When they were done, Wreck took off for his bag, sweat sliding down his face and body. He grabbed his water and chugged it, gaze moving around on his team as he did so. He looked over at me and then away, probably thinking I was no one. I couldn’t imagine he could pick me out from all the way over here, but then his head whipped back around, and I knew I was wrong.
He stared, unmoving at me.
I waved him over.
His chest heaved. He lifted his right hand and gave me the finger.
I gasped. “Immature prick.”
He tossed his water aside and ran over to start doing suicide drills. They didn’t run them for long before the coach ordered offense and defense to start running plays. Wreck put on a blue tank top along with the rest of offense. After a huddle, they broke, getting into position. Wreck stood on the right of Kellen, feet moving, hands ready. No pads like the rest of his team. Cocky bastard.
“King 72! King 72!” Kellen screamed, checking on Wreck’s position before the center snapped the ball to him.
I watched Wreck and Kellen shed their anger. They became teammates in seconds. Wreck burst through the wall of defense and got an opening. Kellen threw the ball perfectly to him. Wreck caught it and spun, trying to free himself from defense. But a body came out of the huddle and ran for him. Wreck took off, his long legs carrying him down the field. Watching him run was pure agility. All those powerful muscles in work, the sweat shining on his back. His arms pumped, and his legs carried him down the field. He never looked more alive than he was trying for that touchdown.
Wanting, desperate… real.
He didn’t get it. The man on his ass caught up and bent, sending his shoulder into his ribs. They hit like rocks. I inhaled sharply at the impact, my hand flying to my throat. More men piled on top of them. I stood up, waiting for them to move. I expected a few broken bones, but Wreck got to his feet like nothing was wrong, helping his teammate up. The man who hit him ripped his helmet off, already grinning. Ryder.
I sunk down in embarrassment, cheeks blazing. No one saw me, but I did. I could hardly face my own thoughts.
Maybe Professor Seneca hadn’t been asking me.
He’d been warning me.
Cages were to keep you in. The worse thing would be to want to be in someone else’s, and still be stuck in my own.
6. CAGE
Wreck
Obsessions brought forth every weakness a PERSON had.
Every fragile spot, every weak point. They were easier to find when you had something to lose. Or when you desired something you could never have.
My ribs were bruised, but I was so far away from the pain today, I kept my mouth shut. I ran harder, pushing myself to the point of passing out. Still, I pushed harder, knocking anyone who came in my way to the ground. Every move I made, I felt her eyes on me, urging on my rage.
Jace Lyles was on me, the biggest sonofabitch on our team. I heard him grunting behind me. He wanted to break me in half. Jace failed his senior year last year on purpose to hang back, to crush guys like me because that’s the only way he could. I almost wanted to let him. But she’d probably love it too much. I ran harder, my ribs screaming in pain. Fucking Storm. It was the quiet ones you always had to watch out for.
Or the trapped brutes with nothing to lose.
Jace snagged me by my practice jersey. I growled, the end zone in sight. I didn’t want to let it go, digging my feet into the field for leverage. But it was too late. My body hit the ground, jarring my skull. My helmet did little to cushion the impact. My eyes went black for a few seconds. When I came to, Coach Goshton was standing over me with a flashlight pointed at my eyes.
“That sonofabitch knocked you out cold.”
“Really? I thought I was just taking a nap.” I tried to sit up, but he forced me back down.
“Don’t move. You want me to call the EMT’s?”
“No. Hell no. I’m fine. Just rattled. I’m on your team, Lyles!”
Jace chuckled, shrugging one huge shoulder. “That play is going to crush the Kentucky Prowlers.”
Coach grinned. “Their running back’s going to shit his pants.”
“You’re a sick man, Coach.” I tried to get up, ignored the brutal pounding in my skull, and moved my head around.
“See double?” Coach asked.
“Nah.” I saw two of everyone.
“Ringing in the ears?”
“Nope.” There was a buzz in my ears, but that wasn’t ringing.
“Dizzy, nauseous?”
“All good.” One more second in this heat and I would blow chunks everywhere.
Rip helped me up when I struggled. “Go sit down,” he hissed in my ear. “Or I’ll knock you out for good.”
I shook him off and made sure to walk straight, focusing on my feet instead of how I felt seconds from passing out. Succumbing to my weaknesses wasn’t a possibility. When I got to the sideline, I checked before I turned my head to the side and puked over the edge of the bench. My head throbbed, and my heart felt like it was pounding too hard for even me.
The light killed my eyes. I closed them and drank some water, missing my mouth; the cold liquid dribbled down my jaw and chest. Jace hit me harder than I thought. Now wasn’t the time to feel pain. It was time to fight. If anyone knew I had a kink in my armor, they’d attack.
I waited until practice was over to look over at the bleachers. Hallie’s eyes were waiting for mine.
“Are you okay?” she mouthed, her beautiful face pinched with concern.
I held her gaze a second longer before I packed up my stuff and followed my team to the showers. I got dressed and headed to my car to avoid unwanted attention. The passenger front end was smashed in. There was dust all over the outside. The only signs of my crash.
“Wreck!”
I got in and locked my doors. I started my Mercedes and put it in drive, revving the engine just in time for Hallie to park herself right in front of me.
I let the car slide forward an inch.
She jumped back, her mouth fawning open in shock. Realizing what I’d almost done, she snapped her mouth closed and rage burned in her starry eyes. Her eyes were the night, this blue so deep it looked black, with the faintest smattering of light blue flecks, like the sky at night. Looking into them could make a man feel like he wasn’t so trapped.
Wasn’t so empty.
She slammed her fist into my hood. “Did you just think about running me over, Wreckmond?”
My only response was to raise one eyebrow.
“Oh!” she growled. “You get your ass out of that car right now. I’m going to kick it.”
I revved my engine again. This time she didn’t move when I slid forward a tiny inch. She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked the same brow I had. When I didn’t move, and she didn’t move, I thought about backing into the Porsche behind me. But I didn’t have to. Storm and Ryder came out of the school and saw the spectacle little innocent Hallie Goodford was causing for me.
Storm jogged over, picked her up like she weighed nothing—138.5 pounds, by the way—and I sped out of there. My phone rang. A check of the caller ID and her number flashed across the screen.
The thing about bait was laying just enough to keep the prey interested.
“Hello?” I answered cheerfully.
“What’s your freaking problem?” she demanded. “I swear, when I see you tonight, I’m going to clock you right in your perfect, self-entitled nose.”
“You think my nose is perfect? Been checking me out, Hals?” Her eyes had licked my body ten different ways out on that field. “Your panties last that entire practice?”
She snorted. “You’re so crude.”
I wanted those panties. “You coming to my party tonight?”
“No. Not after that stunt. I might just go to Kellen’s place later and congratulate him on my own.”
My fist curled around the steering wheel. My concussion pounded in my skull. My gaze darkened. She was messing with me. Play
ing a card she didn’t know she had. I’ve got a royal flush and she’s working with a two pair. I never, and I mean never, let anyone bait me. I don’t give in to bullshit and my other rules weren’t mine to negotiate.
And I can’t do it now.
But I can have Kellen Noxmoore out of this city by midnight.
I hung up and turned around at the end of the street, cutting off traffic to make a U-turn. I pressed down on the gas and sped toward my father’s headquarters. Globe Tonight’s main headquarters were a towering spot in Charmant’s skyline. With the recent presidential (shit storm) election, he’d been spending weeks at a time there. Plus, he never answered his phone when I called. He called me back if I left a message every once in a while.
I dug my all-access pass out of my center console and flashed it at the guard tower, not bothering to stop. I parked in the private underground garage and rode the private elevators to the top floor. His ten assistants blanched when I came in.
I was unhinged, but in seconds, I was Owen Wreckmond’s son. Polite, respectful, entitled, rich, heir… quiet monster. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gilbert. My dad wouldn’t happen to be in, would he?”
Gilbert swallowed hard. “He’s in a meeting actually. He should be out in a few minutes.”
“Can I wait in his office?” I waited before doing so. He’d never tell me no.
“Of course. Would you like anything?”
My taste buds had been damaged years ago. I hardly tasted a thing, but I nodded. “Green tea?” The old man loved it. His taste buds were fine.
“Right away, Mr. Wreckmond.”
I headed for Owen’s office. A gigantic spectacle of the last few decades. Stills of him reporting the fall of the Berlin Wall, the war in the middle east, the rise and fall of the world—Dad was in it all. I guessed it made sense for someone who didn’t care at all to be the master of everyone’s empathy.
I settled across from his desk and rolled my eyes at the picture of him and Obama at the last dinner at the White House. My evil Democrat. We looked so similar it was like looking at myself in the future. Hard empty deep blue eyes; even his beige/golden brown hair was like mine, cut impeccably, styled and longish on the top, faded somewhat on the sides. We hadn’t planned it, but it made us look even more handsome. Empty liars.
“Your green tea, sir.” Gilbert set the mug down. “He’ll be in soon.”
“Thanks.” I took the tea and sipped it, spitting it out once he left me alone in Father’s office once more back into the cup.
After waiting an hour, I heard my father’s voice outside the door. He came in on the phone, nodding at me.
“You tell that moron to sit tight. I’m doing my best to get him out of there. Well, I’m not the one who went into the middle of a war for a story!” he screamed. “We’ll get him out. And if we can’t, then war of casualties makes a story too.” He hung up and sat down, giving me a disgruntled look. “A rookie reporter got himself kidnapped in Iran.”
I didn’t respond. He didn’t want my opinion.
“The protests in New York are gold, Cage. Gold,” he said again, leaning forward like I was an old friend excited for his success.
I kept my reaction to my first name out of my face. Inside, my heart boiled. My first memory replayed itself for the millionth time.
“Why is my name Cage?”
“So you never forget who owns your lock,” Father explained, eyes cold. “Any more questions, Cage?”
Of course not. That answered every question I would ever have. What four-year-old wanted to find out that their father named them after a prison?
Sitting back, he picked up a file on his desk. “What do you want?”
It was my turn to talk. “Kellen Noxmoore as far away from Charmant as possible before the sun sets.”
He looked up. “Why? Just curious,” he added, chuckling at me like I was funny.
But I didn’t get to answer. His cell rang, and he cut me off with a hand. “Owen,” he answered, and his amusement shattered. His gaze became ice.
My stomach dropped.
“Is that right? Interesting. Nope, thanks.” He hung up and sat back, fingers steeples. “What’s this I hear about you almost running over Hallie Goodford?” He got up and went over to his office door, locking it. He took off his suit jacket. “Stand up, Cage.”
“I have a concussion from practice.” I pushed to my feet. “Try to avoid my head.”
He stood in front of me, just as tall. Six feet and three inches of coiled dark rage.
No one scared me.
But Owen Wreckmond.
“Do I have to remind you who the Goodford’s are?”
“No, Sir.”
“Are you sure? Because the entire town is buzzing about your interaction this afternoon.” He stepped forward and grabbed me by my throat, putting his face close to mine. “What happened? Tell me everything. Or I’ll get my truth serum.”
My blood chilled.
“I didn’t try and run her over. She was blocking me in, standing in front of my car. I revved my engine and let the car move an inch to scare her, that’s all.”
“Why was she standing in front of your car?” He squeezed harder.
“She wanted to talk to me.” My words were almost illegible. “I didn’t want to talk to her.”
“And you thought it was a better idea to ignore her and threaten her with a 5,000-pound vehicle?” His finger nails dug into my throat.
My eyes were blurring. “Yes.”
He moved so fast I didn’t have time to react. He picked me up by my throat and shoved me backward. My back hit the wall to his office so hard I heard the drywall crack. I cried out. His fist tightened deeper, cutting off my air completely. I didn’t fight him. Didn’t stop this. I’d tried once.
“If Hallie wants to talk to you, you cut your fucking ear off and give it to her to listen. Is Kellen moving in on her?”
I blinked once, the burning in my lungs painful.
“I’ll send someone to talk to his father. Kellen won’t be an issue anymore. Hallie is yours, Cage. You need not worry about some pathetic coffee heir. You want her, you can have her. You don’t need to act like a pissy teenager because someone stole your lunch money. Plus, I doubt she’d go for that anyway.”
I closed my eyes and let the lack of oxygen take me under.
“You fix this. I want Hallie to smile when you enter a room, not beg for your ear. She’s yours either way, but it’s much more beneficial to her wellbeing and our pretense if she thought she was playing along.” He released his hold just enough to give me air.
I hated myself when I gasped for it.
“The next time I see you, she better be with you. We can do this the hard way, or the easy way. Ben and I have been patient. You were kids. But you’re not kids anymore. College is around the corner. The last thing we need is for her to fall in love again.” He snorted. “Some birds are harder to trap when they’re cornered. You want her to take the food from your hand, Cage. If she isn’t a Wreckmond by the end of the year, I’ll have to interfere. I’d hate to have to kill my own heir.”
Fall in love again? He let me go and I fell to the floor. I gasped for breath on my knees as he sat back at his desk. I bit my tears back and tried to get to my feet. It took two tries. When I managed to stand, I fell into his desk, knocking over his picture frame.
“Go to the doctor when you leave here. Tell Dr. Preps you got injured during football practice.”
I wanted to defy him.
But what was the point? If I did that he’d kill me, and that would leave Hallie on her own. I’d never do that. He knew it. I’d never let her rot alone in her cage.
I’d rot with her. So I knew she was safe.
“Take the secret exit. You look like shit.”
I struggled over to the secret elevator on the other side of his office. Before the doors closed, he looked up, a cold clear threat in his eyes.
After the doctor’s visit—two weeks on the bench—I went d
owntown to High Drive, stopping at Cartier. I slid my credit card and pocketed the small package. Then I drove home and got ready for the party tonight. A party that no longer mattered.
Kellen Noxmoore was probably already long gone. And the thought didn’t bring me as much glee as I thought it would on Monday. But it would have happened eventually. My dad or hers would have gotten rid of anyone who got in my way. Not for me, never for me, not even for her, never for her, but for their selves. They were dark partners.
Take Globe Tonight, combine it with Goodford Finance, force your two kids together, their two heirs, and the income went from filthy rich to diseased.
They would own the world because their kids would.
Love and money didn’t go together. Not in my world. There was one or the other. In my case, it was life or Hallie. Hallie had always brought me some sort of life anyway.
But I couldn’t give in, I couldn’t have what I was going to be forced with.
So, there was no such thing called love in my world. There was only business and mergers.
7. AIR QUOTES
Hallie
I paced the length of my closet.
My heels stomped back and forth as I tried to calm my rage. I had never in my life been more pissed off than I was now. Maybe it was Illa leaving me, maybe it was the threat of being alone in this life, or something else, that brought me to the edge, but I did know that it was Wreck who pushed me. Revving his engine, burning me with intense hatred, like it was my fault for something I knew damn well I didn’t do.
I didn’t know why he was pissed, and I knew it was infantile of me to push him with Kellen. I did it because I knew there was animosity between them. I saw it on the field today. I wanted to get under his skin the way he had gotten under mine.
And I didn’t feel bad. I wouldn’t feel bad.
Damn it, I felt bad.
I showered and got dressed. It was almost eight. I didn’t want to put too much thought into my outfit, I just wanted to put enough. I forwent a bra—not that I needed one—and put on an off-white Alexander Wang lace up crop top, pairing it with a pair of high-waisted skinny jeans. I put my wedges back on and then straightened my hair, letting it hang around my face and down my back in copper sheets.
Wrecked: A Novel (Charming Knights Book 1) Page 5