by Malone, Nana
She shook her head. “Besides me, no. Everything’s been normal.” She glanced at Izzy. “Except for Miss Bitchy and Coach McNasty, I haven’t noticed anyone.”
Izzy stared off into space not joining the conversation. Jessica’s lips formed the exaggerated question, “Is she okay?”
Jason nodded and hoped it was true.
He glanced at Izzy before continuing. “There was a break-in at the house. The police will be here in a minute. Could you show them back here, please?”
Eyes wide, Jessica stared at Izzy. If Izzy saw her, she gave no indication. “Uh, yeah. I can do that.” She turned her attention back to Jason and asked, “Do you want me to pick Nick up from school after practice?”
Surveying Izzy’s condition, he checked the time and nodded. “Let him go to practice, but I want you to stick around until he’s done and bring him to the studio. We’ll figure out where they’ll spend the night later.”
“Okay I got it. Izzy, no rush at all, but I think the bill for the frames is in the mail on your desk. You’ll want to try and pay attention to it tomorrow because they won’t deliver the rest until you do.”
After Jessica left, Jason knelt in front of Izzy. “You doing okay?”
She didn’t answer.
He tipped her chin up. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch. She appeared not to see him at first, but eventually her eyes focused, and she looked at him. “Jason, what the hell is going on?”
He wished he could be more helpful, but he didn’t know what else to say or do. All he could think of was to rub her knee and tell her it would be okay, but he didn’t know that for sure. “We’ll figure it out. I promise.”
He moved the mail to perch on the corner of her desk, sending letters scattering to the floor. As he bent to pick them up, one in particular caught his attention. There was no address on the outside.
He turned it over to check the other side. Spidey sense drilling at his brain, he tore it open.
Expressionless, Izzy stared at him. “What is it? Why are you opening my mail?”
He clamped down his jaw. Shit. Out of the envelope spilled several black and white photos with one common theme, Nick. Some of the photos included Izzy, but Nick was in all of them. A type written letter fell out. Before he could stop her, Izzy picked it up.
“Pay up, Sabrina. I don’t want to turn Martinez loose on such a pretty family.” She choked on the last word, barely able to get it out. Shaking, she handed the letter to Jason. “I know who Martinez is. An enforcer for Tony Rodolfo’s merry gang of dealers. Martinez is a sadistic bitch who’s roughed Sabrina up more than once before.”
He took the photo from her and shoved it back into the envelope along with the photos. He’d give it to the police when they arrived.
He didn’t bother calling Jessica back in. The police would question her. Likely, someone added the photos to the mailbox after the mailman had already filled it. Jason didn’t hold much stock in tracing it, but that was up to the cops.
He kept his voice low. “Izzy, look at me.”
She looked at him with weary, vacant eyes, and his heart lurched. She looked about ready to crack. At the very least, she needed sleep.
“Izzy. You and Nick can stay with me tonight.”
When she didn’t respond, he added, “I’ll call a crew to come and clean after the police get done.”
She still didn’t respond. He had no idea what to do. He’d only ever had to worry about himself. He couldn’t imagine the torture she was going through worrying about Nick. He sighed. “I’d say Jessica should pick Nick up early from school, but he can’t really come home so…” His voice trailed off. He needed her to say something. Anything.
She finally spoke, and relief washed over him. At least she wasn’t catatonic.
“We’ll stay at Jessica’s. It’s near Nick’s school.”
“You’ll stay with me. I have the room, and I can take Nick to practice in the morning.”
Panic danced in her eyes. “I don’t want, I wish, I…” Her voice broke, and he pulled her up to gather her in his arms. Shit. This was a real crisis, and all he had to offer her were a couple of hugs and platitudes.
“I have good security, the room, and I’m stubborn. Once we’re done here, we’ll pick up a few of Nick’s things and go to my place, okay?”
A sob racked her body, but she nodded. “Okay.”
Jason heard Jessica talking to the police and pulled back to look at Izzy. “Go ahead and wash your face. I’ll take them up to the house. You can come up when you’re ready.”
She nodded and headed into the bathroom adjacent to the office. Before she closed the door, she looked at him. “Jason, thank you.”
He didn’t know why, but the simple words made him feel like a fraud, as if he didn’t deserve the thanks. Because as much as having her in Malibu was for Nick’s protection, he wanted her close. He wouldn’t give up the opportunity.
Is this what Sabrina had meant? She might be completely self-absorbed, but she wouldn’t turn on her own son. No one could be that cruel or evil.
Sabrina could.
Entangling himself with Sabrina was worth it to keep Izzy and Nick safe, but he also knew Sabrina, she’d hold that over their heads for as long as she lived. She’d never let them be. She would punish Nick for Jason’s feelings.
Izzy’s frail haunted look flashed in his mind. He knew her well. She was already in shut down mode. What good would telling her do? If he paid Sabrina, he’d do so to keep Nick safe. No strings attached. He’d suffer the consequences gladly.
Knowing what he needed to do, he pulled out his cell and made the call. A crisp and efficient female voice answered the phone. “Cartwright Trust Bank. This is Melanie speaking, how many I direct your call?”
“Hello, Melanie, this is Jason. I’d like to make a wire transfer.”
“Certainly, Mr. Cartwright. Lovely to hear from you again. If you will just hold, I’ll put you through to Francis.”
He waited patiently as Francis picked up the line. With a deep breath, he authorized the transfer of one hundred thousand dollars to Sabrina’s account.
It took him less than three minutes to secure the final nail in his coffin. He told himself he’d done the right thing to keep Nick and Izzy safe. Too bad it was the one thing Izzy wouldn’t forgive.
Chapter Twenty-One
Izzy noticed three things as she snuggled deeper under the covers. It was too bright in her room—had she forgotten to pull the shades? Her sheets felt softer than she remembered. An unfamiliar musky scent enveloped her.
It took her brain several moments to register the scent of male didn’t belong in her bed. What a wonder she remembered the smell, considering her sex drought.
She pealed her right eye open and peeked around for the source of the fragrance. Expecting the usual sunset color of her room, she blinked as stark white walls met her gaze. Slowly, memories of the day before seeped into her consciousness. Coach Tisdale, Jason. The photos of Nick. Her brain snapped into focus. Nick.
She sprung from the bed, hurriedly searching through her overnight bag for bottoms to cover her legs. She called out for him, but no one answered. Bleary-eyed, she checked the clock. Six-thirty. Shit. She’d overslept. She’d never be able to get Nick to the courts to practice in time.
Unlike most kids his age, he didn’t sleep in, never had. His one fatal flaw. Kids should sleep in, especially on weekends. Automatically, she grabbed her camera, but since she couldn’t find her shoes, she had no choice but to go down the stone staircase barefoot. She glanced at one of the steps dubiously. Once her feet hit the ice cold surface, she realized going down slowly wasn’t an option.
Downstairs, sunlight washed through the windows and kissed all the furniture with morning light. Izzy searched, but still no Nick or Jason, but she did locate the tennis shoes she’d worn the night before and slipped them on. The French doors to the porch and outer grounds were open. Sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks ov
er the cliff carried over the grounds. She could also hear the thwack of racket hitting ball.
At least she didn’t have to drive all the way back to Pasadena so Nick could get some practice in. Padding out to the deck, she watched Nick toss his ball strong and high for a serve and hit it with enough force to elicit a grunt.
Jason gave Nick some instruction. “Good serve. You’re strong. One thing, I want you to work on some forehand volleys at the net. They’ll come in handy against Michon in the exhibition tomorrow.”
Nick’s response didn’t carry, so she started down the stairs to meet them on the court. A few stairs down, she turned back around to grab her camera.
Once at the sidelines, she had a clear shot of Jason and Nick working at the net. Nick said something to make Jason laugh, and Izzy’s libido interrupted the steady thud thud of her heart.
God, the word handsome didn’t suffice. All muscle and sinew. She snapped several photos. Checking the digital display, she would swear that these photos were better than any she took for SI.
They still hadn’t seen her yet, so the both of them were natural in the photos. No matter that he’d been the subject of thousands of photos, Nick always seemed to pose when he knew she had a camera on him.
Nick slammed a forehand volley over the net, and Jason grinned again. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. You want to leave your opponent no options.”
Something about Jason’s smile made her stomach clench. This was the man she’d known. A memory of the day before, when Jason held her, flitted into consciousness.
He’d been gentle and caring, had taken care of most everything with the police. He’d held her as if, by sheer will, he could stop her from breaking apart. His presence so strong that the foremost memory of one of the worst days of her life was not of Coach Tisdale, or the break-in, but of Jason holding her as she cried. Jason taking care of everything, protecting her.
And later that evening, he’d explained to Nick about spending the next few days, through the weekend, at his house. He’d gotten Nick settled then bundled her up in his bed. And he’d held her until she’d fallen asleep.
Jackass bad boys didn’t behave like this. They partied, they drank, they had sex with lots of women. It didn’t match. Who was the real Jason?
Nick waved, and Jason turned. They both smiled and made their way across the court toward her. Jason stood taller, though not by much. Nick was already taller than three quarters of the boys in his class.
Something in their strides made Izzy do a double take. What she usually called lazy plodding by Nick, was a sexy predatory gait in Jason. Their walk, in some measures, the same, only one more matured, neither one of them in a hurry to get anywhere.
Shit. She blinked, tying to expel the similarities she saw. I’m overreacting. Plenty of men walked that way, part of the male genetic makeup. Especially athletic men, graceful, fluid, lithe.
As they approached, they smiled similar smiles. It’s impossible. God couldn’t be that cruel. Shit. She couldn’t believe she’d never put the two together before. Though, she’d never really seen them side by side like this.
The tilt of their heads, and the slow lazy smiles to match their slow lazy walks, were identical. Her heart hammered double time in her chest. She told herself not to freak out. Maybe she needed more sleep. All the stress and strain had taken a toll.
Nick, taking no notice of her mood, started in on her with his usual string of verbal diarrhea. As usual, she caught only mere snippets of the teenager code. “Mom…Jason said…then we did…and did you catch the volley…can’t believe this house. It’s…freaking dope.”
Izzy could only do what she always did—listen closely and wonder where all her youth had gone. There was a time when she’d had the ridiculous teen speak to a science.
Jason smiled at her. “I thought you were going to sleep in. We didn’t want to wake you.”
She looked between the two of them, now noticing the similarities. Nick’s hair, shaggy and unkempt, differed in color from Jason’s. Nick’s hair had the sandy color of youth, from the sun. Jason’s was a darker shade of blond.
Izzy could recognize Sabrina in Nick’s nose and the set of his eyes. There were distinct similarities between the shape of Jason’s and Nick’s jaws and the way they smiled. But she stared into the face she’d seen every day for the past ten years like she saw him for the first time.
Unable to continue staring at the two of them, she sputtered out a response. “I thought I needed to get you to the school for practice.”
“No need with a court here.”
Jason indicated the house. “We should probably get breakfast.”
Feeling bad he’d opened up his home to them and she’d kicked him out of his own room, Izzy thought she should repay him. “You don’t have to go to any trouble, we can help get breakfast together.
Nick interjected. “Uhm, Mom, I think maybe you should let me—”
She interrupted him before he could finish. “I’m perfectly capable of whipping up some eggs.”
Nick looked at Jason and made no attempt to hide the warning shake of his head.
He had a point about her cooking being more of a death sentence than a repayment of kindness. She sighed. “You know, when I said I could whip up eggs, by I, I meant Nick.”
The rumble of Jason’s laughter as they climbed the stairs into the house, reverberated around them, reminding her of Nick’s laugh.
Sabrina owed her some answers. When Izzy found her, she’d shake the truth out of her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Izzy leaned over her portable light table as she analyzed the photos from the morning. She searched for something, anything, to disprove her gut. Jason is not Nick’s father. Sabrina might be many things, but a magician she wasn’t. The math was all wrong.
The longer she stared at the photos, the more she wondered if the impossible was, in fact, possible. What if…
“You’re cute when you concentrate.”
As the warm timber of Jason’s voice washed over her, her internal temperature rose. Women all over LA dropped their panties at the sound of his voice. She didn’t want to be one of them. Maybe not exactly the truth, but she’d stick to her delusions for now.
She glanced at the clock, and her jaw dropped. Past ten. “Did Nick get to school okay?” In a haste, she attempted to shove the morning’s photos into her project folder.
Jason was too fast for her. “Yeah, he got off fine. Are those from this morning? How did you get prints of these so quick?”
Izzy pointed at her portable printer. “I know they’re digital, but I still love my trusty light table. I don’t have negatives, but I like to get some light behind them.”
“Were you able to get a hold of Sabrina?”
“I tried. All I got was her voicemail. I left her a message about the house. Told her we needed to talk.”
He rocked back on his heels. “Izzy, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Nick’s bruise right away. I should have insisted—”
She put up a hand. “No, you did the best you could. Kids are tough. The right balance between earning their trust and doing what’s best for them isn’t easy.”
Without saying a word, he moved over to her side of the light table and extended his hand. “C’mon, I have a surprise for you.”
Dubious, she inspected his hand for the trap. He waggled his fingers and teased her into acceptance. “I don’t do so well with surprises.”
Jason cocked his head, his smile, equal parts scrutiny and charm. “You used to love surprises. Whatever happened to that Izzy. I liked her. Let’s bring her back.”
Stifling the girlish urge to giggle, she allowed him to tug her to the back deck. “Nah, she’s gone. I shot her in Reno just to watch her die.”
“Smartass.”
Izzy screwed up her face. “What, you don’t like Johnny Cash?”
He rolled his eyes as he positioned her on the deck. “Close your eyes.”
�
��Why?”
“Just close them, woman. Damn, you could drive a man to drink.”
She closed her eyes, making sure to use as much exaggerated reluctance as she could muster. No reason for him to know how thrilled she felt. “What’s your drink? I figure if I’m going to drive you to the act, I might as well provide the alcohol.”
The low rumble of his laughter made her knees wobble. As she stood there, eyes closed, late morning sun on her face, she wondered if he gave any thought to their kiss the other day. She may have said she didn’t want anything to do with him, but her body certainly didn’t agree.
She felt him shift behind her, fully moving into her space. Warmth and a musky, woodsy scent followed him, making her almost beg for him to hold her. Taking hold of her shoulders, he turned her body to an angle.
“Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
She peeled her eyelids open. Her eyes took several seconds to adjust to the onslaught of light. On the chair in front of her lay a racket. The handle wrapped in pink tape.
Izzy swung around to survey him. “I don’t understand.”
“What’s not to get? The racket’s for you.”
She folded her arms across her chest and tried to sidestep him, but he wouldn’t let her pass. “I don’t want a racket. I’m grateful, but I don’t play anymore, Jason.”
“Why?”
“Because…” Izzy shut her eyes in an attempt to escape from his probing gaze. “I don’t. Not anymore.”
“But why, Iz? You were a star. You loved to play.”
“Jason, you haven’t known me in years. A lot has changed. Tennis isn’t my life anymore.” Frustrated, she ran her hands through her hair. “Not everyone wants to be in the spotlight like you.”
To keep her in position, Jason put his hands on her shoulders. “Izzy, no one’s asking you to suit up to play center court at Wimbledon. I’m just asking you to pick up the racket and have some fun. I saw you as you watched us. You looked like you miss it.”
She removed his hands from her shoulders. “Look, you’ve been great, letting us come to stay here. I appreciate your help and hospitality more than I can say. But I won’t have you pushing me into this. Why do you care if I play or not?”