“Since Kyran made it for me the morning he defended me against Will Simmons.”
“Wow, domestic, athletic, sexy and heroic, all in one.”
“Tracey, do you think Jeremy could help me with legal advice?”
“If it’s law in Maryland or Baltimore City, he might. Why?”
“This whole thing with Seville and a man with a crowbar, it scares me.”
“He went after her. Kyran saved her,” Tracey supplied.
“That’s what’s been said. But the attacker went for Kyran’s knee, like he knew that would take him out.”
“It would have taken anyone out.”
“True,” Anna agreed. “Listen, something’s not right with that ex of his, maybe she’s a narcissist or just plain selfish. Whatever, she’s messed up. She sent photos of him with women, lots of women. I’m not going to show them to you because they are graphic and I’m in one of them. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to do and I thought I might puke any second.”
“No way, that’s cruel.”
“Yes.”
“And scary, Kyran’s dated all those women?”
“More than dated,” Anna admitted. “Believe me, when I first saw them I was angry, hurt. Thank you for letting me cry, Tracey. If you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have looked closer. When I did a second time, I dreaded it, but then saw that all but mine were grainy, older, maybe transferred from print to digital. And more importantly, they’re of Kyran when he was younger. His hair wasn’t as long. He only had tattoos on his biceps. Now he has them on his thighs. He got those during his rehab over the summer.”
“Okay, very strange. What’s important is that you know they are from the past, Anna.”
“Thank God.” It didn’t change the fact that Kyran had been sexually involved with at least six women in those photos. The other six shots weren’t as graphic, fortunately. They’d shown him at dinner, dancing and partying with his dates like they’d mattered to him at the time. Hers was graphic enough, but her body parts were mostly hidden by Kyran’s naked backside, his jeans shoved down to his hips.
Since his return to football, he’d settled down. He’d admitted he’d played the field in his younger days. She knew it. Knowing someone managed to spy on him during all those dates scared the shit out of her. Since they were waiting on Phalen Maddox, Anna decided to call Alexander Grant. He might have some answers.
“I’m going to call Alexander Grant,” Anna told her friend. She dialed his number, but was immediately sent to voicemail. She left a message letting him know she needed to speak with him and that she was in California waiting for Phalen Maddox to arrive.
“No luck?” Tracey asked. “Talk to Phalen Maddox when he gets here. He’s a PI, right?”
“And Kyran’s college roommate,” Anna added.
“Which means he knows Kyran pretty well,” Tracey said.
“Tracey, I’m ashamed to admit I was angry at Kyran for this, doubted his integrity. I believed Seville’s photos. For half the flight, I was torn between decking him and sacking him for good. He’s going through hell right now, he was attacked by someone wielding a crowbar and I feel horrible for getting angry for things that happened before he met me.”
“Don’t beat yourself up for that. Heck, if I’d seen old photos of Jeremy with a few ex-girlfriends, I’d be furious. If your phone rings and you think it’s Seville, give it to me. I’ll be glad to set her ass straight.”
Anna was going to take the phone off vibrate, then noticed the voice mail icon on her cell showed six missed calls. She listened.
The first was from Phalen Maddox. He’d made his connection and was scheduled to land earlier than he’d thought. The second was from Detective Ron Smith from the Baltimore County Police Department, insisting that it was urgent she call him. He’d called again, same message. The fourth was Detective Joshua Noble from the Malibu Police. He had some questions about the suspect in custody for the attack on Kyran.
Anna frowned and played it back. Why he’d want to question her, she didn’t know. She didn’t have time to call him back when the sixth message played. It’d been Alexander Grant, letting her know she should come to California ASAP.
So many names and thoughts flew through Anna’s brain. It was enough to give her a headache. When the coffee came she was grateful. She’d wait until Phalen got there before calling the police.
“Two cops want to talk to me, one about Kyran’s attack,” Anna told Tracey. “Something is terribly wrong around here.”
“Maybe you don’t need a cop. You need a lawyer and Kyran needs a bodyguard.”
Anna didn’t respond. As much as she loved Kyran, she couldn’t look away from the big, smoking hot blond guy that just came into the pub. Nearly as hard-bodied as Kyran and at least two inches taller, his hair was almost to his shoulders, slightly wavy. He wore a Red Sox cap and a faded brown aviator jacket. He looked around.
The back of his coat had Airborne written across it. He looked big, bad and as rebellious as Kyran Black with an air of a soldier rather than athlete. The worn Sox hat gave him away. So did the worn leather carry-on bag in his right hand.
“Phalen?” Anna called out. She and Tracey were in a booth and not easily seen from the entrance.
He swung around, smiled in relief and strode toward her. God, he was bigger than Anna’s man. Her man, wow! Despite Seville, photos, men with crowbars and reporters, she still thought of Kyran as hers.
“Hey, darlin’,” Phalen said. “Plane landed early, you ready to go? I rented a car. We need to go to the rental lots.”
“We just got coffee and breakfast,” Tracey said. “Come sit for a minute, Mr. Maddox. There’s stuff going down here you need to know.”
“Coffee sounds good.” Phalen climbed into the booth, taking Anna’s side. “Nice to meet you, Anna James, who’s your friend?”
“Tracey Harding,” Anna introduced. Tracey was a brunette who packed a giant’s loyalty in a petite frame. “And there’s no need to tack on the James.”
“Sounds good,” he said. “I’ve known of you for months anyway, seems fitting.”
“You did?” Anna almost squeaked. “Why?”
“Truth?”
“Yes.”
“Kyran met a woman last winter, fell damn hard, fast. Took him a few weeks to convince her to go out with him, drove him wicked crazy. She was different, not gaga over his fame. He was determined to catch her. She finally agreed to a date. When he couldn’t reach her the next day, he asked me to help.”
Anna clenched her fists. “Kyran had me investigated by you?”
“Cool down, darlin’. Not in the way you’d think. He wanted me or his agent, Alex Grant, to find you. He ended up calling off the search. Thought it might offend you and he’d wanted to find you himself.”
Kyran had told her about that. He’d not lied.
“He was really that interested in me back then?”
“Sure enough, he was pretty vocal to me and Alex about it.”
Anna smiled. Kyran had been genuine the night they first had sex. She’d let what she thought would only be a one-night stand become the love of her life. It hadn’t been a mistake to trust him.
“Phalen, you need to see something,” Anna decided.
The waitress returned with a pot of coffee, a mug for Phalen and a basket of toast. She also plopped down three bowls of oatmeal with raisins and left.
“Oatmeal?” Phalen stared at it like it might bite him.
“Kyran likes it,” Anna told him.
“He used to make tons of it in college.”
“His mom was a short-order cook when he was a kid. Maybe it’s a good memory for him.”
“Suzanna Black is an amazing lady. You’ll like her. She raised her boy right.”
Anna had to agree. Taking that into account, she thumbed her touch screen to find the photos. It was hard to let go, only because she wanted to protect the women and Kyran from scrutiny.
“What the fuck?�
�� Phalen grumbled as he took a sip of his coffee and the phone at the same time.
Anna rolled her eyes. Regardless of the Boston accent and blond hair, Phalen reminded her of Kyran. Kyran was raised in the South, but both had Irish-Celtic roots somewhere in their gorgeous genes. She was certain of it.
“Best that I don’t look at those, I assume,” Tracey said, picking up a piece of toast.
“Afraid so,” Phalen answered for Anna. Talk about bossy, this guy was certifiably Alpha from head to toe.
His expression went from surprised to furious, each photo he flipped through increasing the frown. “Anna, these look bad,” he said, thumbing the screen. “They’re not what you think.”
“They’re old. Except for the one of, umm, me and Kyran,” Anna sipped coffee, surprised that she swallowed without feeling sick. She grabbed her spoon and dipped into the oatmeal.
It was bland, heavy as lead and exactly what she needed.
“Good call,” Phalen murmured, still looking. “These were taken when he played for the Malibu Sharks. This is what he looked like then. I didn’t do the tats on his thighs until last summer and added more detail to the ones on his biceps.”
“You’re a tattoo artist?” Tracey interrupted. “I thought you were a PI.”
“I’m both. Anna, I remember the women he dated back when he lived in Malibu. They’re all here.”
“He definitely dated a lot of women before I met him,” Anna said. “I know that’s in the past. It’s still difficult to see those pics.”
“It’s fair to say he remained loyal to the one he was with. When things ended, he’d move on, probably broke a few hearts. He was a fifth-round draft pick out of college, a second-string QB when he first signed with the Sharks. By twenty-three, he was leading that team. Women loved him and he got caught up in the fame.”
“And by twenty-seven, he faced a near career-ending injury,” Anna commented, knowing the details. “He came back and signed with the Griffins, changed, settled.”
“More like he was before he became a legend. I know it’s hard to see the women. That lifestyle ended long before he signed with the Griffins.” Phalen fiddled with the phone. “I’m going to need these. There’s a way to find out who took them and transferred them to digital.”
“You think you know who it was?”
“We have a dead paparazzo who happened to have dozens of photographs and images on his computer of Kyran and Seville Davis when they were together. I’ve been in contact with the police in Hollywood three times since last night. They think Max Henderson has been following Kyran for at least five years, got caught or scared and flipped out. Wouldn’t be surprised if he took these shots.”
“That’s creepy,” Tracey said, shivering openly.
“Yeah, it is.” Anna plunked down her spoon. She was sick for Kyran. “Oh god, Phalen, do you think Max was outside my house because he was actually spying on Kyran, not me?”
“Afraid so.”
“You’re supposed to humor me and say no.”
“I don’t lie,” Phalen stated.
“But why was he obsessed with Kyran?”
“Not sure he was. Given what else the police discovered in that apartment, Max had an IT set up that a hacker would be jonesing for. That took some skill and money. Kyran wasn’t the only celeb he had on his setup. Someone was paying him, bet my next tat on it.”
“Money, it’s always about money,” Anna said.
“If it’s about money, someone should find out who was paying his bills,” Tracey said, setting her half-eaten oatmeal aside for a second to sip coffee.
Phalen sat up, tucking Anna’s phone into his pocket. “I’m working on that. Have a brother with the Boston police. He’s making some calls for us.”
“On the phone last night you’d said you would check on Brenda Jamison.”
“Now see, I got to thinking. Her name was familiar when Kyran mentioned it awhile back. Did some research and found out why. She went to college with Kyran, Alex Grant and me.”
“Kyran told me that he went to school with you and Alex. I don’t think he remembers Brenda.” Anna liked Alexander Grant, but there was coolness to his personality that kept him a little detached. She figured it was the agent’s constant need to remain at the top of his game in a crowded field of competition. Representing superstar athletes and their sometimes inflated egos couldn’t be easy either.
“Have to admit the three of us broke some hearts in college, but not every girl was on our radar. Even though he was older, Alex was more rebellious than me or Kyran, that’s for sure. His family is mega-rich. Their blood runs blue, feel what I’m saying? Think he was trying to lash out at their ultra-conservative views back then. He went hiking through Europe after he’d graduated and later came back to open his business. The sports agency made his mama and daddy real proud. He’s a fine agent. Doesn’t go for the biggest bucks, but what’s best for his clients.”
“What’d you do when you graduated?” Tracey chimed in.
“Joined the Army, Special Ops, became an L.T.” The Airborne label written on his jacket was the real deal.
“Please tell me Alex isn’t somehow involved in any of this,” Anna asked, thinking of what she learned about him.
“Not a fucking chance,” Phalen said. “He’s always had Kyran’s back. He’d do the same for me if I asked. A couple years ago, I got hurt, real bad. My shoulder’s more metal than bone now. Bottom half of my legs, crushed. Alex made sure I had the best Army docs in the country working on me so I’d walk again.”
“That’s a relief, I mean to know he helped you and is looking out for Kyran. So Brenda Jamison went to the same college with you guys, weird,” Anna said.
Phalen refilled the coffee mugs, pouring his own last. “Not as weird as the text from my bro when I got off the plane. Jamison’s first cousin is Seville Davis.”
Anna almost spilled hers. “Jeez, that woman turns up like a bad penny. Phalen, when did Kyran meet her?”
“While she was with the cheerleaders,” he said. “He became the Sharks’ star QB soon after she signed a modeling contract. Now she’s a media darling. She loves the attention, good or bad.”
“Explains why she got in and out of the Sharks stadium so easily,” Tracey supplied.
“I didn’t think he dated her while he played for them,” Anna commented.
“Far as I knew, they hung out a bit. Dating? Not ’til he was sidelined. Kinda felt like she used his injury to worm her way into his life.” Phalen shifted, his long legs bumping the table. “Alex and I both warned him, but it was Kyran’s call on who he dated. He came to his senses soon enough.”
“Remind me not to hurt that woman,” Tracey groused.
Anna was so tempted to beat the stuffing out of Seville. Doing that would only provoke a woman who was unstable.
Tracey sat forward, gesturing with her left hand. “Wonder if a former cheerleader turned supermodel could have sway over another team’s cheerleading squad, who’d then give a cousin of that former cheerleader access to inside info on another team or player.”
“Can’t answer that,” Phalen said. “Don’t know a damn thing about cheerleaders.”
“In all fairness, the cheerleaders I work out with for the Griffins squad are all pretty nice,” Anna replied. “The guy sharing mascot duties with me was one. Oh god, speaking of work, I didn’t call school.”
“You’ve got the weekend to worry,” Tracey said. “It’s Saturday.”
“And Kyran’s at the hospital,” Anna added. “I need to see him.”
“Anna, your phone is buzzing my ass like crazy.” Phalen took it back out. “It’s a doctor’s office. Looks like you have messages waiting.”
“I listened to them.” Anna leaned closer to Phalen, reading the display. “They were detectives, you and Alex Grant. One of the cops wanted to talk to me about the attack last night. The other was from Baltimore.”
“Why you?”
She couldn’t answer h
im. Her phone vibrated again. Phalen gave her the phone.
“Hello?” she answered.
A man responded. “Ms. Anna James?”
“Yes, speaking.”
“This is Dr. Ryan Hathaway,” he continued. “My sincere apology for not calling sooner, but my nurses couldn’t access your phone number as it’s unlisted. Alexander Grant gave it to me.”
“I’m sorry, doctor. What is this about?”
“Kyran Black, I’m his surgeon.”
Anna gripped the phone, shoving all but her man to the back of her mind. “Is he okay? Please, I’m here at John Wayne Airport. I want to see him.”
“He’ll be relieved to know that. Come to Malibu General Hospital as soon as you can manage.”
“Is he okay?” she repeated.
“He’s going to be. I’m afraid I can’t give further details over the phone.”
“I’ll be there soon. I’m bringing two friends, as support.” Anna closed the phone, handing it back to Phalen.
He looked relieved not to finish his oatmeal even though he’d eaten most of it. Tracey finished her bowl.
At least they all had something in their stomachs for the next round. Anna grabbed a piece of toast while fishing in her purse for bills and a disposable mini toothbrush with cleanser you didn’t have to spit out. She had three, gave two away. It was weird and awkward to use it. They all did anyway. She felt much better when she was done.
Phalen gave back her cash, placing money on the table to cover the check.
“Let’s go,” he directed, showing his keys. “Damn phone of yours is a pain in my ass.”
“Vibrating again, huh?”
“You can look in the car.”
“Jeez, you’re as bossy as Kyran.”
“No mistake, darlin’, I’m worse.” Phalen grinned without a single dose of remorse. In fact, he looked to be the kind of guy to take charge. She was really glad he’d come to L.A.
From there, Phalen led them to the rental car garage. It took a few minutes, but they were soon escorted to a blue midsize sedan.
Phalen pulled a netbook from his bag and stowed the rest of their things in the trunk. He hustled them into the car, placing the small computer on the front seat.
Quarterback Blitz Page 26