Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
He turned the volume down and opened the window when he heard the crowd’s eruption.
The announcer was presenting Brielle with the Citrus silver bowl, a prize Geoffrey must have come up with for media sake.
She was laughing, thanking the crowd for their support.
He closed his eyes picturing her smile. Her pink, luscious lips, her rosy, dimpled cheeks.
It killed him that his imagination was the only place he’d ever be with her again.
“Callum?”
He jumped at the muffled voice on the other side of the passenger window. “Leslie? You startled me. What the hell are you doing out here?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“Is it Brielle? Is she okay?”
“Brielle’s fine. It’s you I’m worried about. And I got some news.” She opened the car door and got in, tossing a file on his lap. “The tattoo guy at the party last night…”
“Malcolm Rodriquez.”
“He was found dead in back of Sea Side Bait Shop this morning. Bullet in the head, execution style. Sound familiar?”
Callum looked at her, then opened the folder. A stack of crime scene photos was clipped together, each as bloody as the next. Obviously, the work of the Riley Gang. He flipped the folder shut then tossed it back at Leslie.
“He must have told Frank about the tape,” she said. “I think we should assume he knows you have it. As long as it’s out on the streets, no one is safe.”
“As long as I have it, Brielle is. Frank will come after me, not her.”
Leslie leaned against the door to face him. “You know that Nila girl has a loose mouth.”
Callum looked at her. “What do you mean?”
“Brielle is leaving town with Geoffrey? Isn’t she?”
He looked at her then back out the windshield. If he didn’t answer, she’d take his silence as an affirmative.
“What’s on this thing anyway?” she asked nodding to the tape cover in his lap. “Is it stuff you can really use?”
“Yup,” Callum replied with no enthusiasm. “He’s responsible for crimes I would have never tied him to in a million years. The baseball player who was found dead in Baltimore last year, the bookie in Chicago?”
Leslie cocked a brow. “So it is proof of his crimes?”
Callum nodded. “In his own voice. Bastard's a busy man. Those flower gardens outside Giovanni’s? Dumping ground.”
“You're lucky you got this tape then.” She smiled and rubbed his arm. “Congratulations. You found the needle in the haystack.”
But he was sorry he ever looked in the first place. He rubbed his fingers against his throbbing temples and pressed his eyes shut. “It’s not as great as you think, Leslie. Brielle’s on there. Not her voice, but they acknowledge she was a willing to throw her match.”
Hearing the words out loud somehow made it more real. For years, he had waited for this moment, a chance to avenge his misery. Now that the time had come, he was more tortured than he’d ever been. To ruin Frank, would ruin Brielle.
“You love her, don’t you Callum?”
God, did he. With every bit of his soul. He looked over at Leslie, the words choking his throat. “All I know is the minute I met her, I felt her. Like she got under my skin and shoved everything around inside of me.”
“Yeah, that’s love all right.” Leslie patted him on the shoulder. “I’m truly sorry it’s ending like this.”
He didn’t reply, but her stare told him she wanted one.
“It is ending, isn’t it?”
“Leslie, don’t lecture me.”
She exhaled loudly. “Well, love her or not, you have to turn this tape in. Destroying evidence is a federal crime…”
“I know.”
He knew Leslie was waiting for more from him, but there was nothing left to say. When he heard her reach for the door handle, he was relieved. They may not always agree, but Leslie always respected his decisions, even one as questionable as this.
“I’m going to head back to the match and cover for you. But I want you to remember one thing before you follow through with anything, as a person who cares about you.”
He looked her in the eyes. “What?”
“You almost lost your life because of Frank Riley once. Please don’t give him a second chance.”
The door slammed before he could answer. He watched her disappear back into the pavilion, then ejected the tape from the deck.
Brielle sprawled on the locker room couch and stared at the textured ceiling.
The flutter in her stomach had returned, bothersome enough to drive her from her own reception.
The band had already played two songs since she snuck out.
A few more minutes and Geoffrey would probably send a search party.
The rain that moved in earlier was now heavy enough to hear on the roof.
It reminded her of the rumble of the ocean she would hear falling asleep at Callum’s.
A shiver passed through her, her blue cotton dress doing little to warm her.
She closed her eyes, imagining Callum hands on her, and somehow her goose pimples vanished.
“Are you sick?”
Brielle looked up at a smiling Nila in the doorway. “No,” she answered. “I’m just tired. It’s been a while since I’ve played a match.”
“You didn’t seem tired on the court.” Nila motioned to the end of the couch. “Can I sit down?”
Too tired to protest, Brielle moved her legs to accommodate her.
“You aren’t mad at me, are you? I mean about Geoffrey, Vitalie. That whole thing.”
Brielle shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Well, I just want you to know if Geoffrey was favoring me over you, I certainly didn’t know anything about it, and if I had I would have told you. Really.”
Nila didn’t do “serious” much, which was why her words seemed all the more sincere. Brielle smiled then nudged her with her foot, telling her the apology was accepted.
“And I also just wanted to say whatever goes on between you and Geoffrey is your business, but my relationship with him is strictly professional. I just wanted you to know.”
“Thanks, I believe you.”
“Even though you kicked my butt today, I still consider you as a friend.”
Brielle did, too. Nila was a good soul. And yes, a good friend, which was hard to find in this business, and too precious to let go. She adjusted the pillow behind her head and sighed. “You haven’t seen Callum, have you?”
“No, but that Leslie woman has been looking for you.”
She opened an eye a slit. “I know. Why do you think I’ve been hanging out in here?”
They laughed, Nila patting her on the leg. “Well, I guess one of us should go to our own party. I’ll hold down the fort. You stay here and rest. Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little…green.”
She swallowed the pooling saliva in her mouth. “Yeah, I’m fine, but can you keep an open eye for Callum for me? And if you see him…”
“You won’t see him. He’s gone. I’m here taking his place.”
The girls looked up to Leslie in the doorway with her standard black suit and scowl. Brielle’s stomach tightened even more. Of all the people she didn’t want to see right now, Leslie was at the top of the list.
“Well, I guess we can talk later.” Nila hugged Brielle before heading to the door. “Have fun in Switzerland.”
Brielle held her breath, suddenly aware Leslie had heard her. She closed her eyes and fell back on the pillow, her stomach flipping against her.
“Switzerland, huh?” Leslie said. “So, you haven’t reconsidered your plans, I guess?”
“I didn’t know you knew about them in the first place.”
Leslie scoffed and shook her head. “So you’re running out on Callum. How could you do that? That man is risking his whole life and career for you and you’re hanging him out to dry?”
“He’s the one who told me to go.”
Leslie took a step back, her dark brown eyes narrowed in disbelief. “He told you to go?”
“That’s right.” Brielle pushed herself to her feet and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I admit at first it was my idea, but I love Callum, Leslie. I don’t want to leave him.”
The gravity of her admission urged her stomach to churn. Eager to fight it off, she headed to the sink and splashed some cool water on her face. Leslie came up behind her, handing her a towel from the shelf. “Are you sick?”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Brielle walked around her, sitting back on the couch. “Look, as much as I hate to admit it, we are both on the same side. We both love Callum and neither one of us wants him to get hurt.”
Leslie rolled her eyes as if resenting the assumption. “But the difference is I understand what Callum stands to lose by helping you.”
“I do understand.” Brielle whispered, her head resting on the damp towel. “But you need to understand I didn’t create this situation. I’m not a criminal. I’m a victim. I didn’t ask for Big Frank Riley to be my father.”
“That’s not the point.”
“No, the point is I don’t want to let Callum down. He’s the only person in my whole life who hasn’t steered me wrong.” She lifted her head, wanting to look Leslie in her eyes. “Do you really think I’m such an awful person that I would ruin his life after everything he’s done for me?”
“I honestly don’t know what to think.”
“Well, then your instincts aren’t half as good as Callum believes they are.”
A sudden burst of laughter outside the door startled Brielle silent. The distinctive baritone made it obvious who it belonged to. She looked up at Leslie. “What the hell is my father doing here?”
“Shh.”
The voices retreated down the hall, presumably into the vacant player’s lounge next door. In the quiet she could hear their muffled voices mingling with the distant rumble of thunder signaling a building storm outside.
“Does he usually come to your matches?” Leslie asked.
“No. You don’t think he’s here looking for Callum, do you?”
“That’s what I need to find out.” Leslie started to open the door, but Brielle jumped in front of her.
“Let me go. If he sees you, it might blow your cover. I’m supposed to be here. It’s okay if he sees me.”