Tossing the pillow at him, she said, “Never mind. Were you serious about your offer to join the agency?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” She wanted to give Dalton a little more time to make sure he was serious, but the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea of teaming up with him.

  “And…?”

  “I like the idea. I think we’d be good together.”

  “I do too.”

  “You could handle the football clients, to start. Obviously you’d have an immediate rapport with them. The young guys coming into the league would respect your opinion since you’ve walked in their shoes.” Back in her early days, she’d had to earn the respect of their clients, and she knew her brother would have a much easier path than she had.

  “Yeah, I’d like to work with the football players.” He selected The Blacklist before facing her. “Would you be okay with me starting sooner than we talked about?”

  “How soon?”

  “Like at the end of this season.” His gaze hit the floor before he said, “The knee pain is getting a lot worse, and the doctors aren’t comfortable prescribing so many meds.”

  “How much medication are we talking about?” Sabrina asked, concerned. She leaned forward when he didn’t respond. “Hey, is everything okay? Seriously, you don’t have a problem or anything, do you?”

  He looked at her as if she was crazy before he laughed. “What the hell? Where did that come from?”

  Maybe she was just projecting, given her own recent bout with alcohol. “I don’t know. Anyway, in answer to your question, the sooner the better.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, of course.” She reached for his hand with a smile. “I can’t wait to work with my big brother.”

  “Cool.” He smiled back, squeezing her hand. “You know, for the first time, I’m thinking retirement may not suck after all.”

  Chapter Ten

  Getting Bell’s room number hadn’t been hard. Dylan found out which hotel they were staying in on their road trip, and he simply hung out in the lobby bar until he saw a familiar face. Since the team frequented the High Rollers in Tampa, Dylan knew it wouldn’t be long before one of Bell’s teammates spotted him and came over to say hi.

  As he pounded on Bell’s door, Dylan felt rage like he’d never felt before. He wanted to kill him. Of course he wouldn’t, but he’d send him a very clear message about what would happen if Bell was stupid enough to mess with another woman the way he’d messed with Sabrina.

  Bell answered the door wearing a pair of black tyro pants, looking as though he’d just come from the hotel gym, with a towel around his neck and bottle of water in hand. “Hey, you’re Dylan Clark!” His green eyes lit up. “I was a huge fan when you played for the Cow—”

  Dylan shoved him back a step, plowed inside, and slammed the door. “This isn’t a social call, asshole.”

  “What the hell did I do?” he asked, fear creeping into his eyes. “I don’t even know you, man.”

  “No, but you know Sabrina Mitchell, don’t you?”

  The color drained from his face before he used the towel to wipe sweat from his brow. “Uh, sure, I know Sabrina. She was my agent.”

  “You know how lucky you are that I came instead of setting her brother loose on you?” Dylan backed Bell into the wall and wrapped his hand around his throat. “You must be one stupid son of a bitch to rape Dalton Mitchell’s sister. Have you seen what that guy does to his opponents on the field?” Dylan squeezed Bell’s neck tighter, enjoying the flicker of panic that crept into his nemesis’s eyes. He’d been fantasizing about that moment ever since Kiara told him what happened, but watching Bell’s eyes bug out was even more fun than he’d thought it would be. “Mitch flattens guys twice your size for sport. Trust me, if he ever found out what you did to his baby sister, he would destroy you. I’m talking hospital, traction, feeding tubes, the whole nine.”

  Bell gripped Dylan’s wrist, ineffectually trying to pry his hand away. He wheezed, “She’s lying. I never touched her.”

  Dylan kneed him in the gut and took pleasure in watching Bell slide to the floor. He placed the heel of his boot on the fingers of Bell’s pitching hand, grinding them like the butt of a cigarette. “You wanna try again?”

  He cried out, wincing. “Man, you’re crazy. That bitch wanted it.”

  It took everything in Dylan not to beat him to a bloody pulp, but if he did, he’d never get the admission he was looking for. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it was important to him to hear Bell admit what he’d done to Sabrina and make him beg for mercy the way he’d made Sabrina plead for him to stop.

  “She’s mine,” Dylan said, grabbing a fistful of Bell’s hair and pulling back his head. “She would never have willingly slept with you.” The fact that Dylan had accused her of exactly that still made him sick.

  Bell closed his eyes as though he was trying to manage the pain Dylan was inflicting. “I didn’t know she was your girl. If I did, I wouldn’t have messed with her. I swear.”

  Dylan hauled him up by the hair. “You mean you wouldn’t have raped her if you’d known she was my girlfriend?” When Bell took too long to respond, Dylan’s uppercut made his head snap back. “Answer me.”

  “No.” Bell swiped at the blood at the corner of his mouth with his good hand. “It was a stupid mistake. I’d had a few drinks with the boys—”

  Dylan stunned him with a backhand to the head. “I don’t want to hear your goddamn excuses. I want to hear you accept responsibility for what you did and beg me to let you walk out of here. ‘Cause right now, I’m thinking the only way you’re leaving this room is on a stretcher.”

  Dylan had been in more fights than he could count, both on and off the field, but he’d never taken such pleasure in inflicting pain. Seeing Bell’s blood on his hands felt like payback.

  Bell tipped his head back, leaning into the wall. “What do you want me to say? That I did it? Fine. I did. Happy now?”

  His insolence only pissed Dylan off more, and he unleashed a series of hook punches from both directions so fast that Bell didn’t have a chance to respond before he crumpled to the floor.

  “Happy?” Dylan nudged Bell’s shoulder with the toe of his boot, rolling him onto his back. He planted a boot on the other man’s heaving chest. “You expect me to be happy that you had the balls to admit you raped my girlfriend?”

  Bell groaned, his eyes closed, his face already red from the blood seeping from his nose. “Whaddya want from me, Clark?”

  “I want you to tell me how many girls you’ve done this to before and since.” Dylan didn’t know why he needed a number, but maybe if Sabrina knew for sure that she wasn’t the only one, it would make the decision to press charges that much easier.

  “None.”

  Dylan pressed harder on Bell’s chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. “Try again. The truth this time.”

  “Okay.” Bell tried to suck in a lungful of air. “A few.”

  “You’re lying.” Dylan stepped down harder. “Tell me the truth, and I might let you live.” Dylan had no intention of going that far, but he wanted Bell to fear he might.

  “Five or six.” He groaned. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know how many women you’ve raped?” Dylan removed his foot so he could kneel beside Bell’s listless body. “That many? You’ve lost count?” He fisted Bell’s wavy dark hair before slamming his head into the floor. “This is for every goddamn one of those women who didn’t get the justice they deserved because they were too afraid to come forward.”

  “Please,” Bell whispered, “stop.”

  “Stop?” Dylan slammed his head into the floor with more force. “You want me to stop? Did Sabrina ask you to stop? Did those other women ask you to stop?” When Bell didn’t answer, Dylan lifted his head again, implying that he intended to slam it once more. “Answer me.”

  Bell’s voice was barely audible when he whispered, “Yes.”

  “I thought so.” He dropped Bell’s head before sitting on the foot of the bed, hovering over Bell’s body. “She has nightmares every goddamn night.” Dylan ran his hand over his bloody knuckles. “Every. Night. You did that to her.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Sorry? You’re sorry?” Dylan knew he’d inflicted as much damage as he could without risking irreparable damage, but he was sorely tempted to level one more blow. “She’ll never be the same. Neither will those other women. Do you get that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I came here to make sure you understand you’re not getting away with this. You think what I did to you tonight was bad? If I ever hear of you hurting another woman the way you hurt Sabrina, I’ll hunt you down, and you won’t be breathing when I leave. Understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  Dylan got up and kicked Bell’s legs out of the way so he could walk past him. “You’d better decide what you’re gonna tell your coaches. Looks like you’ll be ridin’ the bench for a while. ‘Course you could tell them the truth, but if they find out I laid a beating on you, they’ll want to know why.” Reaching for the door handle, Dylan looked over his shoulder at the lifeless mass on the floor. Bell’s eyelids were twitching, so Dylan knew he heard every word. “I’ve got nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. You, on the other hand, messed with the wrong woman, and I can promise you that mistake’s gonna haunt you for the rest of your miserable life. ‘Cause this ain’t over. It’s just the beginning.”

  ***

  Sabrina was hopeless in the kitchen, but when Dylan texted to tell her he’d be home by six, she’d felt compelled to leave the office early and stop at the grocery store for the ingredients for a simple beef stew recipe online reviewers claimed was fool-proof. She hoped they were right. Since Dylan was a meat and potatoes guy, she thought he’d like it, and it seemed as though all she had to do was chop the meat, vegetables, and potatoes, toss it all in a pot, add broth, a thickening agent, and seasoning. That didn’t sound too hard.

  But when she tried a spoonful, it was watery and bland. She was trying to regroup, racking her brain to figure out how to make it more flavorful, when she heard the front door. Great, now Dylan will think I can’t even follow a simple recipe. She’d so wanted to impress him… and make him feel at home.

  “Hey, Sabrina, you home?” he called, walking toward the kitchen. He set his overnight bag on the kitchen floor. “There you are. Your car in the garage?”

  “Yeah.” Sabrina couldn’t even look at him. She was too embarrassed about the mess she’d made of dinner.

  “What’s that?” he asked, coming up behind her. “It smells good, but since when do you cook?”

  “I don’t cook,” she said, slamming the spoon on the counter. “And there’s a very good reason—I can’t. Every time I try, I manage to screw it up!” She didn’t know why she was on the verge of tears over a stupid stew. But it was more than that. She hated the distance between them. Before, when he’d come home from a business trip, she’d meet him at the door and wrap her arms and legs around him while they kissed their way down the hall to the bedroom. This time, he hadn’t even tried to touch her.

  “Hey, relax,” he said, stroking her back. “It’s nothing we can’t fix. What’s the problem?”

  “It’s too watery,” she said, crossing her arms. “And bland. It takes like dishwater.”

  Dylan laughed as he reached for the seasonings, nudging her out of the way. “How would you know? Have you ever tasted dishwater?”

  She gasped when she saw the scrapes on his knuckles. “What the hell happened to you?” She reached for his hands when he didn’t answer her. “Were you in a fight?” Judging by the fact he didn’t have a mark on his face, it must have been pretty one-sided.

  “I guess you could call it that.” He withdrew his hands and reached for the wooden spoon. “It was no big deal. Really.”

  “You went to see Bell, didn’t you?” She gripped his shoulder when his blank expression gave away nothing. “Damn it, Dylan, answer me. Did you go see him?”

  “Yes.”

  She let air seep through her teeth. “Why did you do that? My father already went to see him. It didn’t do a damn bit of good.”

  “Yeah, well, your father’s approach may have been a bit different than mine.” His lips tipped up at the corners, making him look like an adorable little boy trying to use wide-eyed innocence to get out of trouble.

  “I’m sure it was, but that doesn’t mean you were right to attack him.” She wanted to be mad. She didn’t condone unnecessary violence, but she couldn’t deny it thrilled her that he’d gone to those lengths to seek revenge on her behalf.

  “Call me old school, but I believe in an eye for an eye. That bastard got what was coming to him, not just for what he did to you but for those other women too.”

  She crossed her arms over her stomach as she leaned back against the counter. “Oh God, he admitted there had been others?” She suspected there had been, but knowing it made it real.

  “Yeah, at least half a dozen.” Dylan added more seasoning before tasting the stew.

  She knew he was trying not to look at her, trying to give her time to process the news that she wasn’t Bell’s only victim. Her stomach cramped up as he went to the pantry to retrieve a bag of flour.

  “I can’t believe this, D. Have there been any more since…” She couldn’t even stand to think that she hadn’t been his last victim. If she’d come forward, could she have saved someone else from a similar fate?

  He added some flour, stirred the stew, added more seasoning, replaced the lid, and turned down the heat before facing her and resting his hands on her shoulders. “I know what you’re thinking, and I don’t want you to blame yourself, honey. Those other women didn’t come forward either. If they had, Bell sure as hell wouldn’t be playing professional baseball right now. He’d be in a jail cell where he belongs.”

  “Do you think I’m a coward for not pressing charges?” she asked, looking at him through her lashes. Dylan had always admired and respected her, and the prospect of losing that scared her almost as much as the thought of losing him.

  “No, you’re definitely not a coward.” He led her to the sofa in the adjoining living room. “Besides, it’s not too late. You can still decide to press charges. There’s no statute of limitations on rape.”

  She knew he was right. She’d researched it, and apparently so had he. “Why do you think those other girls let him get away with it?” She settled into him when he positioned her back to his chest before wrapping his arms around her.

  “I’m sure they were scared. A lot of women who are the victims of sexual assault don’t report it or press charges, baby. I’m sure they have a variety of reasons, but the most prevalent is probably fear.” He kissed her cheek, and she closed her eyes and turned into him, seeking more comfort. “Maybe they’re afraid their attacker will be acquitted and come after them again, or they’re afraid no one will believe them. Could be they don’t want to testify at trial… who knows?”

  “I know why I didn’t. I let my father convince me I would put my career and his precious business in jeopardy if I did.” She was still ashamed she’d let him talk her out of going to the police. Pressing charges was the right thing to do, not just for her but for all the other women he’d victimized, or would in the future if he wasn’t stopped.

  “You mentioned your father went to see Bell. What happened?”

  “He got him to admit what he did and donate a million dollars to a charity for victims of violence. That’s my father’s answer to everything: money. He thought he’d hurt Bell by making him pay literally.”

  “Yeah, well, putting him on the disabled list for a couple of months might have hurt him more.”

  Sabrina tipped her head back to look at Dylan, trying to keep a straight face. “You didn’t, did you?”

  “It’s pretty hard to pitch with a few broken fingers or a broken hand, I’d say.”

  She closed her eyes and kissed his lips. She hoped he would take the initiative to deepen the kiss, but he didn’t. “Thanks for not saying anything to Dalton. He would’ve gone ballistic.”

  “I figured it’s up to you to decide if you want to tell your brother, not me.”

  “Hmm, but you did tell him we were a couple. I was kind of surprised about that.”

  “Were being the operative word.”

  She hadn’t expected those words to hit her so hard, but he was obviously sending her a message that while he was willing to be her friend, he didn’t want more. Which made sense, since he hadn’t even tried to kiss her since he’d found out the truth. She set her back against the opposite arm of the sofa and faced him. “Is there someone else?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, frowning.

  “Are you seeing someone else?” She had no right to ask, but she couldn’t help herself. “Have you been, uh, sleeping with other women since we broke up?”

  “Come on,” he said, his expression pained. “Do we really have to get into that now?”

  “You have.” She could see the answer in his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m not surprised. We’ve been apart for months, and it’s not like I expected you to take a vow of celibacy. It just… hurts.” When he started to speak, she raised her hand to stop him. “I know I have no right to be hurt. We weren’t even together, but I…” She didn’t know whether she had the strength to say it, but the words seemed to slip from her lips of their own volition. “I still love you. I probably always will.”

  He brought her hand to his lips. “Baby, I feel the same way. You gotta know that.”

  “Are you, um, seeing anyone now?”

  “No.” He shook his head emphatically, his eyes drifting from hers. “I did get a call on the way home from this girl I’ve kind of being seeing on and off for the last few months. Her name’s Brittany. She asked me to come over tonight.”

  “Oh.” Sabrina’s heart broke as she withdrew her hand from his. She folded it into a fist and tucked it under her arm. “What did you tell her?”