He hit play, and I watched him watch the two of us together. His face registered the same shock I’d felt as he muttered, “How?”
His eyes blazed as he looked up at me. “Did you do this?”
Shock made me mute, so I could only shake my head.
“Did you? You seem to be the common denominator in these videos, Eliana.”
“Kane Bartholomew!”
He turned on his grandmother. “Don’t you Kane Bartholomew me,” he roared.
“That’s enough!” The voice came from the doorway, and I recognized the man as the team’s owner, Rhett Hamilton.
Marsha wrapped the older woman in her arms, and Kane looked ashamed. “Nana, I’m sorry.” He looked at me. “I’m sorry, I just don’t understand.”
I was still shaking my head. I didn’t understand either.
In abject misery, I felt the fangs of despair settling into me, biting and sucking my spirit greedily, draining me of hope. When I was young, I was terrified of vampires, of how they looked so normal until they opened their mouths. As an adult, I realized there were creatures much more terrifying than those who avoided the light. Creatures who hovered in the shadows, ready to leap when you weren’t looking.
Humans.
A phone pinged, and Katrina grabbed hers from Kane, dread on her face. “Google alerts,” she muttered, then “Fuck!” Stomping her foot, she pulled her arm back, winding up like she was going to throw her phone.
Kane grabbed her wrist, then the phone, and Katrina turned away.
“Show me,” I whispered, then cleared my throat and said it again, louder this time.
His face tight, Kane limped over to where I sat. Zoe moved, and he took her place and held the phone between us.
I tapped play.
This time, we were in his bedroom, and I was riding him on his bed.
“How?” we said simultaneously, and I knew my face was crimson. It had been bad enough when it was only me, but now him?
“Your private investigator is here.” It was Rhett, and we both looked up to see a middle-aged man in shorts and a polo. He didn’t look very PI, but he held out a card as he approached.
He introduced himself as Paul Beck. “I came to the game to see if I could locate anyone paying undue attention to you or Eliana,” Paul explained. “I have both your names in my alerts and got the ding when the video hit. I stayed back, watching the crowd to see if I noticed anyone looking smug.”
“Did you?” I whispered.
“No, I didn’t. I’d have the fucker in a headlock if I had.”
I heard Nana mutter, “Good.”
Kane must have heard it too because he turned to his mother. “Do you mind taking Nana back?”
“I do not want to leave this conversation, Kane Bar—”
“Nana, please. It was bad enough when this was only about Eliana, but… I know you don’t want to see me.”
Nana’s eyes widened. “You? See you do what?”
Kane reddened. “Nana,” he said slowly. “Please don’t make me spell it out.”
“Oh!” She looked directly at me. “Well, nobody told me anything, so how was I supposed to know? But I want to stay anyway. Who do you think changed your diapers?”
“The nanny.”
She glared at him. “Well, I supervised. And then you went through that naked phase when we couldn’t keep clothes on you.”
“Nana…”
“Well, it’s true. You’d just whip off your clothes and streak around no matter where we were. And how old were you when I caught you and that girl skinny-dipping in my pool?”
“Nana!”
I watched the dear woman give herself a mental shake. “Oh yes, sorry. But the point was that I’ve seen you in all your naked glory many times.”
“Mom…” Kane whined, sounding like a little boy.
Marsha stood up. “Let’s go. I don’t think they want parental units around for this delicate conversation.”
When Nana finally stood up with a loud “hmph,” Kane nearly sagged in his chair.
No one said a word until they were safely out the door.
“Well then,” the private investigator began, “I can also report that I’ve located the address of Brett Southerland based on the information you provided me last night.”
I glanced over at Kane. I didn’t know he’d done that already.
“And?”
“He still lives in New York proper. He’s a PE teacher for an elementary school. Coaches Pee Wee Football. Usual stuff for college football players who don’t make it pro.”
I cringed as I thought about him being around all those children.
“I’ll be heading out there tomorrow to case the place, get pictures and any evidence I can. I’ve been in contact with the cybersex crimes unit of the FBI, and they’re very interested in your case. You’ll probably be receiving a call or visit from them.”
I finally found my voice. “But that’s for the videos from when I was in college. What about the…” I looked at Kane, and the muscles in his jaw popped. “What about the videos from recently?”
Paul nodded. “I need inside your apartment, Kane. Based on camera angle for the videos, we should be able to locate the source.”
Kane stood back up, much more slowly than usual. I grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”
Gently, he stepped away, and my hand dropped to my side. “Yeah. Let me go change, and we’ll get out of here. I want this figured out as soon as damn possible.”
Without another glance at me, he limped out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kane
Fury flowed like lava through my veins, burning every part of me. I was afraid to touch or even look too closely at Eliana, thinking I might scald her with just a glance.
Why?
How?
Who?
The questions tapped against my brain, like the drip-drip-drip from a faucet, threatening to drive me crazy.
Back in the locker room, most of the guys were already gone. I kicked off my cleats and pulled off my hat, throwing it against the wall. The shirt was next, then pants. That’s when I finally got a good look at my thigh. The large bruise was already black. Deep. Nasty. Spreading. I might have only been hit with an object just a couple inches wide, but this bruise was already easily double that size.
I stared at it. It was a reminder of how I’d lost focus. Of how I’d cost my team a game. Me. I’d done that, because I’d let my dick control my brain.
“Let’s look at that.”
I turned to find the team physician standing in the hall. “It’s okay,” I muttered, but he only crossed his arms over his chest.
Exhaling deeply, I removed my cup and pulled on some basketball shorts before following him to the treatment room where I knew a bag of ice was waiting.
“It’s deep. The bone is probably bruised too. Need to do a quick x-ray to rule out a fracture. You’re lucky it didn’t hit your knee.”
“It isn’t fractured.”
He just stared at me until I followed him to the x-ray room and climbed onto the table for a couple of shots.
“No fracture,” he said after examining the image on the screen, “but be on the lookout for signs of a clot. You need to come in for twice a day PT.”
“Doc, we’ll be on the road the next five days.”
He peered at me over his glasses. “Correction, the team will be on the road. You’ll be in here twice a day for physical therapy.”