.

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” Gemma finally said, shaking her head. “You’re just caught up in the drama.”

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.” I grabbed her hand and held it tight, forcing her attention back to my eyes. “Gemma, please pack some things. I need you to come back with me. I need to know you’re safe.”

  She stared up at me, her face a mix of confusion and the slightly dampened urge to fight with me. “Aaron, I’m—” Whatever she started to say flitted away as I slipp
ed my fingers along her jawline and cupped her face in my hand, careful not to scratch her with the edge of my cast.

  “Don’t make me ask again, Gemma. Please just do this for me.”

  After another long moment, she nodded. “Come on.”

  She tugged on my hand and led me into the room she’d changed in. It was a small room, possibly intended to be used as a den or an office, since it didn’t have a closet, but Gemma had it set up like a bedroom with a queen sized bed wedged against the wall, a nightstand with a metallic reading lamp, and a dresser on the other wall with barely a foot of space between the drawers and the end of the mattress.

  “The upstairs is being remodeled,” she offered as an explanation as I perused the room. “I’m knocking down one of the walls to expand the master and add an en suite bathroom.”

  “You’re knocking down the walls?” I shifted my gaze up to the ceiling, curious to see the construction site above.

  “I started it, but I have a team coming in next week to finish the job. It should be another couple of weeks until it’s all done. And in the meantime, this is my bedroom.”

  “Cozy,” I said, grinning at her.

  “Cramped is more like it.” As though to prove her point, she stepped over a cardboard box of clothing that looked as though it had been rummaged through on multiple occasions, and yet never fully unpacked. I chuckled softly as I watched her gather some clothing from the overflow. She shot me a dark look. “I could stop packing at any moment, ya know.”

  I chuckled and held up my hands. “I’m not judging…I’m just thinking I’ve seen barracks with a hundred enlisted and they might have been more organized than all this…I guess the Army doesn’t teach efficient packing techniques.”

  She chucked a tank top at my head. Followed by a balled up pair of socks. “Pack away, Navy boy.”

  I grabbed the items, still smiling, and looked for a bag to put them in. Within a few minutes, she’d tossed—hurled—a pile of clothes at me and fished an Army duffel from under the bed for me to pack them into. While I finished packing the item, sarcastically offering her hints and tips on proper packing techniques, she left to go to the next door bathroom and grab her toiletries.