The Predator (8 page)

Guilt twisted inside her. She ignored it with brutal determination. Brandon was nothing more than a sperm donor. He hadn’t wanted kids. Not with her, not with anyone. He’d made it clear over and over again during the tumultuous last year of their marriage. She was the one who had wanted a child.

He had no claim on Sam. Not now, not ever.

* * *

Brandon spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the bathroom sink and rinsed his mouth. Staring at his reflection in the mirror, he grimaced at the age lines and shadows of regret that life had etched on his face. The strain of working alongside Alex was beginning to show. What the hell was he doing? Why was he torturing himself like this?

With an impatient swipe of the towel across his mouth, he tossed the linen aside and left the room. The sun was slowly climbing up over the horizon, its gold and orange fire glittering across the deep blue of the Pacific Ocean. His comfortable unit afforded unobstructed views over Bondi Beach and its mix of trendy apartments and old family homes.

It was the home he’d shared with Alex. Even though their marriage had ended, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to part with the property they’d purchased together. It had been their dream home, the place they’d planned to grow old in.

It hadn’t worked out that way, but when Alex’s lawyer had raised the question of selling the apartment, he hadn’t hesitated to buy her out.

Walking into the open plan kitchen and dining room, he slid one of the double sliding glass doors open and stepped onto the balcony. His eyes were gritty from lack of sleep after another long night shift, but he could still appreciate the beauty of the morning and the sharp, tangy scent of the salt spray from the rocks on the beach below. Early morning joggers dotted the sand and he yearned for their seemingly carefree existence.

Leaning over the balcony, he filled his lungs with the fresh, salty air and tried not to remember the countless mornings he’d spent here with Alex. His wife.

Despite the years they’d been separated, he’d never stopped thinking of her that way. It was probably one of the reasons his half-hearted relationships with the handful of women who’d come in and out of his life in the time since, hadn’t been able to hold his interest.

That, and the fact he was still in love with her.

For so long, he’d strived to create a life without her, to move forward—and on the surface, he’d succeeded. His career had flourished.

Without the responsibility of a wife, he’d taken on some of the most dangerous assignments, no longer placing any value on his life. With the increase in danger came an increase in his salary and his financial status was enviably secure.

The same couldn’t be said for his personal life, but that was something he kept firmly to himself and no one, not even his family, could guess at the depth of his deception.

Until the night he’d opened up to Tom, he’d never given anyone the tiniest hint that he was anything but happy over his single, happy-go-lucky existence. He’d done a good job of always having an attractive date at family get-togethers and work functions and, apart from the occasional look of concern thrown his way by his mother or one of his sisters, no one had been any the wiser.

But, the truth was, he was lonely. His heart had never recovered from the death blow he’d dealt his marriage and even though he’d spent the first couple of years afterwards in a quagmire of pain and anger and confusion, time and countless therapy sessions had eventually had their effect and the end result was that now he simply missed his wife. Missed her laughter, missed her touch, missed her love.

His thoughts returned to his conversation with Alex the night before and he frowned. He was still confused about her about-face. She’d been furious with him over his dig at her son’s paternity the day before and yet less than twenty-four hours later, she’d agreed to a truce.

Her mixed signals were doing his head in and he hated the way his traitorous heart had leaped in joy at the scrap of kindness she’d offered. It was pathetic.
He
was pathetic.

He didn’t know what he was trying to prove by inviting himself into her domain. It wasn’t fair to either of them. It did his pining heart no good at all to have her within reach but completely unattainable.

Maybe he was being conceited? Maybe she couldn’t care less that he was there. She’d managed to move on with someone else and have a child. The Alex he knew, or used to know, didn’t give her heart out freely. The bloke must have been pretty darn special or she wouldn’t have given him the time of day, let alone created a child with him.

Irritation washed over him and he cursed long and loudly. It was over between them. She’d moved on. She had a life of her own. She had a career, a home and a son. She had everything she wanted.

And that didn’t include him.

He should never have requested the transfer. There were plenty of people who needed him. Plenty of units that wanted and would appreciate his help. Alex wasn’t one of them, despite her peace offering.

It was time to let her go and to accept once and for all that what they had together was over. He’d suggested friendship and she’d even baulked at that.

How many ways did she have to tell him, show him? It was over.
They
were over.

All he had to do was convince his heart.

CHAPTER NINE

He stretched in his chair and languidly stroked his semi-hard erection, his gaze fixed on the screen in front of him. It was late Friday night, his favorite time to play. The weekend spread out before him, with all its glorious possibilities and he didn’t have to show up to his dead-end job for two whole days.

He’d rushed home to his apartment, pushing and shoving his way through the crowds of commuters, all anxious to start their weekend. Impatiently, he’d unlocked his front door and stumbled into his hallway.

Dropping his bag to the floor, he’d made a beeline for his bedroom and with a few quick movements had brought his computer to life. With fingers flying over the keyboard, he’d logged into his favorite chat rooms. It was only then that his body relaxed and the familiar promise of pleasure coursed through him.

He was home—in his favorite place in the world. Surrounded by dewy, sweet little girls who thought he was funny. Who thought he was cute. Who were so, so eager to please.

And better still, who wanted to meet him.

He thought of Lady G. He’d been chatting to her for weeks before she’d posted her photo. Finally, he’d had a face to put to the girl he’d been grooming.

She’d looked at once warm and familiar and just the type he enjoyed. More than that, she was opening up to him. Up until now, they’d mainly talked about school and movies, but tonight, she’d told him about her girlfriends and their netball team. Anticipation surged through him. Slowly, but inexorably, he was drawing her in. The game was on.

His cock hardened and his breath came faster. His hand pumped the engorged flesh. His balls tightened in anticipation. With his gaze still fixed to the screen, he gave a yelp of relief as Lady G came online.

Sticky, white fluid pumped out of his cock, covering his hand in wetness. He collapsed against the chair and savored the last of his orgasm. His body filled with joy.

He reached over to the nightstand and tugged out a handful of tissues from the box that sat there and wiped his hand and now-flaccid cock. Tossing the tissues to the floor, he drew his keyboard closer and began to type.

Hey there, gorgeous. I was just thinking about you.

The reply was halting and he smiled. Lady G was not a good typist.

I’m glad. I’m always thinking about you.

So, are you playing netball this weekend?

Yeah. Tomorrow morning.

Anticipation coiled in his gut.
I’d love to come and watch you.

He waited for her response, his heart pumping hard. It seemed to take forever.

Okay.

Relief and excitement gushed through his veins. His cock twitched. His fingers shook on the keyboard.

Where?

We’re playing at Manly. We start at nine.

I’ll be there.

Really? Oh, my God! I can’t wait!

* * *

Cassie scanned the pockets of people that dotted the netball courts, looking for Justin. She’d printed out the picture he’d posted and it was tucked inside her bra strap. The Saturday morning crowd wasn’t thick, and most of the spectators were mothers, but she still couldn’t spot him.

She was kicking herself for not telling him which court she was playing on. He knew her team, but she didn’t know if he’d be bothered to find out which court they’d been assigned. There were at least twenty teams congregated around various courts. If he didn’t ask someone where the Manly Musketeers were playing, he’d never find her.

With a sigh, she turned away and focused on her team mates gathered around their coach.

“Cassie, I need you to play Center today. Marcie Richards is home in bed with the flu.”

Cassie snapped to attention, a protest forming on her lips. She hated playing Center. Besides, she’d told Justin she played Goal Attack. She wanted him to see her at her best.

“But, Mrs Johnson, it’s been ages since I played that position. Perhaps Jane could—”

A stern look was thrown her way and Cassie swallowed the rest of her argument.

“Right. Now that’s settled, everyone listen in. This is an important game. I need you to…”

Cassie tuned out the rest of the coach’s instructions and scanned the crowds once again. She still couldn’t see anyone who looked even remotely like the picture he’d sent her. Disappointment surged through her. He wasn’t going to come.

* * *

James Gibbons took refuge from the sunshine under a tall gum tree and lowered the brim of his baseball cap. After making a few innocuous enquires about the whereabouts of the Manly Musketeers, he’d made his way to the court where Lady G’s team was playing. From his vantage point in the shade, he could see members of the under thirteens stretching and warming up in anticipation of the game ahead.

His gaze fell upon the girl wearing the GA bib and his jaw dropped. She looked nothing like her photo.
The cunning little bitch
. No wonder she’d sent the picture of the cute teen.

Although her hair was light, it wasn’t the golden wave of shiny blond that had illuminated his computer screen over a week ago, keeping his fantasies at fever pitch. And she’d put on at least twenty pounds since the shot had been taken, if it was a photo of her at all. After seeing her in the flesh, he had his doubts.

The girl he’d wanked over was tall and lithe and had the body of a dancer. This girl was only average height and her thighs were so thick they were probably rubbing together beneath her short little sports skirt.

Disappointment surged through him and it was tinged with anger. He’d had such high hopes for little Lady G. She seemed perfect. Beyond perfect. Photos of her beautiful young body would have fostered a premium price—maybe one of his highest yet. Flawless beauty like hers—well, like the girl in the photo she’d sent him—was highly sought after in the circles he frequented. His customers would have been begging him for more, willing to pay whatever price he demanded, to have a piece of her on their screens. He may have even had a chance of attracting the attention of some of the bigger international buyers.

The players took their positions and the whistle blew. Girls ran and bounced across the court, but he’d seen enough. He’d forget about her and the promise she’d held and instead, he’d turn his attention to a couple of other promising young playthings he’d been courting online. Hopefully, they’d prove more successful than his experience with this little bitch.

Turning away, he jammed his fists into the pockets of his jacket and strode toward the car park.

* * *

Cassie looked up as a man with a red baseball cap pulled low over his eyes walked away in the direction of the car park. She couldn’t tell how old he was, but even from this distance, it was obvious he wasn’t a teenager. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes and only a few tufts of brown hair escaped the confines of his cap and tickled the back of his neck.

His clothes spoke of money, but had been put together in a rather haphazard way. His denim jeans were wrinkled and the light fabric of his black jacket was no match for the fall crispness that permeated the early morning air.

She wondered who he was. Definitely not Justin, but she hadn’t seen him here before. He was probably an uncle of one of the girls, perhaps visiting from the country. Sometimes her father’s brothers came down to Sydney from the north coast and occasionally, they’d come and watch her play.

“Cassie!”

She was jolted out of her musings when the ball came hurtling her way. Snatching it out of the air, she threw it to a team mate and watched as it made its way to the Goal Shooter. She waited, tense and expectant, as the girl prepared for the shot.

The ball bounced once, twice upon the steel rim and then dropped out over the line. The whistle blew. Cassie’s shoulders slumped. It was a shitty start to a shitty day.

* * *

A couple of hours later, weighed down by hurt and disappointment, Cassie dragged her netball kit up the stairs. On the one hand, she was glad Justin hadn’t showed. The stand-in Goal Attack had been hopeless and they’d been soundly defeated. But Justin had told her he would come. He’d told her he’d wanted to meet her and say hi. He’d told her he’d wanted to watch her play.

He’d done none of those things and she was beginning to wish she hadn’t said anything to her girlfriends. They’d quiz her mercilessly when she got to school on Monday. In fact, her best friend Madeleine would probably text her any minute wanting to know how things had gone.

She felt like an idiot. She should have known better than to think a boy as hot as Justin would be interested in her. Even some of the girls in Grade Nine and Ten couldn’t get their boyfriends to watch a netball game. And he was a boy she’d only just met. Not even met, if you didn’t count the Internet.