Going Deep (24 page)

His fingers
worked inside her while he spoke. Tears welled in her eyes—a weak attempt to
break him.

 “And what did I
get in return? Betrayal. My heart for betrayal. Is that a fair trade,
Carrington?”

A single
teardrop slid down her cheek. She shook her head. He slapped her ass again. “Answer
me! Is that a fair trade, Carrington?”

“No,” she
sobbed. “No. No. No.”

She struggled
against her restraints. He added another finger, controlling her movements
easily from within.

“Your body
betrays you, Carrington. Right now, your brain is telling you to make me stop.
Your safe word is clanging inside your head, but your body won’t let it out,
will it? Your body betrays you.” He pumped his fingers in and out in a
merciless rhythm. “You’re wet, Carrington. Wet and hot, and while your brain
wants me to stop, your pussy is so close. So damned close to having just what
it wants. You think you’ll break me, that I won’t be able to resist this sweet
pussy of yours. You think I’ll give in and fuck you, don’t you?”

He stilled.
Tears spilled unchecked from her pleading eyes.

“Well, guess
what?” He withdrew from her and stepped back. “You won’t break me, Carrington.
No matter how hard you try to destroy me, you won’t succeed. You see,” he
fisted his hand on his chest, “I know what it feels like to have my heart
ripped out of my chest, and I’ve got the scars to prove it. I’m not a fucking
dope head, and I never will be. Write whatever lies you want, but don’t even
think about using what we’ve done here to bring me down, or I’ll bring you down
with me. We’re through.”

He pulled a
towel from his bag and wiped her juices from his hands, ignoring her sobs. “You
won’t be telling anyone about what goes on here.” He took his cell phone from
his trouser pocket and pointed it at her. “If you do, I’ll release these
pictures.” Walking slowly around her, he snapped photos from every angle before
pocketing the camera. He reached for his bag.

“Please,
Master…Jason….”

He placed the
riding crop inside and clasped the zipper pull.

“I…I love you.
Please don’t do this.”

Her words were
like a venomous bite, momentarily paralyzing him. He clenched his jaw tight and
forced the zipper to move. He straightened, and without a backward glance, left
her hanging there.

He stepped into
the hallway and closed the door, sealing Carrington’s sobs safely inside.

“Done?” Todd
asked.

“Yeah. She won’t
be revealing anything to anyone,” he assured.

“Is she okay?”

Jason turned a
cold stare on his friend. “I didn’t hurt her any more than she hurt me. You
know me better than that. Give her a few minutes then let Brooke take care of
her.”

“Hey, I didn’t
mean it like that. I know you wouldn’t really hurt her—you know…I heard her
crying when you opened the door. That’s all.”

“She’ll get over
it. Ten minutes, no more. Then Brooke can see to her.”

“Okay,” Todd
said. “See you at the stadium tomorrow.”

Jason waved
goodbye over his shoulder. Her sobs echoed in his brain, and he was deathly
afraid if he didn’t get out of there soon, he might turn back.

* * *

She couldn’t
stay away. Not one to follow sports, Carrie had become a baseball convert over
the last few weeks, following Jason’s progress toward a homerun record with the
tenacity of a rabid fan. Her rational mind knew her relationship with him was
over, but her heart wouldn’t listen to reason. He loved her once, and she loved
him still. She wouldn’t give up on them easily.

Handing her
ticket over to the gate attendant, she followed the early crowd through the
concourse toward a square of daylight that promised a view of the field. She’d
learned about batting practice via pregame interviews on the local TV station.
A little research had yielded the information that a game ticket allowed you
into the stadium early enough to watch, if one was so inclined. Judging from
the number of people filing through the gates, this was a popular event.

She followed the
line of fans through the tunnel, her pulse kicking up a notch with each step
she took. She stopped short at her first glimpse inside a major league
ballpark. Jason’s world. For a woman who made her living with words, she couldn’t
find a single one that encompassed all she saw. The sheer size of the stadium
overwhelmed her. Tens of thousands of blue seats sat mute, their silence
deafening. Arriving fans seemed to respect the quiet, their voices
conversational as they picked their way down steps toward the railing. Players
trickled out of the dugout in practice gear, stretching and flexing while the
grounds crew moved equipment into place. Fans settled into seats to watch their
favorite players or lined up along the rail with cameras and autograph pens at
the ready.

She slipped into
a seat behind a large man, using him to shield her from view. Not that Jason
would see her, but it was a chance she didn’t want to take. This close, and one
among perhaps a hundred, if he looked closely….

He’d made it
clear he didn’t want to see her again. She understood. Really she did, and she’d
tried to quell the impulse, but today was special. One more homerun would break
the team record, and perversely, she wanted to be there to support him when he
reached a milestone in his career.

The media had continued
to speculate on the validity of McCree’s accusations, and Jason, with the
Mustangs organization beside him, had continued to deny them with quiet dignity
while he slowly chipped away at the record. If kids needed a role model to
emulate, they couldn’t do any better than Jason Holder. He exhibited character
and honor, despite the efforts to undermine his career.

Watching him the
past few weeks only confirmed what she had known in her heart. Jason wasn’t
guilty. How she was going to prove it was the question.

He’d voluntarily
taken every drug test known to medical science and released the findings to the
press. Scandal hungry reporters had gone undercover to show how easy it was to
cheat on a drug test, using the roundabout way to suggest that perhaps Jason
had done the same.

Never in a
million years.

Even at his
angriest, he’d gone out of his way to care for her following their last scene
together. He could easily have left her hanging there until someone had come to
check on the room, but he’d calculated the time, knowing how long it would be
before she realized he wasn’t coming back, then he’d sent Brooke in to take
care of her.

Cheat on a drug
test? No way. Besides, she knew the physical side effects of steroid use, and
none of those applied to Jason. Sure, his body was solid muscle, but she’d bet
her life it came from hours in the gym—not drugs. She’d even seen the ugly side
of his temper, but he’d kept that on a tight rein, just like everything else in
his life. She had no doubt, if she looked up control freak in the dictionary, she’d
find a picture of Jason Holder.

He stepped from
the dugout. Carrie sank lower in the seat and peered around the big guy in
front of her. Jason paused, hands on his hips to survey the field. He inhaled
deeply, his broad shoulders rising and falling. Then he turned to the stands
and smiled at the fans. Her heart somersaulted. Lord have mercy, the man was
devastating. Another player exited the dugout, hailing him.

Jason held up a
finger toward the fans, signaling he’d be over to see them in a minute, and
joined the other player. The two men put their heads together to confer. She
held her breath. Watching him like this, without him knowing, felt wicked. It
was only the second time she’d seen him in person. The first time, she’d had little
opportunity to observe him. This was different. His movements weren’t
calculated or planned. She felt like a peeping Tom looking through a window
into his life. This was where he felt at home, relaxed. A place where he was
among friends.

His conversation
concluded, he turned to the fans, and right beside him stood—his twin. Two
identical smiles greeted the onlookers. Together, they signed baseballs, caps,
programs, T-shirts, and anything else handed over the railing to them.

The man in front
of her spoke to his companion, “How do you tell them apart?”

“Beats me,” the
other guy said. “If they didn’t have numbers on their jerseys, I’d have no
idea.”

That was
rubbish. “The one on the left is Jason,” she said.

Two heads craned
to look at her.

“How can you
tell,” the big guy asked.

“It’s easy. He’s
better looking,” she said.

They laughed and
turned around. She tuned out their further commentary involving the twins and
idiot women in general, though she supposed they were referring to her
specifically. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was that distinguished him from his
brother, but she knew which one was which. Just then, a very pregnant woman
stepped to the railing and both men smiled up at her. They carried on a
conversation she wished she could hear then the woman leaned over. Jason
planted a kiss on her cheek, after which Jeff kissed her full on the lips. A
lover’s kiss.

“See, I told
you,” she said to the guys in front. “That’s Jeff on the right—and that’s his
wife.”

“It better be,”
smaller guy said, “or he’s gonna be in hot water when he gets home.”

Jeff’s wife said
her goodbyes and headed up the stairs toward the concourse. Carrie didn’t know
why, but as the woman passed her row, she fell into step beside her. At the
mouth of the tunnel beneath the upper deck, the woman stopped, leaning against
the concrete wall to catch her breath.

She took a
couple of steps and stopped. The same impulse that had brought her to the
ballpark today took hold of her again, and she turned back. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s sister-in-law
looked up. “I’m fine,” she said with a smile. “You try carrying an extra thirty
pounds or so up those stairs and see how you do.”

She smiled. “I’ll
take your word for it.” She offered her hand. “I’m Carrie Taylor,” she said,
wondering if the name would mean anything to her.

“Oh!” Mrs.
Holder straightened. “You’re her.”

Carrie rushed to
explain herself, “It’s not what you think. I’m not stalking—”

Mrs. Holder
shook her head. “You’re the woman who has Jason all tied up in knots,” she said
and winked, “or vise-versa.”

Her laugh was
spontaneous and infectious. Carrie laughed with her, and before she could
protest, she was being led across the concourse.

“Mrs. Holder,” she
protested. “Where are we going?”

They came to an
abrupt stop, the other woman looking around as if she’d lost something. “Hmm. I
don’t know,” she said. “Somewhere we can talk.”

“But—”

“I know! I’m
sure he won’t mind.”

Clearly, one
didn’t argue with Megan Holder. A moment later, Mrs. Holder identified herself
to a security guard, who keyed them into an elevator. They stepped out into
what had to be the offices of the Mustangs Baseball organization. They passed
half a dozen men and women all wearing team polo shirts. Carrie averted her
gaze. The last thing she needed was someone else recognizing her, especially
since she’d brought a world of chaos to the team. Someone was likely to throw
her out on her ass if they recognized her.

They stopped in
an outer office occupied by a woman in her fifties, also wearing a team shirt.
Mrs. Holder still had a death grip on her hand.

“Hi, Megan,” the
woman behind the desk said.

“Hi, Cynthia. I
need a moment to rest. Mind if we sit in Doyle’s office for a while?”

Doyle’s
office? No. Please, God, not
that
Doyle.

“Not at all. Go
on in,” she said. Concern tinted her voice. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, but thanks.
I just want to put my feet up.” She waved away the secretary’s offer. “I’ll be
fine in a few minutes.”

Not wanting to
cause a scene, Carrie smiled at Cynthia and allowed her kidnapper to steer her
toward a massive set of wooden doors carved to represent the Mustangs logo. A
brass plaque announced the office’s occupant.
That Doyle
. She almost
bolted right then, but that
would
cause a scene, so she followed Mrs.
Holder into the office of Doyle Walker, Manager. As soon as the door closed
behind her, she grabbed the door handle and prepared to escape.

“Mrs. Holder, I
shouldn’t be here.” She twisted the knob. “I have to go.”

“No! Don’t go. Please?”

“I’m sure Mr.
Walker wouldn’t want me here.” She eyed the room, and Mrs. Holder’s hand
pressed against the door to prevent her escape. She didn’t know pregnant women
could move so fast.”

“Humph. That’s
what you think.”

“Mrs. Holder—”

“Please, call me
Megan,” she said. “Can’t we talk? Please. I promise you won’t miss the game.”

How could she
say no? She released the doorknob. “I don’t know what we have to talk about,
but please accept my apology. I know my actions have affected everyone in Jason’s
life, and for that, I’m very sorry. I didn’t….” Carrie shook her head. “No.
There’s no excuse for what I did. I’m sorry. I’d take it back if I could.”

She expected
just about anything except the compassion in Megan’s eyes. “Apology accepted.”
She crossed the room to a seating area that could have been in anyone’s living
room. “Now that that’s out of the way, won’t you sit with me a while. I really
wasn’t lying when I told Cynthia I needed to rest.”

She perched on
the edge of a chair. “Can I get you anything?” she asked, not that she knew
where she’d get it.

Megan laughed
again. “Relax, Carrie. Can I call you Carrie?” she asked, but went on before
Carrie could answer. “I’m fine. Really. I’m even better now that I ran into
you.”

She didn’t know what
to say. This wasn’t at all what she’d expected when she followed Megan earlier.
She still didn’t understand what motivated her to do it. Curiosity? Surely
insanity made her speak to the woman.