“Look, I shouldn’t have said what I did and I’m sorry. Can we start over? We’re both stuck here, so you might as well learn something from me.”
She opens her mouth, and I’m immediately expecting a retort, but then she closes it and nods. “Fine. So teach me something.”
Okay then.
“Let’s work on your backhand. It’s the weakest in your game.”
Her mouth drops open and I laugh.
“Trust me, honey. If I can pick that out as your weakness, so can your opponents.” I shrug like I don’t care. “If you don’t want to be the best, then don’t listen to me.”
She walks over to the base line and glares at me. “Are you teaching me or what?”
I chuckle and walk over to her.
Oddly enough, her rude, blunt personality is growing on me. She has insulted me so many times I’ve lost count, she doesn’t listen, and her way is always right, but I’m actually warming to her.
Not that I’ll tell her that.
Chapter Ten
Scarlett
I finish work at two and head for the parking lot behind the bank.
My plan is to go straight to Penny’s and pick up Jake, and then take him back to the hotel. I decide to stop off at the hotel since it’s on the way, and check the place is clean—or, rather, kid-friendly, because the past few nights have been anything but.
I walk inside, and the first thing I notice is the used condom sitting on the floor next to the sofa, along with my lacy black panties. I cringe and grab a tissue to dispose of the evidence.
Thank fucking God I decided to come here first.
I could just imagine the questions that would have led to.
After a quick survey of the rest of the room, I’m satisfied enough to leave. Before I do, I call reception and request the room be cleaned. Just in case. Grabbing my bag, I head back down to the ground floor and walk out the back, cutting down to the side street, where I’ve parked my car.
As terrified as I am that everything is going to backfire on me, right now, at this moment, I’m happy. Things with Ryder are great and I can’t wait to see my son again.
The only worry I have is Tony.
My heart starts pounding just thinking about him. I laugh. How sad is it that he has that kind of power over me? Even when I think he’s gone, he never really is.
He always comes back.
My phone vibrates and I pull it out of my jacket pocket. I don’t recognize the number, but I instantly know who the message is from.
Have you got my money?
My heart races. How the hell did he get my number? My palms are sweating as I reread the message. I press delete and shove it back into my pocket. I don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t go to the police, I can’t tell Ryder the truth...
All I want to do is protect my son from this monster, but I have everything stacked up against me because of something stupid thing I did two years ago because I was desperate. Something I’m sure Ryder wouldn’t understand.
I reach my car and open the door, falling into the seat. I sit crouched over with my feet planted on the road, contemplating my options. Not that I have many. If I have any feelings at all for Ryder, the last thing I should be doing is dragging him into this.
That’s the thing: this isn’t just about me.
If Tony doesn’t let this go, and the papers get a hold of my past, then Ryder will be ruined. His family would be dragged into this. What kind of person could let that happen to someone they supposedly love? Maybe that’s selfish, but the thought of not being with him was something I can’t even imagine.
I can’t walk away; I’m in love with him.
“You know, it’s rude to ignore text messages when you so clearly received them.”
My breath catches and my whole body freezes. I’m in panic mode. Tony crouches in front of me, effectively blocking me in and invading my space. He’s smirking, like catching me off guard is getting him off. He’s such a sick bastard that it probably is getting him off.
“What do you want?” My voice comes out like a strangled whisper. Any hope I have of pretending he doesn’t scare me evaporates the second he appears in front of me.
He chuckles, his eyes dark. “You know what I want, Scar. And if you keep playing these games with me, I’ll play back. Do you want me to play back? You used to love my games.”
I never loved his games.
As he speaks, his finger is trailing up my bare thigh. I freeze, because I know exactly what he is saying. I know what he’s referring to, and it’s killing me. He glances around, taking in the posh exterior of the hotel.
“You told me you weren’t seeing him, Scar.” He’s pretending that he’s hurt, but I know this is all just about money for him. Money and control.
I swallow and close my eyes. I’m sure my heart is about to explode. I can’t think of a response that he actually might believe, so I don’t answer. I tense as he leans in, his lips brushing over my cheek.
“You don’t want to fuck with me, Scar. I have no problem bringing down everyone you love.”
“Even your son?” I fire back, my voice full of spite.
His eyes light up, as if he’s won some kind of battle by getting me to respond. I watch as an evil glint fills his eyes and a smile slowly spreads across his thin lips.
“If it hurts you, then especially my son.”
“You sick son of a bitch, get out of my face or I swear I’ll scream,” I spit at him.
His eyes narrow. He reaches out and grips my wrist hard, bringing me close to him. I can smell the stench that is old cigarettes and whiskey—the Tony Special.
I yank my hand back and push him away. He’s caught off guard and tumbles back. I take my moment and slam the door shut, shoving the car into drive. Tires screeching, I speed away. I’m shaking and I feel dizzy from holding my breath. But most of all, I feel empowered because I finally stood up to him.
***
I haven’t moved. It’s been exactly eighteen minutes since the text came in, and I haven’t moved. I’m sitting on the edge of the seat of my car, outside an abandoned shed on the outskirts of town. I stare at the dark asphalt under my heels, shaking as I try and figure out what my next move is going to be.
That was the wrong thing to do, Scar. Now I’m pissed.
Tears fill my eyes. He has my number. My address. He knows I’ve been staying here with Ryder. I can’t bring Jake back to this. Not until I figure out what the fuck I’m going to do.
I laugh and rub my forehead, trying to ease away the sharp ache that has developed. If I give him what he wants, how long until he’s back in my life? If I never saw him again, it would be too soon, but it never works out that way. Two years ago I gave him what he wanted, and now he’s back, using that against me.
My heart pounds as I reach for my phone. My hands are shaking as I type the message to Penny. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I don’t have any other option. I laugh, because I’ve turned into one of those women. How did I go from strong and independent to this? I’m disgusted with myself. I hate who I am right now, and I hate what I’m about to do even more.
Once I send this, everything changes. Once this is out there, I can’t take it back.
Me: What do I need to do?
Chapter Eleven
Ryder
My back is killing me. I pop a few painkillers and ease myself onto the couch along with my laptop. I’ve just finished work, and even though it’s barely the afternoon, I’m already wrecked. I have less than two weeks to go before I head back to London, and I’m not sure how I feel about leaving yet.
I’ve decided mentoring isn’t so bad. I mean, I’d much rather be doing something else—or nothing—but since I don't get a choice, I guess it fills in the time. And when Cally actually listens to what I have to say, it feels good being able to pass on some of my knowledge.
But the thought of leaving Scar, especially with her scumbag ex hanging around, makes
me feel sick. I’ve already decided I am staying until he is out of the picture.
Even if that means taking matters into my own hands.
I lay my head back and close my eyes. Matt is still hounding me to see some specialist here in the states, but thus far I've managed to avoid it, because what I don’t need right now was him knowing exactly how close I was to being ready to play again.
Still, my curiosity over my injury is getting the better of me, so I made an appointment to see a completely different specialist—one that Matt would never know about. I almost feel like I’m cheating on the guy, which is fucking ridiculous considering it’s my life and my career.
I just need to get my brain around my options before he starts pressuring me to get back on the court.
I have just under an hour before my appointment, so I open up my laptop and navigate to my email. I'm not surprised by the huge number of unread messages. I haven't checked my email in the weeks. Usually, even going one day without doing it makes checking my email hell.
I click on an email from Josh.
Hey Man,
You’re the worst person EVER to try and get in contact with. Why don’t you answer your fucking phone once in a while? Anyway, just thought I’d check and see how you’re going. Feel free to email or text me so I know that you’re still alive. Otherwise I have to fly up there and kick your ass. Any word from her?
Hey, will you be in London for Wimbledon? I could use the support in my box ;)
Josh
I chuckle and then click on the next message, which is from Matt.
Ryder,
Don't forget we have an appointment on Friday to see Doctor Larkin. You've already cancelled three times, so let's try and make this one, hey?
Matt.
I groan and reach for my phone and type a quick reply to Josh.
Mate,
Yeah, sorry about the lack of contact. If it makes you feel any better, I talk to you more than I do my mother. Wimbledon, hey? Sure you’re not going to crash out in round one again? Because I’d pay to see that. I’ll be there. You know I always have your back.
And yeah, we sorted things out. The guy was her ex. He showed up after seeing her with me in the tabloids.
Ryder.
Scrolling through my contacts until I reach Scarlett, I press call. I miss her voice already, and I wonder where she is. I know she was working early this morning. Maybe she’s gone to pick up Jake. Her phone rings out, so I hang up and send a text instead.
Me: I miss your face.
Whether it is out of boredom, curiosity, or concern, I find myself Googling Tony. She hasn’t asked for my help, but I can’t sit back and let this wanker win. I can see the panic in her eyes when she thinks I’m not watching. The thing is, I'm always watching her. I can watch her for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough. She has enough to worry about with Jake being sick.
I don't know much about the guy, apart from his name. I guess that his age would be around mine, so I start with that. Almost instantly, I hit a brick wall.
Apparently Tony Larezzi is a pretty common name.
I never claimed to be a sleuth, but this is just ridiculous. There is no way I’m going to get anywhere without some help. Then it hits me: there is someone who can help. I can’t believe I didn’t think of her earlier.
I reach into my back pocket and retrieve my wallet. I cringe, because it’s such bad form to keep a business card from a chick I fucked once in my wallet. Honestly, I have no idea why I haven't binned it, but right now I'm glad I still have it.
Do I text, email, or call?
Text and email both seem so impersonal, but calling her scares the fuck out of me. She’s probably the only woman in the world who intimidates me.
In the end I decide email is the safest.
Anna,
I would start by saying hello, but I know how anti-small talk you are.
I need a favor. A friend of mine is being hassled by an ex and I’m after info on the guy. Me being me, I have no idea where to even start. I was hoping you could point me in the right direction?
I hope this isn't too weird for you.
Ryder.
I get a response almost immediately; at the same time, a text from Scarlett comes through. I reach for my phone, a wave of guilt heating me as I read.
Scar: I miss you too xx
Four little words that make me feel like shit.
What the fuck am I doing? I have no right to be digging around in her life. She asked me to keep out of it, and that’s what I should be doing. So why can't I leave this alone? I tell myself it's about wanting to make sure both she and Jake are safe, but I'm not being completely honest.
This is also about me needing to be able to trust her again. I hate that part of me feels this way. But the reality is, she’s lied to me once—how can I be sure she won’t do it again? Why is she so hell-bent on not accepting help? She is adamant the police can’t do anything. The only reason I can come up with is that he has something on her. Something big.
I sigh and rub my eyes. I do trust her. I do . . . don’t I?
My email beeps again and I click on it. I’d forgotton about Anna’s waiting reply.
Ryder
I have to say, I'm a little shocked to hear from you.
In a good way, of course. I’d be happy to help you out, but you know us reporters rarely do anything without getting something in return, so here is the deal: I'll get you the info to me on your guy and in return you get me an exclusive interview. I’m not talking a pissy little one-page spread either. I want scoop. I want you on the front page of the mail, baring you soul. Deal?
By the way, how's your arse? ;)
Anna
I chuckle. I should have known that there would be strings attached. I weigh up my options. Matt will kill me if I gave an exclusive interview to her without talking to him first, especially considering there would be no questions that are off limits.
But my curiosity about Tony and what he has over Scar is something I don't think I can ignore.
Anna,
You have yourself a deal. All I know is this guy’s name. Tony Larezzi. Hell, I’m not even sure if it's his real name. If it helps, he has a son who is seven, named Jake Calera.
I'll be back in London in two weeks. We can either do the interview then, or over the phone. Let me know.
Ryder
Again, the reply is instant.
Ryder,
Okay, I'll see what I can come up with. No promises though. Not unless you can get more information on this guy, like a social security number or a license? As for the interview, when you get back is fine.
A good excuse to see you again in person ;)
Anna.
I'm sure she's flirting with me but I choose to ignore it. I hope she's not expecting repeat of last time. God, what if sex becomes one of her “conditions?” I groan and stand up, trying to ignore the pit in my stomach.
Why do I have a feeling this isn’t going to end well?
***
I'm sitting outside the surgery room, waiting for my appointment. Next to me are two sets of x-rays: one I just had done, and the other from right after the accident. I'm actually able to sit normally in a chair now, and the pain is only constant when I do too much. I can't decide whether this is a good or bad thing. The faster my injury heals, the more pressure I am under to make a decision about my future.
I look up as I hear my name called. A woman in her late thirties is smiling at me. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, but loose curls still fall in her friendly green eyes. I smile back and stand up, following her through the waiting room and into her office.
“Ryder, take a seat.”
“Thanks for seeing me,” I say, sitting in one of the oversize mahogany and leather chairs that face her desk. I set the films down and glance around the room. The décor is tired and it’s in need of a paint, but photos that I assume are of her family hang on the walls, giving it a homely feel. Which reminds me
: I need to call my mum.
“Of course.” She sits down and examines the films. “How is the pain?”
“It's much better. I get a dull ache if I exert myself. If I sit in the same position for too long it gets quite painful, but apart from that, it feels fine.”
The anonymity of the situation makes me feel like I can be completely honest. If I were seeing Matt’s doctor, I’d probably be playing up the amount of pain I was in.
“Good, good,” she mumbles, focusing heavily on the films. “The break it is completely healed. Over here you can see where the muscles were torn, but even those are showing great improvement over your older ones.”
“So what's the go?” I say nervously. I swallow as I wait for her to answer.
“I think when you get back to the UK you should make an appointment to see your regular surgeon. In my opinion, there would be no reason for you to not commence some basic training now if you feel up to it.” She looks me straight in the eye. “You could be back on the court in time for the US Open if everything goes to plan.”
Her words penetrate me and I feel sick.
If everything goes according to whose plan?
Because I have no idea what my plan is anymore.
This is not how I should be feeling hearing this news. If anything this gives me more insight into what I want for my future, it’s that, but I’m no closer to feeling like I know what I want. I stand up and stick my hand out. She takes it, clasping it firmly in hers.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stevens. I hope you're back on the court soon.”
“Thanks, and I appreciate you squeezing me in.”
***
I press ignore on my phone and toss it on the floor. I’m sprawled out on the couch in the hotel, trying to process the news that I might be fit enough to play again soon. My phone rings again, so this time I reach over and turn it off. Seven missed calls from Matt. What could be that important?
I resume my position on the couch and turn on the TV. My laptop sits on the coffee table in front of me. I lean forward and grab it, curious as to whether I have any emails.
There is one waiting from Anna.
Wildcard: Volume Two (Wilcard, #2) Page 5
