“Dr. Jenkins informed me of what happened,” Dr. Hathaway said, closing the door behind him. “Not a lot of men would have done what you did.”
“Couldn’t let someone hurt her.”
“Understandable. There are some detectives outside that want to talk to you about the suspect. They think you might know him.”
“I can’t deal with that now.” His leg felt like it’d been mashed in a meat grinder. “My knee’s fucked up, huh?”
“Your patella is shattered.”
“Guess my season is done.”
“Not going to sugarcoat this for you, Kyran. You’re fortunate in that the patella has three pieces large enough that I can repair with wires. The smaller pieces should come together with a cast for about five weeks. The problem we need to watch is keeping your knee immobilized for too long, so you’re looking at intensive physical therapy. Given your previous history with major surgical repairs and infections, I don’t know how much more your knee can take once it’s healed.”
“Are you saying I’ll need a knee replacement?” Kyran asked, thinking of the long haul.
“That we’ll worry about down the road,” his doc said. “Let’s worry about the kneecap, fix it and get you home.”
Kyran grumbled, wanting Anna with him. Dr. Hathaway didn’t have to say it outright. His playing days were over. He knew it the second that bar smashed his knee. She needed to know now. “When should we do this?”
“Derek Billings wants it done tonight. Dr. Jenkins, the sports injury specialist for the Sharks, will be there to assist if you’re okay with that. Malibu General has everything I need for the surgery. We can have you under within an hour.”
“Let’s do it. Need my phone first.”
“Think the nurses took it,” Hathaway said. “Reporters and cops have made their way here, all demanding to talk to the hero.”
“Not a hero, I feel like shit. What time is it?”
“Almost eleven, they kept you sedated because you kept asking for your girlfriend. I’ll tell the police you’ll talk to them in the morning and see what I can do about your phone. Should I call your agent?”
“Nah, my lady is Anna James, she lives in Baltimore. Call her. Tell her not to worry, but she needs to get here.”
“Anything else?”
“What you told me, she can know.”
“You sure, might want to check with Griffins management first.”
“I’m sure. Let’s face it, Doc, my playing days are over.” Hathaway nodded once. Kyran lifted his arm to argue, but was snagged by an IV line. “Hey, tell her I love her and to be careful.”
“Will do, relax, you’ll be in surgery soon.”
Kyran made another painful attempt to grab Hathaway’s arm. “It’s important, Doc, get her here. She has to hear who did this from me. Then I’ll talk to the cops.” Anna in danger, surgery and his career flashed before him.
Kyran wanted to slam his fist into Will Simmons’ face again, damn psycho.
Angry, he didn’t notice Doc Hathaway leave. Seconds, maybe hours, later the guy returned.
“Seville Davis is at the front desk demanding to see you. She’s flashing a rock the size of a mountain, told a nurse she’s your fiancée.”
“Don’t have one,” Kyran shouted painfully. “If I did, it’d be Anna.”
“You took on a guy with a crowbar for Seville. You sure you don’t want to see her before your surgery?”
“If I do, I’ll fucking puke, Doc.” The idea of seeing her made him reach for a kidney basin.
Hathaway helped him out and pushed a button on his IV machine. A second or two later, Kyran relaxed a little. The juice in the IV was starting to work better this time.
“I’ll have the nurses get rid of her. You rest.” His doctor left to take care of Seville.
Kyran was glad he didn’t puke up his dinner. Would have gone great with his hospital gown and busted knee.
Why the hell was that bitch claiming to be his fiancée? If she hadn’t called out for Sharks players to come to her fucking rescue, he might have seen Will Simmons sooner. Sur-fucking-real!
Will had gone for Seville. But it’d been Anna’s name he shouted.
Kyran blocked his path with a roundhouse. His body locked, knee exploded with such force, he was on the floor before the pain kicked his ass. Next thing he knew, Sharks and Griffin players were all around him, medics working on him.
Fuck, he hurt. Hurt so badly that the pain in his knee was secondary. Reality check, he was not crying. The drips on his cheek were sweat. His career was fucked, but he still had Anna.
Yeah, he still had her.
Something in his IV kicked in. Anna’s face came to mind. She was so pretty, calming, a lady. Wiping his eyes, he kept focused on her.
Maybe he should buy Anna a ring. He’d do that when he got home. Then he wouldn’t have to convince her to move in with him. She’d be his wife and wacked-out exes wouldn’t bother them anymore.
———
Anna clutched her cell phone. Looking at the screen, she told herself not to fly to L.A.
Alex Grant had promised to call. There was no telling if the agent had reached California yet, so she had to wait.
“Anna, you should try to eat,” Tracey urged, coming from the kitchen with two bowls of chili.
“I can’t.” She was afraid to move. Eating required letting go of the phone, wasn’t happening.
“It’s been hours. The game ended. Coach Cahill gave a statement about Kyran. He’ll be okay.”
Anna cringed. Cahill revealed during a short press conference that Kyran Black had suffered a severe injury to his left knee when a man rushed into a crowd of reporters and Sharks players, wielding a crowbar. He went for Kyran, deliberately aiming at his knee.
The suspect had been apprehended and was said to have been sedated and taken away in an ambulance. When asked the extent of Kyran’s injury, the head coach could only say that the best surgeons and medical specialists in California were attending him, but he was expected to make a full recovery. Further information would not be given until Kyran Black’s orthopedic specialist held a news conference in the morning.
Anna had heard of celebrities and sports figures being attacked by fans or stalkers, sometimes to maim them, sometimes to make a statement or objection. There’d been some anger from Sharks fans against Kyran, but to actually do that? To attack someone with a crowbar was so cruel that she cried.
The reporters on TV were now glossing over Kyran’s record and career as a professional football player with the Sharks and the Griffins. They were painting him like he was a hero who’d sacrificed the rest of his career to save someone else.
But Anna suspected the witnesses were right. Kyran had been targeted and she was scared for him.
“Anna, look,” Tracey prodded, gesturing to the television.
Anna looked, wishing she hadn’t.
There on the screen was Seville Davis, posing for the plethora of flashing cameras and pushy reporters. Still in her fancy dress, she clutched a microphone in one hand, that diamond ring she’d worn earlier on clear display. It was so big it flashed a bright, eerie pink hue that seemed to wink triumphantly.
“I’ve a statement for you. Contrary to rumors, Malibu Sharks players did not storm the hallway earlier to cause a fight against the Griffins. They’d mistakenly thought Kyran Black and Ricky Weathers were hurting me. How wrong they’d been and how fortunate for me that Kyran was there. He took on a madman fully intending to attack me with a crowbar! Now he’s in surgery…possibly crippled, because he is a hero. He doesn’t need further hassle from the paparazzi. I’d personally appreciate if the media would wait until morning to speculate about the rest of his career.” Seville kept the camera glued to her, huge crocodile tears creating twin paths through her makeup.
If Anna had cried like that, she’d look like a clown. Seville looked tragic, yet beautiful. And so damn fake, it was all Anna could do not to crawl through the screen and kick
her ass. If there was one thing she could do, it was that, a snap of her foot to the woman’s left cheek to shut her up.
“Are the two of you dating again, Ms. Davis?” a reporter called out. “We’ve all been under the impression that Kyran Black has a pretty serious girlfriend back home. And we all saw how he rejected you outside the locker room. Care to explain?”
“What’s this tell you? Gave it back to me the day he returned to Malibu. We had a fight early this morning that carried over to the game,” the model answered, showing the crowd her left hand. The damned diamond flashed again.
A paparazzo wasn’t letting up on the inquest. “And this mysterious woman in Baltimore, she’s nothing, that what you’re saying?”
“That old bitch trapped him into a story of her own making, needing rescue. Kyran is gallant at heart and did what he could for her. I mean, come on, do you really think he’d give up what we had together for a forty-year-old scheming cougar? That’s the only answer you’ll get regarding his affair with her. She is done.”
Seville turned away, pushing through the doors of Malibu General Hospital, reporters rushing out after her.
Anna wanted to hit something, scream at the reporters that Seville was lying. She was lying! Couldn’t they see it? Then again, the cameras loved Seville’s severe, angular beauty that worked great on magazine covers and lingerie commercials. She could dazzle with those darn tears and that humongous diamond ring.
“That’s fucked up,” Tracey growled at the screen. “She’s a bitch to make up those lies.”
“At least you see the truth,” Anna said, grateful for that. She knew the truth, that’s what counted, right?
“I think the only thing she said truthfully was about the crowbar.”
“Well he’s the kind of guy who’d defend a woman, no matter who she is,” Anna said. For that, she was proud of him. She was still pissed at Seville, but she wasn’t going to let herself doubt Kyran. Not now, especially not when the man was in surgery as she sat there doing absolutely nothing and feeling helpless.
“She sure likes to show off that ring. Were they engaged or something? Maybe that’s where she got it.”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“I hope that’s true. Don’t misunderstand, Anna. But Seville made a beeline for your man and no one stopped her.”
“But he did. He pushed her away, you saw that too. Seville’s a celebrity and media darling. People know who she is and that they were once a super couple,” Anna supplied. “Why would they stop her?”
“Hmm, were the two of them together when he played in Malibu?”
“I…don’t know for sure.” Anna wouldn’t doubt Kyran. She would not. He’d told her he’d ended things with Seville soon after he came to play for the Alexandria Griffins. There was no reason to think he’d lied.
Shivers of doubt raced through Anna’s heart and she locked them away and tossed out the key when the phone suddenly played Led Zeppelin’s “Rock and Roll”. It was Kyran’s ringtone, the one he’d set because it was playing in his SUV when they’d had sex in the backseat.
“Kyran, thank God, I’ve been so worried,” she answered, longing for his voice.
“You can thank God later,” a woman replied. She’d heard that woman’s voice less than two minutes ago. “I’m calling to tell you to stay away from my man. After what you pulled with your ex and the press in Alexandria, you can expect the police to call soon.”
Totally confused, Anna growled into the phone. “Seville, why are you using Kyran’s cell?”
“Why do you think?” Seville countered. “Don’t be stupid on top of being pathetic. For some reason, Kyran has a soft spot for you over the other women on his contact list.”
“Kyran’s doesn’t have a contact list,” Anna defended. She knew him. Except for work and practices, they’d been practically inseparable since they got together.
“Ms. James, you are naïve if you think that. Think I don’t know how many women he’s been with, how many wait for him in whatever city he travels to? You’re just the sugar of the month for him,” Seville cooed, dipping her voice in a Southern accent that mocked Kyran’s nickname for her. “I’ve got documented proof. Check your phone, pictures are on the way. Come near him and they’ll go public.”
“You can’t…do that,” Anna said to a silent phone. Seville was gone. “Holy fuck.”
“Anna, what was that about?” Tracey demanded.
“Seville Davis called from Kyran’s phone.”
“You’re sure?”
“It’s his ringtone and number,” Anna answered. “Kyran’s in surgery and I feel helpless and angry and suspicious.”
“Of Kyran, you think he’s been lying to you?”
“I don’t want to think so.”
“But you’re in doubt?”
“Yeah, God forgive me. I’ve only been with him for little more than six weeks. He’s always seemed genuine to me. But his reputation with the ladies started long before he came to play for the Griffins. He got his rebellious reputation off the field, it started with the Sharks.”
“You know, I’m pulling for Kyran,” Tracey said. “Some dude attacked him. That’s got to be scary, even for him.”
“I know. I’m so pissed at myself for even listening to Seville spout off her crap.” It was all lies, all a trick. Seville had resources and used them to find Kyran’s cell phone number every time he changed it. It was possible that she figured out his ringtone.
Tracey was right. Kyran had stood by her when Brenda Jamison’s article came out. He’d taken on the paparazzi and protected her in front of Will Simmons. If she doubted him now she didn’t deserve him. They were good together. He loved her, was committed. She had to think about that and Kyran right now.
Drop Kick Murphy’s “Dirty Water” played on her phone. “Phalen?” she answered, recognizing the Bostonian native’s ringtone.
“Hey, darlin’, I heard there’s been some trouble for Kyran out in Malibu.”
“You heard right. Given what happened to him tonight and Max Henderson, I’m really worried.”
“Figured as much,” Phalen said. “I am too.”
“I’m thinking about flying there on the next available flight to L.A.”
“I’ll join you,” Phalen told her. “Call when you have flight plans.”
“Will do,” Anna said. “It looks like we’ll meet sooner than expected.”
“Looks like and don’t listen to that shit Seville Davis spouted to the press. Hit me back when you get a flight. You got the number.”
Anna closed her phone, decision made.
“I’m coming with you too,” Tracey insisted.
As fast as she could, Anna went to her laptop, found some airlines, made the calls. They’d leave on the first flight out of BWI at six a.m.
“Let’s pack a few things and head to the airport. It’s two a.m. now,” Anna suggested.
She was already on her way to her bedroom before Tracey could agree. As she packed, she called Phalen as promised. They’d meet him at John Wayne Airport in the morning and go to the hospital together. He’d already rented a car.
It wasn’t until she and Tracey were at the gate at BWI that Led Zeppelin played again. Anna didn’t want to look, yet couldn’t resist. There were a ton of photos being texted to her phone. She closed her eyes. Almost passing out when she opened her eyes to look, she thumbed through each one.
The photos were grainy yet left no doubt that the man in them was Kyran Black, a different woman on his arm or in his bed. As graphic in nature as the ones Kyran found on reporter Max Henderson’s camera, it didn’t look like he or the women were aware of the photos being taken.
As much as she hated Seville for sending them, they broke her heart. One by one, her heart tore a little more until she feared it would never beat the same again, especially after she came to the last photo.
It was Kyran and Anna going at each other against her small SUV. Vaguely she remembered the security ca
rt going by and the thumbs-up gesture by the guard. The guard could have snapped the picture and given it to Seville.
Why would Seville want such a picture? Why did the previous photos carry so much weight and worry, further breaking Anna’s heart?
“Oh Kyran, no, don’t let all this be true,” she whispered, unaware that she cried.
Chapter Seventeen
Given time changes, their flight landed at John Wayne Airport at ten a.m. Both heavy-hearted, Anna and Tracey took their carry-on bags to a pub and sat down for breakfast.
Anna was starving, but didn’t know if she could eat. Tracey looked around the terminal, finding a flight schedule on the wall outside the pub.
“Phalen Maddox was taking the same airline, right?” she asked when she came back.
“That’s what he said.”
“Looks like a plane’s due in from Boston in thirty minutes.”
“Guess we should eat,” Anna said. “I told him to check the restaurants along the concourse or text me when he got in.”
She hadn’t shown Tracey the photos. Her best friend had seen her look at the phone at BWI and start crying. To her credit, she didn’t ask. She gave Anna time to cry, letting her know she was there with a hand on her shoulder. It was the best thing her friend could do. It gave her time to think and figure out what to do next.
She honestly didn’t know whether to vomit or scream after seeing the pictures Seville deliberately sent to her phone a second time. She didn’t want to expose Kyran or the women in them to scrutiny or detectives, but she suspected she would have to.
For their safety, more so for Kyran’s, she needed legal guidance. She didn’t have the connections or knowledge to protect someone like Kyran Black without help.
Tracey sat with her at the table, flagging a waitress. “Can we get some coffee and toast? We’re expecting someone, so an extra mug and dishes would be great too.”
“Sure, ma’am,” the young woman said. “White, wheat or whole grain?”
“All three,” Anna answered. “And oatmeal if you have it.”
“Have it, want raisins?”
“Yes.”
The waitress walked off, scribbling on her notepad. “Since when did you start liking oatmeal?”
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