But then something at the top of the search result caught his attention. A YouTube video with the headline:Kendrick Catches a Birdy.
Ward clicked on the link and the clip opened up to the scenic backdrop of some golf course by the ocean somewhere, and that pro golfer Rob Kendrick standing on the grass, celebrating a shot. He was pumping his fists and high-fiving his caddy.
A reporter approached to get his thoughts on the triumph.
‘How does it feel, Rob? It’s been a while since your last big tournament win – what are you thinking right now?’
Grinning to the camera, satisfaction danced in the golfer’s baby-blue eyes. The sunshine glistened off his blond hair, his skin was tan, and his arm muscles rippled under his orange Nike golf shirt. Typical privileged Ivy League prick. He looked every bit the winner, a total champ at the top of his game. His whole demeanour screamed young, vibrant, and on the up. Ward could hear the crowd of onlookers screaming with delight and felt a reflexive stab of envy as he recalled what it was like to win on that level, to feel unstoppable.
‘Well, John—’ the golfer grinned at the reporter as he walked off the green and headed to the crowd ‘—I gotta tell you, it feels great. This is what I’ve been working towards and I just felt it today, you know? Everything was working. All of it came together. Honestly, I feel on top of the world.’
‘Congratulations on an incredible game. So how are you planning to celebrate?’
Something sparkled in Kendrick’s eyes then – a hint of mischiefcoupled with menace, Ward recognized. He didn’t know much about golf but he already knew in his bones he disliked this smarmy asshat. In sport, you learned to size up people within a split second, and his instincts were screaming right now that this guy was a dick.
‘You know what? I’m not going to tell you; I’ll show you.’
The golfer moved ever so slightly to the left of the frame, beckoning to someone off-camera. He reached out, his words garbled, clearly trying to persuade someone into the frame. A muffled voice could be heard protesting, but Kendrick persisted, his shit-eating grin only intensifying as he became more determined.
Finally, he yanked a figure into the frame with him, a woman with her back to the camera. Wrapping his arm around her waist, Kendrick pulled her close, leaning her backwards in a dramatic flourish and kissed her.
Showboating...
Ward’s lip curled in disgust. It was obvious the girl didn’t want to go along with it either and he felt bad for her.
Yup, his intuition was dead on. Guy was a narc of the highest order.
‘There you have it, folks,’ the reporter grinned raising an eyebrow, ‘PGA tournament champ Rob Kendrick, causing a stir here today in more ways than one.’
And as the camera panned away from the golfer and his reluctant squeeze as she wriggled out of his grasp, Ward frowned again. His vision blurred and he blinked, refocused and tried to zoom in on the woman, whose deeply uncomfortable face was now suffused with scarlet blush.
The woman on the screen was Hannah.
Chapter 49
HANNAH
Hannah was in the middle of a pleasant dream. She was in the stands at a sporting event amidst a roaring crowd. Something significant was happening; it was a clutch game and the teams were tied with just minutes to spare on the clock. It was cold though, the whole arena was frigid and her mind wasn’t registering what game was being played until the dream came into full clarity.
An announcer on a loudspeaker was calling out Ward’s name, and then Hannah saw him sailing onto the ice after single-handedly turning the game with a bottle-knocker, his knee fully healed, his face alight with triumphant delight – his passion for the sport palpable.
He was home, a returning hero.
He took off his helmet, shaking it at the crowd, and everyone went wild. She jumped to her feet and joined in, feeling proud, knowing she had helped with this, that he was once again able to play the sport he loved and the fans were eager to celebrate him. Looking every bit the winner that she knew him to be.
Then from the ice, his green eyes searched her face out and when he finally found her, he raised his stick in salute. She waved shyly as he flashed a mischievous knowing wink and even as she slept her stomach did a pleasant little flip.
However, just as Ward started to glide off and take control of the puck, moving on the ice with renewed determination, there was another noise.
A persistent ding dong.
Confused, she searched the arena to try to figure out where it was coming from, but to no avail. Then the sound turned to a loud knock, and Hannah felt herself being pulled back to consciousness, no longer in the cold hockey arena but warm in her bed.
Feeling discombobulated – and somewhat disappointed to have been so rudely interrupted amid such a pleasant dream – she blearily sat up in bed, shaking her head free of the cobwebs of sleep.
There was the knocking again. She grabbed her phone from the bedside table to check the time.
Had she overlooked a scheduled delivery for Courtney or something?she wondered, surprised at the early-hour interruption.
