I don't know what I expected love to be like. Violins playing, little cupids flying around with bow and arrows, hell maybe just cuddles in bed for hours. That wasn't what happened the following morning. Brack paced across the carpet of my living room with his cell to his ear listening to one of his men on the other end. He cast a glance or two my way. I could tell before the call ended that he would try his non-communication shit with me again.

I was right.

"What's the news?" I asked the second he lowered the phone.

He came over and sat beside me. "Nothing to worry about."

I gave him my I'm-about-to-slam-you-with-a-tennis-racquet look. "Bullshit." I was beginning to notice his tells. The fingers traveling through his hair was a sign that he didn't want to enlighten me. I waited.

He breathed out a slow and steady breath of air. "Mack didn't see his attacker, but he heard him before he lost consciousness."

My heartbeat accelerated. "Okay. Spill it."

"Mack told Herman that most of it was incoherent. Ty went on and on about purging evil and what will happen when you consummate your marriage if you aren't a virgin."

I actually laughed. "Let the purge begin because I'm as far from a virgin as any woman can be." My cheeks flamed with my next thought, but I said it anyway. "There isn't a virginal hole in my body after yesterday."

Brack's arm went around me. "I'm glad you're taking this so well. Religious fanatics can be the worst. They'll turn anything to their twisted thinking."

I had a thought. "You've been through my statements to the police right?"

He rubbed my shoulder almost absently. "Yes, before we met at the hospital."

"Ty spoke about modesty a lot. The clothes he sent me would work a hundred years ago. I think the religious angle is a good one." I considered a few things. "I haven't been to church since I was fifteen and won my first championship. My dad forced me before that. Not because he's particularly religious, but because it looks good politically. Shortly before Ty began stalking me, I attended a wedding of a friend of Bethany's. It was at a church. Is it possible he saw me there?" My heart clenched when I said Bethany's name.

Brack gave me a gentle squeeze. "It's a shot in the dark. I'll take anything right now, though. Grab a pen and paper. I want the name of Bethany's friend, contact information, and anything else you can think of."

It was nice to have something proactive to do. Brack handed over my old cell phone when I asked for it. As I went through Bethany's texts, sadness overwhelmed me while I read our communications.

Hey girlfriend. My guy dumped me right before my friend's wedding. I need a date. You available? Lots of alcohol and hot non-tennis delish dishes.

Even that far back, I was sick of dating the same type of guy. I went with her for the hell of it. I really liked Bethany and wished we had had more time to party. A tear slipped down my cheek as I read through the next few messages until I came to the date and time information. I jotted it down and wiped my cheek. I'd have time to mourn after Ty was out of my life.

We had an hour before practice. I was already dressed in the shortest skirt I possessed. It wasn't for Ty's benefit but for Brack's. Driving the man to a painful hard-on was on the agenda today. If I got really lucky, Ty would see the evidence that Brack was the man I chose. I no longer cared if I pulled on the tiger's tail. Ty needed to come after us. Not Brack alone. I wasn't following that dictate. The two of us would take him down together.

With paper in hand, I walked into my bedroom to find Brack doing pushups minus his shirt. Well, fuck me. My nipples went hard and my panties wet. He rose up and down with ease as I imagined myself under him. I wanted those muscles caging me in. A wiry tennis body no longer did it for me. The man kept going, barely breathing hard at all. My mouth watered as each muscle rippled in synchronicity. A faint sheen of sweat peppered his skin. The musky scent of sweaty man floated through my room. My man.

I fought the need to touch him. Jerry would kill me for being late again. A quick fuck would lead to another shower. Another shower to a longer fuck. My lower belly tingled at the thought. Brack's cell phone chirped and he stopped mid-pushup, hopped to his feet, and reached for it off the dresser.

"Yeah," he answered using his other hand to wipe sweat from his brow. He was turned away from me, though I had no doubt he knew I was there. He listened for a moment before barking out orders. "Get us a secure car to take her to practice. If this guy is within a mile of the country club I want him taken down." He tossed the phone back onto my dresser and turned. "My car is compromised. He left a gift for you on the seat. The police are on their way. If we don't leave here, you'll be stuck answering more questions."

I never thought about my or Brack's cars, which was quite stupid of me. Yes, I could play tennis, but obviously security wasn't my thing. "I'm ready, but you need a shower."

"Two minutes if you're not in there with me." He turned and entered the bathroom.

Damn, this sucked. I guessed I would be on time for practice today.

Ten minutes later, we left by a side door to the apartment complex. Brack's man called and said the media was worse and the cops were there.

The country club had the same problem minus the cops. At least the reporters stayed outside. I noticed Meagan speaking to a few before we moved through the gate. Several reporters took photos. I gazed straight ahead, as did Brack. He had a tight hold on my hand. With a father in politics, I truly hated the press, though I knew they were a necessary evil.

Trees lined the country club courts, which were located in the western area of the thousand plus acres of property. The car dropped us off courtside. Jerry walked over and I couldn't help noticing his hate-filled look toward Brack. The two men didn't shake hands. I'd been with Jerry for many years. I knew this side of him existed, but he'd never directed it toward me. Not that I ever gave him cause to. His attitude was seriously pissing me off.

I began my warm ups half-assing my movements.

"Pick it up, Stradmore," he yelled.

"Kiss my ass, Jerry." He ignored me, so I pressed it. "You have another wannabe for me to partner up with today? The bitch you had yesterday is spilling her guts to the media. No telling what lies she's telling about your tennis darling."

Jerry came closer. I backed up when he got in my face. Not because he scared me. Brack's training had me naturally staying out of Jerry's reach.

"I've put years into training you-" he looked me up and down with distaste. "Darling. You would be a nobody without me." He really couldn't believe that. Though, from the look on his face, he did. "You have no idea what I've done for you. Daddy's money did not make you the caliber of player you are today."

I cut him off when he took a breath to continue his tirade. "No. My ability did it, you son of a bitch. I've toe every line you've thrown me. I followed all the rules while on the court. My winning built your name, not the other way around. You're good, Jerry, but not that good."

Jerry looked over at Brack then back at me. "You think your sexcapades escaped my notice. At least in the past you had enough class to keep it to other tennis players. What the hell are you doing with that guy? Is it because Daddy won't approve? Grow up, Stradmore, and realize your days are numbered on the court."

His last statement hurt. My days were numbered. There were already several young starlets paving their way to the top. At twenty-three I was approaching the has-been age. Men might play until thirty, but women bottomed out after twenty-five. I knew it. Jerry knew it. And my father knew it. This didn't mean I liked it. My plan was to go out on top. This was not the year I planned to do it, though. Next year or even the next was my goal.

"You're fired, Jerry, and don't let a ball hit you in the ass on your way off the court." I turned around and headed to my bag and my phone. I didn't watch Jerry stomp away, so I didn't notice Brack come closer. My hands shook as I dialed my dad's number.

I fumed as the phone rang. My dad's curt answer was not what I got.

"Hello, Olivia. I've been waiting for your call. You usually check in with Daddy every day, but lately you've been a poor excuse for a daughter."

Ty.