Long Shot

by Kennedy Ryan

  We’ve been so careful to keep our connection discrete, I forget even Decker doesn’t know.

  “It’s okay, Deck,” I tell him. “He is family. Jared’s my stepbrother.”

  18

  Iris

  I stand as soon as Caleb enters our bedroom. We watch one another in wary silence for a few moments before he walks over and drops a kiss on my cheek. I jerk back, glaring up at him. “Don’t, Caleb.”

  His eyebrows arch over the hard humor in his eyes before he shrugs and walks toward the closet, taking off his jacket. I follow him closely, determined to have this out.

  “What was that tonight?” I ask, my voice brittle.

  “What was what?” he asks, a little too casually, too easily, but his shoulders tense beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

  “August.”

  At his name, Caleb meets my eyes in the closet mirror. He sneers and huffs a breath. “Oh, you mean his little fall?”

  “Little fall?” I walk to stand in front of him, staring up and searching his face. “His career could be over, Caleb. Why would you do that?”

  His eyes are blistering cold blue. “And what exactly are you accusing me of, Iris?”

  “It was a dirty play.”

  The back of his hand slams into my mouth, shoving any other words down my throat. I stumble. My back hits the mirror, sending spikes of pain through my shoulder.

  I’ve never been hit in the face. My mother didn’t bother disciplining me. Though I saw men hit her and my aunt from time to time, no man has ever hit me, so I didn’t know. I couldn’t have known that the first hit, that baptism into violence, doesn’t just sting the flesh. It startles the soul.

  For the space of a broken heartbeat, I stare at him. Every sensation and emotion—pain, anger, fear, panic—converge into the ache of my teeth and the throb of my lips. I touch my mouth, feeling the smear of blood, but not taking my eyes off him in case he strikes again.

  As the shock wears off, my fingers twitch, every muscle longing to strike back, but I have the presence of mind to know I can’t. Lotus said she saw a shadow on Caleb’s soul. Well, I see a snake—a boa constrictor of lean muscle who could crush me with barely exerted effort.

  “I’m sorry, baby.” He looks contrite. “I was just so upset that you would accuse me of a dirty play. It was instinct. It won’t happen again.”

  He steps toward me, his hand reaching for my face.

  My hand raises to ward off another blow. He frowns and takes another step, trapping me between the mirror and his huge body. I swallow my fear and shock so I can speak. “I told you what would happen if you ever did that, Caleb.” My voice sounds strong, but every cell in my body is trembling. It’s an act I have to hold up because I know he will exploit any weakness.

  As soon as my words hit the air, I realize I’ve made a tactical error. The phony remorse melts like a plastic mask in a furnace. And from the fire, his true face appears, all bolts and steel.

  “Oh, now I remember.” He folds his arms across the width of his chest. “Something about you leaving with my daughter if I ever hit you, and good luck trying to find you. Do I have it right, Iris?”

  “I am leaving.” I slide away from the mirror, my back straight and my stride confident, even though the very blood in my veins is shaking. He’s twice my size. The force of his hand against my lips—that strike still hurts.

  I ignore the pain and focus on getting Sarai and me out of this house unscathed. I grab an overnight bag and toss a few items of clothing in, not looking at him as I shove a pair of Chucks in, too.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Laughter threads through his words.

  I don’t bother answering, but walk swiftly into the bedroom, scooping my purse as I go. I make my way silently into the nursery down the hall, and in the faint light of the half-lit sconces on her wall, grab the essentials and a few outfits for Sarai. I pick her up carefully, praying she doesn’t wake.

  When I step into the hall, Caleb is there, leaning against the stair banister.

  “You actually think I’ll let you leave me.” He chuckles, shaking his head.

  “We can discuss custody,” I reply emotionlessly. “But this is over. We’re over, Caleb.”

  The cruel amusement fades until all that’s left is cruel.

  “Try to leave me.” His words are wrapped in nails and heavy with warning. The darker centers of his eyes, the irises, are shards of glass. “I want to see you try.”

  I don’t pause to contemplate what that means, but rush down the steps. I freeze in the foyer, surprised to see Ramone still here and hovering as if waiting for direction. He looks up the stairwell at Caleb watching from the landing. I glance up to see Caleb shake his head once. Ramone steps back. I race to the garage, my heart pounding as if I’m in a fox hunt with hounds nipping at my heels, but no one follows me.

  I snap Sarai into her car seat, amazed that she hasn’t even stirred, and stow our bags in the back of my car, shooting furtive glances at the garage door the whole time. No movement.

  I start the car and pull out, rounding the circular driveway and gunning it as soon as I hit the road. I check my rearview mirror every few seconds, certain Caleb must be following, but there are no lights trailing me. The frigid certainty in his voice haunts me. Like he was so sure I wouldn’t get away. My sore lips pull painfully into a crooked, relieved smile. I shake a metric ton from my shoulders and tip my head back into the buttery leather of the headrest. Things haven’t been right between us for a long time, but I had no idea how wrong they would go.

  He hit me.

  I’m still reeling inside and aching where he hit my mouth with the full force of his body behind his hand. I didn’t think this through beyond getting out of the house, but it’s so late. I’ll find a room for the night and get a fresh start tomorrow.

  I pull into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn off the interstate. It’s not the expensive hotels Caleb always reserves for us, but I never cared before and I certainly don’t care tonight. My freedom is the only luxury on my mind.

  I park, wrangling my bag and Sarai’s while bundling her in the blanket against my chest. I juggle everything in my arms, struggling to get the door open without waking her.

  “I need a room for the night, please,” I whisper to the front desk attendant. I would love for Sarai to sleep through this entire ordeal.

  “Of course.” The young man’s eyes narrow, and a smile breaks through his professional demeanor. “I know you.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask cautiously, patting Sarai’s little bottom.

  “Well, not know you.” He offers an almost shy smile when he takes my credit card. “I saw you and your baby on TV tonight.”

  The jumbotron.

  I can’t think about being on the big screen without remembering the moments after when, in an arena of twenty thousand people, it felt like August and I were alone in an electric bubble. Each moment I’ve ever spent in his company had played through my mind, and I’d cherished every one. The kind, funny, thoughtful man should have seemed at odds with the feral competitor on the floor, but he wasn’t. All the disparate parts fit snugly and rightly to form this man I desperately want to know better.

  And maybe now I will.

  It’s an ill-timed thought, but I’d be lying if I didn’t at least admit to myself that with things over between Caleb and me, there will be something with August. Even if I don’t pursue it, he will. The knowledge sends a tiny thrill through me.

  “Um, ma’am, your card has been declined.” The awkward phrase snatches me from my thoughts.

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” I glance from the black card extended between his two fingers to the frown on his face. “Are you sure? There’s no limit on it.”

  “Right. It’s a Black card, but . . .” He hesitates, his eyes speculative. “This card has been reported stolen.”

  “Stolen?” The word emerges loud and harsh in the quiet lobby, garnering the attention of two people at the other end of th
e desk also checking in.

  “That’s impossible,” I say in a softer voice.

  “We can’t use this card.” His voice stiffens. “Did you have another we can try?”

  “Uh, yes.” I reach into my wallet and hand him my debit card. “Here you go. I know that one is fine. I’ll have to call about the other one to figure it out.”

  My words trail off when his brows bunch into a frown, and he glances at me suspiciously. “This one doesn’t work either.”

  “That can’t be right because I . . .”

  Both of those cards, though in my possession and I’ve used them a hundred times, are technically in Caleb’s name. Caleb’s accounts. He may not be on my tail with high-beam lights, but he’s chasing me nonetheless.

  I extend my hand, requesting the card back. He reluctantly gives it to me like I might be running some elaborate fraud operation.

  “It’s a misunderstanding,” I assure him. “You take cash?”

  He nods, but still looks doubtful. I flip through the compartments of my wallet, searching for cash.

  Dammit. Nachos and parking at the game took most of my cash. I only spy a solitary ten-dollar bill.

  I don’t have enough money for a room, and I don’t have enough gas to make it all the way to Mama’s house in Atlanta or to Lotus’s place in New York. If we were speaking, which we aren’t. I don’t even know her new address there.

  I can’t just stand here while the attendant decides if he should call the cops or kick me out. I avoid his eyes, shift Sarai in my arms and walk back out to the car. My purse, overnight bag, and Sarai’s diaper bag weigh me down, but not nearly as much as the reality of my situation. Caleb shut down my cards. Knowing I’m out with his daughter in the middle of the night, he shut down my cards. Maybe I should have waited until the morning, but getting away from him was urgent. Something in his eyes told me to escape while I could.

  I’m driving somewhat aimlessly, unsure where to go and what I can afford to do, when flashing blue lights and the “blip” of a police siren grab my attention. For a moment, I wonder who they’re pursuing, but I’m the only one on the road.

  Dammit. Those blue lights are for me. Fuck my life. Could this night get worse?

  With my heart hammering, I pull off to the shoulder. I was distracted, so maybe I was speeding. I roll down my window, already wearing the practiced self-deprecating smile reserved for traffic stops.

  “Officer, I’m sorry if I—”

  “Out of the car, ma’am.” His clipped words take me aback.

  “What . . . was I speeding? A busted taillight? What’s going on?”

  I’m still trying to process everything when two more police cars pull in, lights flashing and cops climbing out cautiously as if this is America’s Most Wanted.

  “This vehicle and license plate match the description of a car reported stolen.” The officer glances in the back seat. “And reported in a child abduction.”

  “Abduction?” The word blasts from my mouth like a rocket. Anger clenches my hands into tight balls. “What the hell is going on? My daughter is safe, sleeping in the back seat.”

  “Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle with your hands raised.”

  I gape at him for a few more seconds, not even sure if this is legal. Not even sure if I should get out of my car on a dark, deserted road at night. Shaking myself from the stupor, I reach over to the glove compartment.

  “Ma’am,” he snaps, eyes sliding to my arm reached across the passenger seat.

  “I’m just getting license and registration,” I assure him. I hand over the paperwork, watching as he shines his flashlight on the documents.

  “Registration says Caleb Bradley.” He taps the door. “Step out of the vehicle, please.”

  This is a nightmare. The other two officers approach, one of them speaking into the intercom on his shoulder. On rubbery legs, I climb out of the SUV, stepping to the ground with my hands raised.

  “There has been a terrible misunderstanding.” I will my voice to stop shaking. Fear coats my throat. I’m on a dark road with three men. Cops, yes, but men nonetheless. “Like I said, it’s my daughter in the back seat, and this is my car.”

  “But the registration—”

  “Caleb Bradly is my boyfriend,” I say hurriedly. “He gave me this car months ago. The baby is our daughter. There are a dozen ways to verify what I’m saying.”

  “Ma’am, in cases of suspected child abduction,” one of the other officers says, “we have to protect the child. I’m afraid we’ll need to take you into custody.”

  “The hell you will!” I step back, my calves bumping up against the car’s running board. “My daughter—”

  “We’ve already contacted her father,” the officer says. “He’s on his way.”

  “On his way?” I snarl. “He can be on his way, but he’s not taking my daughter anywhere.”

  The cop turns me, and my body flattens to the car as he slips cuffs on my wrists. The click of the cuffs sets off panic in me.

  Where will they take Sarai? What’s about to happen to her?

  I strain against the iron circlets, twisting my shoulders and kicking my feet back.

  “Ouch.” The officer curses under his breath. “Look, lady, you’re this close to adding resisting arrest and assaulting an officer to the grand theft and abduction.”

  “I haven’t done anything.” My voice quakes, and tears leak over my cheeks. “Oh my God. You have to listen to me. She’s my baby. I haven’t taken her! She’s mine. Please don’t take her. Please just listen to me.”

  Sobs shake my shoulders. Frustration, anger, and fear light a match to my blood and speed my heart. I rest my forehead against the cold metal of the expensive car that I never even thought about leaving behind. The credit cards, the car, the money—each thing he’s given me is simply a bar in my cell, imprisoning me.

  Another car door slams, and I jerk my head around. In the darkness, Caleb’s broad shoulders cut through the small circle of men surrounding me.

  “Where’s Sarai?” he demands, his voice, his face panicked. “Did she hurt her?”

  A growl rumbles in my belly and springs from my throat. I hurl myself at him, even with my arms cuffed behind me.

  “You bastard!” Hands trapped behind my back, I head-butt his chest and kick his shins. “What did you do?”

  My raised voice bounces off the night sky, echoing around us like a screech in the jungle.

  “You see what I mean?” he asks the officer closest to him. “She’s been like this for weeks, ever since she stopped taking the medication the doctor prescribed.”

  “Motherfucker!” The word scratches its way out of my chest and scrambles over my lips.

  “You don’t believe me?” he asks the officer. “This is my car she’s driving. I’m just going to reach inside for something that will prove what I say is true.”

  He steps away for a moment but returns with my purse. My heart stills in my chest when he holds up a bottle of tiny pills.

  “See?” He holds them out to one of the officers. “Her name’s right there. Ever since she stopped taking these pills, she—”

  “I’m gonna kill you!” The words blast from me with propulsive force. “You lying son of a bitch.” I lunge forward again, but the cop catches me before I can ram Caleb.

  “I promise you, officers,” Caleb drawls, “she’s not always like this. When she takes her meds, she’s a different woman, but you can see why I was concerned when she left with my daughter. She’s in an unstable state, and I feared for our baby’s safety.”

  “Her safety?” A sob-laugh hefts from my chest. “He hit me!” I look up over my shoulder, pleading with the officer closest to me. “You have to believe me,” I rasp. “I left because he hit me.”

  “Oh, I hit you?” Caleb cuts in. “Where? I don’t see a scratch on you.”

  My lips, still aching from his blow, tremble. “He hit me in the mouth,” I tell the officer, my voice desperate. “Please
don’t let him take my baby. Oh, God. Please listen. I’m begging you.”

  A wail cuts through the air.

  “Sarai.” My glance darts between the officers. “She’s hungry. I need to feed her.”

  Four sets of eyes drop to my breasts, straining against my T-shirt. I hate every creature walking this earth with a dick.

  Caleb opens the back door and reaches in to coo over my baby girl.

  “No.” My head hangs, and salty tears burn the imperceptible cuts on my mouth. “Don’t let him have her. Oh, God. Please, no.”

  “It’s okay. Daddy’s here.” Caleb says, bouncing Sarai in the cradle of his arms, his eyes tender.

  "Officers, do you know who I am?” Caleb asks, his winning smile flashing white.

  The three officers exchange looks before nodding.

  This cannot be happening.

  Defeat slumps my shoulders, and I go slack in the officer’s arms.

  “Caleb Bradley,” one of them speaks up. “Sorry about the game tonight, man. Tough loss.”

  “Hey, you win some, you lose some.” Caleb shrugs. “Then you know it’s my rookie season. I really wanna get us in the playoffs.”

  “We barely missed ’em last year,” one officer says, scowling. “I was so glad when we drafted you.”

  “It’s been a good season so far.” Caleb bends to kiss Sarai’s nose, glancing up when my maternal growl rumbles in the quiet. “But it’s been hard on me and my fiancée.”

  “I’m not your fiancée,” I spit. “I’ll never wear your ring, Caleb.”

  His eyes narrow at me, and the rage he’s kept carefully checked slips its chain for a second. It bares its teeth, and I know if he gets his hands on me, I’ll suffer more than a slap across my mouth.

  “Like I was saying, it’s been hard on us,” Caleb continues, a modicum of civility. “New baby. Rookie season. It’s been a strain, and I think my fiancée just had a bad night.” He suspends that statement in the tight circle of us and the cops, taking the time to look each of them in the eye. “But I think she and I can work it out at home.”

  His hard eyes penetrate mine. “Or you can take her in, and the baby can go home with me.”