Page 83 of Broken Player

And now here he was, laying all of my personal shit out for the public to judge. I didn’t want to listen to any more of his bullshit. As Ryan slid down next to me, her eyes narrowed at the TV, I turned it off. “How bad is it?” I asked Harrison.

“Not bad per se. He was clearly not sober, so there’s the embarrassment factor. And he ranted a lot about what a horrible son you are and how you kicked him out of his own house and threw him out on the street,” he finished.

I scoffed. “Right, the street. I guess that’s what you call it when you give someone fair market value for a ranch worth half.”

“The way I see it, you have two options. You can make a statement or do an interview telling your side of the story. Or you can ignore his ranting and let it blow over. I don’t think you can lose either way.”

I looked over at Ryan, the worry in her eyes softening my anger momentarily. I rubbed my hand along her bare thigh, and her involuntary shiver at my touch made my lips twitch in an almost-smile. “How long do I have to decide?”

“Not long. Maybe a couple of hours. Let me know,” he finished, ending the call.

“What was that?” Ryan leaned closer to me, running her fingers through my hair, and I closed my eyes as she scraped her nails along my scalp. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore by anything Russell did to me, but I was. I hadn’t expected him to do something like this. He’d never been a father, leaving scars that went far deeper than skin-level, and I was stupid to think buying him out would rid my life of him permanently.

“I think Yates somehow got Russell to do an interview about me on TV,” I explained, the anger and hurt reigniting as I told her about what happened and what my options were. “What do you think I should do?”

“I think you should ignore it. Don’t fuel the fire. That’s what Yates wants. He wants to see that he got under your skin. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Soon enough, he’ll pay for what he’s done to us, to our families.”

She was right. As much as I wanted to explain my side and lash out at Yates, I had to be smart about it. I had to play to win, and I wouldn’t be derailed by cheap shots. That motherfucker knew my family was a weak spot for me, and he exploited it. The gloves were fucking off. I had the ammunition, and it was time to load the goddamn gun, point it at his fucking head, and pull the trigger.

Leaving a naked, wet Maddox in the shower by himself was a lesson in restraint I never wanted to learn. But I could tell everything that'd happened weighed on him. He liked to pretend that his dad doing that interview last night was no big deal, but I knew better.

I also knew he needed space to deal with everything he was going through. But I wouldn't go far. In fact, the kitchen was about as far as I wanted to be away from him right now. I may not be as good of a cook as Quinn or even my mom, but I could handle bacon, eggs, and toast just fine.

Rummaging through the fridge, I pulled out everything I'd need and got to work. Just as I was pushing the button to start the coffee maker, a loud banging on the front door made me jump. Gripping my chest with my hand, trying to get the sudden frantic beating of my heart under control, I strode to the front door, lifting up onto my toes to look out the peephole.

A man stood on the porch, but he was turned away from me, and I couldn't see his face. From the back, he didn't look like anyone I recognized. Warily, I pulled the door open, just enough to catch his attention and speak through.

He whirled around, a mostly blank expression on his face as if he couldn't be bothered to care who I was. "Ms. Everleigh?" he asked.

"No, but you've got the right house," I confirmed.

He looked off into the distance for a second before shrugging and handing me a sealed manilla envelope. Goddamn yellow envelopes from hell, always popping up to screw up my life. I took it gingerly as if it were a bomb about to explode. For all I knew, it might be.

"Have a nice day," he said mildly before walking off back toward his car.

I closed the door behind me, wondering if I should open the envelope or leave it for Maddox. I know it's meant for him, and yet he was already going through so much. I didn't want to hand this over to him, whatever it was. At least not without solutions.

With my mind made up, I tore into the seal, pulling out glossy photo paper and flipping it over. My eyes fell to the picture of a woman standing next to a guy who looked to be in his early twenties. He didn't look familiar to me, but one look at her and I knew what this was.

"Monica," I whispered, my gaze dropping to the yellow sticky note attached to the front.

For $5 million, they'll stay your little secret.

All that followed was a series of nine digits, an account number I assumed. After last night, it wasn't hard to figure out who sent this picture. It was clear that Yates had figured out Maddox's weakness and had no issue exploiting it.

I had no intention of hiding this from Maddox, but I didn't want to tell him about it until I dealt with it myself. And I had no qualms handling it. I'd taken self-defense and martial arts training since I was a teenager. I regularly kicked ass in my jiu-jitsu classes, and Yates was soft. A lot softer than me.

Sure, he spent time in the gym. But that was different. My knuckles had been hardened over the years from boxing, from smashing my fists into a heavy bag over and over and over again. I'd broken more noses than I could count. The thought ofmaking Yates feel the kind of pain he was inflicting on the man I loved made me almost gleeful.

He was going to pay, and it was going to be at my hands.

I shoved the picture back into the envelope as I heard Maddox coming down the hallway, his footfalls soft as his bare feet hit the wood floor. Plastering a smile on my face and forcing the plans I was making in my brain to the side, I sidled up to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest. "Ready for breakfast?" I mumbled against his taut muscles, the ones he hadn't bothered to cover up with a shirt.

I was pretty sure I could stare at his mouth-watering body all day, all year even, and never get sick of the view. I reluctantly stepped out of his arms and went to dish him up a plateful of food. Carrying it out to the couch, he followed as I sank down into one of the super soft and cushy seats, passing him the plate I carried over for him as soon as he sat down beside me.

After he took a couple of bites, I asked, "What are you up to today?"

"I have a call with Harrison in about twenty minutes. My morning after that is open for whatever he needs me to do after last night. And this afternoon I've got a video meeting with the guys to go over where we're at with the new album. How about you?"

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