The Revolution (31 page)

THERE ARE TIMES
when you sit and reflect on what went wrong and how to learn from your mistakes.

This is not one of those times.

I know exactly what went wrong and no matter how many times Mark says we’re good together, he won’t convince me. I can’t forget what he’s done, although he acts like he’s forgotten, which makes it more disconcerting being here now. I’m the one who paid the price, and I continue to. I don’t know if he was stalking me, but I don’t believe it was a “happy accident” we ran into each other like he claims. As if the physical damage he caused wasn’t enough, he is determined to destroy everything good that remains—like Kaz.

The threat has always been there. I just didn’t know Mark could stoop lower than he already had. He showed me an email that had the photos Kaz took of me attached. Every bruise and bump in its full glory with implications of Kaz Fabian as the abuser from some anonymous account Mark created.

Mark Renner worked out a plan while I was stuck in this closet. I should have cleared my phone, but I thought I might need the evidence handy. Now the photos are in the wrong hands and Kaz and I will both pay the price for my carelessness.

Over and over again he’s repeated his mantra: If he can’t have me, neither will Kaz. Pacing in front of me like a caged animal, he holds all the cards, but seems close to losing it all. His anxiety rolls off him and right onto me when he asks, “Who took those pictures? Did he? Did you let another man look at you, touch you, be with you?”

When I don’t respond, he slams his fist against the door, sending it to hit the wall. He’s trying to break it like he wants to break me. He may have stolen the pictures off my phone, but he won’t take anything else away from me. My hands haven’t stopped shaking since I ran into him at the bar, but I refuse to go down without a fight though. “What are you doing, Mark?”

Bloodshot eyes hit me and my breath stops. His demeanor has become more crazed the longer we stay here. I was shoved into my closet and told to sit on the floor. All the lights are out, but the door is open and the blinds let a little light in from outside. He stops in front of the door, his fingers flexing, an action that should scare me, but doesn’t. It’s more concerning. Unpredictable. Something tells me he’s looking for something other than to hurt me. He finally replies, “I don’t know anymore.”

I refuse to be afraid of him. “What happened?”

His head drops and he says, “My teammates turned me in. They got me hooked and then fingers started pointing when Coach was onto them.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m suspended indefinitely because I failed the drug test.”

The gasp is caught in my chest, and silence is my only response. He lives for baseball. If that’s taken away, what’s left?

Me.

In his mind, it’s only me left in his life.

“They’ll have you back. They’ll make it go away. You’re their weapon, their strongest team member, the highest-paid first baseman in baseball. For a reason. They won’t risk losing the season by losing you.”

“They already have.”

“Talk to them.”

A fist slams against the closet door, causing me to jump. “I have. I have a failed drug test and that scene your boyfuck caused on the red carpet and they don’t want the bad publicity. Do you know what this means to my contract?”

“Your contract should be safe. I heard—”

“There’s a code of conduct clause, Lara. I’ve broken it under these allegations.”

Allegations…
truth.
He’s completely unhinged.

“What are you doing with me? You show up at the bar, threaten me and others, and you want me to what? Sympathize? Help you? I can’t. Not with that threat still out there.”

“Be with me. The coaches like you. The owner’s wife likes you. America loves you, Lara. They love us together. Why can’t you just pretend to like me?”

My glare should be enough. It’s not as he looks at me so expectantly. I stand up, willing to take whatever he rages my way. I swallow down the quiver in my voice and speak firmly. “You’re leaving, but before you go, you are going to delete that email. And then when you get home, you are going to delete the photos you stole from my phone. You’re going to delete every video you have of us, and every image we ever took with or without consent. You are you going to walk to the front door and leave as if you were never here. Do you understand me?”

“Why would I do that when you’re my only hope to come back from this?”

“Because you aren’t going to mess your life up any further. You have damaged me in ways I will never recover from, but if you don’t leave right now, you will have to kill me. I will never help you. I will never let you get away with hurting Kaz. I will never let you have another night of peace on this earth if you hurt either of us again. Do you understand, Mark? This is it. We are over and we will never be again.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Fix your life. Stop using steroids. You didn’t enter the major leagues a drug user. You didn’t get MVP for three seasons doing drugs. You didn’t become Mark Renner, the great baseball player, because of the drugs. You had talent. You still do. Be the person you know you can be. Make your parents proud again. Prove the naysayers wrong and win their hearts all over again.”

Standing before me, in all his height, his hands twitch at his sides and inside I flinch. My phone rings and I look back at the floor.

Kaz.

For a very brief second, I feel hope. And then I hear Mark’s angry roar.

NO UPDATES.

No calls.

No Lara.

I push the curtain to my bunk to the side and get up. The bus is quiet, the lights out as the guys sleep, and we rumble our way to the next city. I can’t remember where we’re going as I make my way to the small galley kitchen. Pulling a beer from the fridge I need something to help me sleep. This won’t help, but since I have no idea what’s happening with Lara, I don’t mind if my thoughts are numbed until I do.

Sitting down in the co-captains seat, I ask, “Where are we?”

Doug, our driver, has a smile in place, appearing happy to have some company in the middle of the night. “Somewhere in South Carolina. We’ve got about two hundred miles or so to go.” His eyes return to the road and he asks, “Can’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Great show earlier.”

“Thanks.” I take another long pull from the can, set it in the cup holder, and rest back. The monotony of the dark road, the soft road noise as we drive, does a good job of relaxing me. I don’t know how long my eyes dip closed, but I’m startled awake by a hand on my shoulder. “What?” I ask, looking up.

Dex is there, lit by the little light coming in from the dashboard. “Rochelle just called me.”

I stand, wiping the sleep from one of my eyes. My phone is in my other hand and I flip it up to see the screen. No call. “What’d she say?”

“Come on. The guys are up.”

I glance to Doug whose grin is gone. Patting him on the shoulder, I walk back. Derrick is leaning his head out the top bunk bed. Johnny’s leaning against the wall near the sink. Tommy has moved to the table, and Dex takes a seat on the couch. Bent forward resting his arms on his knees, Dex looks up at me. His usual bravado and charisma not seen, so I ask again, “What did she say?”

“Lara was in an accident.”

What the fuck?
“What do you mean?”

“She’s alive, but she’s in the hospital.”

I didn’t need a beer to numb myself. Those words do a damn good job all on their own. Not a heartbeat to be felt. No breath leaves my mouth. No words escape my lips.

But my thoughts are thrown into chaos.

I look to Derrick. We’ve been through a lot together over the years and I need to know what he thinks. This is a big decision. If I leave the band and go to her, I’m potentially cancelling two shows. He hops down and says, “You need to go to her.”

“Can you go on without me?”

“No. We don’t go on without you. She’s important to you, she’s important to us. We’re a band. That means we band together.” Johnny stands with his feet planted firmly in place, and says, “We’re going back to LA. Tommy will have a plane waiting for us at the nearest airport.”

Tommy stands and moves toward the front of the bus. “On it.”

WARMTH KISSES MY
shoulder, fingers strumming down my spine. I shiver from the delicious chill that follows as a hand cups my ass, and whispers fill my ear, “You’re safe, baby.”

I want to burst with flowers and hearts, love songs, and romance. The emotion is strong inside, cradling me in its depth. Rolling over onto my back, his fingertips dance across my chest, his lips kiss mine, and an audible hum awakens me.

“Lara?”

I try to open my eyes, but they’re heavy.

“Lara?” A familiar voice calls my name. “She’s awake.”

Bright lights and shadows come into view. I close my eyes tight searching for the man that keeps me safe—protects me from the bad—in the back of the orange-red of my lids.

“Wake up, baby.” The warmth of a hand holds mine and that voice draws me to lean to the right. “Lara, can you hear me?”

My lids flutter open and I see a man. My body, faster than my sluggish thoughts, moves instinctually against the far side of the bed, a cold railing digging into my back. My throat is rough, and gasps and coughs replace the words I want to scream.

“She’s awake.” I’m startled by Rochelle. “I’ll get a nurse.”

As my vision clears, I jump again, sitting up in the process. “Stay away,” I work out, my voice scratchy while tears flood my eyes. I scream, “Help!”

“Lara?” He reaches forward to touch me and I scream again.

I run from the bed, the IV ripping from my arm and causing more pain. Holding my wrist, I run for the door just as it opens. A nurse and Rochelle are there and I drop to my knees and plead, “Help me.”

As I sob at their feet, the nurse calls for help and Rochelle kneels down next to me. “Honey, you’re safe. Kaz and I will take care of you.”

I look into her eyes. “No. No. No. No. No. Please. Please. Help me.”

“We will.” She looks over her shoulder. “Kaz and I are here for you.”

My gaze slides up the white linoleum, higher up his jeans, and into that bastard’s eyes. A pain reflects into mine, but I know what happened.
I know how he hurt me.

I’m on my feet as fast as I can scramble up and run out the door. I only glance back once to see him fast on my heels. I’m grabbed before I reach the turn. His hand covers my mouth just as I scream. Two orderlies grab me and the nurse starts saying, “Calm down. You’re safe, Ms. Kessler.”

The man holding me contradicts that.
I’m not safe. Why doesn’t anyone realize that?

My thoughts run wild.

Dreams.

Reality.

Which is which?

Rochelle is sitting bedside when I float into daylight. My body is numb, my desire to fight escaping me. I give up and roll my head to the side. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.”

“Why?”

“You were hurt in a car accident.”

“What? I don’t remember.”

There’s no smile on her face, not even a comforting one. “The doctor said that would probably be the case. Your parents are getting coffee. They’ll be right back.”