Fighting Dirty
Page 69

“Jellyfish?”
“Spineless,” Armie clarified. “Mom split when I was a teen, and Dad drank away the days doing a lot of the same shit Russell does. Your mom is...” So many names came to mind, but Armie passed on all of them. “She’s not strong. Not like you are.”
Bray laughed.
“Hey, it’s true. I see it. All the guys at the rec center have seen it. You’ve got more backbone and character than a lot of adults. It’s only words, my words, and I know they don’t matter, but if you can try to focus on the upside, that a great family loves you and wants you...” God, that sounded hollow. “And you’d still get to see your mom sometimes, right?”
“I don’t know.”
Meaning he didn’t know if she’d want to, if the foster family was smart enough to say no, or if the state would allow it. “Listen, I’m here for you—and this time you damn well better believe it. You came here to help me, so let me help you back. Trust me a little, okay? We can take it day by day. I’ve been where you’re at now, except that crazy stuff about me being a rapist? My dad helped shore that up. He knew the truth.” Knows the truth. Armie’s eyes burned. “And still, for his own selfish reasons, he pushed the lie. I’m his son but he’s willing to bury me for a few bucks.”
Bray stared at him.
“It’s the truth, so believe me when I say I understand that you’re hurting, and I’m here.”
Again, that strained silence stretched out, taut and uncomfortable, until finally Bray heaved a sigh and sat straighter. “Okay.”
Armie released a cautious breath. “Okay?”
Bray nodded. “Okay.”
A weight lifted off Armie’s chest. His heart pumped easier. “Okay.” There were a dozen things to do yet tonight. Hopefully Bray’s foster family would forgive the delay, because first... “Let’s go find my girlfriend.”
* * *
DISGUSTED, MERISSA LOOKED at her dead cell. Figures. The perfect way to finish off this very imperfect day.
But then she smiled as she stuck the phone back in her purse and headed for her car. She was going home to Armie, so truthfully, it was pretty darned awesome.
“Merissa Colter?”
Looking back, she spotted the stylish woman holding a recorder and microphone. Had the woman been waiting for her? Merissa quickly scanned the area. Streetlamps countered the darkness of early evening. Off in the distance, lightning flickered against stormy skies.
Plenty of people passed around them, some driving on the street, others waiting for the bus, a few hurriedly walking by.
Uncertain, Merissa turned to face her. “Yes?”
With a coy smile, the woman said, “Rumor has it you’re hooked up with Armie Jacobson, the SBC’s newest rising star. If that’s true, would you mind answering just a few quick questions? I promise I won’t keep you.”
Suspicions clamored. “Who are you with?”
The woman moved closer. “I wish I could say ESPN, but hey, we locals need love, too, right?” She held out credentials that claimed she wrote for the sports section of a community paper. “I’ll keep it short and to the point, okay? Just five minutes, tops.”
After the past few hectic hours, a headache pecked at Merissa’s brain and her neck and shoulders ached. “It’s going to storm.”
“If it starts, we’ll call it quits. But you know Mr. Jacobson has a lot of fans in the area. They’d love to hear about him.”
Of course he did. Who could possibly meet Armie and not love him? “Wouldn’t it be better to talk directly to him?” On top of the glitch at work, a disgruntled client that had to be appeased and a surprise meeting with her supervisor, Steve had called her again. He’d claimed to have heard rumors about Armie and wanted her to let him “protect” her. What a joke.
It was bizarre, but Steve was more persistent now than he’d been when they were together.
“Could you arrange that?” the reporter asked with energy. “If so, I’d love it!” Her expression turned pleading. “But since you’re here now, can I impose for just a few questions? It would really mean a lot to me and to Quick’s fans.”
Given that her brother was a hometown hero, Merissa had been cornered before with questions about him. She didn’t mind so much, except that she was badly off-kilter and really just wanted to collapse.
“All right. Sure. But it does need to be short.” Merissa tried putting on her happy face, after all, this was Armie’s career. Readjusting her purse on her shoulder, she said, “Ready when you are.”
“Perfect.” The reporter turned on a small recorder, holding it out so that it almost bumped Merissa’s chin. “Armie Jacobson is from the area, isn’t that right?”
“Yes. He and my brother, Cannon Colter, have been friends for a very long time.”
“Going all the way back to high school.”
“That’s right,” Merissa confirmed.
“I suppose that means you, too, have known him a long time. Does that make your relationship awkward?”
Such an odd question. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with—”
“And now Armie helps out at the gym,” the interviewer rushed to ask. “I understand that he especially enjoys working with the children?”
Okay, so that was more on track. Merissa nodded. “He’s terrific with everyone, but yes, kids love Armie.”
“So do the ladies.”
Again, Merissa faltered. She was starting to have a bad feeling about this. “That’s not much of a secret.”
“His reputation doesn’t bother you?”
Merissa narrowed her eyes. “I think we’re all done.”
“Interesting.” The woman held her gaze. “Before he became an SBC fighter, Armie was accused of rape. It was never resolved, was it?”
Shoving the recorder away from her face, Merissa stepped back. “Who are you?”
The lady laughed. Not an amused laugh, but more like a “gotcha” laugh, as if a plan had just come together.
With the vague sense of a threat closing in, Merissa glanced around and realized the area now felt empty. So many things had happened lately that she didn’t question her own instincts. Instead, after impaling the woman with a killing glare, she strode toward her car. The woman’s hilarity followed her, but Merissa didn’t give her the satisfaction of looking back.
She reached her car just as a man and woman pulled up to the curb. The woman sat in her car with two kids while the man jogged to the ATM. They looked to be in their early twenties and as nonthreatening as people could be. Buoyed by their presence, Merissa unlocked her car, climbed in and hit the lock button once more.
When she looked up, the reporter hadn’t moved but she did wave to two men in a truck. As Merissa pulled away, she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that the truck followed.
Her phone was dead. What should she do?
Daring to fumble around as she drove, Merissa found her charger and plugged in the phone.
The truck stayed right behind her.
On the off chance they didn’t already know where he lived, there was no way Merissa wanted to lead them to Armie’s apartment.