The screens went dark many moments too late and there was a roar of reaction from the fans around the field.I struggled to make it out through the haze that was threatening to take over my head.Was it booing?Jeering?Were they calling for our blood?
I heard a second panicked sob and whirled around once more.Keaton’s face was bloodless and his eyes were still fixed on the screen.His whole face was flushed – not the good pink; the bad kind of flush.The bright red that indicated he was mortified.
He was panicking.
In a flash, I remembered and understood that this was about more than me.
There was no doubt in my mind that this little stunt had been designed to wreck me.To put my reputation in the dirt with one more nail in the coffin: Oliver Harvey and his band of liars.And me the biggest liar of all.
But Keaton was only collateral damage.
Whoever had done this had hurt the person I lovedand it wasn’t even anything more than collateral damage.
The panicked anger I had felt subsided into cold rage.
I had to get him out of here.
I tugged at his arm.“We’re leaving,” I said.“Right now.”
He came without needing to be told twice.I wished Ace hadn’t run off.I could have done with another hand.I marched Keaton through the corridors fast – but not fast enough.
They were upon us before we reached the doors to exit and take the private VIP passage to the parking lot.
A hoard of journalists and press photographers announced themselves by shouting my name first.I looked round to find them fast approaching from the other side.A growl started low in my throat at the thought that they would prey on Keaton at a time like this.I whipped my coat off my shoulders and wrapped it over his head and back to shield him from view.Let them take as many pictures of me as they liked.I had to protect Keaton.
The roar of their voices was like a tidal wave behind us as I strode for the door.I marched Keaton through it and turned to shut it firmly.Through the glass window, I saw another face running up behind us: Ace.He glanced at me and met my eyes with a determined nod before turning around.I studied the back of his head for a mere second before turning to stride for the car.He was guarding the door.Buying us time.We had to make the most of it and escape.
We were almost at the car when I saw him.
Brody Driver.Walking towards us in that stupid leather jacket with a smirk on his face like he wasn’t the most despicable human being in the world.
“What’s going on in there?”he asked mockingly.“Your star boy not quite up to the game?”
I looked at Keaton.He wasn’t shielded by my coat anymore.It had fallen around his shoulders where he was holding it in place.He was wearing my coat and I should have been able to take at least a second to enjoy that.
Instead, there was this asshole.Just asking me to punch him out.
“Don’t you dare fucking talk to us,” I snarled at him.“After what you did today – I will be pressing charges.”
Something faltered in Brody’s expression.The usual cockiness faded for a moment.“Today?”he said.“But I haven’t even done it yet.”
I scoffed in his face.“Whoever you’re working with must have jumped the gun.Sorry you missed the show.”
I moved around him and unlocked the car.I gently pushed Keaton in the direction of the passenger seat.I wanted him to get in where it was safe so I could face Brody on my own.Keaton hesitated instead as if he wasn’t going to get in until I did.I couldn’t have this silent argument with him – not with Brody watching.I knew by instinct that he was trying to protect me from charges of assault just as much as I was trying to protect him.
“I…” There was something odd in Brody’s voice that made me turn back to him.“What show?Wait, did something actually happen to Ridley on the field?I was just gonna…” He trailed off.His eyes flicked from my face to Keaton’s.
Realization settled over me.He had no idea what I was talking about.
It wasn’t him.
Then who…?
“Mr.Harvey,” a crisp and familiar voice called from behind me somewhere.“I’ve taken the liberty of calling for a private car.I asked for blacked-out windows and an unmarked vehicle specifically, so you should be able to get out of here easily without being followed.”
I turned again with an increasing feeling of whiplash.
What the hell wasshedoing here?
