Homestands (Chicago Wind #1) (33 page)

He held up his hands, his tone sarcastic. “I surrender.”

She considered him before nodding. “I accept.”

He reached for her, but she turned her back and walked toward the window. “What’s the morning’s plan?”

He blinked at the abrupt change. “Everyone’s in the lobby except for Betsy, who’s still putting on makeup because her boys took too long in the shower, or so she says. What about Terrell?”

“Getting dressed.” She drained the mug.

Mike winced. He’d be playing ball before his mouth healed.

She set the mug aside. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes, if that’s okay.”

“Take your time.” He’d send everyone else ahead, including Terrell, and the two of them could finish their game of chase. He wouldn’t surrender this time.

The bedroom door opened, and Terrell came out. “Dad!” He ran to Mike and hugged him tightly.

Mike returned the hug. This never got old. “You ready to see the sights? We’re going to have you go ahead with your grandparents and cousins.”

“Okay.” Terrell plopped onto the floor, putting on one sandal, then another. “Mom, can I leave?”

“Did you brush your teeth?”

“Yes.”

“Put your dirty clothes away?”

He darted back into the bedroom, then reappeared in seconds. “Ready.”

Mike high-fived him on their way to the door. “Be right back, Meg.”

During the short elevator ride, Terrell jabbered about the home runs he’d witnessed last night. Mike listened, inserting the appropriate sounds when Terrell took a breath.

In the lobby, Mike led him to where everyone, Betsy included, waited near the revolving doors. Sunlight streamed through the glass and sparkled on the door’s metal trim.

“Where’s Meg?” Betsy asked.

“Almost ready. I’ll wait for her, and when she’s ready we’ll join you. Hey.” He leaned closer to his sister, to his parents, to his brother-in-law. “Make sure you keep Terrell close, okay?”

Mom sent him a patient, been-there-done-that nod. “Of course You know where we’ll be?”

Mike named the restaurant where they’d decided to have breakfast.

Terrell waved goodbye before cramming into the rotating door with Erik and Gavin and pushing for all he was worth. On the sidewalk, Dad took Terrell’s hand and Mom took the other. Terrell gave one last backwards grin, then disappeared with them around the corner.

Now for a few minutes with Meg.

But three teenage boys and two men moved in on him. “Mike, can we get an autograph?”

He tried not to sigh. Not now.

He took their pens and baseballs, anyway. He scribbled his name for each, aware of others approaching, phones raised at him.

“That’s all.” He handed back the last ball and pen. “Sorry. Gotta go.” He jogged past them and turned down the hallway where the row of elevators stood. Each minute with Meg was precious. He could autograph at the ballpark. Right now—

Right now Brooke Jaeger stood between him and the elevator.

As Brooke approached, Mike’s feet seemed glued to the marble floor.

Her blonde hair, once long and shiny, stopped at her chin and swirled around her cheeks. Her skin looked worn, rough, almost yellow. Even the glint in her brown eyes was gone, and her flirtatious smile had transformed into straight lips that remained closed, even though she stood before him.

Behind her the elevator doors dinged.

Mike stiffened. If Meg had left her room and stepped out to see this—

The doors opened, and a gray-haired couple appeared.

Mike let out a gust of relief.

“You don’t have anything to say?” Brooke asked.

How had this woman lured him from Meg? What had he been thinking?

“Give me a few minutes, Mike. Promise you’ll listen, and I’ll go away forever.”

Adam had said Brooke would come to him. If Mike didn’t talk to her now, she’d show up again, somewhere else. Like his wedding, maybe. “All right.” He hated this.
Hated
it. “Over there, in the restaurant.” He led her back the way he’d come to the restaurant’s entrance, pointing out a well-hidden table.

Mike spoke as soon as they sat. “Make it quick. Meg’s waiting for me.”

“I’d heard you and Meg were together.”

“I’m sure you did. What do you want?”

She glanced around the restaurant before leaning toward him. “There’s something I’ve never told you.”

He set his elbows on the table and balled his hands into one fist, his chin resting on top. If she was waiting for him to show interest, she’d have to keep waiting. Brooke was the biggest mistake he’d ever made. Living life that way had been more painful than being nailed by a crowbar.

“No guesses?” she asked with a hint of her old, seductive smile.

“No.”

The smile faded. She reached into her purse and rummaged through it, finally pulling out a white envelope. She held it for several seconds as if what she was about to show him was precious.

“Can we hurry this up?” he asked.

“You promised to listen.”

“I
am
listening. You’re not talking.”

“Please think over what I’m about to tell you.”

“Then talk.”

“All right.” She lifted the envelope’s flap and slid out a photograph. She laid it flat on the tablecloth, her hand covering the picture for a heartbeat, then slid it to him.

Mike lowered his fists as he looked at the photo. A younger and healthier Brooke and a blonde boy smiling at him, the boy hamming it up for the camera.

“This is my son, Noah.”

So she had a kid. Poor guy. “Cute,” he said.

“Mike.” She wet her lips. “Do you notice anything?”

He was a kid, a blonde boy who looked like a handful. “What am I looking for?”

“A resemblance.”

“He has your hair.”

“You don’t see it?”

“See
what
, Brooke?”

She leaned across the table again. “He’s not just my son, Mike. He’s yours.”

Outside the restaurant, Ben dashed for the elevators, Polaroid camera in hand. Connor had been so involved as he walked away with Brooke that he’d never noticed the camera’s flash. Either that, or he was so used to people taking his picture that he hadn’t paid attention.

DaVannon jogged behind him, prepared to intercept Connor if he’d gone after the picture. But Connor sat with that woman, not knowing the U-turn his life was about to take.

Ben pressed the elevator’s call button. Connor had destroyed him in Dana’s eyes. Now he would destroy Connor in Meg’s eyes.

Running into that woman Brooke had been a huge bit of luck. Last night Ben had stationed himself at the hotel bar where he could see everyone who came and went from the elevators. The woman sniffing two seats down had gotten on his nerves until he realized she was glued to the television picture of Connor and his son sitting on the stadium grass.

Ben had slid down a stool. “He’s quite a player.”

Her smile was sad, and she dripped tears into her drink. “I used to know him.”

“Really?”

She nodded, her movements exaggerated. “I ended his marriage.”

“Really.” Ben held still against the thrill that flooded him. “How’s that?”

“It was a long time ago.”

She drained her glass and lifted her hand for another, almost sliding off the stool.

Ben caught her by the elbow. “You still in love with him?”

“Could be, if he were interested. But I hear he’s not. Too busy working things out with his ex.”

“That’s what I hear too.”

She faced him for the first time. “You know him?”

“Yeah. Some.”

She eyed him up and down before extending her hand. “I’m Brooke.”

For the next twenty minutes, she spilled every detail of her relationship with Connor and what had brought her here to find him.

By the time she finished, the perfect revenge was in place. And it had just fallen into his lap. He leaned closer to her, voice low. “What if I get you some time with him?”

She rubbed away her tears, the mascara a dark smudge beneath her eyes. “How?’

He shrugged, even though the details were set in his head. “I have a friend here who can help. We just ask one thing.”

“What’s that?”

He’d told her.

The picture slid out of the camera as the elevator doors opened to the fifth floor. Ben held it up to the light. It showed Connor walking with Brooke into the restaurant, his head turned toward her as if he were captivated by her.

DaVannon grinned.

Ben smiled back. Perfect.

Following DaVannon down the hallway, Ben scanned the room numbers. In one of these rooms was a woman who would inflict in Connor the pain Connor had inflicted on him.

Ben couldn’t wait to watch that happen.

Meg glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall as she dried her hands. Mike was taking a long time dropping off Terrell. He’d probably been mobbed and was autographing his way to the elevator. She opened her lipstick tube. At least she had time to get ready.

A knock sounded on her door.

There he was. She finished applying the lipstick before jogging through the bedroom and into the living room.

Just in time to see a manila envelope slide partly beneath her door.

How odd. “Mike?” she called as she approached.

No answer.

She looked through the peep-hole.

The hallway seemed empty.

She picked up the envelope.

Meghan Connor
.

Okay. She straightened her back, looked around the room, dropped her gaze back to the envelope. This couldn’t be good.

She took a deep breath.

The flap wasn’t sealed.

She reached down inside.

A picture. A piece of paper.

This had to be from whoever was sending Mike letters.

Now they’d sent her one.

She pulled it out, trying to make out the dark images, but the light by the door was poor. She walked to the window, where she’d opened the curtains, and held up the picture.

It was Mike, walking away from the photographer into a darker room. A much shorter person—a woman—walked beside him.

Unease crawled from her stomach to her spine and slithered up her back. “This is silly,” she said out loud. There had to be a good reason for this.

But her fingers trembled as she pulled a piece of white stationary from the envelope. She took a deep breath and pushed her hair over her shoulder before reading the message.

Thought you should know your ex-husband is downstairs with Brooke Jaeger.

Her breath rushed from her. Brooke was here? And Mike was with her? Her gaze flew to the blonde in the photo.
This
was Brooke?

She searched the picture. Mike looked at the woman walking beside him, his mouth tight as if he were annoyed. On the other hand, as bad as the lighting in the picture was, maybe he was smiling.

No, he couldn’t be smiling. Mike wouldn’t—

She lowered the picture and closed her eyes. She needed to calm down. Maybe it was some groupie’s demented joke.

Of course it was. Just a trick, some woman trying to worm her way between them. The picture was probably old.

But the note said downstairs. Downstairs—in the lobby? The bar? The restaurant—

She gasped as she recognized the entrance. And Mike’s shirt—the same fitted, gray, long-sleeved T-shirt he’d worn in her hotel room minutes ago.

This picture was real.

She set her teeth together. If Mike was really there with Brooke, she’d know in a minute.

She grabbed her keycard from the coffee table. Her hand was on the doorknob before she remembered his warning.

Don’t leave this room without me. Don’t open this door for anyone but me.

Maybe the woman in the picture was a reporter. Maybe it was an innocent interview.

But who knew Brooke’s name?

Maybe Mike had warned her to stay here to keep her from catching him.

No. She shook her head, her hair swirling around her. No way. Mike wouldn’t do this again. Not now.

Would he?

Could Mike’s stalker know Brooke’s name?

Her hand shook on the doorknob. If that was the case, then she definitely couldn’t wait for Mike’s return. Because he might be in trouble—and not even know it yet.

She hurried out of her room, phone in hand as she ran for the elevator.

Mike stared at Brooke. His… son?

No. He shook his head. No way was this happening again. “Nope.” He pushed the photograph back. “What do you want from me? Money? You’re not getting it. And I’m back with my wife. So—”

“I don’t want your money. And I don’t want you.”

What then? He stared at her. Took in her yellowish skin. “Why are you here, trying to pawn off this kid as mine?”

“Because he
is
yours,” she snapped. “Noah is five. He’ll be six in November. Do the math.” She dug into her purse again. Pulled out another envelope and pushed it across the table to him.

“What’s this?”

“Paternity test. Proving Noah is yours.”

What?
Mike stared at her.

“Read. It.”

“Where’d you get my DNA?”

“From Shauni. After you left their house.”

“Shauni wouldn’t do that.”

She shoved her phone across the table. “You want to call her? I convinced her to let me see what I could find in your bathroom. She was with me the whole time. She said if I was going to do it, then she needed to be the one to bag it and mail it and get the results so there was no way I could mess with it. Call her.”