Wild Aces (14 page)

The taxi pulled up to Frankie’s townhouse, and I threw some bills into the front seat and climbed out. I rang her doorbell without knowing if she was even home. A second later, the light above the entryway turned on, and the door opened.

“Shouldn’t you be with Trapper right now?”

I saw the worry in her face when I didn’t answer.

“What happened?”

“Frankie…” No explanation came. I was completely locked up. How could I tell her what had happened without sounding completely crazy?

“Brea, you’re scaring me.”

I gripped the railing next to the stairs. “I’m scaring myself.” My fingertip found its way between my teeth.

“You’re chewing your finger,” she pointed out.

I only did that when I was stressed or worried or incredibly sad. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.

“And you’re white as a ghost.”

I squeezed in past her and paused in the entryway. “Maybe it’s because I just saw one.”

She pulled me into her arms and squeezed me against her. We stayed just like that—my face buried in her neck, her hands rubbing my back. The tears started up again and then the shaking. My stomach alternated between growling and churning. Asking Net to look into Trapper had been easy compared to this. Frankie had been there when I lost Cody; she knew what I’d gone through and how hard I’d worked to move on. And now, I was right back at that moment again, and it was hitting me so hard.

Cody’s face flashed behind my closed eyes.

He was back. Alive. We had kissed and caressed. We’d sexted. We’d had phone sex. It all felt so different than when we’d been dating. He was more demanding now, more sensual. His taste and smell were different, too. Or maybe I just didn’t want them to be the same. I was trapped in some strange mental limbo, trying to convince myself none of it had actually happened while trying to make sense of all his lies.

One question nagged at me more than anything else. If he was in hiding, if he was supposed to stay away from me, why had he come back?

Why had he found me?

“Let’s get you some wine,” she said, leading me into the kitchen. She sat me on a barstool and poured two glasses as she stood on the other side of the counter.

The wine tingled my tongue as I swished it around my mouth. I closed my eyes and took a breath, the first real breath since I’d run. “Trapper is…actually Cody.”

“What?” The sound of her made me jump.

“I met him at the restaurant and saw him without his mask for the first time. It’s him.”

She moved to my side of the island and sat next to me. “That’s not possible, Brea.”

“Yeah, well, tell him that.” I wished I’d been sick the night of her party and unable to attend, so I wouldn’t have met him. And I wished I hadn’t spent almost every moment since that party thinking about him. I wondered if he would have found me if I hadn’t gone to the party or if he’d gone specifically because he knew he’d see me there.

Her eyes softened, and her hand went to my arm. “The anniversary is coming up. Are you sure it hasn’t upset you, and you’re maybe just seeing things that aren’t really there?”

“No.” I stood and paced, the movement distracting me from my stomach pains. “This has nothing to do with the anniversary. I know what I saw…and who I saw.” I grabbed the wine on my way past the counter. “I touched his cold, lifeless hand that night. He was dead. At least I…I really thought he was dead.” I gasped as I inhaled, shaking from the shiver that ran through me. That moment in the morgue wasn’t one I ever wanted to relive. “The police take care of their own.” I was working out the main points as I spoke them, “If they thought something wasn’t right or something was up with his death, they wouldn’t have closed Cody’s case. That has to mean that Cody wasn’t dead when I touched him. He was alive.”

She stopped me as I moved past the counter again. “What are you saying?”

“I think the morgue was all staged, and his casket was just an empty box, or there was a dummy inside. I don’t know, but it was set up, so we would believe he was dead. But I don’t think he ever was. I think he went into protective custody.”

She searched my eyes. “When someone is placed in protective custody, they can’t reveal themselves to anyone from their past, especially not in the city where they used to live.”

“I know.”

“Derek remodeled Trapper’s townhouse, Brea. If you’re saying Cody is Trapper, then Cody never left the city.”

“I know that, too.”

“Does that sound like protective custody to you?”

“No…but what other explanation is there?”

“Something isn’t adding up,” she said before walking out of the room.

I downed the rest of my wine and poured another glass as she returned with her phone.

“I’m calling Derek. I did what you asked and didn’t talk to him about Trapper, but now, I need to know everything.”

“He’s not here?”

She shook her head. “He’s in Portsmouth with Will. There’s a problem with one of the buildings, so they’re staying there for a few nights. When I spoke to him a little while ago, he was going to bed, but I’ll see if he picks up.” The phone was loud enough for me to hear the four rings. “Voice mail,” she said. “I won’t hear from him until the morning.”

No Net, no Derek. I was completely out of resources.

She rested her hands on my shoulders. “Did you reach out to your contact?” she asked, referring to Net.

I nodded. “He needs Trapper’s last name before he can really find anything solid. You wouldn’t happen…to know it?” I realized how ridiculous that sounded as I said it.

Her brows furrowed. “You don’t know his
last name
?”

I felt like an untied balloon, zigzagging around the room with my last bit of air. I was done with everything that had happened tonight. “Nope, I don’t. And I know how fucked up that is, so please don’t remind me.”

Frankie knew that judging me would only make things worse. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, Brea. There has to be a reasonable explanation for this.”

My stomach churned again as I licked the tears off my lips. “I’m finally in a place where I’m ready to move on. I liked where things were going with Trapper. And this whole time, Trapper was Cody, and he knew it was me…and he knew what he was doing.” I hated the reality of what I was saying. I’d never been so confused in my whole life.

“Take a breath,” Frankie reminded me.

“That’s the problem, Frankie.” I took a seat on the barstool, held my wine between my legs, and let my face drop toward the ground. “When Cody left, I forgot how to breathe, and now that he’s back, he’s taken my breath away again.”

Trapper

I jerked open the fridge and grabbed a beer, flinging the cap off by hitting it against the edge of the sink. Once I swallowed half the bottle, I grabbed my laptop from the office and sat on the couch, kicking my boots up onto the coffee table.

Brea’s last name…I didn’t know it. I’d kissed plenty of women without even knowing their first names, but I’d never developed feelings for any of them. Brea was just starting to get there, yet I didn’t know shit about her. All I knew was that she worked for Block’s wife. So, I searched for Frankie’s company and clicked on their leasing page. A picture of Brea appeared with her full name and bio.

Brea Bradley.

Professional-sounding. I liked it. And it sounded sexy as hell when it rumbled over my tongue.

I typed it into the search bar and scrolled past a full page of work listings. Halfway down the second page, I found her name listed in an obituary for…

“Cody Lee. Damn.”

Cody had worked for the Boston Police Department and was killed while off duty. He was twenty-seven at the time; it was coming up on two years. Brea was listed as his loving girlfriend.

I tore my eyes from the screen and picked up my beer, chugging the rest of the bottle. How could Brea think I was her dead boyfriend who had been gone for almost two years? And how the hell could she get his face confused with mine?

I clicked on the obituary to expand the full article and scrolled through all the family who was listed, Cody’s professional achievements, the date and location of his memorial service.

And when I got to his picture, I froze.

“What the fuck?”

No…hell no. This shit wasn’t possible. Someone was trying to fuck with me, fuck with both of us. I took another glance at it. There weren’t just similarities between Cody and me. Looking at his picture was like staring into a mirror…and staring back was me, wearing a suit, with different hair. But it was me—my face at least.

How was this even possible?

I clicked on the picture and blew it up as large as I could. The shock of seeing my face next to his name was some intense shit. My hands shook like hell as I held the screen and analyzed every one of his features. Our faces were the same shape, our jaws and chins equally square. He wasn’t smiling, so I wasn’t able to check out his teeth, but our lips were similar enough. Our noses were identical, and his eyes were gray like mine even though they looked a few shades lighter. I stopped at his eyebrows. Just to be sure I wasn’t missing it, I scanned them again. And a third time.

He didn’t have my two-inch scar.

A wave of relief passed through me now that I had proof that it wasn’t me in the photo. But having a face identical to his meant something, something real significant, and that was just as fucked up. I couldn’t even begin to process that part yet. I needed Brea to see my scar first. I didn’t know how she’d react, if she’d stop running or go even faster. It didn’t matter. She had to see the truth, and then together, we would figure out how this had happened.

I fucking hoped.

When she didn’t pick up her cell, I called Block’s number. He answered on the last ring, his voice low and scratchy.

“Sorry, buddy. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay. I don’t think you’re the only one who’s called tonight. What’s up?”

“Do you have Brea’s address?”

“Brea Bradley?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you need her address for?”

I grabbed my keys off the counter and shoved them into my pocket. “Listen, I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t an emergency.” I rested the phone against my shoulder and slipped on my jacket.

“Is she all right?”

“She’s fine, yeah.” I didn’t like lying—not to Block, who had been nothing but good to me.

“I didn’t realize you guys knew each other.”

I moved to the back door, wondering how far he was going to take these questions and if I’d have to come up with another plan. “We met at your party. We’ve been talking ever since.”

“And you haven’t been to her place yet?”

“Nah.” I wasn’t going to explain what had gone down, but the tone of his voice told me I had to give him something, or he wouldn’t be giving up her address. “I’ve been in Vegas for that poker tournament. I just got back, and I want to surprise her.”

“Brea is like family, Trapper.” It was a warning.

“You know me, man. You’ve got no reason to worry.” I appreciated his hesitation. I just didn’t have the patience for it right now.

“Okay then, I’ll text it to you.”

I opened the back door and locked it behind me. “I owe you one.”

“You got me Roman. We’re not even
close
to even.”

I laughed. “Good deal.”

“We didn’t have time to have a drink at my party. Let’s have one soon.”

“For sure,” I said. I was now on the sidewalk outside my townhouse, freezing my balls off. “I’ll call you in a few days.”

He texted Brea’s address as soon as we hung up. I knew the block she lived on, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to find a place to park, so I walked to the corner and hailed a cab. I gave the driver her address and watched the buildings pass by my window as he drove. Her apartment wasn’t that far from mine, which was good.

I didn’t want to wait any longer to sort this out.

Brea

As I stood on my tiptoes and looked through the peephole, I gasped. I didn’t know who I had expected to be ringing my doorbell at this hour, but the last person I hoped it would be was him. And yet, here he was—Trapper…or Cody or whoever he was now that he’d come back to life—standing on the other side of my door.