Tommy belonged to the Beaumonts—the family I had been hired to ruin.
Chapter 5 – Drake
At four in the morning, Drake woke and couldn't fall back asleep. He hadn't told Father Patrick about his car or reported it to the police. Brad had given him enough grief as it was.
He rose, made coffee and sat on their balcony that overlooked the beach. His cell phone beeped—another text from Kylie asking if he planned to come over before the competition. His annoyance mounted, and he turned off the phone and ignored it.
The sun hadn't found its way to the coast yet, so Drake waited for sunrise in silence.
The crashing waves and smell of saltwater tried to calm him, but this time they failed. Despite his still body, his mind hammered out worry after worry. Brad had made him swear he'd at least consider dropping the competition, but Drake knew he wouldn't. He refused to run away from his dreams because of a few slashed tires and a bad feeling.
Oranges, reds and purples filled the dark sky as the sun reflected against the ocean's waves. He waited for the sun like a man waiting for a lover to come home. When the bright morning rays reached the balcony, he closed his eyes, basked in the warmth, and let all worry go for just a moment.
Brad's voice broke the spell. "You're going through with it, aren't you?"
Drake nodded.
"Come on, then, I'll walk with you."
They left for Venice Beach, where hordes of people would be gathered to see the competition—winning would earn him a place in the U.S. Open in Hawaii.
This had been Drake's dream since childhood. Each time he landed in a new foster home, he prayed it would be near the ocean. When it wasn't, he'd take busses for hours to get to the beach. Nothing could keep him away then, and nothing would keep him away now.
They arrived early enough that a large crowd hadn't yet formed. Drake found a spot for their boards and supplies, then put his wetsuit on, removed his surfboard from its bag, and rubbed it down with surf wax. The exotic coconut scent tickled his nose.
Soft arms wrapped themselves around his waist. He turned to face Kylie, and frowned.
She'd been a fling that had become too clingy. He didn't have time for, or interest in, a girlfriend—something he'd told her repeatedly—but Kylie didn't seem to get the message.
"Drakey, you didn't come over last night."
He backed up and placed his board between them. "What do you want, Kylie?"
"I'm your cheer squad, and I missed you. You never come by or hang out anymore. I just thought maybe you could use a little fun before you hit the waves. We could head to the bathrooms for some privacy."
He cringed in disgust. "Look, I had a good time with you, but, like I said before, I'm not looking for a relationship."
She puckered and pouted and puffed out her chest. "But we're so good together."
"No, we're really not. Go find someone else to drape yourself on. I'm not the guy for you."
He waited for her to leave, but her eyes turned to slits and she crossed her arms over her ample chest. "You can't get rid of me so easily, Drake. I'm not going anywhere. We belong together and I'm not leaving until you see that."
Seriously? His temper flared to life but he pushed it down. "Get out of here, Kylie. I mean it."
She reached for him and pushed herself against his chest. "Don't you want to at least say goodbye properly?"
A war raged in Drake. He couldn't use force on her; he didn't want to hurt her or attract attention.
The murmur of voices around him faded into the background and his focus zeroed in on her vacuous mind. In a voice anyone else would have had to strain to hear, he pushed all his power at her. "Go away, Kylie, and leave me alone. We're done."
He hadn't just nudged her this time, he'd put the full force of his power behind the compulsion.
She nodded, a vacant expression on her face, and walked away without another word.
A small twinge of guilt plagued him, but he ignored it easily enough. She'd be fine, and would soon enough latch on to another hot guy like the barnacle she was.
Brad arrived with two bottles of water. "What's up with Kylie?"
"Nothing. She won't be coming around anymore."
Brad shrugged but didn't say anything, and Drake appreciated the silence. He needed to get into the zone and prepare for the competition.
He'd never suffered from excessive paranoia, but as he drank his water, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being followed... and not by a sponsor.
***
Max McKerry, the celeb surfer, broke the silence when he knocked into Drake's board. "You think you're going to beat me with that piece of shit? Dream on, loser."
Brad rolled his eyes at Drake but directed his comment to Max. "Get a life, man. Do you really think anyone here is scared of you?"