Текст книги "Rage"
Автор книги: Elizabeth Reyes
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Books by Elizabeth Reyes
Desert Heat
Defining Love
Moreno Brothers Series
Forever Mine
Forever Yours
Sweet Sofie
When You Were Mine
Always Been Mine
Romero
Tangled—A Moreno Brothers novella
Making You Mine
5th Street Series
Noah
Gio
Hector
Abel
Felix
Fate Series
Fate
Breaking Brandon
Suspicious Minds
Again
Rage
His to Guard (2016)
Uninvited (2016)
Rage
(Fate #5)
Elizabeth Reyes
Rage
Elizabeth Reyes
Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth Reyes
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Edited By Theresa Wegand
Cover Design by Amanda Simpson of Pixel Mischief Design
To my nephew Christopher Reyes,
Ask me why and I'll remind you.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Coming in 2016
Also by Elizabeth Reyes
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Prologue
AJ
One of the first things they teach you as a baseball catcher starting in little league is it’s a leadership role. As a leader, you have to be in command and demand respect. But, no one’s giving respect to or taking orders from someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing. As a catcher, you also have to be the toughest on the field. No game is too long, no opponent too hard, and definitely no foe too strong to stand up to. Most importantly, being the leader on the field, you have to anticipate all situations. Stay in control at all times. By high school, AJ Romero had mastered all except the latter. But it wasn’t always his fault, and he was determined to master every requirement if he were going to reach his ultimate dream: to be the best catcher Major League Baseball had ever seen. He just needed to check a few things off his list to get there.
High school
Repeating the sign for a low curve ball between his legs for the second time, AJ raised his glove and stretched his left leg out in anticipation of the next pitch. The pitcher threw the ball, and just as intended, it curved and fell low and left into AJ’s glove, just as the hitter swung and missed.
“Nice,” he said, taking the ball from his glove and throwing it back. “Just like that,” he yelled out to the pitcher. “One more, we got this.”
“Yeah,” the batter muttered under his breath as he readied himself for the next pitch, “just like I used to get your mom every Friday night.”
AJ’s head jerked back, not sure if he’d heard the guy right, so he took a second before giving the pitcher the sign for the next pitch. “What was that now?” he asked without standing up.
The guy chuckled, lifting the bat up over his shoulder. “I said just like I used to get your mom—”
Instantly on his feet, AJ pulled off his catcher’s mask, feeling his insides heat, and got in the guy’s face but tried desperately to stay calm. “I know you’re not talking about my mom.”
Obviously startled by AJ’s quick reaction, the batter backed up a bit, but smirked. “Sure I am. The stripper whore—”
AJ buried his fist in the guy’s face, and both benches emptied as the umpire and several other players on his team attempted to break it up, but not before he got a few more good ones in. A couple of others started to get into it as Chino, his good friend and third baseman, managed to pull him aside and talk AJ down.
“He was talking trash about my mom,” AJ said through his teeth, still unable to calm himself.
“Alright,” Chino said calmly, looking him in the eyes. “You got’ em, AJ. He’ll be sportin’ a good shiner for at least a week. Now be cool.”
The team started to make its way back slowly into the dugouts. AJ was still full of adrenaline and ready to land a few more blows in that asshole’s face if he could get to him, but Chino was right. AJ needed to calm down. One glance in the stands showed him the disapproval in both his brothers’ faces.
“You might just get off with a—”
“Out of here!” the ump said before Chino could even finish what sounded like his usual optimism “Both of you out,” he added, pointing at the asshole batter.
The ump wasn’t even looking at him anymore, already writing something down on the small notepad he’d pulled out of his pocket. AJ’s head fell back, knowing exactly what that meant. He’d been right too. Not only were he and the other guy ejected from the game, they were both suspended from school for a couple of days and the next game in the series.
His oldest brother Isaiah was adamant that AJ had been set up. While it did piss both his brothers off that the guy would take a stab at their mother, Isaiah insisted AJ needed to work harder on practicing better self-control.
“I probably would’ve decked him too,” Isaiah admitted.
“Fuck yeah,” Nathan, his other brother, immediately agreed.
“Clearly the guy knew saying something like that was way out of line,” Isaiah said. “Anyone would’ve reacted the same way you did. If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t be so suspicious. There was no question you’d react, and you’re batting cleanup with a batting average of over .500.”
Isaiah shook his head, completely annoyed with the fact that the other team would stoop this low and take a stab at their recently murdered mother. It’d been in the papers the whole year, so those assholes knew all about it. He’d also made mention of her being a stripper, something they’d often had to clarify to the press. She tended bar at a seedy nightclub. She wasn’t a stripper. So that alone was clear evidence that they’d meant to bait him.
“Of course they’d try riling you to get you out of the lineup next game. This is the playoffs. Why do you think they chose one of their shittiest players to do so? They knew you’d both be suspended, and that guy was no sacrifice for them. You gotta get your shit together, man. I know it’s hard to not lose it, especially hearing someone trash-talk Mom, but you make it way too easy for them.”
The team went on to win the playoffs anyway, and his school took the state title, but not before a couple of more flare-ups that nearly had AJ’s fists igniting again, including getting beamed by the ball once. The incident did clear the benches again, but not because AJ went after the pitcher. The next batter up was Chino, and he started talking shit to the other team’s catcher, who’d likely told the pitcher to hit AJ. Of course, AJ was right there to back his friend up when the benches cleared, but no one was ejected since no one took a swing this time. Still, while it took AJ just as long to come down from the adrenaline high, he was getting better at conquering his elusive self-control. His coach had always said taking the title would grab the notice of the minor league scouts. He’d have to prove himself if he ever wanted to make the big leagues. Check.
Minor Leagues
The lead AJ took off of first base was significant. With his status as the leading base stealer in all of Triple-A Baseball, it was no surprise the pitcher could barely concentrate on his pitching because he kept stopping to throw back to first. AJ was just a few more steals away from breaking the record for most bases stolen in a regular season. Once again the pitcher spun around and threw to first, making for a dramatic and dusty dive back into first because AJ’s lead had been that big.
“That’s right,” the first baseman Higman said as AJ squinted and spit dirt out of his mouth. “Get your ass back on base, bitch.”
AJ stood up, dusting himself off, refusing to look at the guy. Readjusting his helmet, he took a deep breath, remembering his brother’s words. He would not get baited so easily anymore. It was fucking infuriating. Instead of progressing in conquering the fire that ignited so easily in him, he’d deviated in the opposite direction. With so many using his temper against him, his reputation as one of the hottest hotheads in the league preceded him now. Some critics even suggested it was what would ultimately be his doom if he ever made it to the big leagues. Even his brothers agreed, especially Isaiah, who insisted it didn’t matter that some of the players like this asshole were just as heavily criticized for being instigators.
With the ball back in the pitcher’s hand, AJ began taking his lead off the base, jumping back once when the pitcher spun around but didn’t throw. The crowd booed at the pitcher. Others cheered, urging AJ to steal that base. He took the lead once again, this time getting a little braver, going even further than he did the last time.
One look at the third base coach and he got the go-ahead to run the moment the ball left the pitcher’s hand. He took an even farther more dangerous lead, and the pitcher spun around suddenly and threw a missile to first. For a second, he thought about diving back, but he was too far and knew he wouldn’t make it, so he decided to chance it and fake trying to make it to second. After just a few steps, he turned around because he knew by then the ball was already headed to second. He was still closer to first, so he shot back.
The crowd went nuts as his adrenaline pummeled through him. He could do this, damn it. He dove into first just as the ball zoomed by his head and hit Higman’s glove but bounced out. Lucky for Higman, the pitcher was already behind him and recovered, so in no way could AJ get up and take off to second.
He exhaled, holding on to the base for dear life for a moment. It wasn’t pretty, but at least he hadn’t blown it. The crowd, of course, had gone wild and was already chanting the nickname he’d been dubbed with for over a year. The same one Isaiah hated with such passion. “Rage! Rage! Rage!”
The local paper had commented more than once about “Romero’s rage,” and soon afterward he’d become Rage. “Who’s the bitch now?” he asked with a smirk but didn’t bother looking up at Higman, who he was sure was glaring at him as AJ dusted himself off again.
As expected, butterfingers didn’t have much to say now. Over the next several pitches, AJ managed to steal second and third, only to be left stranded at third when the batter finally struck out. It was a pisser, but he was damn proud of himself that he hadn’t let Higman win.
Headed slowly back to the dugout, he could hear some of the people in the stands yelling out for him. Many chanted for him to break the record today. He hadn’t even noticed Higman so close to him when he heard the comment.
“Baby sister’s not such a baby anymore.”
AJ looked up in time to see Higman and another player on the opposing team smiling big as they gazed up into the stands. Curiously, he glanced up just as Higman responded to the other guy’s comment. “Yeah, I’d tap that sweet thing in a heartbeat.”
The instant he saw Emi holding up her homemade poster that read “Break that record, big brother! Romero #9,” he knew who Higman was talking about. She was shaking her hips along with the sign, looking far more womanly than her eighteen years. Even then, he still would’ve kept his cool, too, if he’d just done the right thing and ignored Higman and his asshole friend. He shouldn’t have even glimpsed their way, but he did just in time to see Higman rub his dick over his pants and squeeze. He was still looking up at the stands.
“Damn! The junk in that trunk. What I wouldn’t give to get my cock into that ass.”
The fucker would’ve likely gone on to say more, but AJ tackled him before he could, and it was on. Another bench-clearing brawl ensued with the crowd going wild, chanting his nickname over and over.
AJ had actually been a little surprised when Isaiah hadn’t protested too much after he’d been ejected from the game. He’d told him why he tackled Higman. Isaiah just shook his head, but AJ got the feeling his brother was likely thinking he would’ve done the same because he’d been spared the usual lecture. The only thing he did say was, “Yeah, well there’s only two games left in the regular season, AJ. You get ejected next game, and they may sit you out the last one. There goes your chance of breaking that record.”
The next game AJ checked one more thing off his list. He broke that record. Once the season was over, he checked off another. He signed a major league contract with the San Diego Padres. He’d already been called up a few times to stand in for the injured catcher. Only with their regular catcher expected to be out for most of the season, AJ would likely be their starting catcher until their regular was back. Check!
Chapter 1
AJ
Throughout his young career AJ owed a lot of people for his success. First and foremost was his entire family for their love and support as he continued to follow his dream. Many coaches along the way made an impact on his game and his confidence—his ability to continue to believe in himself as a leader, even when things got tough. One of the coaches that made the biggest impact on him was a relatively new coach to him: Coach Lara, his major league team’s catching coach. The man was a former major league catcher himself, recently inducted into the Hall of Fame and wise beyond anyone AJ had ever known.
He also had the patience of a saint. When AJ came into the majors, everyone already knew about his legendary temper. It’d been well-documented and discussed by sportscasters even before he moved up from the minors and even more so his first few years in the big leagues. Lara had told AJ from the moment he took him under his wing just over a year ago that it didn’t have to be that way. He could use that anger as energy—use it as a driving force to push his passion for the game and make it work for him, not against him.
Up until AJ met Lara, it’d been suggested that he attend anger-management classes on more than one occasion. In some cases, it’d been mandatory after some of his worst explosive moments on the field. The classes were always lame. AJ never got anything out of them. Maybe if he had, he might’ve done so with more enthusiasm. He wanted to be able to conquer that part of him. It always felt like a weakness.
Lara, however, suggested other forms of mental training. He said lack of mental training was the number-one cause of underperformance, and he’d been right. AJ had attended and done all the training Lara had suggested.
After the first three years of AJ’s career in the big leagues, he was finally making some major progress, and it was even noted by the press. His first year he’d been a mess: bringing on the attention and reinforcing his nickname in the media, something that exasperated his brothers.
His teammates suggested he embrace the notoriety. His moments of rage on the field excited the fans.
“Hell, it’s part of the reason some of these people come out to watch you,” his good friend Sabian, the starting short stop and one of the other superstars of the team, had said. “They’re not just coming for the game; they’re waiting to see if they get to see a Rage show.”
AJ got how it could be exciting for the fans, but it made him feel like a fucking clown. He was there to impress them with his talents as a player, not amuse them with the show he put on when he lost his cool. Not to mention there were fines and time on the field he could lose, which, during those first years, happened a lot.
It was spring training of his fourth year in the big leagues, the year Lara had come into his life and with him his adorable six-year-old granddaughter, Clair. AJ had seen photos of her in the coach’s office before, but in most of them, she was still a baby. She looked nothing like the pictures he remembered seeing. While Coach Lara often spoke of her, AJ had never met her because she lived out of state.
“My daughter Addison and Clair are moving in with us for a few months while she gets situated here in San Diego,” the coach had explained previously. “But she has to make a few trips back to Chicago to get all her stuff moved out here. In the meantime, the Mrs. and I are on Clair duty. Clair started following the team pretty closely in the last year, so I promised to get her out here first chance I got. She’s been dying to meet with you guys, but especially you.”
The day Coach brought her over AJ had been lifting weights in the team’s gym at the stadium. AJ had eyed the coach walking around and introducing her to some of the other players. She was a tiny little thing, a bright-eyed brunette wearing glasses in a Padres jersey, who held her grandpa’s hand as he walked her around the gym.
“Meet my pride and joy, Clair,” he said with a big smile when he finally brought her over to AJ. “Clair, this is AJ, our superstar catcher.”
“Of course I know who he is, Papa.” She’d already been staring at him wide-eyed, but now her big brown eyes actually sparkled. “Nice to meet you, AJ. I’m a huge fan.”
“Nice to meet you too,” AJ said, surprised how well-spoken she was for such a little thing.
“My full name is Synclair McKayla Lara,” she said without hesitation. “I was named after my grandparents, only my first name is spelled with a “Y” not an “I” like Papa’s. I know your full name.”
“Do you?” he asked, surprised to hear it. Not that his full name was top secret or anything, but for someone that young to even know who he was—profess to be a big fan—had already impressed him.
She nodded with a smug but sweet smile. “Andrés Josiah Romero.”
AJ’s jaw dropped, not just because she’d nailed it, but because she’d rolled the r’s perfectly in all the appropriate places like he’d only ever heard his parents and the Spanish broadcasters do. “Wow,” he said, smiling big. “That’s very impressive.”
“My mom has your same initials, only no one has ever called her AJ.” Without waiting for him to respond, she continued just as quickly. “I read somewhere you don’t like the nickname Rage, but I do. It’s better than some of the other cheesy names your teammates have.” She glanced around subtly, making AJ chuckle, and then lowered her voice. “Like Double S,” she whispered. “How’s that cool for an athlete? At least you can say you bat or throw with raging force or something. It doesn’t have to be about your short temper.”
“I’d never thought of it that way,” he said, nodding. “I’ll run that by my brothers first chance I get. They’re actually the ones that dislike the nickname. I really don’t mind it so much.”
Her little brows pinched, and she brought a finger to her mouth. “I can’t remember where I read it, but maybe you were misquoted.”
AJ had laughed again. I can’t remember where I read it, but maybe you were misquoted. What six year-old said stuff like that? He later found out she’d skipped a grade already. She was also in a gifted program back in Chicago, one she was blowing through like a boss and impressing the hell out of her instructors, according to the coach. And he said she’d already been accepted into a similar program there in San Diego.
“She gets her brains from her mom,” Lara later told AJ when his granddaughter hadn’t been around. “I just hope she turns out to be smarter in matters of the heart than Addison is. Was anyway. We’ve never met Clair’s dad. The deadbeat’s never wanted anything to do with her, and I told Addison to leave well enough alone. She didn’t need to be going after him for child support. We could all take care of Clair ourselves without his help and always have. The last thing she wants is to give him is any entitlement over Clair and to risk his asking for custody. Making him pay would do just that, so I’ve never met the son of a bitch, and I hope I never do. A delicate child like Clair is a lot of responsibility. We trust very few people to know what it takes to deal with her, least of all a deadbeat dad.”
AJ hadn’t wanted to ask much more, but as time passed, he learned a little more about the situation and what the coach meant by delicate. Clair had never met her dad either. This made AJ as sad as it made him mad. Both his parents were gone now, but he’d had them there growing up with his older brothers and two sisters. There’d never been any shortage of love in his family, not that he thought Clair wasn’t loved. Clearly, her grandparents and mother loved her. But the more he got to know her, the more he couldn’t believe her asshole dad wouldn’t want to be a part of her life. She was the most brilliant little girl he’d ever met. And just as sweet.
As quickly as Clair had grown on him, he was almost afraid to ask why she was so delicate. Turns out it was just allergies. The poor kid had a slew of food allergies. The coach had mentioned it was why his family suite at the stadium, where his wife and now Clair and his daughter would watch every home game, was in the peanut-free section of the stadium.
Clair had started to come in on days she didn’t have school to watch the team work on drills and practice. She had a lot to say about the drills and stats and had advice to give AJ about certain players he should be looking out for more than others. Her grandpa wasn’t kidding when he said she was an old soul who followed the team closely. She knew more about the sport and AJ’s stats than his own full-grown sisters did. Within a few weeks, she’d declared AJ her best buddy.
Since they mostly talked baseball whenever she’d come around, the subject of her mom rarely came up. All AJ knew was that she worked for the government and she worked a lot. She’d yet to make any games. Clair had also told him her mother was a statistician. The most AJ could make out by the title was that it had something to do with statistics. It was almost embarrassing because at only six, Clair seemed to understand exactly what her mother did for a living. It made sense since, from what he knew so far about Clair, she was a math whiz. She was amazing with all the stats about baseball.
“My mom started out wanting to be a statistician for sports,” she’d told AJ. “Baseball in particular. But she changed her mind along the way, and now she works for the IRS instead. I haven’t made up my mind yet, but I think I may finish what she started. I like gathering the stats for the team.”
AJ had laughed once again, assuring her she had plenty of time to decide what she’d be doing when she grew up. He couldn’t know for sure, but he was fairly certain she was the only six-year-old on the planet to declare she wanted to be a statistician.
Anytime the subject of her mom happened to come up either from Clair or Coach Lara, AJ always pictured an older version of her genius baseball-nerd daughter, glasses and all. He remembered seeing a high-school graduation photo on the coach’s desk a while back of a dark-haired bookish-looking girl with thick glasses similar to Clair’s. He still didn’t know what a statistician did exactly, but he imagined she had to be pretty damn smart and it probably involved a lot of math. Something he’d never been great at.
Clair kept saying her mom would make it to one of the games eventually.
“Papa said she used to be a big fan. Like me, when she was younger, she loved coming out to meet with the players and collect stats and all. But she’s just too busy now.”
Something about the way Clair said it was sad. He’d heard of workaholic people and how their jobs took from their relationships with their loved ones. It’s why he tended to go out of his way to spend as much time with Clair as he could—on the field during warm ups at home games, that is. He’d yet to do anything with her off the field; though he had told her one day he’d have her and her papa over to his sister’s. Aside from baseball, the only other thing Clair spoke of with the same passion was Snickers, the beagle she’d had since she was born. From what he could tell, aside from AJ and some of the other guys she’d gotten close to on the team, Snickers was her only friend. So she was big on dogs and animals in general. AJ’s sister Olivia owned and ran her own pet-grooming business. He was pretty sure Clair would get a kick out of Liv’s pooch mobile and her own dogs.
She also mentioned the sad irony of her beloved dog’s name. Her mom had named the dog before they knew of Clair’s peanut allergy. Because of it, Clair would never know what a Snickers bar actually tasted like. AJ couldn’t imagine why she couldn’t at least nibble at it. So she’d develop a slight rash or sneeze a little or whatever it was that happened if she ate a peanut. She’d get over it. But she was adamant she never would.
AJ walked down to the coach’s office just before his game. The coach had texted him to meet him there before heading out to the pre-game batting practice.
As he made his way down, he saw Travis, the team’s self-proclaimed playboy, hamming it up with what was likely a groupie just outside the fenced area that led to the infield. She was your typical made-up, turbo-tits, flirty-looking girl. He and Travis exchanged smirks as the groupie turned to see who Travis was smiling at. AJ almost turned away but had to do a double take when he saw the girl’s big smiling eyes grow even bigger and more attentive when it seemed she realized who he was.
It wasn’t the way her eyes seemed to recognize him. Travis may have been the playboy of the team, but of the two, AJ was by far one of the most recognized on and off the field. It didn’t surprise him that she’d obviously recognized him. She even stood up straighter with that same star-struck expression AJ was so familiar with. But something about those eyes had him doing that double take. As expected, they were sexy, but there was also something else. They were sweetly familiar? He couldn’t put his finger on it.
“AJ Romero,” she called out, but he waved her off, pointing as if to say he was in a hurry and couldn’t stop for a picture or autograph or whatever else she might want from him.
“Sorry, hon,” he said under his breath. “I don’t do sloppy seconds.”
The girl was hot enough, and he was certain the groupies he’d had under him weren’t the most wholesome of girls. But he was not about to get caught up with anyone his teammates had been with, least of all Travis’s leftovers. Travis was an outfielder who often flirted, even with the girls in the stands. The guy was already smug enough about the amount of ass he got. AJ didn’t need the guy rubbing it in that he’d picked up on his scraps.
AJ met with Lara in his office. He let him in on a surprise birthday party they were having for Clair the following day at the zoo. AJ knew all week that Clair’s birthday was this weekend, but the coach had said they’d already made plans to celebrate with her when they all met up in Toronto during the team’s next road trip. The coach said Clair wanted to see Niagara Falls and had even passed up Disneyland so she could watch the Padres home games this weekend.
“She’s a kid for crying out loud.” The coach frowned as he explained about the party he planned for her at the zoo the next day. “Her mom is always so worried about planning something with too much variety of food involved because of Clair’s allergies. But seven is Clair’s favorite number. And you know she’s a numbers girl. This should be a big one for her, so I took the liberty of planning something for her, and the zoo and the caterer I contacted can accommodate all her needs. I’m inviting the whole team, but I know she’ll be most excited about seeing you there. It’ll be right after tomorrow’s game. I know it’s last minute, but you think you can make it for a couple of hours?”
“Absolutely,” AJ said without hesitation.
“Great,” Coach Lara said with a relieved smile.
They discussed the details a little more before AJ headed out to batting practice. Along the way, he spotted Travis’s groupie again, this time chatting with another player. She had a smoking hot body, he’d give her that. When she turned and caught him sizing her up, their eyes met for a fleeing moment, and once again, he was caught in those sweet doe eyes. They were definitely a contrast to her sexy appearance, but he caught himself before smiling at her.
“Hell no,” he muttered to himself as he turned away and walked in the opposite direction of where she was.
A few minutes later AJ was more than glad he’d ignored her again because he noticed the doe-eyed groupie had made it onto the field and was now surrounded by three other players as she chatted and laughed with them.
Her attire was typical of a groupie: short denim shorts, an open petite Padres jersey with a snug tank underneath, and high wedge shoes that showed off a pair of legs that went on forever. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a Padres ball cap. The only difference between her and the usual groupies was the guys seemed to be falling all over themselves to impress her rather than the other way around like it usually was with these girls.
AJ stretched as he took a few practice swings, glancing around. A few other groupies were talking to some of the guys on the other team. He shook his head, glancing one last time at the one with the group of players still surrounding her.
She was less obvious than some of the other girls as far as she wasn’t sending out clear signals that she’d gladly head back to their hotel rooms after the game. Her body language, however, was sending out a different all-too-clear sign. She was enjoying the attention she was getting from the guys.
His turn up to batting practice drew the usual attention of the exclusive journalists, photographers, and VIP guests on the field who lined up for his autograph, including some of the other groupies he’d seen strolling around. When he was done with his turn at batting practice, he obliged his fans with a few minutes of autographs and photos.
