Player: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (81 page)

I
'm not
one to dodge or avoid my problems, and yet that's exactly what I spend the rest of the morning doing. After that last look with Bryce at the elevator, I push it as far out of my mind as I can as I walk around the walls of the old city.

It's hardly the first time that man has me doing things or acting ways I normally wouldn't be.

What's worse is that there's no one I can even talk to about any of this. The one person I could usually call whenever I need is being held hostage; not that I could talk to Logan about this
anyways
, I guess.

I'm suddenly even more envious of the Archer sisters than usual; jealous that they have each other. I've got a fairly low opinion of the worth of families in general, but when I see ones like theirs, I can't help but feel that pang inside at never really having one. I'm a loner, and I like my solitude, but there's something to be said about having a safety net like that.

Or someone to talk to; like right now for instance.

I've only got Logan, and even when he's
not
busy being kidnapped, he's- well, he's
Logan
; not exactly the best go-to for girl-talk. He's a hard guy to get a handle on; a hard guy to have open up to you or talk feelings with. Well, except if you're Quinn. Because somehow that girl got through to my thorny, stone-hearted brother. And in a way, I guess that makes us closer than, well, closer than anyone else I've got.

I stop short on my shuffling walk; I have to make a phone call.

* * *

“
P
eyton
?” Her voice sounds raspy and deadened, like she hasn't been sleeping. Which, given the circumstances, she probably hasn't been

“Oh my God, are you OK?” There's hurt and worry in her voice, and it suddenly occurs to me that I've never checked in with anyone after getting here. I wince into the phone as it kind of hits me for the first time that my unexplained disappearance has probably caused even more worry for a group of people already worried sick about someone missing.

I need to get better at this whole “family” thing.

“Quinn, I'm-” I'm what, sorry for being an asshole and just
leaving
like that? I'm sorry for making you guys worry even more, as if you aren't already dealing with enough?

“I'm sorry.”

Quinn sniffs out a small laugh; “I was just so worried about you!”

People worrying about me; people noticing when I'm not around.

“I know, and I'm so sorry. I just had to- I had to
do
something about getting-” I stop and take a deep breath, as if saying Logan's name out loud will hurt her; “We're going to get him, Quinn.”

She takes a deep sigh; “I know you are,” she says; “If anyone can, it's you.” She laughs; “I was just thinking about Florida, with that whole thing, and you just-” Her voice breaks; “You just
fixed
it all.”

“Of course I did,” I say quietly, smiling as I look out over the city.

“You're strong, Peyton. I wish I was as strong as you.”

Strong; right
. I wince;
I certainly don't feel like that today. There's a stab of something inside as all the
stuff
with Bryce starts bubbling up, and suddenly I realize that calling like this was a mistake. I can't burden her with this shit right now, she's got enough to think about.

“Quinn, I actually need to g-” I stop and shake my head; forget it, I’m telling her. I have to; “I need to tell you-”

“Oh! I need to tell you something too!” She laughs, and it's probably the first time she has in days; “OK you first.”

The burst of confidence leaves me as quickly as it arrived; “No, you-”

“Oh c’mon!”

“Trust me, it can wait,” I say glumly, kicking at the phone booth with my shoe.

“You're going to be an aunt.”

The words hit me like a slap across the face, and I practically drop the phone as my eyes go wide; “Wait,
what?!
”

Quinn's laughing as I stand there with a huge grin on my face; “Wait, you mean you're- you're-”

“I'm sorry, I wasn't going to tell anyone unless- until he got back.” Her voice is quiet, and it starts to break like shattered glass; “There's just already a lot to think about right now.”

She starts to cry, and suddenly the fact that I'm ten-thousand miles away from my family hits me.

My family.

I can feel my jaw tighten; “We're going to get him, Quinn. I promise.”

T
he street
outside the cafe is utterly abandoned; the stalls that hawk fruit and vegetables and books and other nicknacks throughout the day are now boarded up for the night and their crowds gone. There's a sinking feeling inside, realizing how remote the place is, especially with the shades of the place drawn and only a faint glow of light coming from beneath the front door. But hell, I could be meeting Anderson in the middle of Grand Central Station during rush hour and still feel the impending dread I'm feeling inside.

With the dread comes nausea, and a horrible sneaking sense of revulsion and doubt of self worth. I'm doing this for Logan, for Quinn, and for their unborn child; for my
family
. But, I can't help but wonder what doing this makes me, however noble the end-game.

And of course, there's the man I walked away from this morning;
again
. The man that complicates things at every turn in my life; the man that I somehow just can't get away from, no matter how many times I walk away from him.

I shake my head in the quiet, twilight street; I can't think of any of this right now. I just need to get this
done
. Get it done, forget it, and move on to saving Logan. After that, it'll just be another scar to forget about later, that's all.

I close my fingers around the knob of the cafe door, and step inside.

It's dimly lit inside, and I feel the tingling sense of dread I pushed away outside come roaring back. It's not just dim, it's
dark
; too dark. And there's
no one here
.

“Hey, babe.”

Well, not “no one.”

I stifle the gasp in my throat as I whirl to see Anderson stepping out of the shadows by the coffee counter, grinning that creepy, lingering grin at me.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” I try and force a smile out of the thin, drawn lines my lips have become; “I thought we were going out to dinner?”

Anderson just keeps smiling that wolfish grin at me; “Change of plans.”

Don't run, you can handle this.

“Excuse me?” I say, my fingers still lingering on the doorknob of the open cafe door.

He looks sober this time, which suddenly has me even more on edge. A drunk man, even one twice your size, is handleable, or at least avoidable. Drunk and sloppy I can deal with.

Stone-cold sober Anderson, with that predatory look in his eye and that terrifying grin on his face, however, is another story.

“Yeah, thought I'd change things up; you know, be
spontaneous
.” I'm not used to him not three sheets to the wind, and he moves faster than I'm expecting. Suddenly he's right in front of me, pulling me against him and slamming the door shut, out of my hand behind me.

I can feel the fear spike in me, the revulsion of being so close to him and feeling his hands on me sour in my mouth; “Anderson, what's going o-”

“Just wanted to have a little
alone
time
, babe,” He winks, the motion totally devoid of anything remotely warm or calming; “Just
you
and
me
; no distractions.”

The warning bells are roaring like an air raid siren in my head now; every single basic “fight or flight” instinct going into overdrive inside of me.

“Yep, just you and me, babe. No
business calls
, no
assistants
, none of that.”

I feel like screaming, or running, or just exploding on the spot, but I force that down with everything I have; “I- I should go, Anders-”

“Nah.” His grip on my arm tightens, hard, and he leans in close; “Not this time.”

Oh, God.

“No more playin' hard to get, sweet cheeks,” He chuckles, his breath hot; “Time to
put out.
”

Oh hell fucking no.
And right then, the fight or flight kicks in again, hard;
this is NOT happening.

My knee jerks up
hard
, catching him right between the legs as I shove him away from me and whirl towards the door. But then I'm screeching as I feel the weight of him crush into me, slamming me face-first against the wall and knocking the breath from my lungs. I can hear him
laughing
behind me, the sound wheezing and horrible; “Uh-uh, girly, no more fuckin games with me!”

I start to scream but his hand comes down over my mouth, bottling my cries and sending them shrieking through my mind instead. I'm thrashing against him, trying to pull away.

“Time to ride the Bull, ba-”

And then suddenly his hand is no longer over my mouth and his body is no longer pressed against me as he goes
flying
across the room. I gasp and whirl around in time to see him go crashing over an empty cafe table stacked with chairs and crumple into the floor.

The scream is frozen in my throat as I watch some sort of
shadow
, roaring with fury and rage like a wild animal, launch itself across the room at Anderson.

Bryce.

Bryce out of a nightmare, clutching Anderson by the collar of his shirt as he savages him, hitting him again and again like a man possessed until the bigger man goes limp. He drops him and whirls on me.

“
Bryce?!
”

“Let's go.” His face is back to neutral, but the fire is still roaring like an inferno inside his eyes; the muscles of his arms still clenched as tight a his fists.

“What- What did you-” My mind is whirling a million miles an hour as I stare at the unconscious Anderson on the floor. On the one side, my would-be-attacker, on the other side, our one ticket to getting Logan back; “What did you
do!?
”

Bryce's look hardens for a flashing second, narrowing his eyes at me; “We're going, now.”

“But-” I'm frozen; wordless, unable to move, and unable to think as the full reality of what almost just happened hits me like a cold freeze; “But, I- I mean, he-”

Suddenly, Bryce is in front of me, his arms are around me, he's lifting me up, and I'm shrieking as he just throws me over his shoulder and yanks open the door to the cafe.

Then
I find my voice; “What the
fuck
are you doing?!” I shriek at him, pounding at his broad back with my fists.

“Taking you away from this,” He growls; “This was a shit idea, and we're made anyways, by the way.”

“Put me down!” I'm hitting him, but he's just moving out the door and down the deserted street with me over his shoulder; “What are you, a fucking caveman?!”

“Yes,” He growls lowly.

“You can't just drag me away like I'm '
yours
' you know!”

“Watch me.”

“
Damnit
, Bryce!”

He growls again and brings me down off his shoulder, holding me at arm's length with his hands on my waist; “I said we're
made
, Peyton!” His eyes flash again at me, and for just a half-second, I can see the fear there; “They had guys on the hotel, they know who we are.
He
knew who you were before you walked in there tonight.”

“Logan?” I say quietly.

“New plan.”

“Oh, and what
plan
is
that
?” I snap.

“
My
plan; the plan where I don't put you in the fucking lion’s den,” He says through clenched teeth, that rage back in his face.

“I can
handle
my
self
, Bryce!” I sneer at him; “I had everything under-”

“What, under
control?!
” I'm quiet, just locking eyes with him, feeling the heat sear off each other. He moves a step closer to me, his hands still tight on my waist; “I couldn't let something like that happen to you. I sure as fuck know Logan couldn't, and I'll be damned if I do.”

I want to throw it back in his face again, without even knowing why. I want to defy this man that I have such an insanely hard time saying no to, and I want to do it just to prove to myself that I
can
. I want to prove to myself and to him that he isn't stuck under my skin like we both know he is. I want to show us both that he hasn't folded himself into my psyche, or wrapped himself around my heart.

Because that just
can't
be; none of those things can be.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” He snarls; “ What are you so fucking mad about?”

“That you didn't trust that I could do-”

“I didn't trust
myself
to
let
you!”

Before I can think of something to say, he grabs my wrist and yanks me after him; “Let's go.”

“Where in the hell are we go-”

“Here.”

I blink; we've made it five feet to a black vintage looking motorcycle leaning against it's stand in the shadow of a seller's cart; “What's this?”

Bryce grins; “My new bike.”

I glance down in confusion at the keys in his hand. But then I can't help the grin and the rolled eyes when I notice the painted bull on the side of the bike with “The Bull” stenciled beneath it.

It seems I'm not the only thing Bryce has decided to liberate from Anderson tonight.

“Get on.”

I hesitate only for second, but then it's just like, well, like riding a bike. I swing my leg over and settle in behind him, feeling the heat of his back against me, the smell of him close to me, the feel of his muscles flexing as he kicks back the stand and starts the bike.

“Hold on,” he says, but I'm already sliding my arms around his waist and clutching them tight. The bike roars beneath us, and the rumble of the engine, the smell of gasoline, the feel of this man in my arms - it all comes rushing back. And suddenly we're a year ago; suddenly nothing's changed.
We've
never changed, we've never lied to each other, we've never said things we can't take back, and we've never walked away from the one thing two shattered people could hold onto in this world.

I lean my face against his back, letting the moment soak into my skin; “Take me away from here,” I whisper in his ear.

He's silent, but the bike roars beneath us as we roar away from the shadows and out to the main street. And I'm holding him tight like the last lifeline in a dream, where I'll drown if I let go for even just a second.

And I know I never, ever want to let go again.