The fact that the Malibu Sharks management hadn’t thought Kyran was capable of coming back from an injury that might have ended another man’s career didn’t seem to matter to them.
“Hey look, there’s your guy,” Tracey pointed out.
Anna grinned. There he was, Kyran Black, dressed in his tight gold uniform pants and a white undershirt, tape around his knee and football cleats on his feet. He was standing outside the visiting team’s locker room with Griffins star QB Ricky Weathers. They were surrounded by reporters.
“The cameras do love Kyran,” Tracey said.
“Definitely,” Anna agreed. More of the cameras were pointed toward Kyran than Ricky Weathers.
If Ricky said something, the microphones went to him, as did the cameras. But more often they swung back to Kyran. Ricky was a little smaller, not quite as gorgeous, but good-looking in his own right. Kyran’s image as “The Rebel” had given him some notoriety, whereas Ricky was still being tested by the media.
As Anna watched the interview, she noticed a woman pushing her way through the crowd of reporters. Not just any woman. Seville Davis crashed into a cameraman.
“Apologies,” she murmured toward the mic. “I have to get to him, thank him. Without Kyran Black, my career, my life’s work, might have ended.” Then she pushed her way to Kyran!
Anna’s heart clenched. She couldn’t breathe. Seville launched herself at Kyran, grabbing him about the neck and hanging on. Cameras rolling and bulbs flashing, the media circus ate it up as his arms went around her.
Anna told herself he did it to stop Seville from hurting herself or risk being blitzed by the model. It still hurt, no matter what she wanted to believe. Seeing how beautiful Seville looked in some black, expensive dress that didn’t belong at a football stadium. The cameras devoured her long, angular limbs and facial structure, making Anna feel frumpy…and old.
“Kyran, I’m sorry about the mistakes I’ve made. If the cougar’s history, my boy toy is. Swear to God, I’ll wear this all the time,” Seville pronounced for the benefit of the cameras, flashing her left hand, sporting a humongous pink diamond ring.
For what seemed forever, he didn’t move. He looked stunned, like he’d never seen her before.
Seville took his silence as permission to actually try to kiss him. He stopped her, easily hoisting her off him and setting her carefully on her feet.
“Have you lost your mind? We aren’t anything, get it?” Kyran glared down at her, his temper clearly going through the roof. He lowered his voice, speaking only to Seville, but from the look of her posture, fury was gripping her.
Some of the Sharks players had come out of their locker room, trying to see the commotion. They headed straight for Kyran and Ricky when they saw Seville and Kyran arguing.
Something drew Kyran’s eye past Seville, past the reporters and the big men marching toward the visitors’ locker room.
“How’d he get down here? Fucker’s crazy! Cut the cams, call security, ASAP.” He pushed Seville toward Ricky.
Ricky pushed Seville behind him and the main camera feed went out. The audio feed remained and continued picking up on heated shouts and warnings too chaotic to understand. Leave it to the media to find a story, probably another gossip-fed headline waiting for them, Anna thought, but something was terribly wrong.
Then she sat bolt upright. A fight was going on, she was sure of it. It sounded like everyone was in a panic, one voice rising above the commotion. A man yelled, “All those photos, you bitch, you’ll pay!”
“Seville, get the fuck out of the way,” Kyran shouted in warning. His fury cut through the audio, damn near killing Anna with dread.
Someone male growled something, his voice eerily familiar, but too strange to make any sense to her. “For Anna,” he wailed.
The sound of a bat cracked into something equally hard, ricocheting, the cry of agony that ensued horrendous, making absolutely no sense to Anna. That sounded like Kyran!
The network finally cut the live audio, the silence both welcome and horrible because she didn’t know what happened.
It took a minute to go to commercial.
“What was that?” Tracey asked.
“I have no idea,” Anna said when she could breathe again. She checked her watch. That had to have taken all of a minute to go down and despite what they’d heard, it didn’t make sense. “There’s bad blood between the Sharks and Griffins, ever since Kyran signed with Alexandria. Maybe the Sharks got in some early punches or something? If one of them hurt him, I will tear him limb from limb, slowly.”
“Seemed to me things got weird when that psycho woman jumped on your guy. Who was that? She came out of their locker room.”
“She did? That’s Seville Davis, by the way.”
“The one in the underwear catalogues?” Tracey clarified.
“Yes. She’s Kyran’s ex.”
“Explains why she looked familiar. Someone should clue her in to the ex part,” Tracey said. “She was ready to eat Kyran for dinner.”
Not an image Anna wanted to have right then, she took a really long pull of her beer.
“Kyran told me she had a nasty jealous streak back when they were dating. Apparently she’d liked being seen with him because it gave her more notice with the paparazzi, which she loves. She didn’t like not having the attention when he left California. They’d ended things soon after Brenda Jamison ran a story about him with another woman. Turned out he was just helping a friend of Ricky Weathers.”
“It’s very strange, not to mention the story thing from Brenda,” Tracey commented. “You sure Seville’s aware they are done? I mean, I like Kyran and all that, but what was that dig about a cougar?”
“Not sure. She’s a bitch. Her latest antics feature her boyfriend taking her to some sex club. They were caught in an embarrassing situation and the photos went viral. She called Kyran a few times to see if he’d get Alexander Grant to help her out of the media storm. He hasn’t taken the bait. Plus she has her own agent and lawyers.”
“Good call for both men. Stay out of it.”
“You know, something’s not right. I really want to concentrate on the network going black. You’d think if the teams had a fight, the cameras would have kept rolling. Reporters love fodder ratings.”
“Cameras went out on Kyran’s command. The rest was like listening to a train wreck and not knowing how to stop it. Not sure you noticed the audio sucked, as if only one mic was still on at the time of the fight.” That was why the sounds came out so distorted and awkward. She’d not known, her heart had been in her throat.
Anna frowned. She loved Kyran Black, was considering living with him. Part of her really wanted the kind of commitment that came with an engagement ring, but maybe that was far too soon for either of them to think about.
Trust him, she told herself. Trust Kyran to do the right thing and not have further contact with Seville. He’d looked genuinely surprised to see her. He’d pushed her away. Or had Anna seen what she wanted to see? She’d heard it said that five witnesses to a crime scene can see five different things.
“Anna, don’t worry,” Tracey said after a few seconds. “It sure didn’t look to me like he wanted her to jump him. He set Seville on her feet, remember? He was not into her at all. My money’s on you keeping him for the long haul, know what I mean?”
“Sure do,” Anna said. She glad Tracey was with her. “Let’s check that chili before I chew my lip off with worry.”
“Your man is an incredible cook. Remind me to have my Jeremy learn from a master.”
“Ha, I’ll do that. At least our boyfriends like each other,” Anna commented.
The two headed for the kitchen. Kyran had made her a huge batch of chili and froze it for her. He’d left instructions to heat it up in the crock pot. The spicy flavors would improve with the slow cooking, he’d claimed.
Anna tested it. He was right, spicy and hot and just about perfect. By game time, dinner would be served in big soup bowls
with chunks of cheddar cheese and cornbread.
While Anna and Tracey talked, they each got another beer. From the kitchen they could hear the sports commentators conversing about the two teams set to play that night. It was more a comparison of players and strategy than anything regarding the strange appearance of Seville Davis a few minutes ago.
Maybe there hadn’t been a fight and Anna had imagined hearing a man shouting threats and using her name? Couldn’t be right, could it? Surely the news would have said something about it. Her kitchen land line rang before she could go see what was happening on TV.
“Hello?” Anna answered, recognizing the number.
“Anna, darlin’, Phalen here,” Kyran’s college roommate replied.
As much as she loved Kyran, Phalen Maddox had the deepest, sexiest voice with a touch of a Bostonian accent. “Hey, are you watching the game?”
“Planning on it,” Phalen said. “Doesn’t start ’til eight, right?”
“Ah, guess I’m overly excited. There was a fight or something during an interview with Kyran and Ricky Weathers. The cameras were filming, then cut out. A mic picked up the chaos, but my friend Tracey and I have no idea what happened.”
“I’ll turn on the coverage, see what’s up.” There was a shuffle and she heard the television turn on. “Listen, the reason I’m calling. Kyran asked me to track a reporter for him. Gave me info on the guy’s car and plate,” he said, “car” sounding like “cah”.
“The one who goes by Max Henderson,” Anna said, recalling Kyran’s concern about the man who’d spied on them through her front window.
“He went missing shortly after his stunt in front of your house and hasn’t been seen at work since that evening.”
“He’d taken photos he shouldn’t have,” Anna said.
“Here’s the deal, Anna. He’s been found, dead. Looks like a suicide, but homicide hasn’t been ruled out. Investigation is ongoing.”
“Oh my god, you don’t think Kyran had something to do with that, surely!”
“No way in hell,” Phalen assured. “John Brown, aka Max Henderson, lived in Hollywood, California. He was found in his apartment three days ago. From what I can tell from the ME records, he died of a gunshot wound to the head. No sign of struggle or anything, not even a note.”
“Is there anything you or the police need from me or Kyran?”
“Don’t think so. I wanted the two of you to know what’s happened. I don’t think you’ll have another reporter snooping outside your house.”
“Let’s hope not. I sure didn’t want something like this to happen to the man.”
“Could you have Kyran call me later?”
“You bet I will,” Anna said. “Have you heard anything about Brenda Jamison, Phalen? She resigned from her job.”
“So I’ve heard. Have to admit I wasn’t looking to find anything on her. Kyran’s agent and lawyers were taking care of that.”
Anna had to admit she was a little worried about Brenda. Even if Max’s death was a suicide, it was disconcerting. She didn’t want to think that man’s death had anything to do with her or Kyran.
“Could you try to find her? Just to make sure she’s okay?”
“I can do that for you,” Phalen agreed.
“I’ll pay for your time.”
“No fucking way. Kyran would tan my hide if I let you. I’ll take care of it, Anna. You watch the Griffins kick the Sharks’ ass and I’ll do my part.”
“Thanks, I can’t wait to meet you sometime soon.”
“Ditto, Anna James. We’ll talk soon, darlin’.” Phalen clicked off his phone and Anna hung up. She’d not asked for one, but maybe she’d come around if Kyran held her hand.
“Who was that?” Tracey asked.
“Phalen Maddox, friend of Kyran’s from way back. Um, you remember the cameraman who took pictures through my front window?” Anna reminded, gesturing toward the family room.
“Kyran broke his camera. Don’t tell me photos turned up.”
“Thankfully, not this time. That guy was a paparazzi reporter for Frontline News. Can you imagine the trouble that would cause?”
“Isn’t that the news show that feeds mostly celebrity gossip to cable TV and the internet?”
“That’s the one. Phalen’s a PI. He discovered that the reporter died three days ago.”
“Oh no.”
“Yes, police think it’s a suicide, but they’re investigating whether it was something more.”
“Like a murder, you think?”
“Possible,” Anna said. “It’s really creepy thinking about it. The man was spying into my home, taking photos that might have been used for porn or something. Now that he’s gone, I somehow feel responsible.”
“If he took his own life, he’s responsible for that. Let’s not think about it. The game starts in fifteen.”
Anna stirred the chili again, suddenly not as hungry. She really did hope Brenda Jamison was okay. It was too crazy to know that the man in the nondescript sedan was now dead.
No one had wanted that or wished it, certainly not Anna or Kyran.
Back in game mode, Anna claimed her place in the recliner and Tracey went back to the sofa. They chatted a little. The Malibu Sharks stadium filled the big screen, the commentary giving way to a bird’s-eye view of a huge crowd. Didn’t look like an empty seat in the house, however the seats were painted in such a way that the blend would keep the cameras from seeing spaces between the fans.
Former professional football players took the screen as the play-by-play callers for the network covering the night’s game. The anchor of the three-man team was a familiar sports presence for football coverage on the All-Sports Network. Behind the men, Sharks cheerleaders were wowing the crowd with their choreography, not to mention their outfits.
The anchor suddenly clutched his earpiece. The former players turned to him, their expressions serious. When the anchor received his news feed, he looked into the camera.
“Welcome to All-Sports Network coverage of the season opener between the visiting Alexandria Griffins and the Malibu Sharks.” The anchor listened to his earpiece again. “Word just came in to us here at the sports desk. Griffins’ coach, Brian Cahill, told reporters that his starting QB for tonight’s game has been injured in a pregame disturbance and taken in for x-rays. Cahill promised to comment on the cause and extent of the injury after the game.”
“Oh no, that can’t be right! Kyran was supposed to start tonight,” Anna confided, the dread she’d tried to ignore coming to life.
“I thought the starter is Ricky Weathers.”
“Normally, yes,” Anna said. “Ricky’s been nursing a minor hamstring pull. Coach Cahill wanted him to rest tonight.”
Her cell phone jingled a snazzy jazz tune. Throat tight with worry, she rushed to the kitchen, grabbing the phone.
That was Alexander Grant’s ringtone.
“Mr. Grant?” Anna said into the phone.
“It’s Alex,” he replied absently. “Don’t have time to explain, Anna. I’m heading to L.A. right now.”
“The report on the news, it’s about Kyran, isn’t it?”
“Derek Billings called. Press showed what looked like a fight outside of the Griffins’ locker room. When the camera feed was cut, audio was examined closer and it became clear the players were trying to protect Kyran and Seville Davis from an attacker. The man was crazed, like he was on some major meth or acid trip. He went after Seville with a crowbar. Kyran took the brunt of it.”
“Oh no, that can’t be,” Anna gasped, tears running in a hot stream down her face.
“Try not to worry, Anna,” Alex said, sounding rushed. “I’ll contact you when I know anything more.”
“Let me come with you. I want to be with him.”
“No, you stay put. Once I know it’s safe, I’ll call you and arrange a flight.”
Anna understood, even though she wanted desperately to fly to California on the first flight out. But why would she be in
danger? She could only assume that Alexander Grant knew more about the attacker than he was willing or able to share right then.
———
Pain splintered through Kyran’s immobilized knee. Pain that went with broken bones and meant he was fucked.
Being fucked made him think of Anna’s new toy. She’d given it to him pretty good. Damn if he hadn’t liked the way she switched on him. Better had been the way she took his cock afterward, so open and wet and tight. Sex with her was nothing short of mind blowing.
Had it been a week ago that he’d been with her? Yeah, pretty fucking sure it was.
The scrap of a hospital gown they’d put on him was a joke. No way was he getting a boner thinking of fucking his woman while his knee felt like a crowbar had taken him out.
Matter of fact, it had.
Moving hurt like a son of a bitch, pretty much killed his hard-on. Whatever the docs had given him to deaden the pain made him forget which hospital he was in. The pain was still there.
Last he knew, he’d demanded to talk to Anna as paramedics worked on him. They gave him an elephant’s dose of tranquilizers to shut him up.
When he’d woken, nurses and physicians were surrounding him. He’d already been poked, prodded, x-rayed and examined. Here he was, stuck on a gurney in an ER hundreds of miles away from Anna.
Fuck him for leaving her without getting her to say yes to living with him. He should have convinced her. Nah, Anna deserved better. He should have asked for more.
“Mr. Black,” his orthopedic doc came into his private cubical. “It seems you’ve caused a bit of a stir here at Malibu General.”
“Was hoping not to see you for a while, Doc.” Kyran’s throat felt like he’d eaten concrete. Hell, he needed to piss too. But that wasn’t a problem. A catheter was up his cock, doing the work for him.
Quarterback Blitz Page 24