Tackled by Love (28 page)

It’s the beginning of February and the last bite of winter is sinking her teeth in before the coming spring. A month has gone by since the gold digger tabloid, and so far Valerie hasn’t bothered us. But I won’t get my hopes up on that one.

Snuggling into the crook of Landon’s arm, we head up the walkway leading to my dad’s house. I’ve been dreading this moment for a while now, but I can’t avoid it any longer. After much pestering from Landon and a stern warning from my father, I’m bringing Landon over to meet my dad. Fingers crossed this goes smoothly and Dad doesn’t scare him off.

Sensing my apprehension, Landon stops and takes my chin between his fingers, turning my head to face him. “Relax, sweetheart. Everything is going to be fine.”

Sighing, I relax slightly in his arms. “You don’t know my dad. He’s going to give you the third degree and run you off.”

His chuckle vibrates through my body. “Is that what you’re worried about?” I don’t say anything, I just stare up into his eyes. “Well don’t, because I’m not going anywhere.” Kissing me on the tip of my cold nose, he smiles down at me. “Shall we?” Gesturing forward, we walk the rest of the way to the door and ring the doorbell.

Exhaling a large breath, I knock on the door and walk in. We pause in the doorway as I yell out, “Dad! We’re here.” Picking at my nails, I wait for my dad to come to the foyer to greet us. 

“Stop fidgeting,” he whispers in my ear. His breath causes goose bumps to break out down my neck.

At that moment, a throat clears and gets our attention. “Oh, uh, hey, Dad.” Leaning in, I give him a kiss on the check.

“Hey, honey.” Giving me a big squeeze, I take comfort in his warm welcome. Maybe this won’t be so bad. “And who are you?” He’s staring at Landon in a lethal way with hard eyes and a commanding tone to his voice. And I swear I see my dad puff his chest out. So much for thinking this won’t be so bad.

Holding his hand out, Landon steps up. “I’m Landon Stone, sir. Nice to meet you.” Neither one of them breaks eye contact as they give a firm handshake. The tension is so thick I think the people across the street can sense it. This is going to be a disaster.

“Can we come in and sit or are we going to hang out in the entryway?” I ask, trying desperately to move this along. My dad steps aside to let us pass. Going to the living room, we all take our seats. I sit on the love seat and Landon sits next to me. My dad takes the seat directly in front of him in the recliner. I really want to get out of here and am two seconds away from bolting, when Landon grabs my hand. Looking at me, he gives it a small squeeze. That little bit of reassurance is all it takes to keep me in my seat.

After my dad completely ignores Landon by excluding him from our conversation despite my efforts to include him, he turns the tables and starts his interrogation.

“What are your intentions with my daughter, Landon?” I want to die. Could he be any more cliché if he tried?

“I care about your daughter deeply, sir. I can’t predict where this will go, but I promise I have nothing but good intentions.” He speaks with such unwavering confidence in the face of my dad’s death stare, and I have to admit it’s hot as hell. Seeing this side of Landon is quite a turn on.

Crossing his arms over his chest, my dad continues. “And by good intentions you mean getting my daughter naked in broad daylight, arrested, having her face plastered all over the tabloids, and inviting your wife to bother her again? I don’t know if that’s the kind of man I want my daughter with.”

Slumping down in my seat, I prepare for the white flag to come up. How can Landon explain those things in a favorable way? They’re all true and we all know it.

“I’m not going to try to talk my way out of those events by making excuses, Mr. McCray. I’m responsible for those things happening and I wish I could change them. But I’m also the man that’s broken her walls down to show her that she doesn’t have to fight her battles alone anymore. I want to help carry the burdens of her past and help her move forward. I’m the man that tells her how extraordinary and beautiful she is, knowing that one day she’ll believe it and see herself the way I do. I love her, sir.”

My heart skips a beat as I look at Landon’s gorgeous profile. Never have a felt so loved in my life. Holding back the tears from his words, I turn my attention back to my dad. After several seconds, he gives a curt nod and stands up. “You want a beer, Landon?” Exhaling the breath I didn’t know I was holding, I smile at my dad.

“Sure, that sounds great.”

Once my dad is out of the room, I grab Landon’s face and kiss him hard, slipping my tongue into his mouth. Pulling away so Dad doesn’t catch us, he rests his forehead against mine. “Thank you,” I whisper.

“For what?” He gives me another chaste kiss on the lips.

“For being you. For not backing down to my dad. For loving me even when it’s hard.”

“Loving you is the easy part. Everything else just falls into place.” Giving me a wink, he kisses the tip of my nose and sits back in his seat to wait for Dad to come back in.

The rest of the afternoon goes well. We talk, laugh, and have dinner. Watching the two of them interact with each other makes me realize how lucky I am. I haven’t had an easy road to travel, but I would do it again in a heartbeat if I was guaranteed to have these two amazing men in my life.

While Autumn is working at the bakery, I decided to go over some of the details of my new business model. In the two weeks since I met her dad, I’ve been in touch with the bank and discussed some of the foreclosures they have listed around here. There aren’t many people buying up crappy homes and flipping them around here, so that’s good news for me. No competition.

I’m pulled away from my task when my phone rings beside me. “Hey, Mr. Henderson.”

“My favorite client, how are you?”

“Fine, what’s up?” Leaning back in my chair, I wait for him to tell me why he’s calling.

“Well, do you want the good news, or the better news?”

Confused as to where he’s going with this, I answer, “Uh, the good news I guess.”

“Valerie’s attorney called me and she’s forfeiting the alimony and has agreed to sell the house.” It’s a good thing I’m sitting down, because I’m sure I would’ve fallen on my ass with that news.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” With my mouth hanging open, I hold my breath to wait for confirmation that I heard him correctly.

“Nope. Looks like your lovely soon-to-be-ex-wife didn’t like all the bad press she was getting.” He sounds smug and I know it’s killing him not to say ‘I told you so.’

“Holy shit, you were right. I can’t believe she’s letting it all go. So what happens next?”

“We’ll meet with a mediator and sign the papers sometime later this week, once the new documents have been drafted.”

“Thank you so much, Mr. Henderson. You have no idea what a relief this is.” Leaning my head back against the chair, I let out a relieved sigh, thankful that this is almost behind me. If this is the good news, I can’t imagine what the better news is. “What else was there to talk about?”

“You need to be at Moe’s in the town next to yours in 30 minutes. Can you make it?”

“Maybe, why?”

Apprehension must ooze off of me because he says, “Trust me. Have I steered you wrong yet?”

With that, I get my ass in the car and head that way.

***

Checking my watch, I see that I’m running late.
Shit
. Once parked, I climb out of my car and jog the rest of the way to the restaurant. When I walk through the doors, I scan the room, looking for the person I’m supposed to meet. Our eyes meet and I feel a slow burn form in the pit of my stomach as the sight of him makes my blood boil.

“Stone,” Wade greets me as I take a seat in front of him.

“Wade.” My voice is raw and I all but growl at him in response. It’s so fucking hard to sit across from the man that ended the one thing I woke up for every morning. Bastard.

“I assume you know why we’re meeting.” The waitress walks over, but I wave her off. I don’t want the interruption. I’m in no mood for niceties and I just want to get to the point before I choke this motherfucker out.

“Yeah, Andrews came at me the other day saying he knew about what Brandon and me did to you. Then your lawyer called yesterday about it too.” He at least has the decency to look contrite during this.

“Okay, then I’m going to cut to the chase. Did Brandon pay you to take me out during that practice game?” I’m grinding my teeth so hard, I’m afraid I’ll shatter them. He pretty much said they did it just a second ago, but I want a concrete confession.

“Yeah. I didn’t know it was gonna put you out for good, though. I just thought you’d be out a few games,” he says, shrugging. His nonchalant attitude pisses me off more.

“It’s not that big a deal, right? Just a few games. What harm could that do? What the fuck were you thinking?!” I pound my fist on the table top, making the silverware rattle, which startles Wade and causes the people in the restaurant to look our way.

“I’m sorry, dude. I told you that in the locker room.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks uncomfortable. Good, because he’s going to be a hell of a lot more uncomfortable if he doesn’t do what I ask of him.

“If you’re really sorry, then you’ll come with me and my attorney and tell the police that. I’ll let you off the hook as part of a plea deal to help prosecute Brandon. That means testifying too.”

“Nah man, I’m no snitch.” Leaning back in his chair, he waves his hands through the air to emphasize that he won’t do it.

Resting my forearms and elbows on the table, I lean toward him and drop my voice. “Then I hope you like prison. Do you think for one second Brandon is going to save your ass? That, if given the chance, he won’t take the plea deal?” I sit back up in my chair. “Ha, he’s going to give you up so fast, your head will spin.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I continue. “You see, someone is going to pay for this. Who’s it going to be? You or him?”

“Can I think about it?” Wade scratches the top of his head like the act of thinking is causing him physical discomfort. He really is big and dumb.

“No, this deal has an expiration date. Plus, I can’t take the chance that you’ll go run off and tell our friend Brandon that we’re on to him. I need you to tell me right fucking now, and then we’re going to the police station.” My eyes stay trained on him, the intensity causing him to squirm in his seat.

With a loud sigh, he hangs his head low. “Fine, I’ll do it. Maybe it’ll help right this wrong.”

“Not fucking likely.” Standing up, I gesture to the door. “Let’s go,” I sneer at him.

***

“Ah, great you made it,” Mr. Henderson says as he slaps me on the back. “Is this the bozo that ran into your leg?”

“Unfortunately. Is the detective ready for his statement?” I question, anxious to get this over with. I can’t wait to nail that fucker to the wall. Watching him get handcuffed and brought in is going to be the sweetest sight I’ve seen in a while.

My lawyer talks to a few people and soon we’re seated in a conference room and waiting for the detective to take down Wade’s statement. My leg is bouncing a mile a minute waiting for this to begin. Finally, a short, bald man walks in with a clipboard and a cup of coffee.

“Mr. Henderson, Mr. Stone,” he says, shaking our hands, “I’m Detective Smith and I’ll be conducting the interview of Mr. Wade Turner today. Let’s have a seat and we can begin.” As soon as everyone is situated, it starts.

Detective Smith starts with the basics; name, address, occupation, things like that. Then he gets into the details of the plot and how it all worked out. It’s pretty interesting to hear how a plan was concocted to ruin your career. It’s a little surreal and sometimes felt like he was talking about another person. Brandon called Wade about two weeks before that practice game. I knew they couldn’t have planned it for long because I wasn’t cleared to play until close to it. Brandon emphasized which side needed to be hit and told him to make sure he went low with the tackle. The detective asked him if he was compensated in any way for doing this. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to know the answer. What is the going rate for causing an injury? Making a person go through surgery? Ending a career?

“Brandon paid me fifty thousand dollars,” he informs us.

Jumping up out of my seat, I move around to the end of the table and get in his face. “FIFTY THOUSAND DOLLARS?! THAT’S IT?! Are you fucking kidding me?!” I scream at him. I’m in such a state of blind rage and disbelief. That’s all it took? Fifty thousand dollars? I made that in two fucking days.

Wade leans back, trying to put distance between us. “Sorry, it was just easy money.”

I. Fucking. Lose. It.

My fist flies through the air and connects with his jaw. I hear a pop, but I don’t know if it’s from his jaw or my fist, but I couldn’t give two shits because I hit him again. His chair topples over and I fall on top of him, landing more punches. I’m vaguely aware of someone trying to pull me off, but I fight their effort. By the time I’m pried off of him by the detective and two other officers that had to be called in for help, my hands are a bloody mess and it’s still not good enough. The urge to keep pounding into his flesh is so strong that my body is shaking with the restraint I’m trying to use, when really all I want to do is get these cops off of me so I can finish what I started.