Playing Dirty(46)

The officer blinked. “Blimey,” he said. “I didn’t think I’d see the day. A famous football star coming in to bail out his childhood friend. People are gonna love that story!”

I rolled my eyes. Ten minutes ago, I’d been the horrible friend who never paid attention, and now he was back to praising me. People could be so goddamned fickle.

“Come on,” I said to Connor, dragging him to his feet. “We’re getting you out of here.”

There was a lot of paperwork to sign and other red tape to deal with, and over eight hours later, we were finally out of the lock-up and standing in front of Promising Light Rehab Facility, outside of Manchester. It was a sleek, new building with white stucco on the front and big wooden doors.

Connor looked at me nervously. He nudged the ground with his toe. “I dunno about this, mate.”

I was only half paying attention to him by this point. I knew it sounded paranoid, but I felt like someone was looking at us, and all the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I glanced around, then turned to Connor.

“Do you feel like someone’s watching us?” I asked.

“If they are, they’d be in for an eyeful.” He wiggled his butt. “Hello, ladies!”

“Stop,” I said, grabbing his arm. “I’m serious.”

“Relax, famous boy,” Connor said. “They’re probably just security cameras. This is a rehab center, after all.” His face grew solemn. “I mean, they’re gonna be keeping an eye on me once I get in.”

“You’ll be fine,” I promised Connor. “I’ll come visit every weekend. How does that sound?”

Connor shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Whatever you say, man,” he said. He actually smiled at me—it was the first real smile I’d seen all day—and hefted his bag over his shoulder before walking through the doors. I followed him into the lobby, and a kindly-faced nurse came through to show him to the patient sign-in room.

I waited in the general lobby for a few minutes, in case Connor came out and said he couldn’t go through with it, but as I watched through the glass, I saw him fill out the intake forms and set his bag down. Another nurse came up and started taking his vitals, and finally, he turned back towards the big glass sliding door with a reluctant thumbs-up.

I smiled, waved, and then left, and just as I was walking back to my Mercedes, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text message from an unfamiliar number. I frowned.

‘Jay, it’s Lizzy. Sneaked your number out of Kate’s phone. I think she’s going on a date with her stupid ex! Are you guys not seeing each other anymore? Please tell me that’s not true…’

I frowned. What? By ‘ex’, did Lizzy mean that annoying guy from the States who Kate had mentioned a while back? He was the only ex I’d heard of, anyway. Kate had told me that he was a disrespectful prick who’d refused to take her needs seriously…so why the hell would she be going on a date with him? And more to the point, what on earth was the guy even doing all the way over here in England?

I set off towards my car at a fast pace. I needed to find out what was going on, and I needed to get my ass down to wherever Kate was, pronto. I wasn’t going to let some ex of hers come in and steamroll me, and I definitely wasn’t going to risk losing her to him.

Maybe she didn’t know it yet, but I was falling for her.

Hard.





Chapter Sixteen

Kate



I took Josh to Bengali Paradise, a gaudy Indian restaurant around the corner from Lizzy’s apartment. I’d remembered that he liked Indian food, and even though he’d asked about the local cuisine, I didn’t think he would be impressed. He’d never liked ‘plain’ food, and I knew that was what he’d consider most of the places I’d been so far. Besides, I didn’t want to taint the memory of the places I’d visited with Jay by taking Josh there.

“This is nice,” Josh said as we headed inside.

A waiter led us over to a corner booth draped with multi-colored scarves. A heavy perfume of incense hung in the air and I almost felt like choking on it as I slid down into my side of the booth. The lighting inside the restaurant was dim, and I had to admit, as much as he annoyed me, Josh looked fairly handsome. Well, he always had looked nice, in that bad-boy way. But tonight he’d really cleaned up: fresh button-down shirt and dark slacks. He’d even brushed his hair. He winked at me.

“Don’t even start,” I said, holding up my hand. “I don’t want to hear it, whatever rubbish you’re going to say.”

Josh laughed. “Kate, really. Rubbish? You’ve been here for two weeks and you’re already picking up on local slang?” He snorted. “You know what people say about Madonna, right? She’s from Detroit. She’s not really British. It won’t make people like you, Kate. That’s something you’re going to have to work on before you come back.”