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I wiped at my cheeks and took the offered Kleenex from Carter. “I don’t understand.”
“I know.” Peter dropped his eyes and slowly made his way out of the room. “Come. I can’t talk in here.”
I glanced at Millie and Carter, who stood silently beside the door before they followed us into the kitchen.
Even this room had a picture of who I presumed to be Stryker on the wall as a baby.
“That was taken when he was eight months old.” Peter smiled. “A handsome boy, even back then.”
We sat at the kitchen table as Peter placed mugs of coffee in front of us.
My mom would love this kitchen with the country feel to it. Displayed on the walls alongside the family pictures were dried herbs. Wicker bowls sat on the dresser to the side of the room and the very large range cooker took up a good space on the opposite wall. It made a person feel welcome, but right now I needed answers.
“Please tell us what happened to Stryker?” I asked, my hands cupped the coffee for warmth because I felt chilled.
“Why do you call him Stryker if you love him?” Peter asked puzzled.
“So I don’t slip up when there are others around. No one can know that I know he’s Jake.”
Peter looked at me carefully and nodded. “I’ve always loved my son, Evie. So much that it’s a physical pain knowing how he lives.”
“Then why—”
“Please let me talk.” He smiled to take the sting from his words. “I’ve held my tongue for so long that I need to tell you everything.”
I nodded and took hold of Carter’s offered hand to keep me grounded because I felt like I was going to lose my composure with the nerves playing hell in my stomach.
“Ten years ago, I was pretty bad off. I loved the ring…or rather, what happened in the ring. I gambled on the fighters, and not just a bit either. I had an addiction and, in the end, I lost the one thing that mattered the most—Jake. I owed a lot of money and Declan Fitzwilliam gave me an ultimatum… I either handed over Jake to them to raise as their prime fighter, or they’d make sure he spent the rest of his life in a wheelchair.” Peter paused and tried to take a sip of his mug of coffee, but his hand shook too badly to get it to his lips. He gave up.
“Declan was feared, and not just by me. People whispered that he had death on his hands, and it was more widely known that he was a thug. I don’t think he did his own dirty work because he had a lot of men working for him. But I was scared for Jake. It killed me handing Jake over to them, but I loved him too much to have him beaten so badly that he’d never walk again.” He paused to catch his breath.
“Even as a child he loved to run track, and he was always pretending to spar with someone as he ran.” Peter smiled at the obvious memory. “He didn’t know that I watched him, and I didn’t know at the time that others watched him as well. In the end, I realized that Declan wanted Jake. Even if I hadn’t owed him money, he’d have somehow gotten his claws into him.” He wiped at a tear.
“That night I promised to never go to a fight again, or bet on a fighter. I didn’t for a long time because I drowned the pain of what I’d done at the bottom of a bottle, until I met Alice, who is now my wife. The night I met her, I was drunk and she called me on it. A total stranger, huh.” He smiled and it was clear how much he loved the woman called Alice. “I blurted out everything. She basically saved me, and helped me. Her whole family did.”
Peter offered us a wry smile, and continued, “Alice has six brothers who would go to the fights and bet what little money I had, and eventually, I started building my savings up. I used it to go to college and get a degree in computer science. That led to a very well paid job, the house, and everything. Her brothers then started betting on Stryker and he won us lots of money.”
My shock must have shown because Peter paused and glanced between us before he continued, “It’s not what you’re all thinking. Yes, in the beginning I used the winnings to create a better life for myself. You see, I realized that if I had any chance of helping Jake, that that was what I needed to do. Now, because of my job, every dime I made through betting on Stryker is in a separate account to the one I use daily. That money is there for him and has been for a few years. I add to it when he fights, but i
t’s his money. Not mine.”
“I’ve heard everything you’ve said,” Carter frowned, “but I haven’t heard you say once that you’ve tried to help him. Get him back.”
Peter shook his head. “I have. It took awhile for me to get enough money to even try to buy Jake his freedom. Every year for the past four years, I’ve gone to Declan and asked to buy Jake back. And each time he laughs in my face. Why wouldn’t he though? Jake makes him a rich man. I can’t compete with him and I doubt I’ll ever be able to.”
“What about the police. Why did you never go to them?”
I was glad that Carter could think because my mind couldn’t form any questions. It was obvious that his father loved him, which was why I couldn’t get there with my anger. I wanted to be angry at his father, and to shout and blame him. But I couldn’t after listening to the broken man before me.
“I was afraid, and I guess I still am. I know that Jake lives in a nice apartment building. I’ve caught glimpses of him running through the park. He does that every Tuesday at around seven-thirty in the morning.”
I frowned, and then it clicked. “You make sure you’re there, and watch him.”
Peter nodded. “I needed to see him and make sure he looked okay. He always moved well as though he was injury free. He didn’t appear to have been…beaten. I know he hates me for what I did, and I don’t blame him.” Peter wiped at his damp eyes, and, reaching out, clasped my hand with his. “He saw me the other night, at least, I think he did, but before that he seemed down, more so than usual.”
Carter admitted, “He saw you after the fight and just the sight of you nearly knocked him on his ass.”
“If you know any way of helping my son, then please help him,” Peter begged, accepting what Carter said.
