Captivated

by Susan Scott Shelley

  “Trust me, that’s the last place you need to be.” Too many things reminded him of the bar fight. They needed to get outside, away from the mob.

  The band’s voices all mixed together, yelling over one another. People in the crowd pushed each other out of the way, aiming for a better vantage point. Small shoving matches were breaking out around them. Dom held tight to Irisa, turning her toward the wall, using his body as a shield, and looked for another exit.

  A female scream pierced the air. “Seth’s not breathing! I need an ambulance!”

  Someone shoved hard into Dom’s back. He barely managed to keep his weight from crushing Irisa. A tall man fled to the back of the room to where the woman screamed again. The crowd pulled in two directions, toward The Fury’s members facing off at one end, toward Assertive Ire at the other, with people running back and forth between the two.

  “I have to help. My band needs me.” Irisa twisted out of his hold and darted into the crowd.

  “You can’t get in the middle of that.” He raced after her.

  A large man shoved past her, sending her careening into a table, and, for a moment, stopping Dom’s heart. He lunged over a chair and hauled her to her feet. “Are you hurt?”

  Eyes wide, gaze roaming over the crowd, she rubbed her shoulder. “Just jostled.”

  Enough. He tucked her against his chest and turned her away from the crowd. “Stay with me. Let me worry about getting us out of here.”

  Chaos swirled around them. Sirens wailed in deafening volume, and then blue and red flashing lights illuminated the bar. The crowd scattered under the police officers’ directions, making way for the paramedics. Other officers began breaking up fights, questioning people, and talking to the members of the bands. Sickness crawled through Dom’s stomach as he watched the paramedics load Seth onto a stretcher and rush him to the ambulance. The feeling worsened when he glimpsed the worry etched onto Seth’s band mates’ faces.

  Irisa elbow-nudged his side, and Dom lowered his gaze to the brunette in his arms. She hadn’t been trying to get his attention. Hers was rooted to the scene in front of them. She’d bumped him because her arm had moved. Her one hand rubbed in small circles over her stomach and the other dug through her purse and came up with a pink tablet.

  Damn it. He laced his fingers through hers, hoping his touch on her middle would help soothe the ache. He tipped her face to his. “It’ll be all right.”

  “Will it? I wonder.” She wrapped her arm around him and pressed in close. She seemed so small, so weary, so defeated. “I’m glad you were here. But what happened with your game?”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He kissed her forehead. He’d had teammates lean on him in clutch situations, but he’d never had anyone grasp onto him as though he were a life preserver in a turbulent sea. With her, he’d gladly play that role.

  The crowd thinned. Dom guided Irisa over the sticky, beer-splashed floor to the corner of the room occupied by her band and two officers so she could give her statement. He still wasn’t sure she hadn’t been hurt in that fall, and wasn’t about to leave her alone. The Riptide game played out on the screen mounted on the wall over their heads. The closed caption scroll along the bottom telegraphed the broadcaster’s speculation on his whereabouts. Security confirmed Dom Torres left the stadium minutes before game time. No one in the organization has any idea of his whereabouts. Andrew Nokes is filling in at center field. His phone vibrated with calls from his father and his hitting coach.

  The reality of what he’d done sank in.

  He’d left his team stranded.

  And he had a feeling they wouldn’t understand.

  Murmured conversations replaced the music usually throbbing in the bar. Broken chairs and overturned tables, spilled drinks and broken glasses littered the space. Irisa waited until the police officer had finished making his notes and moved on to another person before she turned to her band. Her temper, on simmer since the interview, heated to boiling. Dom’s hand on her back kept her grounded and in control. She wanted to throttle them. “What the hell, guys?”

  Zander, his arm slung around Jayne’s shoulders, moved away. He spoke with the bar’s owner. Jake had always been one of their biggest supporters. Hopefully, that relationship hadn’t been too damaged.

  Brendan shoved his hands in his pockets and glared at Luke. Landry followed suit, leaning on the bar. His favorite jacket sported a fresh tear. Luke, muscles tight, stood a few feet away from the others and returned their scowls. No fighting. There were too many cops around.

  “You’re damn lucky you didn’t actually get involved in any of the fights around you.” She rubbed her throbbing shoulder. “You especially, Luke. Why weren’t you at the interview? And what possessed you to call in?”

  Luke rubbed his hand over his face. “We’re supposed to be at sound check now.”

  “That’s all you have to say?” Her nails bit into her palms. “Are you kidding me?”

  “What do you want me to say?” He lifted his hands. “Seth might be dead. Does anything else really matter? I’m stopping by the hospital first.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer. Brilliant sunlight streamed through the opened door, illuminating his exit.

  She wouldn’t let herself think along those lines. Seth couldn’t die. Shaken, she stared at the others. Dom’s hands closed over her shoulders, a steady wall of support for her to lean on.

  Zander came over. “I told Jake to bill me for all damages.”

  Ringing echoed from her purse. Oliver. “Great. Just what I need.” How was she supposed to put what had happened into words? Or insist that she did, in fact, have control of her band?

  Dom’s hands tightened and his voice deepened to a growl. “I’d be happy to answer it for you.”

  “Me too.” Zander snatched the phone from her hand. “Oliver, it’s Zander. Irisa’s busy right now. What do you want?” His tone matched Dom’s—angry and annoyed. Eyes sparking fire, he shook his head at them and banged his fist on the wall. “My band is fine. Griffin’s is not. They’re at the hospital with Seth and won’t be playing tonight. You might want to be a little more concerned about them. We’re on our way to sound check and it’s on your head if we’re late.”

  He tapped the phone’s screen, then held it out to her. “Done. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Thank you.” Relief welled within her. She’d still have to deal with him later, but the small reprieve would give her time to think.

  Dom’s phone buzzed. He stared at the screen, lips pressed together in a firm line. A muscle in his jaw tightened. “I have to go back to the stadium.”

  Something in his voice drew her up short. She waved the band to go ahead and turned to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “A meeting.”

  “With your teammates?”

  He shoved his phone in his pocket and then cupped her face in his hands. “I don’t feel right about leaving you. Not with Luke the way he is.”

  So protective, so caring. She raised her hands to cover his. “I’ll be all right. Everyone’s worried about Seth, so I don’t think anything else will happen tonight. Besides, there’ll be lots of people at the arena.”

  “Still.”

  “Thank you for coming to my rescue.” She rose onto her toes and kissed him. Drawing strength from his scent and the feel of his mouth on hers, she slid her arms around his strong back. Hard muscles flexed there as his hands drifted from her face to her waist.

  “Anytime.”

  He walked her to her car. After another heady kiss, he was gone. And she was left with an uneasy feeling in her gut she couldn’t shake as she headed to the arena.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Arriving at the ballpark during the eighth inning was an odd feeling. The crowd’s roar reached him in the parking lot. So much energy, and he was on the outside looking in. The summons to immediately report to Ramon’s office for a meeting had been delivered to him via his agent minutes after the story broke abo
ut what had happened at the bar. He hadn’t felt good about leaving Irisa, but couldn’t ignore the get your ass here and face the music urgency.

  His agent, Lee, met him by the door. “Before we go in, you want to tell me what happened?”

  “My girlfriend was facing a dangerous situation. She needed me.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Nothing stupid. No fighting. Just kept her out of the line of fire.” He walked through the halls of the team facility, footsteps heavy on the tiled floor.

  “The brass will see us at the end of the game. For now, get changed. I can’t believe you were walking around out there in your uniform.”

  What could he say? I agree? His beloved blue and green had made him easily identifiable. The empty locker room seemed extra quiet. As he changed clothes, his ears strained for any signs of team personnel.

  Lee tucked his phone into his pocket. “Let’s get up to his office. Ramon won’t go easy on you.”

  Speculating on what might happen wouldn’t help anything. He needed a chance to plead his case. “I get that he’s angry I walked out on a game, but Irisa was in danger. I couldn’t ignore that.”

  He nodded at Ramon’s secretary, then followed his agent into the GM’s office. The TV mounted to the wall gave a crystal-clear view of his teammates on the field, and Nokes in his spot. The kid looked too comfortable there.

  The game ended in a Riptide loss. Great. Dusty would be in an even worse mood.

  Lee glanced at him. “I’m pretty sure they’re coming here right away. Let me do most of the talking.”

  Finally, footsteps sounded and Dusty’s unmistakable voice rang out. Dom straightened in his seat. He’d done the right thing where his heart was concerned.

  Ramon entered first. “Dom. Lee.” The older man sat behind his desk. Dusty and one of the team’s PR people sat in chairs to his right. Tim, from security, stood in the back of the room.

  Dom inhaled slow and deep and met everyone’s gaze before dropping into his seat. “I apologize for walking out on the game. I wouldn’t have done that without a good reason.”

  “And you call going to a bar a good reason?” Dusty shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this is it. You’re done.”

  Dom looked at Ramon. “My girlfriend was in trouble. She needed me.”

  Ramon folded his hands and his mouth formed a firm line. “You didn’t give us any heads-up. You just walked out. If you were truly concerned over Ms. Rostov’s safety, you would have notified the police.”

  Shit. He should have called the cops. “I wanted to get to her as fast as possible. I didn’t think about anything beyond that.”

  “You didn’t think, is right.” Dusty stood and wagged his finger in Dom’s face. “A fight on the field, then two fistfights, and now this. Strike four doesn’t exist, buddy. You won’t be playing on my team.”

  Anger swirled hot in his gut. He resisted the urge to knock the old bastard’s finger out of his face. Then Dusty’s words sank in. “What do you mean, I won’t be playing on your team?”

  Lee leaned forward. “Are you benching him for another series?”

  Ramon stood from behind his desk. “He’s fined fifty thousand and he’s suspended for the rest of the season.”

  Dom shot up from his seat. “You’re serious?”

  Dusty glared at him. “And if I’m here next season, you won’t be.”

  “Your actions are a distraction and an embarrassment. You let your teammates down and your fans down. You let me down.” Ramon rubbed his temples and sighed. “I thought the anger classes had helped you. I’m sorry it had to come to this. I hope you get the help you need.”

  Dom slammed his fist on the chair’s arm. His world tilted. Baseball was in his blood. He needed to play. “Now, hold on.”

  “I’ll have security escort you to clean out your locker.” Ramon nodded to Tim.

  The hulking former linebacker gave Dom a sympathetic smile. “Ready to go?”

  “No way.” Dom stepped closer to Ramon’s desk.

  Lee cut in front of him, holding up his hands. “Not now. Clean out your locker, then go home and cool off.”

  Rage colored his vision. He slammed out of the office. How could he have been so stupid? Suspension could lead to him losing his sponsorships. It could affect his charity. He took the stairs to the lower level. Did his teammates already know? He shoved open the door to the locker room. Only a few of the guys had lingered after the game.

  Adam, Slade, Liam, and Mario looked up. Adam spoke first. “Verdict?”

  “Done for the fucking season.” He strode to his locker.

  “Seriously?” Slade dropped down onto the bench beside him.

  “What did you think was going to happen?” Mario shook his head and sneered. “You screwed us over and ended up in a bar fight.”

  “I didn’t fight.” He pushed the words through gritted teeth.

  “Right, sure you didn’t.” The catcher’s lip curled. “Your head’s been messed up this season, man. You need to get your shit together or you’ll be back in the minors or out on your sorry ass.”

  Adam stepped in front of Mario. “Enough.”

  “Whatever. You think I want to answer any more questions about you to the press? I’m glad you’ll be gone. I’m tired of my team making headlines because you can’t keep it together.” He lumbered away.

  Dom shoved his hands into his pockets and faced his three best friends. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I let you down. I did what I thought was right.”

  “What happened today?” Liam leaned against the locker and rested his foot on the bench. “We saw Irisa and the band in some of the pictures.”

  Tim stepped forward, holding out a box of trash bags. “I’m sorry, Dom, but I can’t let you hang around. The boss told me to get you out of here within five minutes. You need to start cleaning out your locker.”

  Slade blocked Dom’s arm mid-reach. “I’ll bring your stuff to you later.”

  “Thanks, bud, but I got it.” He accepted a trash bag from Tim. Fitting, because garbage was exactly what he felt like. He tossed items in at random, not caring if anything broke.

  “We’ll come over tonight,” Adam promised.

  “Don’t. It might get you suspended, too.” The familiar burn in his blood fueled his movements. The fury hadn’t reappeared since the last fight with his dad. He glanced at Tim. Losing the thread of control over his temper wouldn’t help anyone. “I’m ready.”

  The drive back to his apartment didn’t calm him. Neither did Champ’s greeting. He dropped the bag on the floor, then kicked it into the closet. He didn’t regret what he’d done. He’d do it again, if it meant keeping Irisa safe.

  They were crazy if they thought he wouldn’t appeal the sentence. He told Lee as much when his agent called. Lee advised him to sit tight and not make any stupid decisions that could further jeopardize his career, which translated to stay home and don’t talk to anyone. What else was there left to do? The media was having a field day with the footage that had been captured of him going into the bar in full uniform.

  His phone rang. Dad Cell. No way. Not happening. Not today.

  He dropped onto the couch. He didn’t know what he’d do if he’d truly lost his chance to play ball.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  At the arena that night, Irisa found a quiet corner and answered the flood of emails that had come in. She updated all of the band’s social media accounts and issued a statement from the band, saying their thoughts were with Seth and Assertive Ire, and withheld comment on what had happened between her own guys. Some people were speculating that the radio incident had been scripted, fake drama done as a way to plug The Caboose. Others were insisting the band was breaking up. Hopefully, they could pull off a decent performance. After what had happened with Seth, she sure as hell didn’t have any energy left. The band stayed civil and barely spoke to each other, but the tension was suffocating. She’d asked members of t
he road crew to hang around and help keep the peace.

  Fifteen minutes before the guys were due onstage, she closed her laptop and headed for the restroom.

  Jayne came out, eyes red-rimmed. She wrung her hands together. “Can I talk to you?”

  Internal alarms rang in Irisa’s head. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t do this anymore. There’s too much discord. With other bands, I have to deal with some of the same stuff I do here, but it’s not as bad. Luke really doesn’t like me, and I’m messing with the band’s dynamic.”

  Irisa reached for her hand. He stomach felt like a lead weight held it down. A small part of her wasn’t surprised. She’d heard the frustration in Jayne’s voice that morning. She couldn’t deny that Luke had been a major pain. “We need you.”

  “You need an effective assistant who doesn’t make the band mates crazy. I can’t give you that. You’re my friend, and I care about your brother. I want this band to be successful. That’s why I have to go.”

  Her stomach rolled but she was too exhausted to beg Jayne to stay. What else could go wrong? Her insides turned numb. “Have you talked to Zander?”

  “Not yet. You hired me, so I wanted to come to you first.”

  She nodded. Should she be angry? Jayne’s promise not to quit rang in her ears. But then again, Irisa had glossed over the band’s fighting, and somehow Jayne seemed to bring out the worst in Luke. “I’ll tell him after the show.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Me too.” Ignoring the bitter pangs of anger and regret, she forced her lips to curve in a smile. “You might as well go on home now. Get a start on recovering from our craziness.”

  Jayne glanced toward the hallway leading to the exit. “I don’t want to leave you hanging.”

  “Everyone’s pretty emotional today. It’s better that you go now.” And not set off Luke again during or after the show.

  “All right.”

  Irisa waited until Jayne walked the full length of the hallway before going to get the band. She found them in opposite areas of the room, the silence glaringly loud. The members of the crew were the only ones who called out greetings. “Guys, it’s showtime.”