Open Play (Passion Players), page 23
“Yep. Thanks for askin’. Eoghan says his leg is coming on.”
“It is. Maybe he’ll give you a show-and-tell, and you can see what he can do now that he couldn’t when he first got here.” She winked at Eoghan and gave Pippin a set of thumbs up.
“Right on.”
“Well, I have to work, but enjoy your playdate,” she said.
“Playdate? What’s that?” Eoghan asked.
Ayanna laughed. “Have fun, guys.”
“So Ayanna still looks fit and ready for a ride,” Pippin said, and even through the screen he purposely aimed his dig at Shane.
“I’m torn, lads. Ayanna’s lovely, but her sister easily snared me in her web.” Eoghan sank farther into the couch, and his pelvis pushed forward as if he was remembering his closeness with Jada.
“Your friend here has been actin’ a bollocks.” Shane shook his head and recounted the drama for Pippin.
“Madness,” Pippin said. “Sounds like you have your fair share of excitement being in that house together.”
“Not a dull moment yet,” Shane said.
“So are you ready for the arrival of the oul folks?” Pippin asked.
“As ready as you can be for receiving your parents,” Eoghan said. “Maybe Da’ll get lost?”
“Sure that only applies to luggage. It’s only for a short time. You’ll manage. You always do,” Pippin offered.
The struggle between Eoghan and his father for control over his career was constant and well known. Shane had been surprised that Donal O’Farrell hadn’t shown up unannounced when they’d first arrived.
“We’ll keep him busy,” Shane assured his friend. Neither Ayanna nor Louisa had any idea of the sheer mayhem that was about to descend on the house with the arrival of the MacCallums and O’Farrells. Their parents would be here in two weeks for his cousin Maeve’s wedding and to visit with family.
“Well, good luck with it, and we’ll talk to you soon.”
“Let’s order in tonight. Greek is pretty good. Think Ayanna would approve.”
“I’ll ask her, plus she might want something.” Shane stood. He’d give any excuse to be alone with Ayanna even if only for a minute or two to get her food order. What had he turned into?
Ayanna had avoided talking to her mother for two weeks. After what had happened with Jada, she’d decided that she’d check in more often just to keep the surprises at bay, so this time when her mother, Morgan Crawford, called her cell, Ayanna picked up.
“How are you? It’s been a long time since I’ve caught you without having to leave a message.”
“It’s been really busy.”
“Jada did say that you had a lot riding on this client.”
Fucking Jada. Her mother didn’t have to know all the details about her life. When it came to her mother, sharing about her career and accomplishments was akin to talking about her sex life or her salary with any random Joe. Ayanna might wish things were different, but this was the status of her relationship with Morgan Crawford.
“Congratulations on your award.”
Ayanna hadn’t told anyone about the award, and only her colleagues knew of the accolade she’d received. “You know about that?” Ayanna asked.
“I follow everything about you, Yaya. I may not have been a big part of why you’re successful, but I’m proud of you. You’re my daughter, and I love you,” her mother said as if to remind them both of their blood connection.
“Thanks.” Ayanna had lessened the frequency of her digs about her mother’s parenting here and there and resorted to keeping her mother at a fair distance, mostly for Jada’s sake. Nonetheless, Morgan had called twice a month consistently for the past few years, even if Ayanna didn’t always pick up.
“I’d really like to see you, Yaya.”
“I’m really busy, Mom. Maybe when things settle down or when Jada’s back at the end of the summer session.”
“You always say after the next thing or the thing after that,” her mother sighed.
Ayanna had used all her avoidance techniques, and her mother had noticed the repetition. “I’m just being honest. It’s not a good time.”
“All right. I’ll look forward to when you have a little time,” her mother said with hope in her disappointed tone. “We’ll set something up then.”
“Okay.” One thing Ayanna respected was her mother’s persistence. Whether she was curled up in bed, refusing to eat, bathe, or face the world in her grief for her husband’s passing, or pursuing a relationship with her eldest daughter, Morgan Crawford gave it her all.
“Good luck with your client.”
“Thanks.”
They hung up, and Ayanna took a big breath while rolling her neck. Being standoffish with her mom took more energy than giving in and letting her get close again, but Ayanna needed to keep herself safe from the one person who should have protected her the most.
She went back to work. There were a few things on the schedule that she needed to address, including taking care of her own personal bills. She had to check on her apartment at some point and send back an RSVP for her awards ceremony. It was a formal event in the fall, requiring a speech. She created a schedule and list of to-dos to keep it on her radar. She had a few consulting emails that she read through, evaluated, and replied to. She completed and sent progress reports on Eoghan, copying the team here in New York and in Ireland.
It had been almost three months, and Eoghan already showed great progress. The length of his workouts and his conditioning had improved, and the swimming pool routine she’d incorporated improved his circulation and flexibility and strengthened his muscles without the joint stress. He even looked healthier. Whatever her personal feelings for him, he not only proved her research worked but was well on his way to passing his evaluation next month should all continue to go well.
Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at Charlotte’s name. Ayanna was in a groove and thought it better to call her back once she finished up. But Charlotte called twice more, and Ayanna gave in. “Girl, I’m working. Let me call you—”
Charlotte cut her off and rambled mostly undecipherable information. Ayanna listened harder to make her out through the chaos in the background and Charlotte’s fast delivery. Before Charlotte even finished, Ayanna reached for her bag.
Shane walked into the office. “Ayanna? We’re going to order in tonight for dinner and wondered if you wanted anything from the menu.”
She held up her hand to quiet him, but her mind raced, heightened, taking in information. “Okay,” she kept saying over and over for no reason. Her tense body ached, and her heart pounded in her throat. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Are you okay?” Shane asked and hurried to her. His hand palmed her shoulder. His blue shirt highlighted the concern in his eyes. “Nothing’s happened, no?”
She shook with fear, and Shane squeezed her hand.
“Tell me what’s happened.”
“It’s Charlotte.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ayanna couldn’t sit still in the passenger seat as Shane sped to the Harlem police precinct to get Charlotte.
“Are you cool enough?” he asked as he maneuvered the vehicle through the busy New York City streets. If it had been her, she’d have been speeding through and likely would have landed herself in a fender bender or gotten a ticket.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Thanks for offering to come and for driving.”
“Sounds serious. I didn’t want you to be on your own,” he said, his eyes focused on the road.
“I hate not knowing what’s happening.” Ayanna ran her hands through her curls, which had gotten longer over the past few months.
“And she told you nothing, just to come to the police station to pick her up?” Shane asked.
“She tried, but I couldn’t understand most of what she said because it was either too loud or she was going too fast.” She resisted the urge to pluck her eyelashes out one at a time. The fact that she only had that sliver of a detail to go on and the address of the station tortured her. “I don’t even know if she’s still there. I mean, if something happened to her, she could be in the hospital by now. Did she hurt someone? Kill someone? Did she get arrested?” She closed her eyes and took a couple of breaths. “Okay. I won’t know until we get there. I’ll figure this out.”
“You don’t have to figure it out on your own. I don’t know everything about law enforcement here, but I’ll be with you.”
“There.” Ayanna pointed as Shane drove through the streets of Harlem.
“You go in. I’ll park the car.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She hopped out and jetted through the green double doors of the station.
A police station on a Friday night was not the place she wanted to be. Even though she was there to find Charlotte, she felt like the discolored white walls with army-green trim jailed her in with a guilty verdict. The line of plastic black seating, melded together by its steel frame, screamed order. She’d always hated those chairs, even in school.
Ayanna went to the front desk to let the officer in a dark-blue uniform know who she was and why she was there. “Good evening, Officer. My name is Ayanna Crawford, and I’m here to pick up my friend Charlotte Bowman.”
“ID, please,” the officer said. He was big and brown with a “don’t mess with me, I’m an hour away from being off duty” kind of attitude. The man reviewed some information on the computer screen and then gave her a clipboard so she could sign in.
“Do I go back, or does she come out?” Ayanna asked.
“Hold on a second. I’m checking.”
Ayanna waited, the officer’s silence killing her slowly. Her need to see Charlotte and make sure she had all her fingers and toes mounted. She was about to jump over the barrier and look the information up on the computer herself. “She called me only about an hour ago.”
“Oh yeah,” the officer said. “She’s a bit shaken up after what happened. We offered to drive her home, but she preferred to phone a friend.”
“What happened exactly?” Ayanna asked.
“I’m not permitted to say, but Miss Bowman can explain the details of her case when she comes out.”
Details of her case? “So you can’t tell me anything? Not even the tiniest thing?” Ayanna felt like she was in a crime-series episode.
“Like I said, confidentiality. Have a seat,” the officer said. “She should be out in a few.”
“Thank you,” Ayanna said. She tried to sit but ended up pacing a path on the worn tiled floor. Behind the glass the officers appeared cooler than she was in the stuffy, warm waiting area she occupied.
The station doors flew open, and Shane rushed in and came to her. “Parking’s shite at this hour.”
“Can I help you?” The officer gave Shane’s white shorts and blue fitted short-sleeved shirt an up-and-down evaluation.
“I’m with her,” Shane said.
The officer shrugged and went back to his duties.
“What’s the word?” Shane asked.
“The officer said she’ll be out soon. I still don’t know what happened, and because of privacy, he won’t tell me.” She pointed her accusation at the officer.
“Okay, well . . . do you want to sit?”
She shook her head, the lack of circulation inside and the lingering smell of perspiring bodies and the ink from triplicate forms stifling her. “I tried that.”
“Then we’ll stand together,” he said.
She gave him a weak smile. “I’m just worried about her, you know? She’s the love of my life.”
“I know how much she means to you. She’ll be out soon to explain things herself,” Shane said.
“Are you suggesting I be patient?”
“Better than me suggesting you relax. You hate that.” Shane winked.
“I don’t hate it. It just implies that I walk around not relaxed.”
Shane pursed his lips, and his eyes traveled everywhere but to hers.
She scoffed. “I heard that.”
“I literally said nothing.”
“You said it with your eyes.” She pointed two fingers at him.
“At least it got a smile outa ya,” he said. “This is stressful, Ayanna, but the good thing is, she’s here and will be out soon.”
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right.”
They waited a few more moments before Ayanna heard Charlotte’s voice.
Charlotte sped over to them and hugged Ayanna, her body shaking. She didn’t appear hurt, but that didn’t mean she was all right.
“Hey,” Ayanna said. “What happened? Why are you here?”
“I got mugged,” Charlotte confessed.
“Hiya, Charlotte. You all right?”
“Hey, Big Red. Been better,” Charlotte replied.
Ayanna squeezed Charlotte down the arms, checking for broken bones and wounds. “Are you okay? Did you get roughed up?”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
It had been a long time since Ayanna had seen the light in Charlotte’s eyes so muted. “What are you not telling me?”
“It’s nothing,” Charlotte dodged, but Ayanna could tell that not answering had an impact on her friend.
Another officer jogged over from the doors Charlotte had come through earlier. She carried Charlotte’s bag. “Miss Bowman. You left your bag.”
“Oh my gosh.” Charlotte smacked her forehead. “Thank you, Officer Soares.”
“Is this the friend you were waiting on?”
“Yes,” Charlotte said.
Officer Soares turned to Ayanna and Shane. “Take care of her. She’s a lucky woman. Getting robbed at gunpoint can be pretty traumatic,” the officer said.
“What?” Ayanna’s voice boomed in the now fairly quiet station, and she immediately checked Charlotte for bullet holes. A few other officers snapped to attention. Ayanna would have tried to lower her voice, but she had nothing else to say, as fear held her words hostage.
“When you get home, try to relax. We’ll be in touch if we hear anything, or you can check back to see if there are any updates.” Officer Soares dropped her bomb, then left.
“Yaya, stop fussing,” Charlotte said and pushed her hand away. “That’s why I didn’t tell you anything until you got here.”
“Do you have everything you need, Charlotte?” Shane asked as he put a hand on each of their shoulders.
“Yeah, thanks,” Charlotte said. “Let’s get out of here, please.”
But all Ayanna could think about was Charlotte with a gun pointed at her and every worst-case scenario available.
“You all right?” Shane asked close to her ear. Shane’s calm demeanor helped her regain a sense of equilibrium after the chaos of the past few hours, but Ayanna was anything but all right. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
The seriousness of the police station, here in America, had made Shane uneasy. What made him even more uneasy was the way Ayanna forced herself to be practical under her stress, though her hands continued to shake. This wasn’t his country, and he had a basic understanding of how things worked. Break the law, and get arrested. However, Ayanna seemed even more nervous.
“Charlotte’s getting a bath,” Ayanna said but sounded far away.
“I made tea for you and Charlotte. I thought it might be calming,” he offered. “If there’s something else you think she’d like, I can make it or find it.” He felt compelled to do whatever he could to brighten a dim situation.
“That’s very kind.”
“How is she doing?” he asked. He’d been shocked at the quiet in the car until they’d neared Charlotte’s apartment, when Ayanna, having bottled her questions, had bombarded Charlotte with a slew of inquiries that even he couldn’t keep up with.
“Being Charlotte—talking a lot, making me laugh, trying to make sure I’m okay when she’s the one that was at the police station.” She shifted her weight and seemed not to know what to do with her hands.
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he suggested. “Her way to cope.”
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re going to head to bed soon. We’re pretty wiped. I know you didn’t plan for this. I’m sure you want to head back, so take my car. I’ll get a car or take the train. Eoghan is probably wondering what’s up.”
“I texted him,” he said. “If it’s okay with you and Charlotte, I’d like to stay.” He didn’t know if he’d overstepped, but he needed to be here for her, near her. “I’d feel better not leaving you alone.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m sure she’d appreciate you being here too.” Her shoulders lowered slightly, and her face relaxed. Charlotte had been through an ordeal, and Ayanna had been anxious ever since she’d gotten the call.
She stepped closer to him. “Thank you, Shane.” She choked on her words like she was struggling to hold on to her slipping emotions. “I don’t know what I would have done if something really bad had happened to her.”
He could only imagine the scenarios she’d gone through in her mind. He held her by the shoulders and sat her on the couch. “Come, sit down.”
Before her butt hit the cushion, she’d buried her face in his chest. He held his breath, his heart racing and aching for her. He cradled her against him and stroked her arms. “She’s fine, Ayanna.” He held her tighter. “It’s all right, love. She’s okay.” Before he could stop himself, he pressed kisses on her head and temple. She looked up at him, her watery eyes a knife bleeding him.
“Shane.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Don’t apologize,” she whispered, her mouth centimeters from his, silently tugging him closer. He tested her request and leaned forward. She was vulnerable, raw, and he needed to be sure she wanted his mouth as much as he wanted hers.
Her lips parted, and she tilted her head in reply. With the coarseness of his beard in mind, he connected slowly. All his nerves gathered at his lips, and with trepidation his tongue savored her. She moaned, and the sound hit him like a boulder to the chest. In his mind flashed the first time he’d seen her and her laughing, screaming, and jumping as they’d watched the football match together. How much he’d wanted to kiss her in the stands afterward was still a fresh feeling. Now, his tongue played with hers with the goal of soothing her, but this was so much more than a kiss, so much more than this moment.
