by A. J. Pryor
I can’t stand this man. “They agreed?”
“They did.”
“And his mother is still alive?”
“No. Sadly, she passed away a few years ago after her cancer returned.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. So you’re the only family Reggie has? You and Derek?”
“If that’s what you want to call us.”
How can I ever tell Derek that everyone he’s ever put his faith in, including me, has been lying to him. It will destroy him. He deserves so much better than this. There has to be a deeper reason than keeping up appearances. There’s something else he’s hiding, something bigger. And suddenly, it all clicks.
“Reggie killed Lily Harold, didn’t he?”
He sits silently.
“Is that a yes?”
“No. But I’m not denying it either. Tell me what you know.”
He knows. I see it in his eyes. He’s known the truth all along. I have to get to Derek. I have to be the one to tell him.
“The killer was left-handed, and he loved Lily or at least thought he did. He wrote her love letters, letters Derek denies ever writing.” I stand and pace his office, theories running through my head. Wait. I stop and face him. “Lilly discovered who Reggie was, didn’t she?”
He doesn’t answer, just sits and stares at me. But I see it in his eyes, almost a relief that he’s not the only one to carry this burden.
“But why wouldn’t Reggie just come clean, why did he have to kill her? What was so important about keeping that secret safe?”
He smirks.
“You’re paying him, aren’t you? You’ve been bribing him all along. You were paying him and his mom.”
A single nod gives me my answer.
“But if he killed Lily, why are you protecting him, why not cut your ties and put this behind you. Let Derek live the life he deserves.”
He stares at me blankly. And it suddenly all makes perfect sense. “You’re name will be tarnished. You can’t claim the squeaky clean Cage, image. Reggie would out you.”
He still doesn’t confirm anything.
“And you’ll lose Derek.”
“I’m not willing to risk it.” Is this man for real?
“God, you’ve done nothing but lie to Derek his entire life. How can you live like this.”
“Life can be brutal sometimes Ms. Black. Look at Derek now, do you think he’d be the starting quarterback of an NFL football team had I raised him differently?”
Without another word, I grab my purse and head to the door. I’m going to tell Derek everything and hope he forgives me. Hopefully he’ll understand that I loved him enough to risk us, to risk everything to get him the truth.
“I think it’s time we tweak our deal, Ms. Black.”
“We don’t have a deal anymore, Senator.” I reach for the handle and begin to turn.
“I’ll make your father’s case disappear. If you keep quiet, I’ll save your father. But I can’t and I won’t save both the men you love. You need to choose.”
Shock has me glued to the spot, my jaw falling open my palms shaky and slick with sweat.
“I’ll save your father.”
I face him. “That’s impossible. My father’s case has nothing to do with you.”
He stands and walks in my direction. “Money, Hannah. The Hamilton’s will listen to money.”
If my father loses this case, he’ll not only lose his practice but could face jail time. I moved here to try and save him, but I never thought I’d have to trade one life for the other.
Think, Hannah. There has to be a way to protect both of them.
The scent of garlic hits me as I open my front door. I find Hannah in my kitchen cooking up an Italian feast. Damn she’s hot in an apron, her hair pulled back into a bun. I walk up behind her and kiss the side of her exposed neck. “This smells awesome.”
She spins and throws her arms around my neck, nestling her face in the curve of my shoulder. Holding her is the perfect ending to an exhausting day. I love football, but I’m starting to think I love coming home to this woman more. She sniffles in my ear. “Are you crying, Hannah?” Pulling back, I keep my hands firmly planted on her hips and watch as tears spill from her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she shakes her head.
“Hannah.”
“I just had a rough day.”
“Hannah, tell me what’s going on.”
She sniffles out another round of tears, and I pull her against me. “Talk to me. Let me help.”
“I’m just happy you’re home, Cage. I missed you a lot today.”
I want to fix every rough day this woman ever has. Be the reason her days are happy, be the reason she smiles, and make her tears vanish.
“Marry me.”
She coughs out a laugh.
“You’re not supposed to laugh, Hannah. You’re supposed to say yes.”
“I’m not saying yes when the only reason you’re asking is so I’ll stop crying.”
I pull her back into my arms. “I’m not very good at this proposal shit, am I?”
She shakes her head.
“I’m asking because I love you and because I love coming home to you every night. If we’re married, you won’t tell me nothing’s wrong when that’s not true.”
“Cage, I’m fine.”
“Fine is code for all things bad in woman language.”
“Woman language?” she asks like it’s a joke.
“It’s a terrible word. There are all sorts of hidden meanings behind it.”
“There’s no secret message I’m trying to send, Cage. Nothing’s wrong other than my boyfriend proposed to me when I was wearing an apron, my hair’s a mess, and my eyes are puffy from crying.”
“You look beautiful to me, and when I saw you at my stove, my imagination got excited.”
“How so?”
“You. Cooking for me . . . naked. As my wife, I think that’s part of the program.”
The vibrations of laughter coupled with her sniffles bring a feeling of warmth to my chest—the comfort of home. “That’s a lot of planning from the time you walked through the door to coming up behind me.” She runs her hand along my spine, and I shiver. “I haven’t left here in over a week, Derek. If you want me naked when you get home, ask. Chances are you’ll get lucky.”
“Is that why you’re sad, Hannah? You ready to go home?”
I’ll let her go. I’ll drive her home myself if that’s what she wants. But it’s not what I want.
Backing away, she wipes the last tears from her eyes. “No. I . . . I haven’t even thought of my home in days. Are you ready for me to leave?”
“I want this to be your home, Hannah.”
She smiles, and I return it ten times bigger. But then it’s as though a dark thought flashes in her mind, and the smile fades.
“Are you hungry?” she asks, changing the subject and letting my proposal slip away. I’ll let it go . . . for now.
“I’m starving.” She pulls two plates from the cabinet and begins to spoon out pieces of lasagna. I grab on to her elbow, stilling her. “I need to know what’s bothering you before we eat.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’m missing some notes.”
“What does that mean?” I ask cautiously.
“My notes, the story I’m writing.” She takes a deep breath. “They could be in someone else’s hands.”
We stare at each other, the unasked question suspended in air.
“Notes about me?” I don’t need to see the nod of her head, the flinch of her eyes. I already know the answer.
“I’m sure I left it at the office, but what if . . . what if someone stole them?”
“Did you go back to the office? Did you search for it?”
She nods.
“And you couldn’t find it?”
“No, but I must have missed it. It has to be there.”
She’s so distraught, so torn up. I have to wonder what is in those notes that I
haven’t already told her.
“So I came home and cooked. I didn’t know what else to do.”
I have the odd sense of doom that she’s hiding something from me, that she knows more about my life than I do. But I don’t want her feeling worse than she already does. “Hannah, is there something in that folder I need to know about?”
Her big brown eyes look up at me. They’re filled with unshed tears, her skin ghostly white. She shakes her head. “I’m sure it’s at the office. It has to be.”
A pit forms in the center of my stomach, one I can’t shake. No matter how much I eat, what we talk about, or how many times we have sex through the night, the pit steadily grows into the morning. By the time I leave for practice, it has developed into an Olympic-sized swimming pool, and I still have no idea what I’m up against.
Coach Matthews kicked our asses today. It’s only three in the afternoon, and I’m ready for a nap. Worrying about Hannah and trying to focus on my play has drained me.
“Derek, can I see you?”
Shit. By the tone of Coach’s voice, this isn’t good.
I follow him into his office. “Close the door, son.”
Shit. It’s worse than I thought.
“What’s up, Coach.”
“A story broke today.”
“About me?” Hannah’s face flashes in my mind. Her tears, her distressed mood, her angst. Fuck. “Is it Hannah’s?” A tremor shakes my voice.
“No, but she’s mentioned in it.”
My blood boils. “What is it, Coach?”
“Here, why don’t you read it yourself?” He hands me a few printouts. The papers rattle in my shaking hands. “Have a seat, Derek.”
I fall into the chair, the first words on the page making me sick.
Derek ‘The Rage’ Cage. A close-up view of Chicago’s most elusive athlete. By: Travis McCoy.
Chicago Times
Travis McCoy. What did that fucker do?
I read the first paragraph and my world tilts.
The only son of Tom and Madeline Cage, Derek’s lineage sets him on the fast track to greatness. His parents, the idealized version of royalty, their wealth, their power, envied coast to coast. If only the public knew the secrets that haunted their pasts. The deceit. The manipulation. The shattered lives they’ve left in their wake.
For years they’ve lived with dirt on their hands, and we’ve all turned the other way. What if that dirt was blood? Stained red, a constant reminder of lives lost, of hearts bled dry. How would the public view their worshiped family if they learned how far they’d go to hide their secrets? Derek Cage’s girlfriend, Hannah Black, says they’d murder to keep their name plated in gold.
I stop and look at my coach. “How did you get this?”
“Just keep reading, son.”
Mechanically, I nod, my eyes scanning faster than my mind can process. McCoy details a family I don’t know, a life I’m not living, an existence I don’t recognize.
Reggie Maddox, Derek’s brother—
My brother? “He has his facts wrong,” I blurt.
Coach shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say, Derek, except to keep reading.”
I focus on the pages, as confused as I am angry.
The bastard child of Tom Cage, Reggie came to live in the same town as his father when Reggie’s mother fell ill with cancer.
The details in McCoy’s story bring up memories in my past that I’d forgotten: the timing of Reggie’s appearance in my life, the death of his mother, the similarities in our bone structure, in the coloring of our eyes, the shape of our jaws, the power in our golden left arms. Could he be right? Has my father been hiding a second family?
Hannah Black confirms that Reggie Maddox killed Lily Harold. Most likely out of a need to keep his secret safe. If I were her, I’d be watching my back. It turns out pillow talk can be deadly in this town.
I crumple the papers in my hands, my heart turning to stone. How long has Hannah known my life was a lie. My entire life a fucking lie. These are her notes, this is her work.
I shoot up, my chair toppling to the floor. My life has been a wasted breath of air. Everyone I’ve ever put my faith in has lied to me.
“Derek.” His voice is full of concern, full of sympathy. Sympathy I don’t want. “Do you know if any of that is true?” he asks.
I think it must all be true. Some of the jocks in high school used to joke that Reggie and I looked alike. We’re both left-handed, both have that cleft in our chin, and our eyes are the same shade of blue. I’m not sure any of it makes sense, but suddenly, my life makes perfect sense. So many fucking lies. My life has been nothing but lies. “It could be true, Coach.” And I thought my life was fucked before. Shit.
“Who’s Travis McCoy?”
Hannah hated him and for good reason. “He’s the reporter who’s been trying to get my story for over a year, and he was furious when they gave it to Hannah. He’s made her life miserable since she started at Century.” I think back to last night. “Fuck. Last night. Hannah thought someone had stolen her notes . . . these notes. Fuck that asshole. I’m going to kill him.”
With my hands linked behind my head, I struggle to breathe. My entire life has been a made-up story. A horror story someone constructed for their own benefit. No, not someone, my father, and Hannah’s been keeping it from me. I’ve always shared a tight bond with Reggie, but my brother? And Hannah thinks he killed Lily? Everything in my life has changed.
Hannah. Fuck. “How long has this been public?”
“All day.”
Fear dictates my next move as I race to the door.
“Derek, you can’t leave here without security. It’s a madhouse out there.”
“Fuck. I gotta get out of here, Coach. I have to find her. She’s in danger.”
“Let Bruce take you through the back. I’ll have a car pulled around.”
“What about PR? Where’s Reggie?” The asshole is always lurking and now? He’s a fucking ghost.
“Team PR is on this with blanket statements. No one knows where Reggie is.”
“My dad?”
“I’m not sure. His people aren’t confirming or denying the reports, and the senator has vanished.”
“Get that car, Coach.”
I’m so fucking mad at Hannah. And I’m terrified for her. Travis has made her a target. I need to get to her, before my dad . . . or my brother finds her first.
I’m crushed. My chest feels like it’s caving in, like a boulder is resting on it, and I can’t breathe properly. Larry’s office isn’t cold enough to stop me from burning up from the inside out. He’s had me locked in here for the past few hours, his team trying to make contact with Travis.
I feel stupid. It was a rookie mistake leaving that folder on my desk. A mistake that just ruined multiple lives, including mine. I’ve lost Derek, my dad will lose his practice, and I’m sure I’m out of a job.
“Hannah.” Larry promptly walks into the room and closes the door.
I stand. “Did you find him?”
“He’s hiding behind The Chicago Times. Swears he found those facts himself, that he only confirmed them with you.”
“He’s lying. He stole the notepad I’ve kept all the details in. Most of the facts are still on my computer, but the dots he joined from my handwritten notes were on that notepad.” He shouldn’t have been able to write an entire story off what he stole, but if he’s been following me, maybe he worked out the missing links as well. But why? Why would he do that?
Larry collapses in his chair, heaving a heavy sigh. “His office has been vacated, but we found this on the floor.” He passes me a photo, and my nightmare starts all over again. Reggie pulling Derek away from me at Johnny’s, my face shrouded in shame. I’d hoped no one would see these but me, that the start of my relationship with Derek would remain private. This is nothing compared to the hell Derek must be going through. A hell I created. A hell I tried to shelter him from.
“Larry, I don�
�t know what to say.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?”
I do. Telling Larry everything, from the moment I met Derek in the locker room, down to my meeting with Tom Cage the previous night. I tell him about my father, about my relationship with Derek. “I had a plan,” I say. “I was going to save them both.”
“Century will stand behind you. I put you in this mess, gave you limited information, and told you to go and get his story. You did what I asked. Now it’s my turn to protect you. It’s Travis’s story, but your research. I’m not letting him off the hook, and I’m not letting you go down without a fight. Give me what you have, Hannah, all of it. Tell me everything you know, your sources, all your evidence. I can’t fix your relationship with Derek, but I can promise your job is safe.” I can’t stay in this city if I’ve lost Derek. I’ll have to relocate . . . again.
I fight tears as I leave his office. I should have told Derek last night, but I needed more time to get my plan in place. I needed to talk to my dad first and make sure he was on board with everything. I needed more time.
My phone vibrates as I’m walking out of the building.
Derek: Meet me at the Drake hotel. I left a key at the front desk.
There’s no telling how he’s feeling by this text. Whether he hates me or believes me. I have to meet him and explain myself. I have to get to him.
I stare at the door of his hotel suite, my palms slick with sweat, my heart racing, and my stomach twisted in knots. The door reminds me of a wedding cake—elegant and grand with intricate designs. Crown molding borders the entrance to the extravagant Drake Hotel suite, and my fate rests on the other side.
I should go back to Los Angeles, return to that life. But the key sticking to my trembling palm reminds me I need to fix what I’ve broken.
You’re the best. There’s no way you’ll fail. Maybe if I say it enough times . . .
The red light turns green, and the door unlocks. My pulse quickens. My body tingles.
I gently push the door open and take a tentative step inside.