Chapter 35 Demons
DEMONS
REN
“I do not want to go to practice today.”
“Then don’t,” Cassidy offers helpfully, grinning at me. “You can stay here and couch rot with me.”
“What would my boss say if he knew you were encouraging me to skip out on my job?”
Cassidy pretends to cough. “But I’m sick.”
Laughing, I nudge her with my elbow. “You trying to get my fired?”
“Actually,” she replies, her tone completely serious. “You better keep that job cause you being around all the time would be terrible.”
I give her a dirty look. “You could come if you want. Unless you have some plans.”
“Actually, some legal assistant person is bringing by some documents for me to look over,” she responds. “But also, the thought of going back there makes me feel ill.”
I grimace. “Well, maybe it’ll pass before playoffs?”
“Worse case, I only go to away games.”
“You’re not required to go to any of the games,” I state firmly. “Or anywhere you’re not comfortable.”
“But the deal?”
I roll my eyes. “That deal can fuck off right now.”
She laughs then waggles her brows at me. “Guess I’ll be going back to the short skirt, no underpants addendum soon.”
I stare at her for a moment, confused by her statement, and then feel stupid for feeling confused as I retort, “You don’t have to, Cass.”
I turn away, but her hand on my arm stops me and I face her again. She grabs both my arms, coming up on her toes to ensure I’m looking her in the face as she says, “We can still joke, Ren. We have to joke. We need to laugh.”
I search her gaze then sigh, my arms gathering her close as I murmur, “You just want me to put on another show for you.”
Her hands slide up my arms and over my shoulders, looping behind my head. “I mean, yes,” she pauses, her hands pulling my head down so her lips are hovering over mine, “But also, at some point, I’m going to want to give you a show.”
My body immediately tightens at the thought. Pulling her against me, I wrap my arm around her waist, brushing my lips on hers gently as I ask, “Is that so?”
“Mmm hmm,” she responds, her mouth curving up into a coy smile. “Maybe dinner and a show.”
“Only if you’re dinner,” I whisper, pressing my lips against hers more firmly. She sighs then kisses me back, her mouth opening for my seeking tongue without provocation. Our kiss is slow, thorough, but then I’m pulling back with a groan, only to find her staring at me with heated eyes.
“Maybe you wanna give me that show now?” she teases, her eyes focused on my obvious hard on beneath my sweatpants.
I squint as I retort, “You behave.”
“Boring.”
I sigh heavily as I back out of the room, knowing I have to get my ass moving or I’ll be late for practice. If you’re going to be late you may as well call out cause your ass is going to be grass either way. She watches me go, then sits heavily on the sofa, pretending to be put out.
Ten minutes later I’m back, shoes on, gear ready. She’s flipping channels, muttering to herself, and I can’t help but smile at her. She’s finally starting to feel better physically, which leads me to believe things will fall into place as we go.
“I’ll be back soon,” I say, placing a kiss on her temple before straightening. “I’ll check in and see if you need me to grab anything before I head back.”
“Okay,” she says. “Babe.”
I turn to leave when her phone buzzes. She retrieves it then says, “The legal lady is here. Can you send her up when you get down there?”
“Of course,” I reply, hefting my gear over my shoulder and heading for the door. “What’s her name?”
She goes back to her messages then says, “Jennifer Rhoades.”
“I got you,” I singsong, already at the door. “Babe.”
I hear her laugh as the door closes, and I find myself smiling at my reflection in the mirror in the elevator.
I reach the lobby to find a blonde woman standing near the bank of elevators.
She’s not quite middle-aged, but obviously doesn’t do much with herself in terms of accentuating her looks.
She smiles at me shyly as she says, “Mr. Rafferty, thank you for taking the time to assist.”
“It’s no problem at all,” I reply, holding the door open for her. She walks in, turns to face me as I press the correct floor. “Take a left out the elevator, last door on the right. Number 7.”
She beams a smile and gushes, “Thank you so much. These buildings are so big, they can be quite daunting.”
I give her a quick nod then release the door, not waiting for it to close before I’m booking it out the door. One good thing about the location of my apartment is how close it is to the arena. Worse case, I could sprint it and get there in record time.
I’m almost to the arena when my phone rings in my pocket, so I remove it to check the caller ID. Conrad. I send him to VM because I don’t have time to be late, not even for the big boss.
Shoving the phone back in my pocket, it immediately starts ringing again. I retrieve it once more, frowning to see it’s Conrad again. I sigh, annoyed I have to talk to him, but knowing it must be important if he’s doing do back-to-back call like that.
“What’s up, Conrad?”
“Ren, where are you?”
Frowning, I respond, “What do you mean where am I? I’m headed to practice like my boss insists I do on a regular basis.”
“Is Cassidy with you?”
“No,” I retort, no small amount of sarcasm in my tone. “Apparently she now only goes to away games.”
He’s silent for a moment and then says, “That seems fair.”
I grunt my agreement, then listen to Conrad breathe because for some reason he’s not saying anything. “Conrad, did you need something?”
“I don’t want to alarm you or anything, but Cassidy’s mother got out and I want to make sure you’re aware of what she looks like in case she comes sniffing around.”
I’m genuinely surprised that Conrad is bringing up Cassidy’s mother so randomly.
She is basically never spoken of, and the odd time I’ve mentioned it, my query has been either dismissed or blatantly ignored.
To have Conrad bring her up now, and in the context in which he’s presenting her as a problem, is alarming at best.
“What do you mean, her mother got out?” I snap, suddenly infuriated I didn’t know Cassidy’s mother is a criminal. “Is she a fuckin’ felon or somethin’?”
Conrad is quiet for a moment then he says, “Not exactly, but only on the technicality that she was unfit to stand trial due to being clinically insane.”
I frown, stopping dead in my tracks. “And how is it I’m just learning about Cassidy’s clinically insane mother?”
“It’s a long and tedious story,” Conrad responds, his voice tired. “And not my story to tell.”
“Cassidy knows?”
“Oh yeah. In some ways better than anyone.”
Dread pools in my gut. “What did she do?”
Conrad is silent, and for a moment I think he’s hung up. But then he says, “It’s a long story, Ren. But she hurt Cassidy and she got locked away for it for quite a long time.”
“Then why’d they set her loose?”
“According to the people in charge, she has been rehabilitated and is now fit to rejoin society.”
“And they didn’t even warn you?” I ask, my voice rising as my concern does. “Or warn Cassidy?”
“Believe me, I know,” he responds, his voice now angry. “And I will be looking into this oversight, but in the meantime, I need you to be on the lookout.”
“Are you going to tell her as well?”
“Yes, but I don’t want to talk to her over the phone. I will swing by on my way home later, if that’s alright.”
“Of course, Conrad,” I answer, feeling somewhat calmer. “You know you’re welcome anytime.”
He sighs, and I can visualize him sitting back in his chair, his hands running over his face. Then he says, “I’m sending an image of her to you now. Just keep an eye out for her, and if you see her call me.”
My phone notification pings and I sigh lowering the phone from my ear and touching the speaker button before switching to my messages.
Glancing at the screen I mutter, “What the—” then do a double take, making my screen brighter and zooming on on the woman’s face as I snarl, “Fuck.”
Panic zips through me. Tossing my bag at the man on the door, I whirl around, breaking into a run back toward my apartment. “When did you say she got out?”
“What?” he asks. “Why?”
“When, Conrad?” I shout, increasing my speed, hoping he says right now or an hour ago or even this morning, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “Early yesterday,” and I immediately shift into a sprint as I state, “I think she’s already there, call the police.”
I end the call, immediately dialing Cassidy, cursing as it goes straight to voicemail. I try again, straight to voicemail.
I’m flying down the sidewalk now, passersby stepping out of the way without provocation as I barrel through.
I burst through the doors to my building, startling the doorman as I yell, “Have you seen Cassidy?” without even breaking stride as I race toward the elevators.
He shakes his head in response, and asks, “Is everything alright, Mr Rafferty?”
I don’t respond, just shake my head and stab at the call button, one second from taking the stairs when the elevator doors open.
I rush inside, stabbing the button for my floor as if breaking it will make the elevator move more quickly, becoming increasingly agitated as the doors finally close and I feel the elevator climb.
I try calling her again. Direct to voicemail.
I throw the offensive phone on the floor, violently stomping it repeatedly with the heel of my boot until it stops taunting me with its stupid fucking backlight. Then immediately scoop it up, shove it in my pocket, feeling stupid because I’m going to need that regardless if I find her home or not.
The elevator dings on my floor, the doors barely open before I’m through them, racing down the hallway toward our apartment. I slow just as the door comes into view. Finding it ajar, my heart stops in my chest, my stomach turns, a cold chill sinking into my bones.