Deadly Games Part 22

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

Four Years Earlier Arlington, VA

"c.r.a.ppy weather." Matches my mood, Matches my mood, Rocco thought as he backed his gray SUV out of his garage. Rocco thought as he backed his gray SUV out of his garage.

Heavy rain clouds were visible as far as he could see, which in the current downpour wasn't far. Traffic would be a nightmare and the inclement weather would snarl departures.

He shifted the car into drive, frowning at the high-pitched squeal. The noise had gotten worse since the last time he was home, four weeks ago. But back-to-back a.s.signments left no time for Rocco to play shade tree mechanic. Maybe he'd leave it at Jimbo's garage and catch a cab to the airport. Jimbo knew the drill and would keep the SUV until Rocco returned.

The noise disappeared as he accelerated. Good. He'd gotten d.a.m.n little sleep, which hadn't helped his headache. Why he even bothered coming home anymore was beyond him. Last time, he'd gotten in and out of town in less than twenty-four hours, without seeing Gena or Harry. Time before that, too.

These days it seemed his return trips were like a game of emotional Russian roulette. Would Rocco run into the blissful couple or not? So far not not. And that's what kept him on edge, wasn't it?

This housing development wasn't that d.a.m.n big, even with the golf course. Harry had bought a house on the ninth fairway, less than a mile as the crow flew. Of course, given the maze of streets, it was longer than a mile to drive, not that Rocco had tried. But since everyone had to pa.s.s in and out of the front guard gates, the odds were good they'd pa.s.s one another on the main esplanade.

Part of him wanted to see Gena, to ask her if she'd ever really cared. But another part didn't want to know.

He'd been stunned-no, devastated-this summer to hear through the grapevine that Gena had married Harry Gambrel two weeks after Rocco had left. Two weeks!

Sure, he and Gena had had a fight. At the time it seemed like that was all they did. But Rocco hadn't considered it over, hadn't even considered them on "break." He'd gone over the argument a hundred times. She'd been p.i.s.sed he was being sent off on another top-secret a.s.signment. a.s.signments she claimed to hate and had even asked him to give up.

And what was so f.u.c.king different about Harry going off on a.s.signment?

Rocco stopped at the four-way at the end of his cul-de-sac and waved the other car through. He needed to get a grip. Let bygones be. And if he couldn't, then maybe he needed to put the town house up for sale. Or lease it out and rent himself something closer to the airport.

He kicked his wipers up to high and hit the gas. Almost immediately he had to brake. The car in front of him had slowed to a crawl, leaving him no choice but to follow suit.

"Come on," he muttered, eager to get to the main road, where he could at least pa.s.s Grandma Mola.s.ses here. Yeah, it was raining, but doing eight miles an hour in a fifteen-mile zone?

He swerved to the left, to peer around the car. Which must have gotten Grandma's attention because she suddenly sped up. But just as suddenly she slammed on her brakes, sending her car fishtailing into a spin.

Rocco stopped completely and watched as the small sedan spun in circles before jumping the median and sliding off the opposite side of the road.

That no other traffic had been coming was a miracle. It also meant no one else was around to check on Grandma. Her car looked okay, but she was probably shook up.

d.a.m.n it.

Rocco made a U-turn and pulled up behind her, then dashed out in the rain.

That she didn't automatically lower her window when Rocco came up concerned him. He rapped on the tinted gla.s.s, then opened the door.

"Gena!" He saw the blood trickling down from her nose. "Easy, princess. I mean-"

She cut him off. "Go away! I'm fine."

"Like h.e.l.l. You're hurt."

"I ... I must have hit the steering wheel."

"Here. Tip your head back." He grabbed one of the tissues on her lap and gently pressed it against her nostril.

"Ouch!" She flinched and pushed his hand away.

"You hold it then. You weren't wearing this, were you?" He tugged on the seat belt resting against the side brace.

"I- No." She started crying, which made Rocco feel like a heel. It also wouldn't help her nose, which already looked swollen.

"Maybe I should call an ambulance." He tried to shield her from the rain falling into the car.

"Please! Don't call anyone."

"You might be smacked up worse than I thought." He tried to coax her chin toward him, but she twisted away. "Look at me, Gena! I'm not going to bite you."

She turned toward him briefly, then hugged her coat close. "I'm fine. A little shook up maybe. I'll just go home and get cleaned up. Really-" But the harder she tried to make excuses, the more her words slurred.

Rocco realized what he was dealing with. He pulled away and looked straight up at the sky, half tempted to pull Gena out and let the freezing rain hit her full in the face too. To sober her up.

He'd heard her little problem wasn't so little anymore. The grapevine had had a heyday reporting her drunken behavior at a recent office gala.

"How much have you had to drink this morning, Gena? A couple gla.s.ses of chardonnay? Or maybe a pitcher of b.l.o.o.d.y Marys?"

She sat up straight and set her jaw. "Excuse me, but don't you have someone else else you need to go see?" you need to go see?"

He reached for her hand when she tried to restart the car. "I can't let you drive, Gena. Is there someone I can call? Harry?"

"No. No one. I'll walk then."

Rocco leaned in close again. She looked like h.e.l.l. Beautiful h.e.l.l. Her damp hair, devoid of its usual style, hung around her face. Her make-up was heavier than usual, which didn't disguise her bloodshot eyes. That it was ten in the morning on a Thursday hinted at the severity of her problem.

"Does Harry know about the drinking, Gena?"

She nodded. "And he'll be furious if he finds out I left the house like this."

Rocco sighed. "Call your auto club and tell them to tow the car. As soon as you do that, I'll give you a ride home."

Gena looked around for her purse, which had slid to the floorboard. "They can give me a ride."

"It might take them a while to get here. On a morning like this they'll have calls backed up."

"I'll wait." She tugged her cell phone out.

"I can't leave and risk that you'll try to drive yourself." He reached for her phone when she started to make another excuse. "I've got a plane to catch, Gena. I don't have all day."

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the phone back. "You haven't changed. Always rushing off to catch a plane."

"Oh, and it's different with Harry," Rocco snapped. "Bet he's home all the time. Oops! What was I thinking? He travels more than I do."

"You don't understand." Gena's voice rose.

He held up a hand. "That was uncalled for. I apologize. Look, just get in my car. You can make arrangements for this one from your house."

Gena nodded stiffly and climbed out of the car, hugging her coat around her. Rocco had to steady her elbow when they reached his car.

"Buckle up," he said after opening the pa.s.senger door.

Rocco bit his tongue as she grabbed the seat belt, then lost her grip on it. She was in even worse shape than he'd thought.

"Here." He grabbed the buckle and pulled it out, before leaning across her to fasten it.

"Don't be mad at me," she sniffed. "Please."

Please. Rocco paused, his face inches from hers. "I wish it were that easy to forget, Gena. If it's any comfort, I'm madder at myself." Rocco paused, his face inches from hers. "I wish it were that easy to forget, Gena. If it's any comfort, I'm madder at myself."

She touched his cheek, preventing him from pulling away. "Mad at yourself for what?"

He shut his eyes. Every night he dreamed of this moment, of this conversation. Why, Gena? Why? Why, Gena? Why? "I'm angry for letting you get away. For not being a better- Ah, h.e.l.l, it doesn't matter anymore." "I'm angry for letting you get away. For not being a better- Ah, h.e.l.l, it doesn't matter anymore."

"It's always mattered. To me."

Rocco studied her expression, looking for guile, finding none. And then he did a really stupid thing.

He kissed her. Full on the mouth.

G.o.d, he still loved her. He still wanted her.

Hearing a car, he broke away and froze, half expecting it to be Harry. But the car, a pharmacy delivery van, kept going.

Rocco needed to do the same. He shut her door and moved around the car.

"I'm sorry," she said as soon as he climbed behind the wheel.

"Me too. But not for the kiss."You married the wrong man. "I'm sorry you're married." "I'm sorry you're married."

She laughed. "Oh, that's right! How could I forget? You're on your way to the airport." Her voice took on a bitter edge. "Would you have preferred a fast f.u.c.k before you ran off-like you used to?"

"That is not how it was!"

"No? Obviously you don't remember the last three times we were together."

Rocco opened and closed his mouth. The last three times he and Gena had been together, he'd sneaked away from his a.s.signment because he'd been desperate to see her. Even for just a few hours. Yeah, they had always ended up in bed because he couldn't not want her. Just thinking of her set him on fire. Then and now.

"I can see how you'd think that," he began. "And if I could go backward in time, I'd-"

"You'd what?"

Another car approached, this one slowing to look at them. Rocco started his SUV and pulled away.

"Never mind, don't answer that," she said. "Turn left at Willow, then take your first right into Brandy Aire."

"I would have explained myself better," he said. "Made sure you knew how much I cared and how hard it was to be away from you."None of which matters now.

"Do you still care?"

Rocco hesitated again. Not because he didn't know the answer, but because he wanted to know how she felt first. Why set himself up for more torment?

She sighed. "I shouldn't have asked that."

"So why did you? Do you still care, Gena? About me? About us? Are you happy with Harry?"

They were at her house now. Rocco pulled in the drive and turned toward her. That she was crying again made him feel like a heel.

"Let's just drop it, okay?" he said.

"Oh, I forgot again! You're late." She worked to unlatch her seat belt. "No time to talk!"

"If I stayed, would you even remember what we talked about once you sobered up?"

Gena opened her door and didn't look back. "Thank you for the lift. Good-bye."

Rocco climbed out. "Gena, wait! I'm sorry. I'm behaving like a jacka.s.s. I wish we could talk. Just the two of us, but not here. Not like this. Meet me later."

"Today? I thought you had a flight?"

"I'll postpone my trip if you'll go in and sleep it off. We can meet somewhere public, later this afternoon. What do you say? I think we owe each other that small courtesy."

At first Rocco didn't think she'd respond. She took three steps away, then turned. And for the first time her eyes looked focused.

"There's a small cafe at Blue Mountain Square. Melita's. They have private booths. I'll meet you there at four."

By four-fifteen, Rocco was p.i.s.sed. He'd been at Melita's thirty minutes, arriving early to get a corner booth. And to mentally rehea.r.s.e his words one more time. Now he wondered if he'd get the chance to say them.

Was she coming? It hadn't occurred to him that he no longer had Gena's cell phone number. Since he and Harry worked together, he had Harry's home phone number, but he didn't want to call it.

If she didn't show up in the next ten minutes, that would be his sign.

He sipped his coffee, willing her to walk through the doors. But with each pa.s.sing minute his hopes sank. Finally, he stood and signaled for the waitress.

What exactly had he hoped to accomplish with this little meeting? An understanding? Of what? Of her drinking problem? Of why she'd married Harry instead of giving him a second chance?

Outside, Rocco headed west, toward his car. A familiar voice called out his name. "Taylor!"

It was Harry Gambrel.