The Master Page 10

  Dylan headed for the portion of the arena designated for coaches and training staff. He exchanged greetings with acquaintances, passed the time of day with old adversaries from his years as a competitor himself. Many, like him, had gone on to train the next generation in their sport.

  “Your girl’s looking good.” Martha Jennings, a previous Olympic silver medallist and one of his oldest friends tilted her head in the direction of the changing area as Jodie emerged. “The word is she’s tipped to be in the team for Tokyo, but then she screwed up at Hatfield. What was that about?”

  “Nothing. A bad day, that’s all.” Dylan lifted his hand to acknowledge Jodie’s approach. “She’s on top form today.”

  “So is my girl, but we both know Tanya would have to walk on water to beat Jodie twice. Ah, there she is. Right, time for a last-minute pep talk, I think…” Martha patted his arm in a familiar gesture of friendly rivalry and headed off to talk to her protégée.

  Dylan and Jodie sat together to watch the earlier heats. They exchanged comments from time to time, but on the whole it was a companionable silence. There was nothing much left to say now. The work was done.

  When it was time for Jodie’s weight class to assemble she offered him a quick smile then trotted across the arena to pick up her body padding and take her place at the edge of the matting.

  Dylan took one of the seats next to the mat so he could support Jodie during the contest. Never one to rely on superstition, he crossed his fingers anyway. It would do no harm…

  Jodie’s first three bouts were against girls much less experienced than she was and Dylan expected to see her sailing through to the semi-finals. She won her fights, but her performance could at best be described as mediocre. Where were the head kicks and spins they’d discussed in the car? Why were her blocks barely adequate, her punches half-hearted? Jodie had told him she was nervous and he got that. But she was aware how much was riding on this. She needed to raise her game when it mattered, not crumble under pressure.

  Shit, what will the selectors be making of this?

  They wouldn’t pick her for the Olympic squad if she appeared in any way unreliable, unable to rise to the big occasion. He propped his chin on his hands, his gaze riveted on the contest before him though he hardly dared to watch.

  His frustration spiked when he saw that on the other mat Martha’s pep talk seemed to have worked. Tanya was doing well and looked to be sailing through to the final. Jodie would need to pull something out if she wanted to join her there.

  She did. Just when Dylan thought the bout was going to go the other way Jodie saw off her opponent with a well-executed spinning kick to the head and a series of perfect punches. Her defensive technique was superb suddenly, and he was not the only spectator to roar their approval when Jodie pulled off a flawless double turn followed by a triple spin to land a resounding kick to her opponent’s torso.

  Thank fuck for that. Now all she has to do is keep this up when she meets Tanya in the final.

  Oh, yes, his girl was on it. Better late than never, and they would be having words about that rubbish in the earlier bouts, but all she had to do now was beat Tanya. If her victory was a convincing one, and he saw no reason to suppose it would be otherwise, surely Tokyo was in the bag.

  “Go for it,” he mouthed silently when she cast a glance up at him. Jodie was on her feet, her dobok straightened, her black belt securely tied. She was ready to fight and had never looked more beautiful to him. Or more determined. She stood to bow to Tanya before the final commenced. “You’ve got this,” he added. He settled back to watch her perform.

  The first of the three two-minute rounds went to Tanya. There was only one point in it, but that was one point too many. And needless. Jodie had missed opportunities to score, gone for low scoring simple kicks when she had ample openings for the bigger ones. Tanya stepped away from that first round shaking her head. Even she knew that Jodie wasn’t really trying.

  “I didn’t realise it was my birthday. Your girl seems ready to gift wrap this and hand it to us with a big red bow on.”

  Dylan turned to grimace at Martha, who was perched on a seat a few feet away, cheering on her student as he was supporting Jodie. He just shook his head. Words were unnecessary.

  Martha shrugged. “I shouldn’t complain, but… shit. She’s not short of skill, we both know that. Must be her temperament. I know a damn good sports psychologist you could talk to.”

  Martha’s offer was sincere, not a hint of gloating. Like him, she was committed to developing an Olympic squad with real strength in depth. The sport came first, the quest for medals more important than individual rivalries. Dylan thanked her, mumbled something about thinking it over then turned his attention back to the match. Tanya and Jodie were squaring up for the second round.

  This time Jodie won it, but her margin was just that same one point. By Dylan’s reckoning she could have, should have had at least a dozen more points. Twice she failed to land spinning head kicks that were well within her range. It was as though she’d changed her mind and pulled it at the very last second.

  What’s she playing at?

  “You tell me. Here, that shrink’s card.” Martha scuttled over to where he sat and shoved the small business card into his hand.

  Christ, did I say that out loud? Dylan took the card, pocketed it, and steeled himself for the final round.

  Now, at last, Jodie looked to be focused and concentrating. She matched Tanya kick for kick. Growing in confidence, Tanya attempted a double spinning kick and landed it square in the middle of Jodie’s chest padding. Jodie staggered back, obviously off balance, and Tanya followed up with a side kick to her head. Six points in the bag just like that. Jodie was losing and showing no sign of being able to pull the deficit back.

  “Come on,” he mouthed. “You can do it. Head kicks. Go for head kicks…”

  She couldn’t have heard him, but somehow she seemed to get the message anyway. Jodie came back at Tanya with renewed ferocity and determination. She delivered two swift, jabbing feints then launched a spinning kick that caught Tanya’s head guard. Four points, and she wasn’t done yet. The next spin also connected with Tanya’s protective headgear to notch up another four points. Jodie was in the lead again, with just ten seconds to go.

  “Hold on, baby. Hold on…” Dylan clenched his fists, his gaze riveted on the two figures circling each other on the mat below. Tanya regrouped, delivered a body punch, nothing special. Tanya’s foot shot out to connect with her opponent’s hip, again nothing startling but it maintained the lead. Two seconds to go. Tanya kicked out again and Jodie blocked. One second…

  The buzzer signalled the end of the bout. Jodie was the winner, by one gloriously puny, all-important point.

  “Now that was close,” observed Martha irrelevantly as she passed him to go and congratulated her student. “Your girl pulled it out, but only just. You need to watch that.”

  Yeah, tell me about it. Dylan nodded to his friend and followed Martha. He and Jodie were about to have words.

  She was standing beside Tanya when he reached them, taking a long drink from a bottle of water. Tanya’s mother was there too, congratulating her daughter on her seemingly stellar performance.

  “You came second, and a good second at that. With Hatfield, and now this championship, surely the Olympic selectors—”

  “Yeah, yeah, the selectors.” Tanya accepted the bottle Jodie offered to her. “Come on, Jodie, what happened in there?”

  Jodie feigned innocence but Dylan wasn’t fooled. “I’ve no idea what you mean. It was a good match, a close one…”

  Tanya wasn’t buying it, either. “Because you made it close. You could have dropped me in that second round and won by a bloody mile.”

  “A win is a win,” began Jodie.

  “Keep up this form, Tanya, and you could win at the nationals,” insisted Mrs. Monroe, glowing with pride. “These last few weeks you’ve come on so much. Maybe it’s Martha Jennings, maybe—
”

  “And maybe it’s you letting me win.” Tanya turned to face Jodie, just as Dylan reached them. He expected Jodie to deny the accusation, even laugh out loud because hey, that was just too fucking ridiculous for words.

  Wasn’t it?

  Jodie glared at Tanya, her mouth working. Her blue eyes filled, she was close to tears, but no denial was forthcoming. The tension between the four of them was almost palpable, the silence stretching painfully as the bizarre accusation hung in the air.

  Dylan opened his mouth to say something, anything. He intended to have this out with Jodie, but not here. No, what he had to say would wait for a private place and be punctuated with the spanking of her life.

  Chapter Seven

  Jodie slammed the door of the cubicle, closed the toilet seat then sat down and buried her face in her hands. That had been one of the most difficult things she had ever done. It had nearly killed her when she had held back and allowed Tanya to win that first round. She could have wiped the floor with her. Dylan had trained her well and it had gone against all her instincts to miss those head kicks in the second round. She had been too busy fighting to keep a close eye on the scores so she hadn’t even known for sure how many points she’d had over Tanya at the time. Thank God she’d blocked that last kick or she would have lost the match. It had been close. What the hell must Dylan think? She choked back a sob. She already knew what he thought.

  Hopelessness hung over her like black cloud. She was trapped. This was no longer about the sponsorship. If it were, she would just tell George Hartwell to shove it up his ass. But it wasn’t that simple. If he carried out his threat to discredit her, the Olympic selectors would never forget it. It would ruin her career. All the work, the blood, sweat, and tears, literally, would have been for nothing. She’d asked herself before which was the lesser of two evils, but there was no lesser option. Either of the two evils would ultimately destroy her.

  The door to the cloakroom creaked and Jodie froze as footsteps stopped outside the cubicle.

  “Jodie? Are you okay?”

  Damn, it was Tanya. “Yeah,” she called, trying to keep her voice light. “I’m just a bit tired.”

  “Dylan is asking about you. What shall I tell him?”

  “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.”

  There was a moment’s pause then Tanya said, “Look, what was going on today? Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that it was so close, but—”

  “Tanya, I’m in the bloody toilet. Will you please leave me alone?”

  “Okay, sure. Sorry. I’ll tell Dylan you won’t be long, then.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  When Jodie was sure Tanya had left, she peeped tentatively out to make sure there was nobody else around then marched over to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. She studied herself in the mirror and grimaced. She looked terrible. Her face was pale and the shadows under her eyes made her look like she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages. Isn’t that the truth? Maybe she could use her fatigued appearance to her advantage? If she said she wasn’t feeling well… On second thoughts, Dylan would probably insist that she see a doctor, who would see right through her.

  Jodie blinked at the reflection staring back at her as her fantasy vision returned. She closed her eyes and saw herself on the podium, the gold medal weighing down on her neck. She was waving to the crowd. Dylan was cheering. Then he started to shout something. Everything became a little blurred as she tried to work out what Dylan was saying. He looked angry… furious. Why was everyone booing? She reached down to touch her medal, but it had gone. Then the image faded, taking her dream with it forever, and there was nothing she could do to bring it back. She snapped her eyes open and gasped for air. Forcing back a torrent of tears, she gripped the edge of the washbasin and willed herself to calm down. If she showed any outward sign of distress there would be even more questions and she didn’t know if she would be able to keep the pretence up for too much longer.

  She waited until she was composed enough to face the world then straightened up and headed out to the main arena where Dylan was waiting. Her heart sank even further. He didn’t look happy. Unable to meet his gaze, she picked up her bag and strode toward the exit.

  The short car ride back to the hotel was awkward to say the least. Neither of them spoke, but Jodie didn’t need Dylan to say anything for her to know that he was beyond cross. One look at the firm set of his jaw said it all. She closed her eyes and tried not to think about the last time she had seen him look like that. The ginger had been horrible, exacerbated by the strap that had made her clench her ass around the burning root every time it had hit her tender buttocks. She had sworn to herself later that night, as she had lain in Dylan’s arms, that she would never give him cause to use figging as punishment again. She instinctively squeezed her butt cheeks together just thinking about it. The one consolation was that he was less likely to be able to get his hands on fresh ginger root while they were staying in a hotel.

  How would he punish her this time? She sighed. If only she could tell him about George Hartwell’s threats, but she just couldn’t risk it. So it looked like she would be getting another hard spanking when they got back to their room. Better that than risk her whole career.

  She replayed the match over and over in her head until she wanted to scream. She had so desperately wanted to blow everyone away with her speed and power. She could easily have recovered from Hatfield, but the points from today would probably only put her in third or fourth place in the run-up to the nationals. She’d have to pull out a miracle if she was to stand any chance of winning now.

  Dylan stopped outside the hotel and dropped her off while he drove around to the back to find a parking space. She made her way up to their room alone then dropped her bag on the floor as soon as the door clicked shut behind her. She knew his toy bag was in the back of the car. Would he have brought the cane he had threatened to use on her? She shivered and tried to ignore the apprehension churning in her belly. Of all the punishments Dylan could choose, the cane was the one that scared her the most. Deep down, she almost wished that he would use it. Maybe the intense pain would give her some sort of release from her anguish?

  When the door opened she looked up and her heart sank when she spotted the toy bag in his hand. It was more than two weeks until the nationals so he could hit her as hard as he wanted without it affecting her ability to perform. He didn’t say anything as he strode across the room and placed the bag on the bed.

  The silence was beginning to feel heavy. It was making the difficult circumstances even harder to cope with. In a bid to break it, she coughed. “Are you angry?” Stupid question. Of course he bloody is.

  Dylan turned and glared at her. “Should I be?”

  She shrugged. “I won.”

  “Only by the skin of your teeth.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Why are you sorry, Jodie? Do you have anything to be sorry for?”

  She shook her head, alarmed. “No, of course not.”

  “Then why did Tanya suggest that you let her win that first round?” he demanded.

  “I don’t know. She’s not used to me slipping up, but that’s all it was. I lost my concentration for a moment…” She trailed off, knowing full well that Dylan wasn’t buying it.

  He gave her a cold stare then stormed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. When he came back out he was wearing his jogging gear. “I’m going for a run. We’ll talk when I get back.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered, as her heart shattered. She hated that Dylan was so angry with her that he didn’t even want to be in the same room as her.

  She waited until he had left then went to the window and watched him head off down the road. When he disappeared around a corner, she sighed and turned back to face the empty room. His toy bag was still on the bed. Had he left it there deliberately to remind her of what was to come? Probably. The temptation to take a sneaky look inside was almost too much to bear, but
if he asked her when he got back if she had, she wanted to be honest in her response.

  By the time Dylan returned, about an hour later, she had showered and changed into a pair of black jeans and a cream jumper.

  “Hi.” She gave him a tentative smile, not sure if he would acknowledge it.

  “Hi.” He didn’t smile, but at least he looked at her. “I’m going to freshen up then we’ll go down to dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  Twenty minutes later, they left the hotel in search of somewhere to eat. The in-house restaurant was quite formal and neither of them felt like dressing up or eating fancy food that cost more than it should. They found a bistro a couple of blocks away that wasn’t too busy and, after a quick check of the specials on a board outside, they were shown to a table next to the window.

  “How was your run?” asked Jodie, because she didn’t know what else to say.

  “Fine. It gave me a chance to think.”

  “Oh.” She picked up the menu even though she already knew what she wanted. She’d seen on the specials board outside that they did chicken Caesar salad, which was just what she fancied. But hiding behind the menu gave her a few more seconds of distraction so she pretended to give each dish careful consideration.

  When they’d ordered, Dylan sat back in his seat and studied her. She shifted under his gaze and fiddled with her napkin. He’d always had a knack of making her feel like he could see straight through her. It had been thrilling at first, but right now, it was a little unnerving.

  “So, Jodie, what happened today?”

  She had spent the whole time in the shower rehearsing her explanation, but that didn’t make the words come any easier now. “I… er… I haven’t been sleeping too well.” At least that bit was true. “I guess I was just so tired earlier that I couldn’t maintain my focus.”

  “You seemed fine beforehand. And there were times when you were almost like your old self. I don’t understand what’s going on.”