Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance (23 page)

A
fter the last
game of spring training, Kirk wandered into The Hot Corner and greeted his teammates.

“Hey, bud, glad you’re back,” the pitchers slapped him on the shoulder and congregated around him. “How was Vegas?”

“Lots of relaxation, but not a lot of rest.” He kept a cheerful demeanor to cover up his time at the Recovery Ranch. No one, not even Brock, knew that he’d gone there for treatment. From the sly winks he got, they assumed he’d partied with showgirls.

Brock came toward him, along with Josh Johnson, the starting catcher who had made the roster.

“Glad you’re back,” Brock said. “How’s the leg?”

“Healing. I should be working out in a few weeks. Still doing upper body conditioning, of course.” He put his hand out to Josh. “Congratulations. Good luck with the season.”

“Good luck to you, too. You know it’s worth it, taking a slug for a woman. It makes them appreciate you a whole lot more.”

“Speaking of Jeanine.” Kirk eyed Brock for signs of evasiveness. “How’s she doing? Last I heard she was in the hospital? Mental and emotional exhaustion.”

“She’s doing great.” Brock’s smile seemed genuine. “The break did her a world of good. She’s gone out with Marcia and Bianca to a mother-daughter night at the church we attend.”

“That’s wonderful. Glad she’s doing well. Heard anything about Simpson? They still have him in jail?”

“He’s claiming self-defense now.” Brock’s eyebrows lowered and he moved away from Johnson and the rest of the players. “Says you were assaulting Jeanine, but of course we know that’s baloney.”

“No shit.” Brock’s mood turned sour. “What does Jeanine say?”

“Don’t know. I try not to talk to her about Simpson. It must be hard for her with everyone staring at her and feeling sorry for her.”

“But you said she’s doing okay, right?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. Just fine. Recommends the ranch to everyone. Maybe you should have gone there instead of wasting your money in Vegas.”

“I’ll recover in my own way.” Kirk puffed out his chest and scanned the bar, honing in on a dozen hot prospects—single women out with their friends, ready for pickup.

“Go get them,” Brock said, shaking his head. “I’ve got to get home to take care of the baby.”

Kirk had no intention of hooking up with anyone. He walked by the women and claimed an empty barstool at the bar.

“What are you having?” the bartender asked. Her name badge read, “Tina,” and she was the one who’d betrayed Jeanine to George.

“Corona will do. How’s business?”

“It’s good.” The bartender fetched a cold bottle and opened the top for him.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Haven’t seen Jeanine around. Just wondering if she’s well.”

“She’s well. Anything else I can get you?”

“You got tamales? Nice, hot, steaming ones?”

Tina shook her head. “Nope.”

Okay, so she wasn’t talkative, or at least not forthcoming with information.

“How about the hottest appetizer you have.” He made a show of pulling out a thick wad of bills. “And some information.”

“We have the nuclear wings.” Tina’s eyes rested on the money. “Will that be hot enough for you?”

“Jeanine recommended those.”

“She did.” Tina punched the order into her tablet. “Anything else?”

Kirk pulled off two twenties and placed them on the counter top. “Where’s Jeanine staying?”

Tina’s greedy little hands closed on the money. Her fingernails were trimmed short and covered with black nail polish. She sported tattoos of nails piercing the back of her hands, and thorns wrapped around her fingers.

“Well?” he reminded her as she caressed the crisp bills. “I’m a friend of Jeanine’s, but I’ve been out of town.”

“She’s staying at a hotel in Scottsdale,” Tina said, wiggling her fingers. “You want the address?”

“And you know this how?” He fished another bill from the roll and dangled it.

“She told Marcia.” Tina took the money and gave him the name of the hotel.

“And you’re always so quick to sell out a friend, aren’t you?” He leaned closer to the woman and glared at her. “Why’d you let Simpson into Jeanine’s apartment?”

Tina gasped and a blush reddened her face. “He always liked Jeanine best. Always. But Jeanine only faked it with him.”

Kirk made soothing noises. “And you? What about you?”

“I was nothing.”

“Didn’t Jeanine protect you?” Kirk peeled off another bill.

“No. She thought she did, but all she did was make it worse for us upstairs. The more time she spent with Simpson, the more violent Karen got. She mostly took it out on Madge, their daughter, but I got punished, too. So I told on her.”

“Told on who? Karen?” Kirk handed her another twenty.

“No. Jeanine. I told my social worker Jeanine was sleeping with Simpson and trying to steal all his money. She wanted a car so she could get away. She said she was going to take me with her, but Simpson tricked her. Instead of a car, he gave her an engagement ring and asked her to marry him when she turned eighteen.”

Kirk swallowed hard and pressure built in the back of his eyes. “What did she say?”

“She did her usual flirty thing and said yes, acting all sweet and lovable, but when he wasn’t looking, she threw the ring in the trash, along with all the love letters they’d been exchanging.”

“Wow. I can’t believe it.” Kirk’s fingers swished through the remaining wad of bills.

“It gets worse. I dug the ring out of the trash, and when she found me with the ring, she stole it back and tried to pawn it. All she wanted was money, but the pawn shop dude just laughed and said it was fake, a cubic zirconium. You should have seen Jeanine’s face. She was so pissed. She pulled a princess on Simpson and stopped sleeping with him.”

“What happened then?” Kirk idly handed her another bill.

“He beat the shit out of her. He tied her to the bed, ankles and wrists, and he whipped her. He wanted her to take the ring and say she loved him and agree to marry him.”

Kirk winced inside at the images of a young Jeanine being tortured for being so brave. His heart squeezed in on itself as he again berated himself for adding to her pain. He should have apologized in the voicemail, but he wanted to see her expression when he said he was sorry, to know that he’d gotten through to her. He had to see her, by hook or by crook. Had to talk to her and let her know how wrong he’d been to judge her.

“Did she take the ring and agree?” he continued his questioning of Tina.

Tina nodded. “They made up and she was kissing his ass, following him around like a slave and saying she loved him, that she wanted to marry him. But when he wasn’t looking, she stole money. Of course I got my cut. She also sold drinks to her classmates. Stole bottles from Karen’s collection.”

“And you got your cut.”

“Yes.”

“What about the other girl? Did she know about this?”

Tina shrugged. “Probably not. Karen burned her with an iron and they took her away. Then they took me away.”

“And you’re not grateful to Jeanine for protecting you?”

Tears streamed down the bartender’s face and she shook her head roughly, swiping her eyes with her forearm. “She’s a braggart. She didn’t protect me at all. She had George all to herself while Karen tortured us. She didn’t dare touch Jeanine because she was afraid of George.”

Tina rolled her sleeve up and displayed a web of scars, cut marks and round cigarette burns, surrounded by tattoos. “This is what Karen did to us. To me and Madge while Jeanine had George wrapped around her finger. Did you know George filed for divorce? That’s when shit hit the fan and Karen went ballistic.”

Kirk had heard enough. He gave Tina her last twenty-dollar bill. “If you hate Jeanine so much, stay away from her. How dare you work at her bar and stab her in the back?”

He turned away, but she restrained him with a surprisingly strong grip. “Please, mister. I don’t hate Jeanine at all. I love her. She’s the only big sister I ever had. I need this job. I have no place to stay. I’m sorry.”

“A word of advice. Don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” He shrugged his shoulder from her grip and straightened his jacket. He doubted Tina would last long. The investigation was bound to reveal her role in the supposed burglary, and when he had the chance, he was going to let Marcia and Jeanine know how they’d been harboring a viper in their midst.

After exiting the bar, Kirk typed the name of the hotel into his phone. It was one of those typical fun in the sun type resorts—low rise units centered around a gleaming pool surrounded by palm trees. Traffic wasn’t bad and soon, he pulled into the parking lot of the resort.

He sauntered casually to the front desk and flashed the clerk a smile. “My sister’s in town and says she’s staying here. Name’s Jeanine Jewell.”

The clerk typed into a computer and looked up, smiling. “She’s in room twenty-four.”

“Great. Do you have any rooms near her? Mom wants me to get one for her. She’s flying in later and I’m picking her up from the airport.”

“Sure.” The clerk looked through the system. “I’ve one right next door. It even has a connecting door.”

“That’s perfect.” He handed her his credit card and took the room.

“Here’s your keycard. Enjoy your stay.”

“I know I will.” Kirk winked at the receptionist, causing her to blush, then walked in the direction of the rooms.

Charming hotel clerks had always been easy for him, but then, the hard part came later—apologizing to Jeanine and hoping she’d forgive him.

He’d been too quick to judge. Jealous. But then, it was a man thing. He couldn’t have his woman calling out for another man while perched on his dick, could he?

Taking a book, he propped open his door and pulled a chair next to it. He left his lights off and waited in the dark. Which gave him plenty of time to think, and to berate himself for walking out on her.

Kirk replayed what Tina had said, and his blood pressure spiked. His heart slogged in his chest, and he held his head, palming his sore eyes. Jeanine had been conditioned by an abuser. She’d had no reference point other than the sick group of individuals she’d depended on. She was a baby. A child. A teen. Unloved and doing what she had to to survive.

She’d come alive with him at the ranch, blossomed in his arms, and she’d let her guard down—let him in. Then in a single moment, he’d destroyed her trust.

He hated himself.

And he couldn’t even blame his mother for this one.

This was all on him.

He’d been jealous of an abuser.

And he’d never been jealous before, not even at the guy his ex-fiancée ran off with, and definitely not the multitude of men his mother slept with, or the two half-sisters his father had with the other Mrs. Kennedy—the one his mother called a kooky bag lady because she wore clothes from discount stores.

Would Jeanine ever forgive him? Would she give him another chance?

Did he deserve another chance?

A set of footsteps and a rustle of keys passed by his door. Kirk was on his feet, despite the twinge of his wounded thigh. He stepped out the door and spotted Jeanine inserting her keycard into her door lock.

She was wearing his leather jacket. That had to mean something, right?

In two steps, he was at her side. She startled, eyes wide, and squeaked, trying to shut the door, but he overpowered her and edged his way into her hotel room.

“What do you think you’re doing here?” Her blue eyes were frosty and she stepped toward the desk phone. “Out, or I’ll call security.”

“I came to apologize.”

“None needed.” She picked up the phone.

Kirk wasn’t above using his physical strength on her. He wrestled the phone receiver from her and and wrapped her in his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“Let go of me. I swear. I’ll hurt you.” She went for his fingers, and he remembered what she’d done to the man in Vegas.

He grabbed both of her wrists and held her hands over her head, but wasn’t quick enough to stop her knee.

It crashed into his groin, followed by an elbow smashing him in the back of his neck as he bent down to cup his exploding balls.

She grabbed his arm and put it in a lock, pulling it between her body and legs. With the force she’d put on his arm, he was sure she could break it if she tried.

“Uncle. Uncle.” He tapped her thigh with his free hand, hating how she’d subdued him in three seconds flat. “Can we talk?”

“No. You made it clear how you felt about me when you walked out.” Her words shot like the stutter of machine gun fire. “I’ll let you go if you agree to leave quietly. Otherwise, it’s a broken arm for starters.”

His balls were still in enough pain for him to see stars, and the back of his neck radiated with heat and fire so that his breath sizzled through gritted teeth.

“Please, let me go. You’re hurting me.”

“You’re hurting me,” she mocked in a teeny high-pitched voice, but she let off some of the pressure. “Say your piece and leave.”

“I understand now, Jeanine. I don’t blame you for anything you did. You had to survive.”

“I survived that monster, I’ll survive you, too.” She yanked his arm, causing the joints to pop.

“Ow, ow. Please. Not my arm. I need it to throw and catch.”

“You’re a wuss.” She slapped the side of his head and let him go. “Go back to your games. Flash your charm on some other unsuspecting idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, and this isn’t a game.” Sweat dampened Kirk’s face. He rubbed his shoulder joint and winced at his painfully throbbing balls.

“Then why did you happen to have the letters, and why were you talking to that guy who claims to be my brother?”

“I told you already. My mother sent them, but she’s playing a game, stirring up a soap opera so my brother could write a book. As for Tyson, I kind of believe him. He says his mother got shot protecting you from Simpson.”

Jeanine’s eyes widened and she looked like she’d seen a ghost. She collapsed to the bed, still staring at him. “Are you saying she got shot by Simpson?”

“That’s what he says. She’s okay though. She collapsed a lung and he had to take her to the hospital, so he missed it when Simpson went to Marcia’s house to find you.”