Betrayal Page 2

  Brad shouted his enthusiasm. “Hell yeah! Hurry the fuck up and get out of the car. We don’t want the pussy to get cold.”

  I climbed out of the car and followed them inside. The place was a madhouse. All the windows and doors were open, allowing the interior lights to spill onto the yard below, and loud music poured out of two large speakers on the porch. Boisterous shouts surrounded us as we approached the makeshift bar. Mason and Brad whispered before scoping out the crowd. I tugged on Mason’s elbow, pulling him aside.

  “Give me your keys.”

  Mason jerked his arm from my grip. “No fucking way.”

  “I’m not asking. Give me your keys. We’ll stay a couple hours, and then I’m driving you home so you can sleep this off. The last thing we need is for you to get a DUI. Dad will lose his shit if that happens.”

  Mason reluctantly handed over his keys. “When did you become such a drag? You used to be cool.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m fucking tired, Mason. Not to mention, I have a game tomorrow. Baseball doesn’t stop just because the semester ends.” I tucked the keys in my pocket and took a swig of beer. “You’re wasting time. I’m leaving in two hours, with or without you.”

  I watched as Mason and Brad put their heads together, presumably formulating a plan, before I located an empty chair near the bar to get comfortable while I waited for the boys. Todd’s older brother, Jason, walked over and plopped into the chair next to me. We talked for a while until Jason decided it was time for a smoke. I declined and settled back with another beer.

  “Hi, Ian. It’s been a while.”

  I looked up at the girl standing before me. “Layla. I heard you were going to be here.”

  She prevented me from standing by sitting on my lap. “I thought he’d never leave.” Her arms looped around my neck, closing the distance between us. “Did you feel like crashing a high school graduation party tonight?”

  “No. I’m babysitting.”

  “Babysitting?” She snorted. “Whom?”

  “Mason and his friend. I was elected to keep them out of trouble.”

  “Where are they?” She leaned away and glanced around the room. “I don’t see them.”

  “They’re probably trying to get laid—unsuccessfully, I might add.”

  She laughed again, softly this time, and lowered her mouth to my ear. “How long have you been here?”

  I checked the time on my watch. “Almost an hour. I told them I’d wait two, and then I’m leaving.”

  “Waiting for them can’t be much fun for you.” She kissed my cheek. “Why don’t you play with someone your own age?”

  Standing, she took my hand and pulled, a silent request for me to follow.

  I’d had no intention of hooking up with anyone when I arrived, but Layla was fucking hot. She had always been gorgeous, but damn—the past two years had been good to her. Her hair was longer, falling almost halfway down her back, and she’d filled out in all the right places. I always thought she was a good girl, which was why I’d never tried to hook up with her in the past, along with the fact she was Jason’s sister. Jason would beat my ass for messing around with Layla. I must have been crazy—or drunk—to even consider it.

  As soon as we entered her room, she closed the door and pushed me against it. Stretching onto her toes, she pressed her mouth to mine, kissing me hard. After my initial surprise, I responded, folding my arms around her and deepening the kiss. She pulled away, out of breath.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for years.”

  She led me to the bed and pushed me into a seated position before climbing onto my lap, straddling my hips. I had a moment of clarity that it was a bad idea and I needed to walk away, but for some insane reason, I ignored that niggle of doubt and tangled my fingers in her hair, drawing her closer to claim her mouth.

  Her hands trailed down my chest, stopping when she reached the button on my waistband. Popping open my fly one button at a time, she worked her way down until her hand fit inside to grasp my cock.

  “Layla, what are you doing?”

  “What does it feel like?”

  “We can’t do this. I don’t have a condom.”

  “It’s okay. I’m on the pill.”

  I broke our kiss and grabbed her wrists, pulling her hands away. Something in her tone doused any desire I’d begun to feel. I pushed her off my lap and stood, quickly righting my clothes and refastening my fly.

  “No offense, but I never have sex without a condom.” I checked the time. “Shit. I have to go find my brother.”

  “What the fuck, Ian? I’m throwing myself at you, and you don’t want to fuck me? I said I’m on the pill. Don’t you trust me?”

  “No, actually, I don’t. Do you know how many girls have said that to me? Why the fuck should I believe you when I never believed any of them?”

  She bit down on her bottom lip and reached for me, hooking a finger in one of my belt loops to draw me closer. “Because you know me.”

  “I don’t know you that well, and Jason and I are friends, which makes you off-limits. I must be fucking insane letting you drag me in here.”

  “You’re an asshole,” she exclaimed, pointing toward the door. “Get out.”

  “Gladly.”

  Walking out of her room, I felt nothing but relief that I hadn’t lost my mind and fucked her without a condom. No fucking way in hell. Some chick telling me she forgot to take her pill and ended up pregnant was the last thing I needed. No, thank you.

  I bumped into a bleary-eyed Todd as I entered the living room. “Have you seen Mason or Brad?”

  He swayed on his feet. “Uh, yeah ... they just left.”

  “They left? How the hell—”

  A sick feeling settled in my gut as I reached into my pocket. I should have known. The little bastard gave me someone else’s keys—probably Brad’s—and they left without me. Fabulous. I pushed my way through the room, trying to find someone sober enough to give me a ride. As I walked through the crowded room, I spotted Jason.

  “Hey, Jason. Can you give me a ride? Mason took off without me, and I need to catch him before he kills himself or someone else.”

  “No problem. What’s he doing driving, anyway?”

  I shook my head. “The little prick gave me Brad’s keys instead of his own. I’m going to kick his ass when I catch him.”

  Jason laughed as we approached his truck. “Little brothers are a pain in the ass, aren’t they?” He looked up at the porch and pointed to Layla. “Little sisters, too.”

  I mumbled a generic response as we climbed in his truck and took off after the boys. It didn’t take long to catch up to them, just in time to watch the Mustang swerve across the road. It began to slide, then spin, toward the ditch. Before the tires left the asphalt, the car began to spin in the opposite direction. As soon as the tires found traction on the soft ground, turf and loose gravel sprayed behind the car. The change in momentum caused the car to roll, moving across the ditch before finally coming to rest in the pasture.

  Jason stopped his truck on the shoulder of the road alongside the wrecked car. I jumped out of the vehicle before it stopped completely, and sprinted to the Mustang.

  “Mason! Mason!”

  The car landed upright, and I didn’t smell gasoline, so there wasn’t an immediate danger of an explosion. Unfortunately, the car was totaled. The windows were broken, the roof was at least six inches lower than it should have been, and the front end was unrecognizable. I reached a hand through the driver’s window and tried to rouse Mason. Blood was streaming down his face, and he was slumped over the wheel, out cold. Brad was in the back seat, twisted and broken.

  We were fucked.

  “Mason.” I reached inside the car, trying again to rouse my brother. “Mason, can you hear me?”

  Mason groaned at the contact but didn’t answer. I turned my attention toward the backseat. Brad was motionless, not making a sound.

  “Brad?”

  I fished my cell phone from m
y pocket to call 9-1-1, giving our location to the dispatcher before trying to rouse Mason again. The next call was to our father, who picked up on the third ring.

  “Cillian?”

  “Dad? There’s been an accident.”

  “Accident?” He sounded annoyed. There was ambient noise on the other end of the call, probably his poker buddies.

  “Yes. Mason and Brad are injured pretty badly.”

  “Mason was driving?” His volume escalated, and his voice was filled with panic. “Where are you?”

  “I tried to get him to let me drive, but he refused. We’re on Blue Bluff Road.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? He wouldn’t let you drive?”

  “Mason was being a brat, probably because you bought him a fucking Mustang for his birthday. I just called nine-one-one. I’m not sure how long it will take them to get here.”

  “Were you injured as well?”

  I wasn’t sure why he would ask about my condition—I knew he didn’t give a shit. “No. The boys left the party without me. Jason and I caught up to them just as Mason lost control. We saw the whole thing.”

  Dad sounded confused, yet somehow hopeful. “Jason McIntyre?”

  “Yes.” It was my turn to be confused. “Why?”

  He didn’t answer, and the sounds of muffled conversation filtered through the phone. “Dad? Are you still there?” Although the night was warm, I felt a cold sweat break across my brow.

  “We’re on our way. Stay where you are and wait for the ambulance.” He paused, and more muffled voices traveled through the phone. “And ask Jason to stay with you.”

  “We? Who are you talking about?”

  “Just stay there and wait. We can be there in ten minutes.”

  I disconnected the call and slid the phone into my pocket. I ran both hands through my hair as a puzzled Jason joined me, slipping his own phone into his back pocket.

  “Was that your dad?” he asked.

  “Yeah. I’m not sure what’s going on, but he said they’ll be here in ten minutes. He asked that you stay with me while I wait for the ambulance.” I gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m not sure why he wants you to stay.”

  Jason stepped closer, eyes narrowed. His lips quirked into a cruel half-smile. “I know why.”

  I frowned. “You do? Well, would you care to enlighten me?”

  A sardonic laugh filled the space between us as Jason balled his hands into fists. “I just got off the phone with my dad.”

  “Okay. And?”

  “My sister called him—about you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “What did I supposedly do?”

  Rather than answer, Jason reached back and propelled his fist into my face. There was a sharp crack as my nose broke, and my eyes watered from the impact. Caught off guard, I tried to regain my balance so I could defend myself. Jason’s next punch hit me square in the gut. I doubled over, gasping for air as blood flowed from my nose, dripping onto my shoes while it also drained down my throat, gagging me. As I spit the thick liquid from my mouth, I ran forward, ramming my shoulder into Jason’s stomach. We fell to the ground, trading punches and grappling with each other, each trying to get the upper hand. Jason managed to stand, jerking me to my feet at the same time. There was a pop—a stabbing pain—in my right shoulder from the force of Jason’s brutal tug. Another agonized gasp burst from my lips when he twisted my arm behind my back.

  The sound of shouting drew closer, and I saw my father, Judge McIntyre, and two others approaching. Dad studied me from head to toe, quietly assessing the damage before turning his attention to Jason. “Looks like he gave as good as he got.” He stepped closer and grabbed my chin, tilting it back so he could get a better look at my face. “What do you think, Tom?” He glanced back at his companions. “Does that look believable?”

  I recognized Tom as Dr. Freeman, one of my father’s oldest friends and who also happened to be an orthopedic surgeon. He studied my face and then walked over to examine the damaged car. “Possibly, but considering the damage sustained, he’d most likely have some bruising from the seat belt and potentially a broken arm.”

  I stared at my father, horrified. “What the fuck is this?” I tried to jerk away from Jason, but he simply tightened his hold on my wounded arm. Groaning from the pain radiating from my shoulder, I turned toward Jason. “And why the fuck did you attack me, asshole?”

  “You tried to rape my sister.”

  “Fuck you. I kissed her—that’s it.”

  “That’s not what she told Dad. Are you calling her a liar?”

  “Goddamn right, I am. She took me to her bedroom, and then got pissed when I wouldn’t fuck her without a condom.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s the fucking truth. If someone tried to rape her tonight, it wasn’t me. I left her room and immediately started looking for my brother.” I looked at Dad, pleading. “Why the hell are you just standing there? Do something.”

  “Son, I want you to listen closely.” I smelled traces of cigar smoke and bourbon on his breath as he leaned closer. “You were driving tonight, not Mason. That’s what we’re going to tell people. A juvie record will wreck any chance Mason has at the future I have planned for him.” He exhaled roughly. “You’ve made yourself clear regarding what you want—or rather, what you don’t want. If you want to play baseball or be a photographer, so be it, but you will make this sacrifice for your brother’s future. Lord knows you’ve taken enough beatings for Finley in your life. I doubt one more will make much difference.”

  Dad moved away and signaled to Judge McIntyre, who stepped forward holding an aluminum baseball bat. My eyes widened in terror as I frantically tried to escape Jason’s grip.

  Jason leaned closer and whispered, “This is for my sister, you prick.”

  He took the bat and changed places with his father. Judge McIntyre folded an arm around my chest, just beneath my collarbone. I struggled against him, and he folded his other arm under my rib cage. My entire body ached and my shoulder was on fire.

  Dad was the next to speak. “It’s needs to be his left arm. Wouldn’t that be most believable, Tom?”

  “Well, yes, if he were driving, logic would dictate—”

  There was a sharp crack, followed by my howl of pain as the bat connected with my right forearm. Judge McIntyre released me, and I crumpled to the ground, cradling my shattered arm.

  Showing the first sign of emotion, Dad rushed toward Jason, his eyes blazing. “What the fuck? I said his left arm. That’s his pitching arm. Do you realize what you’ve just done?”

  Jason brushed roughly past him, carrying the bat casually over his shoulder. “Guess he won’t be pitching no more.”

  I glared at my father, seething with hatred as I spit a mouthful of blood on his shoes. The wail of a siren pierced the night as I slowly stood and walked toward the crumpled Mustang.

  Chapter Three

  Eight weeks later...

  Coach Sanders settled behind his desk, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation that was about to take place. I knew what was coming. I just wanted him to get on with it.

  “Ian...”

  “They’re kicking me out, aren’t they?”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, son. Truly, I am.”

  “But it was an accident.”

  “I understand that, but the college is concerned about the message it sends if there are no repercussions.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “It looks bad for the school—and the team—that you were driving while intoxicated.”

  Bitter tears stung my eyes and burned my throat. I wanted to tell him the truth about what happened that night, anything to save my place on the team and salvage the life that my father so callously threw away. But it wouldn’t make any difference. It was done. My dream was dead, gone as quickly as a wisp of smoke.

  I rose from my seat and extended my right hand. My grip wasn’t what is used to be, but I could manage a decent handshake. “Thank you, Co
ach, for everything. I appreciated the opportunity to play for you.”

  “You were a hell of a player, Ian. I wish you the best of luck.”

  All I could do was nod as I turned and walked out the door. The one thought that stuck in my head was that I couldn’t stay in Austin. I had to get out. I needed to make a clean break and start fresh somewhere else—away from my father.

  I walked into my father’s study without knocking. I wasn’t in the mood to observe his required niceties.

  “What can I do for you, Cillian?” he asked, perturbed at my unexpected appearance.

  “The college yanked my scholarship.”

  He reclined in his chair. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  I lifted a brow. “Are you?”

  “Lose the attitude, son.”

  “Has it always been this easy for you?” I shrugged. “You sit there and pass judgment on everyone else’s life without any concern for the damage you do.” I lifted my withered right arm and gestured at the angry red scar that ran from wrist to elbow. “Do you care—even a little—that I’ll never pitch again? Do you? Does it matter to you that I had a real chance to go pro, and now that’s gone?”

  “I had no—”

  “Just stop.” I help my hand up, palm facing him. “Don’t. I don’t want your excuses about how it was for the greater good.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want to transfer to North Texas and finish my degree there. Finn wants to go with me.”

  “And?”

  “We’ll need money.”

  “No. You won’t get a dime from me if you and your brother leave this house.”

  I smiled. I had expected that answer. “I’ll tell Mom and the boys the truth. I can’t imagine you’d want that. Mason might realize you aren’t the person he’s always believed you are.”

  “Are you threatening me?” His voice remained calm and measured, but his face gave away his anger. A red flush colored his cheeks, and his nostrils flared.

  “Call it whatever you like, but I am leaving, and I’m taking Finn with me. Given all the shit you’ve put me through—and what I’ve lost because of you—I think it’s only fair you help us out until we both finish school.”