Chapter 35 Baird
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
BAIRD
While I’d been lucky so far in life to not have lost someone I loved, I knew from my injury how the course of your existence could change in an instant.
The dark place I’d fallen into after my career-disrupting accident was nothing compared to the black fucking hole that yawned before me at the thought of losing Maia forever.
I think I was still in shock because it had happened so quickly. She hadn’t given me a chance to tell her that there was nothing in this world that would ever make me walk away from her.
Maia had shut me out completely, and according to Callan, she wasn’t answering Beth’s calls either. It had been a full day since I’d seen her, and a quick call into Pennington’s told me she hadn’t turned up for work.
“She called in sick,” Eli informed me. “She didn’t tell you?”
“No.” I’d forced the word out. “I’ll go check on her.”
Eli’s voice lowered. “Tell her we’re here too. I know what it’s like to have a crap parent.”
“Thanks.” I’d hung up and tried Maia again, but her phone went straight to voicemail.
That morning, I missed training because I was afraid I’d spew my rage all over the gaffer and he didn’t deserve it.
Ultimately, Fred was the money, the owner, and he made the final decision, even if the gaffer didn’t agree with him.
That left me at home, pacing and stewing.
When the notifications sounded on my phone and I picked it up to see people on socials were sharing a new article, I lost my shit.
The journalist had followed up the story with an article on Maia’s dad and the fact that he’d spent time in prison for assaulting his sister’s ex-boyfriend.
The thought of Maia seeing that, of the hurt and guilt she’d feel for bringing her dad and aunt into this, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
My mind wiped blank of everything but rage.
There was nothing but a need to mete out justice for this bullshit.
I googled the address I wanted and then I thundered out of my flat.
I’d just reached my car when the sound of car doors slamming and my name being shouted registered.
Callan and John were hurrying toward me from Callan’s Defender, their expressions tight with worry. “Where are you going?” Callan pressed a hand to my driver’s side door to stop me from getting in.
I knocked it away, throwing it open. “To fucking kill that wee prick!”
He winced as John paled. “What prick?”
“Did you see? Did you see he wrote another fucking story about Maia—except this time it’s about her dad?”
“We saw.” John gripped my shoulder. “You can’t go after a journo, Baird. Your career, and possibly your life, will be over.”
“My career is already fucking over,” I spat. “Fred says I need to break it off with My or I’m out.”
Callan’s eyes flared with anger. “No fucking way.”
“Aye. Way.” I jumped into my car and my best pal held the door open. “Keen, let go o’ the fuckin’ door. Now!”
At my bark, he let go and I slammed it shut.
The lads were already hurrying back to the Defender, but I didn’t care. I was out of there. The hour and a half drive it took to get from Edinburgh to Glasgow was cut down by at least twenty minutes with the speed of my wrath.
I parked illegally and tore out of my car and into the office building that housed the tabloid newspaper.
I thought I heard someone shout my name as I got on the lift, but I stabbed the button for the newspaper’s floor and the doors closed on the yells.
Blood rushed in my ears and my fists clenched at my sides, ready to mash the journo’s face into a wall.
Stepping onto the floor, I eyed the security guard who stood outside the glass double doors that had the newspaper’s name etched on it in gold.
I forced myself to be a bit smart about this.
As smart as I could be in the moment. I approached the receptionist. “Aye, could you point me in the direction of Craig Bennet? I have an appointment with him.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed as she searched my face, and I knew she recognized me but couldn’t quite place me. “Let me just call his desk.”
Shit.
Fuck.
I threw a shifty glance at the security guard who was scrolling on his phone. Christ, I could probably walk right by that idiot.
I was contemplating it when the receptionist sighed. “His line is busy. One second and I’ll go see if he’s available. What was your name?”
“John Keen,” I lied because I was intending to follow her, anyway.
Sure enough, the security guard just gave her a barely there glance as she pushed open the double doors, so I snuck in behind her, letting him think I was supposed to be following her.
Then I slowed, waiting for her to make her way through the busy open-plan office.
There were messy desks everywhere and while there were privacy screens between desks, everyone was loud and social as they went about the business of publicly gossiping about people’s fucking lives.
I sneered at them as I followed the receptionist through the room. When she stopped at a desk, I picked up my pace. I’d almost reached it, seeing the top of a bloke’s bald head when my arm was yanked.
“Baird!”
Callan was somehow there and had a hold of my arm, expression hard and determined.
John stood behind him, glancing over his shoulder at the security guard who stood nervously at the top of the room watching us as he spoke into a walkie-talkie.
“He’s not worth it, mate.” Callan’s grip tightened.
“Maia is.” I yanked my arm and turned back to see Craig standing, looking nervous but with a defiant tilt to his chin.
“Baird McMillan.” Craig Bennet had a reedy voice that irritated me as much as his crap journalism did. “I think you should listen to your teammates and leave before we call the police.”
I was going to knock his teeth out and then break his fingers. See how he’d get on writing his shitty articles then.
“Baird.” Callan leaned in, tone harsh. “You do this, and you really lose Maia forever. You’ll lose everything.”
I breathed hard, shaking against the urge to take it all out on this bloke. Because someone needed to pay for the pain Maia was in right now, all the pain I couldn’t fucking fix! “You said in your latest piece-of-shit article there was a source. Who?”
“I can’t tell you that. They emailed me the information and asked to remain anonymous. I have to respect that.”
“Respect that? I’m going to—”
Callan tightened his grip. “He’s not worth a prison sentence. And Maia needs you.”
“She broke up with me,” I gritted out. “She thinks … she thinks I deserve better.”
“Jesus.” Callan squeezed my shoulder. “She’s just hurting, mate. She doesn’t mean it. You’ll fix it.”
“I can’t!” I turned on him. “That bitch fucked her up so badly and he”—I stabbed a finger in Bennet’s direction—“fucking let her do it again!”
Callan gripped the front of my shirt and shook me.
Hard. “I know where Maia is right now,” he hissed under his breath.
“I’ve been right there in her shoes. And trust me …
she’ll come around. But she can’t come around if you are in prison for beating the shit out of a sad wee prick who doesn’t deserve a single second of your time. ”
“He’s right, man,” John urged softly. “Let’s go. Walk away.”
Callan’s wisdom started to penetrate, and the fog of fury that had driven me here dissipated as his words gave me a bit of hope.
While my dad had walked out of my life when I was a bairn, I’d had my granddad to fill that void.
Callan had his stepdad and mum, but when they were killed in an accident, he was left with nothing but a waste-of-space dad.
His dad had screwed over Braden Carmichael when they were younger and that history had messed with Callan.
He’d almost lost Beth because of his own bullshit about it … but she’d pulled him back.
Which meant I could still fix things with Maia.
Shit.
I sagged as the worst of the anger drained away and Callan sighed heavily in relief as he released his hold on me.
It was then I realized it had grown quiet in this part of the room as people waited to see what would happen next. I eyed the receptionist who had stepped to the side, nervously, afraid of me.
Fuck.
That cooled my fury fever too.
Bennet still stood, but he swallowed hard as he forced himself to hold my gaze.
“You’re not worth it,” I told him quietly. “You’re bottom-feeding scum. And I feel sorry for you that your life’s work is basically fucking gossiping and not giving one shit what damage your stories do to people’s lives. I wish you a lifetime of misery and loneliness, you pathetic. Little. Turd.”
Bennet looked away, the muscle in his jaw clenching, and I scoffed, turning and nodding toward the exit. “Let’s go, boys.”
John and Callan couldn’t hide their relief as they fell into step and accompanied me out of the building. The security guard eyed us warily as he moved aside to let us pass.
We didn’t talk until we were outside and I saw Callan’s Defender parked behind my car. They must have flown down that motorway to keep up with me.
“I think I just shit myself.” John tried to ease the tension with a joke. “Seriously, Keen nearly killed us chasing you down that motorway. I … Man, I’ve never seen you lose it like that.”
I scrubbed my hand over my face. “I dinnae ken what came over me.”
“Maia did.” Callan shrugged. “Mate, I get it. I’d want to kill anyone who tried to hurt Beth. But My doesn’t need you doing something stupid. She just needs to know you’re there.”
“I’ve called her a stalker level number eh’ times since last night.” I leaned back against my car, squeezing the bridge of my nose. My accent thickened as it always did when I was tired or emotional. “I dinnae ken how tae get through tae her right noo.”
“Aye, you do.” Callan’s expression hardened.
I read that look in his eyes and nodded, determination thrumming through me. “I need tae get tae the club.”
“I’ve got your back.”
“Me too.” John patted my shoulder. “Civilian life isn’t so bad, you know.”
Aye, well, I was about to find that out for myself.