Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(305)
The gun in my hand is cocked and held right out towards her in a flash. Red rage starts to cloud my vision as one singular thought thunders in my head.
She sold us out.
“You!” I’m bellowing at her; “You led us right into-”
But Sasha only rolls her eyes; “Get in the fucking car, Peyton.” Her eyes dart over my shoulder towards the plaza I’ve just come running out of; “And please, if I lead you into a trap, you won’t know until you’re dead.” She narrows her dark eyes at me; “You want to get him back?”
I tense my jaw, but slowly, I’m lowering the gun.
“Get in the damn car, Miss Rivers. I’m about to save your life, and then I’m going to help you save your brother and your boyfriend.”
25
Bryce
This place is old.
The church, which is really more of a fortress than anything else, is easily a thousand years old; probably from the Crusades or something. And I’m sitting in the oldest part of it, down in the dungeons chained to a chair like some scene out of Braveheart. There’s a dim light that comes in through the window of the heavy wooden door, showing old wood beams in the ceiling, old crumbling plaster on the walls.
Like I said, ancient. Old architecture, old walls…
Old foes.
“Long time no see, Connors.” The overhead lights snaps on, making me wince and squint in the sudden brightness, however dim. Benson stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame and nodding slowly at me, as if appraising me sitting there shackled to the chair in the middle of the room; gloating at me.
“Long time,” I say, my voice leaden.
“Jesus, Connors; I mean, you don’t call, you don’t write?” He makes a tsking sound and shakes his head as he steps into the room. The door stays open, but it’s an empty hope; not like I’m getting far with handcuffs securing my arms and legs to the metal-frame chair. Benson moves in front of me to lean against a table full of tools; tools that I know are there to scare me into wondering what they’re there for.
“You know, a guy could get to thinking you just don’t care, buddy.”
“What do you want, Benson?”
He sighs and rolls his eyes; “Jesus Christ, what, we can’t just catch up? I gotta Facebook you or some shit to make conversation? C’mon, Connors, you know that’s just not me. I’m not up on the tech stuff like you kids.”
I’m silent, my jaw tight as I just level my gaze at the man in front of me who I used to know. He’s older now of course, but he looks older than five years should have taken; goatee silvered, his stomach a bit rounder than it used to be.
But his eyes are still just as cagey and just as sharp as they always were.
He shrugs; “Alright, fine, let’s be uncivilized.” He reaches back and picks up a hammer, weighing it in his hand and turning it in his fingers as he grins at me; “So-”
“You need to lead with the questions first.”
He frowns; “Excuse me?”
“The questions, Benson; I mean when you’re trying to interrogate someone. You don’t just jump right into showing them the scary fucking tools; it puts them on edge and makes them clam up.”
His lips pull back in a wicked looking grin and he shakes his head at me; “I don’t know if I like this new sober ‘funny man’, Bryce. You know, I think I liked you better when you were that zombie junky you used to be.” When I don’t respond, he shrugs and drops the hammer back on the table with clang; “Alright you little prick, we’ll do questions first. Where the fuck are they?”
“Where the fuck are what?”
“Don’t be smart, kid. I was there, you little shit; we found them together.”
“The fuck do you need diamonds for, Benson? You guys are the like the largest DOD contractor in the system.”
“The heart wants, my little friend; the heart wants.”
“Excuse me?”
“I want bigger, and better.” He narrows his eyes at me; “I want a William Archer life; a charmed Bryce Conners life.”
“Trust me it’s not what it’s cracked up to be.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
We stare at each other like that for a moment; two soldiers, facing off; “So this is all for the money?”
Benson laughs; “Of course it is, the whole fucking world’s about money.”
Well, this sounds familiar.
He glares at me; “So where are they?”
I shrug, shaking my head; “I don’t know.”
Benson lets out a long a long sigh as he turns and picks what looks like an electric razor off the table; “Want to try that again, Brycey-boy?”