Page 79 of Love on the Line

John scrolled down the tablet. “This all matches what Anne and Blackwood reported.” He scratched his head. “These goons ask for any money, wallets, keys?”

“No. Nothing.”

“Anne said her attacker didn’t make any sexual threats, but we don’t know what might have happened if Blackwood hadn’t broken up the party.”

Wyatt’s heart hardened, and ice ran through his veins. With him unconscious, they could have done anything they wanted to Anne.

“Stop that train of thought. It goes nowhere good.” John tapped the bed’s sidebar. “I’m trying to figure out a motive.”

Wyatt waited while John paced the room. “They didn’t ask for or take anything. I can’t rule out rape, but why pick a woman walking with a guy your size? Too hard. Wondering if someone had it in for you or Anne. Any enemies you know of?”

Sometimes things got scrappy on the field, but Wyatt hadn’t played in over a year, and he’d never had a fight. “No one comes to mind.”

John came back to the bed. “What about an old flame?”

“But the attackers were men.”

“Someone could have hired them to do the job.” John shrugged. “I’ve seen a lot, and that wouldn’t be anywhere near the craziest.”

“There was that thing with Victoria, but that was five years ago, and I haven’t seen or talked to her since.” Wyatt frowned. She was an up-and-coming model who craved camera time with a football star. They’d gone out twice, and she’d started talking serious relationship shit, so he’d told her he wasn’t interested. She came unhinged and made a huge deal out of nothing, gossiping to the tabloids about their “big break up,” only he’d barely known her.

“I remember that. She was a wack job, but why wait so long?”

“All she cared about was money and fame. Mostly money.” Wyatt’s eyelids grew heavy, and he blinked. “Damn meds make me groggy. I want out of here and off them.”

“I hear that.” John ran a hand across his chin. “Something’s not right about this. You know I have a family full of cops, so I’ll send these descriptions out to all of them, and they’ll pass them along to their friends. That’s a lot of territory covered. We’ll get these guys.”

John was like a pit bull with a big bone; he wouldn’t give it up. He lowered the tablet and sighed. “What do you need help with while you’re in here?”

“The dog walker is taking care of Goober, but my car is still parked at Luigi’s in Little Italy.”

“Gimme your keys, and I’ll bring it here.”

Wyatt pointed to a bag on the windowsill. “They’re in that.”

John fished them out. “You need some clothes, pretty boy, or do you like wearing dresses?”

“My exhibition days are over. Grab something from my apartment. Key’s on the ring.”

“Got it. Call me if you think of anything else.”

“Thanks, man. I owe you.”

“Get some shut-eye, baboon butt.” John tapped the bedrail again, and left.

A nurse came in and checked Wyatt’s IV. “Time for your pain meds.”

“I’d rather not take them.” He gritted his teeth, shifting again. Damn hospital gown. He couldn’t wait to be in normal clothes and back at his place.

“I understand, Mr. Pearson, but the doctor’s orders are—”

“It’s okay.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. Not your fault.”

Relief eased her face, and she tipped the pill into his hand and gave him a cup of water.

He swallowed the med and sank back into the bed, cringing.

The nurse bustled out, passing Anne, who appeared in the doorway. His breath stalled in his lungs. She had a bandaged head, bruised face, and dark circles under her eyes. “Holy shit, Anne.” His voice cracked, right along with his heart. “You said you were okay.”

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