Penalty: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Alpha Second Chances Book 3) (8 page)

“Well, in any case, I’m going to take care of this. Just hang in there; we’ll sort it all out.”

“If we don’t die from that mysterious disease I gave you, first!”

He laughs a little and I can’t tell if he’s faking for my sake.

“Hey, do you mind if I see that photo? You know, the one with your mom. Now that it seems Beth isn’t exactly done playing around, you should probably hold on to it as evidence; start building a case against her. I know you said there’s no info on the envelope, but there might be traces of something a pro might pick up. Something in the ink or the handwriting or something.”

“Sure,” I say.

I doubt there’ll be any useful info on it, but I agree that holding on to it is a good idea, despite how much its very presence disturbs me.

I feel like it stares at me at night before I go to sleep, and in a few ways, it has even followed me to dreams—my mother in live action, smiling at me with Xs for eyes. Dreaming I wake up bald, then actually waking up and realizing it was just a dream as I touch my head.

I want to get rid of the hideous thing more than anything, but he’s right—it might come in handy somehow.

Maybe I can ask him to keep it in his room for me.

“But can we do it later? I really want to see you, without that… thing around. I’ve missed you so much. Can we go for a drive? You can fill me in on your trip.”

“I hear you. I’ll fill you in, all right.”

* * *

T
he next day
, after we’re both done with class, Abe reminds me about seeing the photo, so I invite him over.

It’s the first time Abe is visiting my room, and I’m so relieved Judy has taken off—the thought of making introductions at this time turns my stomach.

She said she may or may not come back later tonight, which leaves the possibility for Abe to sleep over, but I won’t risk it. Plus I’d be breaking my own rule.

Abe’s warm green eyes take in the space as I let him in, his large, muscular presence making the room feel even smaller.

“I can guess which side of the room is yours,” he says dryly as he stares at my neat half, stacked with books.

I nudge him with my elbow.

“Give me a sec,” I say as I head to the place where I stuffed Beth’s hideous gift.

I check it and come up empty.

I check again, thinking I missed it somehow, then begin searching all around the area when it doesn’t materialize.

“That’s strange,” I say, before extending my search.

“It’s gone? Your backpack maybe?”

I check my backpack, even flipping through the larger textbooks in case I absentmindedly stuffed it in one of those somehow, but nothing.

I know I never took it out of the room, and I tried hard to put it in a place where I didn’t have to look at it, but this is ridiculous.

This room isn’t exactly extensive—if it’s here, it should be easy to find.

I check all parts of my side and even the sink area.

“Maybe I sleepwalked and threw it out or something. God knows all I want to do is get rid of it; my subconscious could have easily taken over from there.”

“Are you a sleepwalker?”

“No, but the thing has been haunting me, so there’s a good chance I did throw it out, thinking I was dreaming at the time.”

“Hm,” he says, looking unconvinced. “Maybe your roommate was looking at it?”

I glance over at Judy’s side.

I don’t want to go through any of her stuff, despite the other day, so I do a quick search in areas I can easily reach and see—under her bed, her pillow.

I shrug casually, though I don’t feel so casual.

“Maybe it will turn up later. Who knows? It does seem to have a life of its own.”

I
have
to count to ten, taking deep breaths as I stalk Bethany with narrowed eyes.

I must remember to remain calm and not give her anything to use against me because it’s pretty clear that setting others up is what she’s made of.

When I feel I have sufficiently tamed my rage, I stalk toward her and pull her aside gently.

“Get your hand off me,” she says as she yanks her arm from my light grip, her blue eyes flashing.

I lift both hands in a surrendering gesture, reminding myself I’m dealing with an unstable person who can turn the tides against me with one scream for help, even though my touch was measured and gentle.

“Bethany, why are doing this?”

She contorts her face into a fake innocent look.

“Doing what?”

“Why are you saying these things about me? About Maddy?”

“How well do you really know your precious Maddy? Are you sure the rumors aren’t true? You’ve only known this version of her for what—a month or so?”

“I know her well enough, and she didn’t have to tell me they’re not true. I know where she’s been and what she’s been up to the past few years…”

“And you just believe her? You only know what she’s decided to tell you. She could be a serial killer for all you know.”

“Fine. I get that her past is a complete mystery to you, but it’s less of a mystery to me. Like you said, we’ve been together a month or so—six weeks, actually. And fine—I’ll give you that she could have fed me a bunch of bologna, but I did know her a long time ago. Even if I don’t know the real story of the past several years, I’m pretty sure none of that hippie cult and incest stuff is true. You didn’t have to make that crazy shit up.”

“You’d be surprised who’s in a cult near you. And anyway, why are you so quick to believe anything she tells you? What did she do to you to make you so willing to look past anything? Were you guys actually together before and not just neighbors? Is that it? Was she the one who got away?”

I take a moment to think before I speak.

“We sort of knew each other when we were young—I told you that. At that age, you’re not that great at hiding who you really are. Regardless of what you’ve made up about her, she’s a good person. She’s… sweet. And shy. She doesn’t have a wicked bone in her body.”

“So what are you saying—she’s basically the opposite of me? Is that why you like her so much?”

Probably part of it, actually.

“Look, I’m sorry things didn’t work out between us, and I’m sorry I hurt you. But let’s be grownups about this. You’ve had your fun now—how about you leave us alone now? Any guy would be lucky to have you; you’re a real catch.”

I wonder how much more I should flatter her?

“Then why not you? Why didn’t you keep me if you think I’m such a great catch?”

“Because we’re not right for each other. Look, I did have a great time with you, but I always knew we had an expiration date, one that would come up sooner than later. And I think you knew it too.”

“No, but I’d like to thank you again for wasting my goddamned precious time. You think you’re sorry now, just wait.”

She turns to leave and I resist grabbing her arm again to pull her back; I actually have to do a countdown and take deep breaths.

Clearly, I’m going to have to come up with a different plan—just talking to Bethany won’t help one bit; in fact, I might have just made things worse. She really flared up when I mentioned how long Maddy and I have been together officially.

But damn it, I’ve got drills on the schedule right now; I’ll deal with this later.

* * *

“
W
hat the fuck was that
?” Cody says as we start heading back to the dorm, both of us sweaty messes.

“You of all people should know,” I say quietly.

Cody shakes his head. “She’s really fucking with your game.”

For a moment, I’m not sure which ‘she’ he’s referring to, or even what ‘game.’

In a way, both Bethany and Maddy are the reason I can’t focus.

I need to figure out a way to clear my head—ideally by getting rid of the problem of Bethany, but I still haven’t figured out how.

“I just don’t know what to do,” I finally admit to him. “Bethany is hell-bent on revenge, and I have no way of anticipating her next move. I don’t know a single person who has been held accountable for spreading crazy rumors, so I’m not sure how to get her on what she has already done. She hasn’t done anything I can actually nail her for. That messed up photo she sent Maddy—I’m not sure it can actually be traced to her, and even if it could, it’s just a messed up photo. No outright threat. And being the origin of harmful rumors can be denied.”

I take a deep breath.

“This kind of deal is out of my league. How do I get her to stop without putting my ass on the line? No doubt any threats I make can and will be used against me, so how do I stop her reign of terror? Before things get worse?”

Cody’s just shaking his head.

I can tell he’s sympathizing with me, but he’s obviously at a loss as well.

“You might not be able to until she takes things up a notch and actually does something she can get in trouble for, something that can be traced to her.”

“No, I can’t do that—I can’t just leave Maddy a sitting duck.”

“Look, I know it’s tough to deal with, but keep your head in the game. Like you said, she hasn’t exactly done anything tangibly harmful. She’ll probably back off now; I don’t know where she could go from here.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing. I don’t think she’s done with us, but I have no fucking clue how she’ll strike next.”

Cody thinks for a minute.

“In that case, you probably need to fight fire with fire,” he says as we get on the elevator. “Like I told you, I heard some stuff about her—I have no doubt she’s got all kinds of skeletons in her oversized closet. Find ‘em, and let ‘em out.” He shakes his head again. “This is why you shouldn’t get into anything serious, man—not at this stage. These chicks are fucking with your future.”

“Yeah, well it’s too late. Maddy is important to me and I need to protect her. So can you help me or not?”

“How?”

“You once told me your mom took your dad to the cleaners, something about a P.I. Can I get the info?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“A few things, and time is of the essence. I need someone who can get results fast. Money is no object.”

Cody nods. “I’ll get you some names. But promise me you’ll keep your shit together.”

My body finally starts to relax a bit from relief.

“Deal,” I say with a grin.

I’m not sure what time it is, but I had only just gotten my brain to shut up and let me go to sleep around 2 a.m., so it’s definitely nighttime, based on the darkness outside.

I think it’s just Judy returning from wherever she spent her Friday night as I hear the door open, but I suddenly get the sense there’s more than one person in our room.

I figure maybe she brought a guy home, and I’m dreading having to pretend to be asleep while they get it on—no way I can sleep through that.

Chances are, I’ll end up thinking of Abe, wishing I was with him doing whatever they’re going to be doing.

I’m lightweight pissed since we kind of agreed not to bring any guys back here, but considering what’s been going on in my life lately, it’s not exactly the worst thing.

I hear a feminine giggle and roll my eyes, but then someone comes right up to my bed.

Before I know it, hands are all over me—one over my mouth, one working on covering up my eyes.

I start struggling against the hands and bodies, but there are more than two people here, and they are strong.

A voice says, “Move again, and I cut you, bitch,” and I feel a sharp object poking my neck.

Now is not the time to question how serious they are, so I decide to bet on complying and lie still, waiting for a demand, a statement of purpose—anything.

“I’ve got to see it—I need to see her face,” a feminine voice whispers as the light flicks on.

I realize they successfully blindfolded me, because although the light is now on, I’m still mostly in the dark with heavy cloth over my eyes.

I instinctively move to pull it off but my arms are pinned.

“Double duty,” someone says, and I have no idea what they’re talking about, nor do I care once I think I recognize the next sound: scissors.

More weight is suddenly on me, over my legs, as if they anticipate me kicking up a storm, and boy do I try once I hear the scissors near my ears and hands on my head.

Snip. Snip. Snip.

At this stage, I think it’s just for torture—my hair is still tucked away in twists and a bun.

But then hands are in my locks, working on loosening them from their restraints.

I’m not sure when I start crying, but I’m screaming against the gag, bucking fruitlessly against my captors and my other restraints as the
snip, snip, snip
continues, but this time, it’s the sound of scissors in contact with something other than air.

The sound seems to go on forever; I feel like I’m in a horror movie.

Snip, snip, snip.

I must be losing it—I practically see Bethany standing there with her hand over her mouth as she giggles at my expense, watching me fight and lose against the assault.

I don’t care what they do to me—I can’t stop trying to kick them away.

I barely notice when someone lifts my wrists and ties my arms to the foot of the bed.

I’m suddenly exhausted from everything—the crying, the fighting—so when the weights lift from my legs, I have nothing left to even kick out one last time.

I am lying limp, temporarily broken, trying to catch my breath, and trying hard not to think of what I know those bitches did to me.

I’m still pleading to the universe that things turn out to be not as bad as I imagine when I hear a voice I’m pretty sure is Bethany’s say, “Look at that! The mutt has finally been groomed.” Then closer to my ear, in an almost-whisper, “You should have kept running, bitch.”

The door soon closes after.

Eventually, I muster up enough energy to wiggle my way out of whatever they tied my hands to the bed with.

I soon find out it’s just some tie—probably one of Abe’s Beth kept. Or who knows. Who cares?

Wriggling out of it leaves a red, ugly mark around my wrists which I notice as soon as I pull off the blindfold.

I remove the gag.

They could have killed me; I could have easily choked to death on it. I could have been smothered!

My head feels lighter than it’s ever been, and my hair is scattered around me, but it still takes a moment to really register that the pieces are no longer connected to my head.

I stare at the detached lengths of curly brown hair, in denial.

I don’t dare bring my hand up to my head.

I wait until my breathing returns to normal, closing my eyes as I do so.

Then slowly, I stand.

I head over to the mirror, keeping my eyes closed until I’m standing where I estimate its location.

I open my eyes and stare at the foreigner reflected there—a girl with brown eyes like mine, but choppy, super-short brown hair. It’s so short, all signs of its natural curl have practically disappeared.

My fingers reach up to my nape, tugging at the pieces of hair there.

I didn’t exactly get a pro haircut, so the length ranges from one to four inches or so.

I pick through it section by section, as if trying to find a piece that remains still three and a half feet long, but alas.

Finally, the face of the girl in the mirror crumples, and I don’t see her face scrunched as she leans over the sink and cries her heart out.

I think she feels like her mom is finally gone now, forever.

She is utterly alone.

* * *

A
t some point
, I pack up all my stuff.

Luckily, I travel lightly, so it doesn’t take that long.

I can’t bear to leave my hair behind, so I gather it up, as much as I can, and stuff it in a bag as well.

I have no awareness of my surroundings, no idea if anyone even notices as I head to the parking lot.