Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80953 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 405(@200wpm)___ 324(@250wpm)___ 270(@300wpm)
“Yeah,” I huffed. “Me either.”
“So now that we’re not here together, want to catch?”
I shrugged, glancing around the field. “I thought I’d go for a run. Knock out some cardio.”
“Want some company?”
I gave him an obvious once-over, my eyes clinging to the curve of his biceps, the strength of his stance. “Think you can keep up?”
His grin widened, and Colgate could sell a million tubes off those teeth. “Yeah, I think I’ll do just fine.”
I tossed the ball toward his bucket and whistled for Titan.
And just like that, we were another step deeper, another bit of my world crumbling off.
I had become a runner. The annoying type who held their breath as they passed others, out of pure competitive spite. One of those who kept Nikes in the back of my SUV, just in case I got a free moment with a treadmill. I’d run over every inch of this complex, down empty hallways and through boardrooms. I’d explored the visitors’ locker rooms, our kitchens, and the press boxes. But I’d never gone through the gate where Chase stopped.
“What are you doing?” I jogged in place, lungs starting to warm, our run only just begun.
“Come on.” He nodded his head, holding open the gate. The gate that led off property. Into the Bronx.
If we took it, we’d pass the Julie Gavin gate. Pictures from the police report flashed through my mind, a flipbook of dark blood, white skin, blonde hair matted, eyes open and unseeing. The killer had underlined the name on the back of the jersey, STERN punctuated with one long line of her blood. “I can’t go out there.” Titan growled beside me, my indignant tone putting him on alert.
“Can’t?” His eyes narrowed. “Grant got you on a leash?”
I stopped jogging, my feet unsteady when they stopped. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
He took a step out, his hand still holding the door, fingers barely gripping it as if he was about to let go. “Then come on.”
“It’s not safe,” I protested.
His face hardened. “I’ll kill someone before they touch you. And if I die trying, Killer there will finish them off.” He nodded to Titan.
The Bronx, in itself, was probably fine. It certainly felt safe enough, during the day, in our chauffeured rides to and from the stadium. But at one and two in the morning, when I was driving out here, I locked my car doors. Didn’t make eye contact at red lights. On foot, on a non-game day … I shifted. Bounced once on my toes to keep my blood flow moving. Watched Chase’s eyes drop to the open neck of my pullover. I zipped it up higher, and his eyes rose to mine, his mouth curving a little. “Or are you scared of something else?” He turned, gripping the other gatepost, blocking the exit as he stared me down. “Worried you can’t control yourself without eyes on you?” He glanced up briefly, at the security cam in the corner, his meaning clear.
I was too old to be goaded into submission. I should walk away, continue my run in my safe little stadium, the guards watching, my dog following, my virtue protected. Through that gate, there was nothing for me but danger.
I turned away and reached for the phone on the wall. It rang to security and my conscience warred.
“It’s Ty,” I said, watching Chase, his eyes wary. “I’m leaving for the night.”
81
He needed her out of there. Out of Grant’s world. Out of the cameras’ sight. Every minute together, in that stadium, felt tainted. That should have been their home. They met there—fell in love there. That was their place, until it wasn’t, until it became hers and Tobey’s. And now, he couldn’t breathe there. He could crush homers and have every person in it chant his name, but it was still ruined. He could bring them a trophy, and it would still belong to Tobey. Just like Ty.
They jogged down, along the fence, away from the lights. She ran quickly, the dog between them, his ears forward, eyes watching. A nasty looking dog. Full German Shepherd, its lack of leash had been intimidating in the stadium. Here, in the open street, it was terrifying. She didn’t seem concerned, her occasional commands to the dog obeyed with perfect precision.
They ran past closed restaurants and shops, the streets quiet, cars sparse. She was quiet, and he said nothing, falling a step behind, his eyes on the curve of her ass, the swing of her arms. Like everything else, her run was seamless. Effortless.
“Stop looking at my butt.” She tossed the comment over her shoulder, no hitch in her breath, her voice as calm and controlled as if she was standing still. He quickened his steps, lumbering up the hill next to her, his hand reaching out, cupping her elbow, pulling on it.