The Player's Club: Lincoln (19 page)

She stared at him.

“What?” he asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

“I did a bad thing,” she said, hiccupping softly as the tears began to flow. “I screwed up.”

“What happened?”

“I didn’t know you.... I didn’t… I felt bad when I was doing it, but I thought…”

He felt a chill at the base of his spine, and his slowly recovering erection was still buried deep inside her. He held her more tightly still. “Just tell me. It’ll make it easier.”

She took a deep, shuddering breath, then said in a quick, low voice, “I filmed Terrence’s mural. You know, the forty-five-foot picture of Mighty Mouse, on that beat-up old wall.”

He froze. “What?”

“When we did the graffiti stencil thing… God, I didn’t think it’d show up that well, but I had a hidden camera on me, and then…and then I took it to…”

“The reality show producer.” Lincoln felt as if he’d been dropped in the Arctic Sea. From about five thousand feet. He was both pained and completely numb, in a sort of frozen shock.

“If he would’ve played straight with me, it never would’ve been an issue, nobody except some producers would have seen it.”

“But…” he prompted.

“But George was there. George Macalister.” She put her head down on his shoulder, unable to meet his eyes. Just as well—right now, he didn’t really want to look at her. “He took a copy.”

“George Macalister took a copy,” Lincoln repeated, dumbfounded. What she was confessing was so surreal.

“I didn’t know his history with you. I didn’t know he’d try to muscle in on the deal. At least, I didn’t believe it.” Now she pulled back, her face red and splotchy. “I couldn’t go through with it. I told Stephen that I couldn’t do it, and I backed out. But George still got his hands on a copy of the footage.”

He eased her off his lap. Then he stood up.

“I’m sorry!” she cried, reaching for him, but her fingers slipped over his slick skin as he got out, toweling off. “I didn’t know. I…I needed the money, and I thought being famous… Oh, they’re such stupid reasons. I made a mistake.”

He didn’t say anything. He pulled on his clothes in complete silence.

“Please,” she said, standing in front of him, naked, dripping. “Please, don’t be like this.”

“I can’t talk to you right now,” he said. “I have to go.”

“No!” She held him, and he felt her wet skin drenching his clothes. He didn’t care. Gently, he disentangled himself from her. “Please, please…”

“I told you. I have to get out of here.”

“Lincoln,” she cried, as he headed for the door. “I love you!”

He sent her one look over his shoulder. “And I trusted you.”

He shut the door firmly behind him.

11

IT WAS THE HARDEST CHALLENGE she’d faced yet. Finn was waiting for her at the warehouse, looking grim as he opened the door and ushered her inside. The players that she’d met the night Lincoln had kidnapped her and introduced her to the club were all standing around, talking amongst themselves. Lincoln, she noticed, was not there. She thought maybe it was the first time he’d ever skipped a meeting.

When the players noticed who she was, they all fell silent. She could feel their resentment like slaps, and she struggled to keep her back straight. It was different than in boarding school, or in other situations where she’d been surrounded by people who disliked her. This time, she couldn’t blame them. She was utterly and completely in the wrong.

She also wondered if they were going to break out tar and feathers, or something similar. Several of the faces showed pure hatred, and she hoped they weren’t of a violent bent.

“You said you wanted to do a public apology,” Finn started, and for the first time since she’d met him, his words were cool. “Here’s your chance. Then, I think they’re going to expect you to get the hell out of here. Frankly, I feel the same way.”

She stood in front of the crowd, searching for any sign of understanding. “This is only going to take a few minutes.”

“What the hell were you doing, filming us?” a bearded guy in the back yelled, and there was a muttered chorus that echoed the question. They didn’t exactly surround her, but they were definitely crowding her.

“It was a mistake,” she said, raising her voice to be heard. “I should never have filmed anything without telling you first.”

“Fame whore.” The hiss was audible and furious.

She nodded. “You’ve got every right to feel that way. No point saying more because we both know it would just be an excuse. I was completely in the wrong filming Terrence’s challenge, and I want you to know I’m sorry.”

“Sorry’s not going to keep me out of jail!” the bearded guy bellowed. “Damn it, I’ve got a record. I love the club, but I’m not going back in for something stupid for a pledge!”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Finn interrupted, his voice strong and commanding. He even looked older, more somber. “For one thing, I don’t think many of us can be identified on that tape—probably just me, maybe Terrence. For a second thing, if I have to blow through every dollar I’ve got, I’ll make sure we’re lawyered up so that none of you see jail time. Promise.”

The crowd seemed to calm at that one, and she watched him. He was just like Lincoln, she realized. He loved this group of people. The Player’s Club was his family.

This was what she needed. Not fame. Not to impress a bunch of rich socialites who only cared about her as long as her bank account and her status fit the bill. Certainly not to gain the love of two people who couldn’t manage to look past their own egos.

She’d had a real chance at this. And she blew it.

“As you may have heard, my footage of Terrence’s challenge got stolen,” she continued, and now there was another furor of rumbling. “I was taking it to a producer, and it got stolen by someone many of you already know—George Macalister.”

“That asshole,” Scott muttered, tensing his fists. Amanda looked furious, too.

“Well, I had already told the producer I had second thoughts about using the footage, or doing anything about you guys. I know, that doesn’t count for much, either. But I would like to make this right.” She cleared her throat. “I still have one more challenge. The heist.”

“You no longer have the right to join the club,” Finn said coldly. “You’re just here to apologize because I felt you owed it to us. But you’re not doing any more challenges. You’re finished.”

She swallowed hard against the pain of that statement. “I know,” she said. “But I’m still going to do it.”

Finn shrugged. “Do whatever the hell you want. It’s a free country—for those of us not going to jail, anyway,” he said, with a low, dry laugh.

“I’m going to break into George’s house,” she said quickly, as he started to nudge her back toward the door. “I am going to make sure that all the footage is gone.”

“He’s probably put it up on YouTube by now,” Terrence said, his voice a little shaky. He didn’t look angry: he looked hurt, and scared. That was worse than angry. “Or he’s emailed it to the police.”

“He can’t email it,” Juliana corrected. “It’s on a copy-protected flash disk. He’s going to have to take it somewhere to show someone—he can’t upload it or burn a copy. Not unless he’s a hell of a lot more techno-savvy than I think he is.”

“He isn’t,” Finn confirmed. “That’s not to say he hasn’t just waltzed into the chief of police’s office and turned us in, though....”

“He hasn’t,” Lincoln’s voice interrupted, and everyone naturally looked at him. “Because I’ll bet you anything he’s going to try hitting us up first.”

She looked up, seeing him striding across the room. Her heart pounded hard in her chest. She’d lost him, too. That, more than anything, made her whole body ache. How could she need something, someone, so much? And why the hell didn’t she see it before she lost him?

“George is either going to tell us he’s to be new leader of the Player’s Club…” Lincoln pointed out, only to have a bunch of groans and heckles from the crowd.

“Like hell we’d follow him!”

“We kicked him out for a reason,” someone else said.

“He was cutting a deal with the producer, too. He’d love to have a reality show,” Scott said darkly.

“Or he’s just going to do something dumb, like insist Finn and I get kicked out. Maybe fork over a bunch of money. I hear he’s a bit stretched lately—George has never been what you’d consider frugal,” Lincoln added. “I imagine sometime in the next day or so, he’s going to call with his terms.”

“And we tell him where he can stuff his terms…” Finn said.

Lincoln finished the thought. “Then he’s going to go to the police.”

He turned to Juliana, his gaze finally meeting hers.

“So you’d have to steal it soon.”

Juliana nodded, her eyes watering slightly when he faced away from her, breaking the connection. She turned to Terrence. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I believe you,” he told her.

It meant a lot, for someone to believe her. She gave him a hug. Then, as she started to leave, he put a hand on her shoulder. When she turned back to him, he was smiling shyly.

“Do you know what I do for a living?”

“Um…” In her mind she cycled through things he’d said, but she couldn’t remember. “Something to do with electronics?”

He nodded, then grinned, almost like a puppy. “I work with high-end security systems. I design them.” His expression was one of glee. “And install them.”

Her eyes widened. Then she, too, grinned.

“You helped me with Heidi,” he said. “It meant a lot. And I think you really are sorry. I’ll help you out.”

There was a rumble of agreement at this. “Thank you.”

Finn’s eyes lit with speculation. “Well…I’m already going to the clink,” he said slowly. “Don’t go to hell for a quarter, that’s what my great-aunt Julia used to say. Besides, this was the
one
challenge I was really looking forward to.”

“I’m in,” Amanda said, and Scott’s eyebrows jumped up. She put an arm around her boyfriend’s waist and nodded with determination. “George is a user and a jerk-off. I think Juliana made a big, huge mistake, but I think she was trying to fix it. And if she pulls this off, she will fix it. Besides, George is the one who deserves to get busted for this. I think we can pull it off—it’s just a matter of finding the right plan.”

Juliana felt her chest warm, and tears start to cloud her eyes.

Then Lincoln was standing next to her: she could feel his presence, like the sun. “I guess I can’t let you guys go off and do this alone,” he said.

She wished he would touch her. When his hand held her shoulder, she held her breath.

He turned her to stare deeply into her eyes.

“When this is over,” he said softly, “you’re not going to see any of us again.”

She felt a shudder rip through her. Then she nodded, quickly.

“I understand.”

MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE,
they weren’t.

Lincoln gritted his teeth against the headache that had been nagging at him for the past two hours or so. The “strike team” of Terrence, Finn, Scott, Amanda and himself were meeting in Juliana’s condo. Starting last night at eleven or so, they had twenty-four hours to plan a theft.

Though the temptation had been there to go home with Juliana, keep planning and simply spend the night with her, he was too angry and too raw to spend time alone with her. So, like the rest of the team, he’d showed up at seven o’clock that morning. According to Finn’s “reliable spies,” George was scheduled to go to some big party in Napa that night, so they’d have his house from about eight o’clock on. They decided to shoot for eleven to hit; he’d still be partying, more than likely, and there would be fewer neighbors awake or at least noticing a bunch of people stopping by.

By about nine that morning, it occurred to Lincoln why professional thieves probably took more than a single day to figure out how to rob someplace. At least, the thieves that didn’t get caught.

“How can you not know what sort of security system he has?” Terrence muttered for the umpteenth time.