Foolish or not, she was drawn to Trevor like the moon to earth, and nothing her father said would change that.
“Why don’t you worry about your own social life, Dad? Mayor Trent, for instance. There’s something between you, I saw it. You should invite her over to dinner.”
“Don’t talk about that woman to me.” Muttering under his breath, he headed toward the pool house. Paige grinned to herself. Distraction accomplished.
Before he got there, he paused. “There’s one more thing. I think your boy Trevor might have a record.”
“What?”
“Just a suspicion, and if he does, it’s as a juvenile. Nothing adult. But he’s got no stats from any high school. As far as baseball goes, he appeared out of nowhere in that independent league. That’s very unusual. Most guys were stars in high school, then maybe college. Trevor’s about to become a San Diego Friar, and I don’t even know who taught him the basics.”
When Paige displayed no reaction to that information, he disappeared into the pool house.
Thoughts racing, she buried her face in Jerome’s warm, orange-scented fur. Should she tell her father that Stark wasn’t Trevor’s real last name? That was probably the reason for the gap in his baseball history. Simple as that.
But what if he did have a record? Would he tell her about it? Should she ask him? Or would that lock down all his walls for good?
At 7:00 P.M. on the night of August 20, Paige got a text from Trevor. She was wrapping up some last-minute payroll details in the accounting offices—once again confirming her conviction that the numbers side of the business was not for her.
Dropping some stuff in my locker, be right out. Escalade is unlocked, AC on. Do you like sushi?
Sushi? She made a face. Give her a good Texas steak over sushi any day of the week—but she couldn’t tell him that, not after she’d made fun of his steakhouse escapades.
She sent him a quick text back. Be right there. Then she shut down the computer and grabbed her backpack. A quick double-check in the bathroom—her carefully chosen “not trying too hard” outfit still worked. Cowboy boots, flirty red dress with lime-green polka dots, and a denim jacket over it. She dabbed on more lip gloss, tried to tame her hair but quickly gave up and left it tousled, then hurried down the staircase that led to the parking lot.
A few vehicles were still filtering out of the lot, but otherwise it was emptying out fast. She spotted Trevor’s blue Escalade, parked close to the players’ exit, its lights on, as if waiting for her. He must still be in the clubhouse, since there was no sign of him.
Slipping into the passenger seat, she welcomed the cool air, relief from the oppressive heat still lingering outside. She settled back in the leather seat and noticed a Post-It on the glove compartment.
Paige—Look inside—T.
As she gingerly opened the latch, a heavenly smell filtered into the Escalade. A tangle of branches covered with sweet-smelling pink flowers filled the glove box. Apple blossoms. He’d told her she smelled like apple blossoms. She smiled, inhaling the heavenly scent, and lost herself for a moment in the evocative images it inspired. Spring nights filled with fireflies, climbing a tree with her journal, dreams, possibilities, crushes . . .
Someone settled into the driver’s seat.
“Trevor,” she exclaimed, still blissed out from the scent. “Where on earth did you find these this time of year?”
“Shut the fuck up, chick.”
The door slammed shut as she whirled around. The stalker with the BB gun. She’d recognize him anywhere. He jammed the key in the ignition—how did he have the key?—and started the engine. She tried to open the passenger door but he pressed the All Lock key.
“Let me out,” she cried. “Take the car, I don’t care. Just let me out.”
“Stark took my girl, I’m taking his.” He slammed his foot on the accelerator and the Escalade sprung forward.
Oh, shit. “I’m not his girl.”
“You’re in his car, that’s good enough for me.”
“This is kidnapping! You’ll go to jail.”
He was careening across the lot as if he was crazy or on some kind of drug. She didn’t know which possibility was scarier. Talk him down. “Listen, I’m sorry Trevor did that to you.”
He grunted.
“But I had nothing to do with that. Hurting me isn’t going to hurt Trevor. It’s just going to get you into trouble.”
“Shut up, bitch.”
Oh my God. What had happened to all the security Crush had set up? The video cameras and fence reinforcement? What was this man planning? Did he even have a plan? Her cell phone was in her purse, and he’d surely notice if she went after it. Her best bet—keep talking.
“Do you ever watch the Food Network?”
“Huh?”
“You know that show, Cooking Is Easy with Nessa Brindisi?”
He frowned, pulling the wheel tight to the right to avoid a lamppost. “Yeah, so?”
“Right at this very moment, on TV, she’s getting married. To my husband. Well my ex-husband. But he was married to me when he met her, so the point is that I know what it feels like to have someone hurt you.”
His throat worked, the Adam’s apple moving up and down his thick-fleshed neck. “She hates me now.”
“I’m so sorry. I’m sure you don’t deserve to be treated like that.” Or maybe he did. But this wasn’t the moment for honesty. Keep him talking.
“I love her so much.” He gave a ragged, gasping sound.
“I know you do. You seem like a man who . . . uh . . . loves deeply. What’s her name?”
“Louann. She’s my baby. But I can’t even talk to her anymore.”
Restraining order? “Why don’t you pull over and we’ll go get a cup of coffee and you can tell me all about it.” While she figured out a way to call 911. “Sometimes it helps just to talk about something. You can tell me how you met, everything.”
At first she thought her tactic worked, because the Escalade slowed. But then he punched the steering wheel, making her heart jump into her throat. “I said shut up!”
She shut up, as the Escalade zoomed full-tilt toward the exit. Her mind raced, Plans B, C, D, and E forming. For a split second she’d reached him, she knew it. She just had to try again, with a different tactic, maybe in a few minutes when he’d calmed down. Her heart pounded, adrenaline thumping in her veins.
Just as it reached the exit, the Escalade slowed, as if it had lost power. “What the fuck?” the man screamed. He stomped on the accelerator again and again. But it kept slowing, and then the door was being wrenched open and two muscled arms reached inside. As if the beefy man at the wheel was nothing more than a rag doll, he was yanked out of the SUV and thrown to the ground.
Trevor stood over him, fury vibrating in every line of his face and body.
“Watcha gonna do, pretty-boy?” the man taunted.
Trevor pressed his foot to his neck. “It’s already done. Cops are on the way.”
Paige’s hands were shaking so hard she couldn’t get the passenger door open. “I think he might be on something, Trevor,” she called through the open driver’s side door. “Don’t aggravate him.”
She watched him struggle to control himself.
“Get off me, Stark,” the man shouted, his voice made into a squeak by the weight of Trevor’s foot. “Let me go or I’ll tell the cops everything I know about you. About Wayne County.”
Trevor’s foot didn’t move, even though the man clawed at it.
Sirens sounded, red and blue lights flashing through the parking lot entrance. Armed police officers jumped from the car. Trevor didn’t release the man until the cops had reached them. They rolled him over and cuffed him.
Thoroughly shaken, Paige tumbled from the Escalade. Trevor ran to help her, gathering her into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She clung to him, every one of his hard muscles a kind of reassurance. “Another da
te ruined,” she whispered. “This is getting ridiculous.”
Chapter 15
TREVOR KEPT PAIGE tucked under his arm while she gave her statement to the police. He couldn’t believe how cool she’d stayed under pressure, trying to calm down the asshole, relate to him on a personal level. Then again, maybe he shouldn’t be surprised after the way she’d come to his rescue last time.
He gave a statement too, confirming that the carjacker was the same man who had attacked him in the parking lot last month. He explained that he’d come out of the stadium to see his Escalade driving crazy across the lot, and that he’d at first assumed Paige was playing a joke on him.
Then he’d seen that two people were in the SUV. He’d run after it, cut the power with his spare remote key, and dragged the man out before he could harm Paige.
He didn’t mention what the man had said about Wayne County, even though it kept clanging through his mind like warning bells. Maybe he knew something, maybe he didn’t. The only thing that mattered—the only thing Trevor cared about—was keeping Paige safe and getting this man off the streets. Going after him, that was one thing. Mess with Paige . . . fuck no.
The only bright side was that he’d just had a giant wake-up call. Stay away from Paige. He should tattoo it on his forehead.
Finally, all the official business was over and he was alone with Paige. She still looked pale, but not quite as shaken. “I’ll drive you home,” he told her.
She crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. “Have you forgotten we’re on a date, Trevor Stark?”
“Have you forgotten what just happened? You got kidnapped because of me.”
“I got kidnapped for about two minutes, if that. By a moron who didn’t even think you might have an override key. And you rescued me. Nope, sorry, none of that lets you off the hook. You asked me out, and you’re taking me out.”
“Paige . . .”
God, he had to make her understand what a mistake it would be to get involved with him. He cupped her elbow and turned her to face him. “There are things you don’t know about me,” he made himself tell her. Once she knew those things, she’d run screaming.
“I know you put apple blossoms in your glove compartment. I know you called the cops even though you hate cops. I know you never would have let that man hurt me. I know you want me the same way I want you.” Her eyes were huge in the lamplight, sapphire-dark and urgent.
Desire for her thrummed in his blood like a drug. “Yeah, all that is true. And more. But I’m nothing but trouble for you. What am I supposed to do, put you in danger because I want you?”
“Maybe you should let me have a say,” she whispered. “Tell me why I shouldn’t be with you. Why you’re so bad for me. What’s so terrible about Trevor Stark?” She lifted a hand to interrupt him. “And Nina told me that’s not your real last name, so you can start there.”
He stared at her for a long, long moment, hiding all his turmoil behind the glacier of his face. It felt as if the ground was crumbling from under his feet, as if he stood on a lonely cliff face about to be washed away by the sea. No solid footing, no way to hide. Paige had just been kidnapped because of him, and that man had mentioned Wayne County. He needed to tell her. Even if he lost her.
And he would. He had no illusions about that.
Finally, his voice like a rusty hinge, he said, “Not here.”
“Take me to your hotel room.”
“Okay, but we’re not—”
“Just take me.”
She’d nearly ended up in his hotel room the very first night she met him. Then, it would have been a one-night stand type of thing, a shallow encounter between two strangers. Now, it was perhaps the opposite. It was Trevor dragging his hand through his hair, pacing the room, looking scraped raw. It was Trevor tugging his shirt off his back, showing the burn scars in the shape of a W—the gang emblem of the group that had drawn his father into their criminal web.
Now, it formed the skeleton of a hawk that had been tattooed in meticulous detail around the scar.
“That’s to remind me never to stop watching my back,” he told her, while she stared, speechless, at the work of muscled, inked beauty that was his back. Wide shoulders, tapering to a taut waist, with endless ripples and ridges of sinew in between. Hovering over it all, the harsh image of the hawk, wings spread open.
“That’s . . . beautiful.”
He gave her an odd look over his shoulder, then pulled his shirt back down and leaned against the wall while she sat cross-legged on the bed. “I don’t know where to start with this fucking story. My dad was a pharmacist. Normal, middle-class guy. Taught me baseball, soccer, everything. Then my mom died, and he went to pieces. Started using drugs from the pharmacy. Then he got into harder stuff, using the pharmaceuticals as payment to the dealers. It got worse and worse, but I didn’t know most of it. I was always playing baseball. Nina would come to me sometimes and ask what was wrong with Dad, but I had no clue. She was at home more and she knew something wasn’t right.”
He passed a hand over his forehead, as if even talking about this hurt. “Then I think my dad tried to get out, but they sent some thug over to muscle him into line. That’s when . . . well, the guy was no match for a baseball bat. I went into juvenile detention for the rest of high school.”
Horror flickered through her. “Did he die?”
“No. Brain damage.”
She frowned, sorting through the story. It didn’t seem to completely add up. “If you attacked the man who was hurting your father, wouldn’t that be considered self-defense?”
He was quiet for a long time. “It didn’t play out that way. And I can’t say any more about it. Just that my father worked it out with them so the gang wasn’t suspected of anything. He was going to take the blame, but I was only fifteen. If he’d been sent to prison, Nina and I would have been on our own. I wanted her to be safe, so I confessed and got sent to juvie. I think my dad thought I’d be safer that way. I probably was, mostly.”
“Mostly?”
“A couple months after I went in, they bribed a guard. He knocked me out and I woke up on a folding table next to a smelting oven. That’s when I got the scar on my back. They wanted me to know that my time in juvie wasn’t payment enough. That they owned me. They said there was more to come after I got out.”
She touched the scar on his cheek. “This?”
“That’s the first line of a W, but that happened three years ago, and I wasn’t unconscious. He didn’t get far.”
A chill shot through her.
Trevor’s jaw worked, his eyes a turbulent green. “Soon as I graduated, I changed my name and got the hell out of town. I had to change my name once more after that, after a Detroit cop put it together. He was working for them. After I signed my major league contract, I sent for Nina. I got her set up somewhere safe in another city. I don’t know if they’re looking for me anymore, but I know they’d still love to find me. And that’s why you should have nothing to do with me.”
The flat finality of his voice shook her up even more than his words. And the truth was, she could see exactly what he meant. Anyone would say he was a dangerous person to be around; her father sure would. But was it his fault that his father had gotten involved with drugs? His fault that some gang enforcer had attacked his father? His fault for rushing to his father’s defense?
She got up and walked slowly to his side. He tensed. She could practically see the electric barrier rising between them. “Where’s your father now?”
“He died of an overdose while I was in juvie. I only saw him a few times after that night.”
The stark sadness of that statement horrified her. God, none of this was fair. “I’m so sorry, Trevor.”
She took his hand, rubbing her thumb across his big knuckles. After the way he’d manhandled that carjacker, she could imagine what he’d done with his father in danger. With a baseball bat or bare hands, Trevor was a warrior. He defended those he cared for. She’d seen it over
and over.
Lifting his hand to her lips, she kissed it. “Is the Trevor part real?”
“Yes.”
He tried to pull his hand away but she didn’t allow it.
“Paige, listen. I’d like to think all of that is dead and gone forever, but the truth is, it could come back to bite me anytime. I’ve changed a lot since fifteen, but they’d still recognize me if they saw me. Hopefully, they never will. But I can’t guarantee that. And you don’t want anything to do with those guys. They’re evil.”
His eyes darkened, and he shifted his back muscles in an unconscious gesture. She thought about Trevor, a fifteen-year-old baseball prodigy, thrown onto a folding table and branded with a hot iron.
“It’s not fair,” she burst out. “How long are you supposed to live in fear of them? Forever?”
“I don’t know. If it was just me, I’d say to hell with it. But I have Nina to think about. She’s what matters most.”
“Nina?” Paige frowned. Would they go after her as a way to find Trevor? It seemed like a stretch, but what did she know about this kind of thing? Absolutely nothing. And then something else clicked. “You don’t want to play in the majors, do you?”
His head shot up, his startled reaction telling her she was onto something.
“You think it’s too risky. You might have to play in Detroit. Someone could spot you and put two and two together. It’s safer here in Kilby. Who ever goes to Triple A except the locals? That’s why you keep sabotaging your career.”
He yanked his hand away from her and strode to the window. “I don’t sabotage my career. Have you seen my stats?”
“Yes, I’ve seen your stats. I’m working in the accounting office right now, and it’s like Moneyball back there. I’ve seen your personnel records too. You keep screwing things up right when you’re about to get the call. Drives my dad nuts.”
“That’s not my problem.” Ice cold, as always. But now she knew what was behind that uncaring mask. She wasn’t falling for his act anymore.
Drive You Wild: A Love Between the Bases Novel Page 15
