Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel (19 page)

It would be quite a feat to discover anywhere in the facility besides her room that they could talk privately, but he was going to make the effort.

Logan had moved away from them and turned his camera onto a table full of defensive linemen consuming enough food to sustain a small nation and discussing the best place in Seattle to get Caribbean food. Kacee skidded into the cafeteria. She hurried over to plunk herself down at Zach and Cameron’s table. She seized Cameron’s half-empty coffee cup, peered inside, and took a long, appreciative sniff of the contents.

“Where’s the coffee?” Kacee said.

“Where have you been?” Cameron countered. “I’ve been worried. You didn’t call me back and you vanished for three days. What the hell’s going on?”

Kacee didn’t look her in the eye, Zach noticed. He wondered if Cameron did.

“Ben had some stuff for me to do.”

“Like what? You’re my assistant, not his. I needed your help.”

“We both work for him,” Kacee said. “I finished the project, it’s over now, so let’s talk about what’s going on today with you.”

“Maybe you should tell me about this mysterious ‘project’—”

Kacee got up from the table. “I need some coffee. I’ll be right back.” She reached out, scooped up Cameron’s empty tray and dishes, and hurried away.

“She’s hiding something from you,” Zach said in a low voice.

“Yes, she is.” Cameron let out a sigh. “At first I was freaked out that something might have happened to her, and now I’m mad. I can’t do my job if she’s going to vanish on me whenever she feels like it. She’s convinced I’m not going to get angry enough at her to fire her, either. She let me have it over you the other night, which was inappropriate.” She shook her head.

“She did, huh?” Zach got up from the table, grabbed his own tray of dirty dishes, and gestured to Cameron. “I have to hit the weight room in half an hour. Let’s talk about this outside.”

He wanted a few minutes of whatever privacy they could manage to snatch from PSN and their cameras.

T
HE MIDSUMMER EARLY
morning sun filtered through the maple trees that lined both sides of the dead-end street in front of the Sharks headquarters. The temperature rose as the sun continued its path through the sky, but the grass was still covered with dew. Cameron’s shoes got a bit wet as they crossed the grassy strip in front of the sidewalk, and she was surprised at the stillness. She heard birds singing, the leaves rustled in a gentle breeze, but all was quiet—at least temporarily. She leaned against a tree trunk to stretch before she took off at a slow jog on the deserted street.

She couldn’t keep up with Zach, who ran in place when he noticed he was alone a hundred feet or so up the street. Her food was still settling, and he wanted to sprint?
Uh, no
. Despite his apology, she was still irritated over his behavior the day before. She’d like to find out what his problem was. Of course, there was no time like the present. She stopped next to him.

“So, would you mind telling me why you were acting like I had some kind of communicable disease yesterday?”

His eyes blazed. “My sisters aren’t fair game for PSN. I saw you talking to them, and I assumed the worst.”

“Your sister grabbed me as I walked past.”

He was already shaking his head. “I know that. I didn’t know at the time. I was wrong, and I am sorry.” It wasn’t the most eloquent apology, but he’d given her one, and she needed to accept it.

“Logan saw the whole thing.”

“I thought Logan was
filming
the whole thing. How would I know?” He blew out a breath and started off on a slow jog again. Maybe she could keep up with him without needing oxygen. “How about that?”

“If it happens again, and I hope it won’t, talk to Logan. He might accidentally ‘lose’ the tape,” she said, making air quotes with her hands. “He’s a lot more reasonable than Ben.” Plus, Logan wouldn’t be interested in getting into it with a guy who outweighed him by at least fifty pounds.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Zach said.

An older car with patches of primer approached in the opposite lane, slowing to stare at them both. The driver screeched to a halt and must have set the brake, because seconds later, he was out of the vehicle and advancing on them. His dark, shoulder-length matted hair was unwashed, he had a straggly beard and wore dirty clothing, and he made a beeline for Cameron. He didn’t look friendly, and the hair went up on the back of her neck.

“Cameron! Cameron! I’ve been looking for you. You need to come back home with me.”

Zach pushed Cameron behind his back and straightened to his full height. “Can I help you?” he asked the guy.

“Do you know if there are any available tickets for today’s practice?”

“No, I don’t,” Zach said. “You’re blocking a public street.”

“I’d like to talk to my wife,” the guy said. He was within three feet of Zach, and he continued toward them. “She never answered my letters, and I’d like to know why.”

His wife? Oh, God.

Cameron had never seen the guy before in her life, but his rambling sounded familiar. She broke out into a cold sweat. She scrabbled around for her phone, but her hands were already shaking so hard she couldn’t seem to jam her fingers into the small pocket in her yoga pants. She cowered behind Zach. What if the guy had a weapon?

“Back off.” Zach’s arm shot out. “Don’t get any closer.”

“I just want to talk with her. We have a few things to straighten out.”

“I don’t think so.” Zach used his body to walk the guy backward, blocking him into the hood of his vehicle. “Cameron, call 911, will you?” His voice was as calm as if he’d asked her to get him a cup of coffee.

Cameron scrabbled again for the cell phone in her pocket. Her trembling had increased, but she finally succeeded in gripping the phone enough to hit the dialer. She also hit the speaker function so Zach could hear.

“911 operator. May I help you?” the woman who answered said. Zach had the guy by one upper arm while he gestured for Cameron to get away from them with his other hand.

“We’re outside of the Seattle Sharks’ headquarters. We need help.”

“What is the problem?”

“My name is Cameron Ondine. I have a stalker,” Cameron said. Her voice shook. “He’s here, and we have him. Please help us.”

Zach grabbed the guy by one arm, bent it around behind his back, and threw him over the hood of his car. The guy smelled like he hadn’t had a bath in a couple of weeks. He also was skeletal, but had superhuman strength. He tried to shove Zach in return.

“Let me go!” the guy shouted.

“Fuck, no. The cops are coming.” He twisted the guy’s arm a little more for emphasis, and laid into his back.

“You’re breaking my arm.”

“Good.” Zach turned his head to glimpse Cameron, who was white as a sheet and visibly shaking.
God, don’t let her pass out before the cops come.
He couldn’t grab her before she hit the pavement, and this guy was trying to get one hand free. “Cameron, stay with me,” Zach commanded. He could feel the cold outline of a pistol stuffed in the guy’s rear waistband and digging into his abdomen. He hoped like hell it didn’t go off.

Zach grabbed his other wrist, twisting it behind the guy’s back. “Keep it up, and I’ll break your wrists.”

“Fuck you,” the guy gritted out. “You can’t keep her away from me.”

“Call the front desk, Cameron,” Zach shouted. “They’ll send security out here, too.”

He could hear her still talking to the 911 operator, the terror in her voice. She told the 911 operator she needed to call the Sharks front office for help. The operator must have dialed the number for her.

“They’ll get here quicker than the cops,” he told her. Even if she screamed, they weren’t close enough to the building right now for anyone to hear. The place was secure, but the guards who were usually at the entrance must have had a shift change or something. He didn’t see any of them as he whipped his head around.

He shoved himself into the guy again with all his weight, and heard him grunt in pain.

If Zach didn’t care about his future he would pound the guy to a pulp, but the best thing to do was make sure the guy couldn’t grab his gun and wait for law enforcement. A few seconds later, he heard sirens in the distance. He also heard running feet heading in their direction. The guy was trying to fight him off, but he couldn’t get a solid punch in bent over like he was. Let the son of a bitch try to sue him later, too.

He saw the team’s security guards running toward them out of the corner of his eye. Two of the guys made a beeline for him and the guy he was holding down. “He’s got a gun,” Zach shouted to them.

The security guards had the guy unarmed and on the ground with twist-tie handcuffs in seconds. The guy kept screaming, “She’s my wife! Let me talk to my wife! You can’t keep her away from me!”

Zach whirled to check on Cameron. One of the other guards was leading her away while the fourth guy held a Taser on the guy on the ground. He heard multiple police cars, sirens going, heading toward them at what must have been maximum speed.

C
AMERON DIDN’T REMEMBER
the walk back into the Sharks’ headquarters. She didn’t remember a thing the security guard said to her. She knew she’d talked to him, but everything was fuzzy and indistinct. Her legs felt like rubber. She also had an overpowering urge to throw up. An older woman with a soothing voice guided her into the ladies’ room.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick,” Cameron said. Her voice sounded like it was coming from a hundred miles away.

“Let’s go in here,” the woman said as she helped Cameron into a larger stall. To Cameron’s embarrassment, nature took over. She was alert enough to realize she’d just thrown up in front of another person. At least she managed to not make a mess, but the woman didn’t seem alarmed by this. She rubbed Cameron’s back and made comforting sounds. “You had quite a scare, didn’t you? You’re safe now. Everything is going to be okay.” She dashed out of the stall long enough to grab a paper towel for Cameron to wipe her mouth with. Cameron saw the view of the bathroom stall turn a bit watery as tears spilled over.

“Do you need to sit down for a few minutes, Cameron?”

“I—I don’t know. I—”

The woman folded her into a hug. “You cry all you want, honey. I would cry, too. Shh.” She rocked Cameron back and forth, still making those comforting noises. “Take some deep breaths, and relax. You’re going to be fine.”

It was like focusing a camera. The indistinct things around her slowly became clear. She heard running steps outside the bathroom, a few male voices calling out her name, and a loud knock at the bathroom door.

“Joanna, are you in there?” a deeper male voice said.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is Cameron with you?”

“Yes, she is.”

“The cops want to talk to her. May I come in?”

The woman Cameron now knew as Joanna spoke softly. “You don’t have to let them in right now if you don’t want to.” Cameron straightened up. Joanna patted her cheek. “I have a new toothbrush and some mouthwash at my desk. Would you like me to get them for you?”

She nodded. “Yes. Thank you so much.” She moved to the sink, rinsing her mouth as she heard knocking again.

“I’ll be right with you,” Joanna called out. She patted Cameron on the back again. “I’ll just be a minute or so.”

Joanna crossed to the bathroom door, shutting it behind her as she left. Cameron heard low voices outside, and what sounded like a herd of footsteps moving away from the bathroom door. The news from the mirror over the sink wasn’t encouraging. Her eyes were bloodshot and swollen from crying. Everywhere that wasn’t pasty white was tear-streaked. Makeup would cover most of it, but her nerves were shredded, to put it mildly. She wished she could curl up on the clean tile floor and rest for a while.

She remembered enough of what had happened outside to realize that Zach had put himself in danger to make sure she would be safe, and she needed to talk with him about this. If she started thinking about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there, she’d throw up again. Her legs seemed a bit less rubbery than they were a few minutes ago, so she headed toward the bathroom door. It opened, and she halted mid-step as she grabbed for the counter to support her.

Joanna slipped inside the room. “You look better already,” she reassured.

“I feel awful.”

“I’m not surprised.” She put a small white plastic bag onto the counter. “My son’s a dentist. He’s made sure I have a lifetime supply of oral hygiene products. These are for you.”

“Thank you so much for helping me,” Cameron said. The tears rose in her eyes again.

“Shhhh. You’re going to be fine. The guy is on his way to jail, Zach has a great story to tell his teammates, and now we know we need a little extra security at the entrance to the facility.”

There was another knock at the bathroom door, and a female police officer poked her head inside. “May I come in?”

Chapter Fifteen

A
FTER SEVERAL MEETINGS
with police detectives, the team psychologist, and Sharks security, Cameron was back in her dorm room. Any plan she’d had to get additional interviews with Sharks fans or players was not going to happen, at least in the short term. Practice had been cancelled for the day. She hadn’t seen Zach since this morning. She knew he was safe because the police assured her he was, but she needed to see for herself. She couldn’t imagine how to thank him for putting himself in danger for her safety. The guy he’d tackled was out of his mind on substances and had a gun; the police officers even had a tough time dealing with him. She was supposed to be changing her clothes before the most stressful meeting yet with the production staff from PSN.

It was no secret that Cameron had stalkers. It was, unfortunately, an occupational hazard for anyone in the public eye. The PSN studios were well-fortified. She had personal security whenever she did sideline reporting for a game, too. She didn’t see her own mail until Kacee and PSN security verified it was safe. She was escorted home from work, and she knew there was at least one guy with an earpiece and extensive martial arts and firearms training in her vicinity at all times in New York City. The last place she expected to be confronted was a quiet street in Seattle’s suburbs.