Playing with Fire - A Sports Romance (16 page)

Since the cab of Mitch’s truck won't hold the four of us comfortably, Mitch convinces Viv to go with Lee. His older-model black SUV is a far cry from what she’s used to, but it's diamonds to sand compared to what Mitch drives.

I curl up into Corey’s chest as Mitch drives up and down random streets for an hour before we reach our destination. The house we stop in front of - hell, the whole neighborhood, for that matter - looks like it should be condemned. I want to tell Mitch we’ll stay at a hotel, but Corey wraps his arm around my shoulder and follows my best friend like he comes to places like this all the time. And then I wonder if maybe he’s used to this. It wasn't until he hit it big last year that he had any money at all. Maybe his home growing up looked something like this. My heart aches at the thought.

Mitch brings us straight upstairs, and I'm glad for the lack of a tour. I don't even see the t-shirt he offers me to sleep in, and I'm barely coherent enough to help Corey undress me before I fall into bed. All I know is how wonderful it feels when Corey lays down beside me and pulls me into his side before I fall asleep.

F
rankie

“
F
rankie
, darlin’, you awake?”

The quiet rap on the door pulls me out of a wonderful dream. Corey and I were on a beach, drinking in the sunshine and each other. I knew when I opened my eyes I'd be thrown into the harsh reality of my new life. Mitch’s beat-up truck. The house that should be condemned. Gone were the mansions and Porsches, and I didn't know when I’d get them back.

But when I open my eyes, I feel like I am still in the dream. Corey’s beside me, our bare legs intertwined, my head on his naked chest. Surely this room isn't where I fell asleep last night. Beneath us are thick, pale blue sheets, nicer than the ones I’d been sleeping on at the Savory for months. Around us are cream-colored walls, thick, pale blue curtains over the narrow window, and a hardwood floor made to look like it came straight out of a cabin on the beach. It appears as if someone has designed the room with ultimate comfort in mind.

“We’re up,” Corey grumbles beside me. He pulls me closer and I grin.

“Come down when you get a chance. We’ve got something to show you.” Mitch’s voice is muffled and he sounds tired. Even the quiet footsteps plodding down the hall as he leaves sound like he’s dragging.

I return my attention to Corey. “At least one of us is up.” I kiss him hard and run my hand down over his chest to the lump against my thigh. “Do you think we have enough time for a quickie?”

“Damn, woman,” Corey mutters against my lips. “Don't you ever get enough?”

“I will never get enough of you, baby.”

Our clothing options are beyond limited. When Corey and I make our way out of the room, he’s back in the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing the night before, and I'm in my old jeans and the t-shirt Mitch gave me to sleep in. It’s so big it hangs off my shoulder, but it gives Corey easy access to the crook of my neck.

What I see as we walk through the house does not jive with what I saw when we got here last night. Just as in the room where we slept, and the fancy en-suite bathroom where we got ready, everything looks high-end and classy. The upstairs has one other room, the door to which is closed. Downstairs, the living room has an overstuffed leather sofa and matching chairs, a sixty-inch flat screen television, and gorgeous walnut hardwoods. Vivian is sitting on the couch wearing a grey t-shirt much like mine, her legs tucked up under a wine-colored blanket. She’s watching Mitch, who is standing behind Lee at a computer with five monitors over in the corner. When we step up behind them, there are a bunch of black and white pictures on the screens.

“What’s this?” Corey asks.

“Surveillance video from the hotel,” Mitch tells us, pointing at one of the monitors. “Look here. She pours some sort of accelerant, probably lighter fluid, right outside your room, lights it on fire, and runs.”

“She?” I ask as I lean closer to the screen.

“The majority of arsonists are male,” Lee says. This isn't the first time I've heard him speak, but I'm still surprised at how deep his voice is as it rumbles through his thick chest. “So this is rare. We don't know if she's the one who started the other fire, but I’d be surprised if there were more than one. There's probably a personal vendetta involved, some perceived wrong she’s trying to right.”

“Pull up the stills,” Mitch directs Lee before turning back to us. “We tracked her through the hotel, both coming and going. She was careful to keep her face hidden. Looks like the bottles of accelerant were brought in under her jacket. But when she was waiting to board the elevator, we caught her reflection in the mirror across the hall.”

Lee zooms in on a still of our arsonist, and Corey gasps.

“Shit,” he says under his breath. He turns his back to us and grabs his hair in both hands. “He was right.”

“Who was right?” Mitch asks.

Corey turns back to me and wraps me tight in his arms. “It's my fault,” he says. “Marco was right, it's all because of me.”

“You know her?” Lee asks.

“It’s Madison Greene. She’s… She was my neighbor. Her apartment got hit as bad as mine.”

“Why would she set her own place on fire?” I ask.

“Because she’s a fucking psycho,” Corey mumbles. “I used to…sleep with her. But I got fed up with her before we got together, Frankie. I swear. I had to block her number. She kept calling and texting. I figured she’s a rich little brat who's used to getting everything she wants and didn't understand the word no.”

“Did she ever exhibit any other strange behavior?” Lee asks.

Corey nods against my head. “I never let her into my apartment. I told her I never let any women come in. But back in March, my sister stayed over while she was in the city for some job interviews. Madison was glaring at Jen, freaking her out. She didn't believe we’re siblings. I had to tell her to back off. Shit, I bet she saw Frankie there, too.”

“Anything else you can remember?”

“I didn't see her, but Matt told me she was hanging out at the bars we’d been going to. Said he thought we were together because I was cutting out early - to be with Frankie - and Madison always left a couple minutes later.”

“That’s Matt Cromwell?” Mitch asks.

Corey nods again and hugs me tighter. “I'm sorry, Frankie.”

“It's not your fault, Corey,” I tell him. “You didn't set the fires.”

“No, but without me, you wouldn't be in danger.”

“And without you I wouldn't feel alive.” I say. “I love you. I don't want to live without you, even if it means dealing with this psycho bitch.”

Mitch chuckles, and soon Corey loosens his grip on me. Lee takes charge, planning out our next couple days and setting out rules we need to follow. After we’re done, Corey kisses me goodbye and takes off with Lee. Since we can't get back into the hotel for a few days to see if any of our belongings can be salvaged, Corey needs a new suit for the team travel days. He already got fitted for one, since he lost most of his clothes in the fire at his apartment. Lee’s plan is to pick that up and get Corey a change of clothes before bringing him to the stadium for tonight’s game.

Mitch heads to bed to get a little sleep before he takes me and Viv out so I can pick up some clothes and other necessities for both Corey and me. Once he is upstairs, I let my curiosity get the best of me. I wander through the ground floor of the house, trying to understand.

“What is this place?” I ask. The living room, with the leather furniture and fancy electronics, looks like it used to be a formal dining room back before urban blight took over the neighborhood. What should have been the living room, towards the front of the house, matches the exterior. It houses a beaten up old couch and pool table. The walls have holes in them, both from pool cues and what appears to be a fist or two. The kitchen is all stainless steel appliances and granite tile countertops, while the small mudroom at the back of the house has yellowing walls, yellow linoleum, and yellow cabinets.

“I asked the same thing,” Vivian says as she reaches around me to the coffee pot. “Lee works some security jobs when he can get them. When he’s not doing security, he’s a bouncer at Club 5 and some of the other clubs around the city.”

“Well, that explains the space command he’s got set up in there. But I don't get this,” I say, motioning to the mudroom.

“It’s crazy, right?” Vivian grins. “Notice how there’s no natural light in the kitchen or living room? The curtains are all blackout curtains so people can't see in. But the windows back there and up front in the pool room have busted plastic shades and dirty curtains. Mitch says it’s to make the house look undesirable to any thugs who might think this would be a good place to hit. Lee’s got, like, fifty grand in equipment between the living room and the basement.”

“Holy shit.” I shake my head and take another look around the kitchen, noticing the high-end range, double-door fridge, and the spotless little table off to the side of the room. “Why didn't Mitch ever tell me about this?”

“Would you tell anyone if you lived in this shithole?” Vivian laughs as she turns back to the living room. “Besides, he says Lee uses this as a safe house for his clients sometimes. Mitch helps out when Lee needs him. Guess it helps pay the rent.”

When she’s curled back under her blanket, breathing in the steam from her coffee, she pats the couch beside her. I settle in next to her and sneak my feet under the blanket. We sip our coffee in silence for a while before I can't hold back any longer.

“Where did you sleep last night?” I ask.

Vivian raises her eyebrow and purses her lips. “Upstairs in Mitch's room.” I bite my tongue to stop myself from talking, telling her what I really want to say. My cousin smirks at me. “Don't worry, Frankie. Mitch was down here with Lee all night. If he slept at all, it wasn't with me. You know I wouldn't do that to you.”

I nod, but I don't know that I believe her. I'm with Corey, not Mitch. I can see her justify her play for him like that. If our roles were reversed, I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off Mitch, too. He’s funny, he’s sweet, he’s sexy as hell. And it’s obvious he’s interested in Vivian. I mean, who wouldn't be? She’s rocking his t-shirt like it’ll be the next big thing in Milan.

Mitch comes downstairs from his nap, looking clean and refreshed, minutes before Lee gets back. Lee hands over a new cell phone he took the liberty of picking up for me. Then he disappears into the basement to do a little research before he heads to the police station to share with them what he’s found.

After a lunch of cold meat sandwiches and potato chips, Vivian and I pile into Mitch’s truck - another ruse for the sake of Lee’s little security business - and we head off to Marco’s house. If you would have told me last week I’d be sleeping in the slums last night and shopping through Vivian’s racks of designer clothes today, I would have laughed in your face. But in light of the concerns for my safety, the time spent here instead of out the mile-long public strip of stores makes us all feel better.

Corey

A
fter the game
, all I wanted was to get back to Frankie. I wasn't sure if that would ever happen. Lee’s presence drew attention from the team. I tried to beg off, but Lee had other ideas. He insisted on speaking with Matt about what he’d seen of Madison. My friend was more observant than I could ever hope to be and only too happy to help. Not only was Madison hanging out at the bars here at home, but also in every city we traveled to. It’s no wonder Matt didn’t figure out it was Frankie I was with instead.

We got another surprise once we left the stadium. It didn't make any sense until after we reached Lee and Mitch’s house. Of course, in order to get there, we were forced to drive all over the city until we lost the crazies who tried chasing after us with cameras hanging out their car windows.

Upon walking into the living room, my dreams of falling into Frankie's arms disappear. I find her on the couch, her fingers steepled at her lips, elbows on her knees, eyes glued to the television. Even Mitch’s arm around her back doesn’t bother me as I take in her obvious distress.

“What’s going on?” I ask as I walk to Frankie’s side. She grabs my hand and pulls me onto the couch beside her. When Mitch backs off, I slide my own arm around her.

“You made the news,” Mitch tells me.

And sure enough, there I am. The crazies with the cameras were like the goddamn paparazzi or something. Lee’s massive chest can’t hide me from view. The flashing lights from the cameras make me look every bit as exhausted as I feel. As I listen to the news report that has Frankie’s attention, I begin to understand her concern.

“...baseball star Corey Lucas. Sources say the target of the fires may have been Frankie Sarcone, niece of prominent businessman, and owner of the team, Marco Leonetti. Greene is wanted for questioning in connection with the case.”

Mitch mutes the TV as Lee lets loose. There’s not a curse word in the book that doesn't pass his lips. When he calms down, Frankie turns to Mitch.

“What's this mean?” she asks.

“It means the police have a fucking leak,” Lee says with a growl. “They were gonna hold off on releasing anything until they had a little more on her.”

“I showed her pic to Carol,” Mitch says. “She’s not sure, but she said it’s possible it’s the woman who was sitting next to Frankie the night she was drugged.”

“Lot of fucking good that does us now. She’ll be in the wind now that her picture’s all over the news. It's not going to make it any easier to find her, that’s for sure.”

“But won't it make it harder to hide?” I ask. “If everyone knows she’s wanted?”

“If she didn't have so much money at her disposal, maybe,” Mitch says.

A cell phone starts ringing, and both Mitch and Lee grab for theirs before anyone realizes the noise is coming from behind Frankie. She snags the phone and groans before answering. There’s a barrage of noise coming out of the earpiece before Frankie pulls the phone away from her ear. She stabs the end button and throws the phone on the table.

“Who was that?” Mitch asks.

“Marco.” Frankie sinks back into the couch beside me and snuggles into my side. When the phone rings again, she doesn't move to answer it. After the third ring, Lee grabs the phone and disappears into the kitchen.

We sit in strained silence with only the grumble of Lee’s deep voice in the other room. After a few minutes, Mitch asks, “What’d he want?”

“To yell at someone?” Frankie shrugs. “All I heard was something about his name being muddied.” When neither Mitch nor I respond, Frankie says, “He knows better than to yell at me like that. I hung up on him the last time he did it, and every time before that.”

“You’d think he’d be more worried about you than his name,” I say.

“Oh, that’s what the second call is for. He’ll apologize for his behavior and promise he’s only worried about me. And then he’ll become an overbearing control freak. He’s probably insisting right now that Lee bring me to his place and keep you two out of my life forever.”

“You know your uncle well,” Lee says as he walks back in the room. “I told him you’re a big girl, you can make your own decisions.”