Whiplash: A Sports Romance (37 page)

I slap the water with my palm, annoyed that this topic has once again dominated my thoughts. It was
five years ago
. I’m a completely different person now and — by the looks of it — so is he. He’s not the same Fox I met when we were fifteen and my father started dating his mother. Back then, he was
that guy.
The popular kid in the halls with his backpack hanging from one shoulder and a hot cheerleader on the other. That devil may care attitude that everyone loved, teachers included. It’s what let him get away with so much with little effort on his part.

We had nothing in common. I was an average kid on the opposite end of the spectrum. Quiet and shy. I didn’t like crowds or cameras or being the center of attention but that didn’t stop my father from pushing me into theater classes and auditions.

Fox and I never got along that well. We were just too different. It was awkward enough going to the same school. When he and his mother moved in, it got worse. Fighting, bickering. Little did we know that our feelings sat just beneath the surface, forbidden urges neither one of us dared to say out loud until
that night
.

No, he’s not that same boy. He’s changed. Now,
he’s
the one hiding in the shadows. Honestly, he probably should have just stayed there.

I inhale a deep breath before submerging my head. The doctor told me to keep the bandage on my cheek dry, but I don’t really care about that right now. I just want to get his rugged, bearded face out of my head.

I shoot up in the tub, my eyes darting towards the door as something slams in the hall. Water pours from the sides, sprinkling down to the linoleum floor. I refuse to move or even breathe. I stare at the locked door. Was it real? Or was it all in my head?

“Smith?”

I sit up a little more, focusing my hearing on the hallway. Any second now, I’ll hear his loafers tap down the hall. He’ll knock twice and I’ll hear his authoritarian voice ask,
“Is everything okay in there?”

Silence.

I raise my voice a little louder. “Smith?”

Nothing. No answer. No shoes. No annoyed sigh.

I wrap my fingers around the tub’s edge and push myself up.

Glass shatters, echoing from the kitchen. I freeze, suspended between standing and kneeling, as something falls to the floor in the living room. Something stiff and loud. Like a body.

“Smith?!” I shout again, pleading for him to answer me but I still hear nothing.

I step out of the tub and grab my robe to cover up before rushing over to the closet. My fingers wrap around the handle of a baseball bat — the one a young, single girl living alone keeps stashed away for times just like this. I hold the bat tight and move to the door. There’s still no sound coming from the hallway. I grit my teeth in anger. Smith isn’t the type to mess around. If he is playing a prank, it’s entirely unwelcome. However, I’d much rather this be a prank than anything else.

The floorboards squeak in the hall.

I grip the bat a little harder. It doesn’t sound like Smith’s black loafers. These are boots, hard and loud. They tap down the hall, inching closer toward the bathroom door. My entire body shakes. Water drips down my legs. Muscles twitch and ache.

A hand grips the doorknob and it twists back and forth.

I lay a palm against my mouth to keep from screaming.

The door flies open, smashed in by a single kick of his boot. My feet slip in the water beneath me and I fall to the floor. The bat clatters away, rolling towards the sink in the corner.

It’s
him
.

I look up into his eyes, the only bit of his skin visible behind the black mask and tactical gear, and scream. I spin onto my knees to crawl away, but he’s on me fast, grabbing me by my wet hair. He pulls me around and slams me back down to the floor. My head smacks the hard tile and pain crashes down my spine as he mounts me and wraps his hands around my neck.

He doesn’t squeeze. I expect to feel my lungs gasping for air but he doesn’t choke me. He sits there with wide eyes, staring down into mine as if to memorize my fear. It won’t last. Any moment now he’ll flex his fingers and my trachea will crush beneath the weight.

This is it. This is how I die.

“Mercer…”
I say.

His grip loosens. “How do you know my name?” he asks, tilting his head at me. There’s confusion in his blue eyes, but I detect playful amusement dancing behind it all.

“He told me—”

“Who told you?”

He leans in so close, I can smell his stale breath behind the mask. I quiver in his tight grasp. “Fox Fitzpatrick,” I answer.

His eyes grow wide with pleasure — even more so than they were before choking the life out of me. “Fox Fitzpatrick?” he repeats the name. “So he
is
here.”

I nod.

“Oh…” His laughter, dark and cold, rattles my core. He draws me closer to his wild eyes. “I knew it… I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist this…” He grabs me and raises me off the floor, standing me in front of him like a human shield. “Fox! Take the shot! I dare you!”

I furrow my brow in confusion as Mercer pushes me forward towards the windows. He reaches up and rips the blinds open to look outside, keeping me in front of him at all times. I scan the buildings across the street, seeing nothing.

“Fox!” he shouts again, laughter shaking his throat. Mercer grips the back of my neck even tighter and pulls me backward as he steps to the door. “You can end this now, Fox! Just shoot her through the heart and you’ll hit me, too!”

I cringe, fear stalling my movement. Mercer tugs me along with him into the hallway, slowing down before we reach the living room.

Smith.
I see him there, lying face down on the floor of the kitchen next to his toppled chair. Mercer keeps me close, refusing to let me run away as he creeps closer to the door.

“Fox!” Mercer shouts again. “You can follow me down the stairs and shoot me once I reach the street… or you can take out the guys I have on the ground floor, ready to run up here and slit her throat. It’s up to you.”

He shoves me forward and launches himself out the front door, hiding from the windows as he charges towards the elevator. I rush into the kitchen and fall onto my knees by Smith. “Oh, god —
get up
.” I push him over onto his back and wince at his blood-covered face. His skin is warm, alive. I check his neck for a pulse and feel the faint thumping against my fingers — although, I can’t be entirely sure it’s not just my own heart pounding.

“Wake up, Smith!” I tap his face with my palm, hard enough to open his eyes. He grunts and I breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank god, you’re alive!”

The door flies open and I turn to see a man standing there. He’s dressed all in black, wearing the same mask and tactical vest as Mercer. I scream as he slides a knife from his holster and lunges at me.

A window shatters in the living room and a bullet pierces his head. He falls to the floor and drops his knife while a red pool spills out beneath him.

I stare at him with wide eyes, terrified to even move.

My cell phone rings and I jolt at the sound singing through my purse on the counter above my head. I reach for it with shaking hands and answer it without looking. “Hello?”

“Dani, I need you to run.”

My jaw sags.
“Fox?”

“Stand up and move to the window.”

I push off the floor with quaking knees and look out the window. “Are you actually out there?” A small light flashes at me from the window across the way. “What the hell is going on?”

“Right now, there’s two more of them running up the stairwells — one on the north side, the other south. Take the north stairs down. Do it now.”

“Fox—”

“Now, Dani.”

I move to the door and my foot slips in blood. “Which way is north?” I ask, wiping my toes on the carpet in the hall.

“Go left.”

“Should I take the elevator?” I ask, my phone trembling against my cheek.

“No,”
he answers quickly. “The stairwells have windows. I can’t see in the elevators.
Go, Dani! Move!
”

I push the door open to the stairwell. Boots echo up at me, charging fast. I look down to see a black mass bolting up just a few floors down. “Fox—”

“Just keep going, Dani. I have a shot.”

“You have a
what
?”

The window cracks beside me and the man falls off balance. Blood sprays my face as he tumbles to his knees and crumples back down the stairs. I look up at the broken window, too shocked and scared to move.

“Run all the way down, Dani. Don’t stop. I’ll meet you there.”

My lungs jolt from lack of air. They force me to take a breath and my knees lock beneath me. I can’t stop staring at the body. Red blood rolls down the stairs, dripping softly against the linoleum.

“Dani, listen to me. Okay.
Listen to my voice.
” He’s so calm and steady. It’s almost unreal. “Tell me you can hear me. I want you to say it.”

My teeth chatter in my mouth. “I can hear you, Fox.”

“I know you’re scared but you have to keep moving.”

“I… I don’t—”

“I’ll be with you the whole time. I’m right here. I won’t let anything happen to you. Say it.”

His voice crawls over my nerves, melting into me like an ice cube in a glass of warm water. “You won’t let anything happen to me,” I repeat.

“That’s my girl.” I hear the smile on his lips. “Now,
run
.”

I lower the phone from my ear and do as he says, racing down so quickly I can barely stay upright. My heart pounds in my chest, fear blinding my vision. I’ve filmed a dozen sequences like this before but it’s done nothing to prepare me for the real thing. I flinch as my bare toes slam against the floor and I lean into the railing to support myself until I reach the bottom.

As I step outside, a black car swerves to the curb and stops a few feet away from me. Pedestrians do a quick double take, many of them recognizing my face.

“Get in!”

Fox
. He throws the passenger side door open and I don’t hesitate to lower myself into it. “What the hell is going on?!” I ask him again as we speed off into traffic.

“Keep your head down.”

“Why?”

He reaches for me with his right hand and forces me down as a blaze of bullets pierce my window. I scream and cover my head with my arms.

“That’s why.” He turns back in his seat and grabs a pistol from the duffel bag on the floor.

I glance out my window, hearing the roar of a motorbike flooring towards us. A third man in black points a gun at me. “Fox—!”

He raises his gun towards the window and pulls the trigger, clipping the third man on the cheek with a single bullet. The bike lurches to the side, sending him across the pavement in a red, bloody heap. My jaw drops, but I can’t make myself look away.

“Dani, you okay?”

I turn to him, taking slow, smooth breaths. He looks straight ahead, weaving in and out of traffic with extreme focus. My skin feels cold and the slightest wind gives me chills. I look down and realize I’m still in my robe. “I’m naked.”

His eyes wander down my legs but retreat forward again just as quickly. “We’ll find you some clothes. Just relax and keep your head down.”

I grip my robe tighter around me and slide down in the seat.

Chapter 7

Fox

I push the key into the lock and open the door, gesturing Dani in first. She walks inside with her head down, although I wonder if it did any good sneaking her in here. How am I supposed to keep her hidden when everyone in the world knows her face? Even the old man at the front desk looked twice as we walked passed it to get to my room. I suppose it’s not every day a pretty girl in nothing but a bathrobe sneaks into a hotel room with a mysterious man.

Then again, this is Los Angeles.

I lock the door behind us and Dani sits down on the edge of the bed, her fingers still clutched around the neck of her short robe. Her thighs stick out the bottom, attached to long, perfect legs and bloody toes. She’s pale, her eyes are cold, devoid of that spark she usually has.

I walk across the room and grab a disposable cup off the bathroom counter and fill it with water from the sink. “Dani, you okay?”

She looks up at me with trembling eyes. I offer her the cup and she takes it. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay to say no,” I add.

“Good.” She sighs and takes a slow sip. “I might change my answer then.” A tone rings out and she lurches so hard, water spills over the side of her cup. She reaches into the pocket of her robe. “It’s my dad.” I take the phone from her hand before she can answer it. “Wait—”

“No phone.”

“No phone?! I have to answer that, Fox. He’ll have seen the apartment by now—”

“He’ll live.”

“
Fox.”
She stares up at me with narrow eyes. “If I don’t call my dad, he’s going to freak out. Do
you
want Bennett Roberts to freak out?”

I bite my inner cheek. “
I
will call him — from a different phone. This one can be traced and we don’t want that.”