Risky Play (Red Card #1)(15)

“I’m nice!” I roared.

He sighed. “You’re . . .” His voice lowered. “Never mind.”

I knew what he was going to say.

I was sad.

Angry.

Confused.

I ran a hand through my long hair. “I won’t yell at her. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he said in a dry tone. “See you at practice.”

“Shit, you’re coming?”

“Someone has to make sure you play nice.”

“I’ve never had a problem before,” I pointed out.

Another long sigh. “Slade . . . if you need someone to talk to . . .”

“I don’t want to talk,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, man.”

Silence crackled over the phone.

“I gotta get some sleep,” I rasped.

“Yeah.”

“Night.” I hung up before I spilled my guts, before I burst into tears and told him every fucking regret I had. I’d never told my dad I loved him. I never got to tell him how much he meant to me.

I never got to say those words.

Because there would always be another time.

Another day.

And now, he was gone. There would never be another day again.

I reached for the beer and slammed it against the wall.





Chapter Thirteen

MACKENZIE

I pulled my Lexus up to the keypad and typed in the code. The black iron gate made a dinging noise and then whined a bit as it opened wide, revealing a three-story mansion. A fountain complete with statue sat in the middle of the circular driveway.

I tilted my head and examined my surroundings as I pulled to the front. A red Ferrari was parked outside and running like the owner was warming it up before taking off. The garage attached to the house probably held enough cars for half the human population.

My aunt hadn’t said anything other than this guy was big-time. And by the time I passed the background check and talked with the guy’s agent, he was so thankful that I wasn’t crazy and could start right away that I wondered how horrible his client really was.

I typically worked for rich clients who needed me to walk their dogs or water their plants. The job was mindless, but it kept me away from Alton.

It kept me away from my old life, and for some stupid reason it made me feel invisible, for once I wasn’t the one getting my picture taken.

I wasn’t at some society event being asked if I was going to hop back on the horse or if I was sad that Alton was already dating.

I shuddered.

No. That would come soon enough.

My dad gave me two months to get my head straight.

What better way than feeding some rich guy’s dog and making sure he had groceries and clean clothes?

“Well, here goes nothing.” I killed the engine, grabbed the small bag of dog food I’d been instructed to bring, and got out of my SUV.

The stairs leading up to the house were a black marble that looked expensive, giving me no clue as to what this guy played.

Was he a football player? Basketball?

What athlete had a house like this? Maybe he played for the NBA? Mariners? Hawks?

I was told not to ask too many questions and to make myself as invisible as possible.

No problem. That was part of this job, gain trust and become nonexistent. Rich people were almost too trusting when they let strangers into their homes. I was told I’d see my fair share of tax papers, social security numbers, text messages from mistresses on phones and computers—and that at the end of the day it didn’t matter. It was their business, and I was just there to do a job.

If I knew how to write a book on all the scandal I had access to without getting sued—I would. It was fascinating, to say the least.

I lifted my hand to ring the doorbell just as the door jerked open.

I noticed the Sounders gear right away.

Black Adidas joggers paired with tall Adidas socks and sliders.

I slowly looked up.

Gray jacket with the green insignia of the Space Needle.

And then.

Lethal, caramel, almost golden eyes.

I jolted backward so hard that I tripped on my heel and broke it.

I stumbled to the side, gathered myself, and blurted, “Is this a joke?”

At the same time he snarled, “Are you fucking stalking me?”

Tears welled in my eyes as I stared down at the phone that was given to me and the address.

My hand shook as I glanced back up into Hugo’s eyes. “No, I’m not stalking you, I must have the wrong—” Oh God, this was not happening. I felt the back of my neck heat. I had his linen shirt in my car. Mere feet away from me. I closed my eyes in embarrassment while anger replaced my hurt. “I’m sure there’s an explanation.”

“Really?” He crossed his bulky arms. A pair of black Bose headphones were wrapped around his neck, and pieces of his golden-brown hair were hanging loose by his chin. He looked different. Harsher somehow. His dark eyebrows slanted in an almost-V above his eyes, and his lips curved downward like he’d forgotten how to smile. “So you didn’t find out who I was and just show up? Fuck, how much money do you even want? So we had sex—that doesn’t mean you get to write a tell-all story about the one night you got Slade Rodriguez to fuck you.”