Risky Play (Red Card #1)(17)

I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. “Got it.”

He slapped my ass. “That’s the spirit, now get in there and change, you’re almost late and Coach Mesinger said warm-up starts in five minutes. They’ll want you leading some of the drills, Mr. Number-One Striker.”

I was tempted to flip him off again as I made my way into the locker room and pulled off my warm-ups. At least the stadium was new and covered so I wouldn’t be freezing my ass off on the field.

The locker room was already empty. I pulled off my sliders and grabbed my cleats like I had so many times over the last decade. Only this time my hands were shaking.

This time I was walking out there without my dad.

Shit.

I inhaled deeply, put on the cleats, and slowly stood.

I took the walk down a long hall, and when I pushed the door open, all of the guys were already out on the field with the coaching staff.

Silence blanketed the field as I approached, and with each step against the turf, I felt more and more angry. Angry that I’d been forced away from a team I used to love.

To a new team that was going to expect fucking miracles from one human being.

I stopped at the edge of the group as Coach Mesinger gave me a quick nod. “Let’s all give a warm welcome to the number-one striker in the world—”

I hated it when they announced me like that, like I was important when I was just coordinated and hardworking.

“Slade Rodriguez.”

I pulled a confident smile out of my ass.

I could almost feel Matt breathe a sigh of relief from across the field.

“Mile run,” Coach called. “Then Rodriguez is going to run you through the warm-up. He’s your new co-captain, treat him that way.”

Most men met my gaze and nodded.

Most.

Save. One.

Jagger Komokov.

The other captain.

The goalie.

My nemesis.

We’d been at each other’s throats for years. It didn’t help that Matt represented us both—nor did it help that we had history that went beyond our game. Just seeing him reminded me of mistakes.

Besides, he would rather run me over with my own car than shake my hand. We’d gotten into it at finals last year. Penalty cards were thrown. Punches followed. We’re both lucky as hell we didn’t get kicked out of the game.

Finally, he met my gaze, his icy blue stare boring right through me. No acknowledgment, just hate.

So it was going to be like that?

I turned on my heel and started to run around the stadium, and the rest of the players followed like I knew they would. I was a born leader.

I just didn’t feel like one anymore.

Instead, I felt like a giant fake.

Who was one mistake away from never feeling normal again.





Chapter Fifteen MACKENZIE

The guy was an animal!

He ate more takeout than a college student, and his poor dog was so hungry I had to give him three more helpings of food.

It was starting to get dark by the time I heard the car pull up.

And it was impossible not to hear that engine.

I had turned a few lights off, made sure the oven was off, and left a note, but there would be no escape. Not tonight.

My heart clenched when the door opened.

I busied myself with wiping the counter.

“Shit, you’re still here?” His raspy voice sounded tired. The slight Spanish accent I’d once found sexy now made my heart hurt and my embarrassment fan to life as I remembered the way his mouth had nibbled and nipped trails inside my thighs.

So. Stupid.

I’d trusted too easily.

Never again.

Well, I’d done what I had set out to do! I’d lived on the wild side and got my heart broken in the process. Well. Done.

“Yeah,” I responded, dumping the paper towel in the trash as he made his way into the dimly lit kitchen. “Dinner’s in the oven, already finished, I reorganized your dishes because they were everywhere. Alfie’s been fed a few times, since he’s clearly not eaten in a month, but you should have enough dog food to hold you over until I get back in the morning.”

I tried walking by him, but he caught me by the elbow. I thought maybe he’d say thank you or even apologize. Instead, he stared me down with hatred. “Never. Ever. Touch my shit again.” He jerked his hand away.

My lips parted as I stepped back slowly and accidentally said out loud, “Who are you?”

His eyes flickered with something before he sneered. “If I never told you my real name, do you really think you knew me at all?”

Getting punched in the gut would feel better than this. “No. You’re . . . right.” I ducked my head and walked by him. With as much dignity as I could summon, I grabbed my purse, leaned down and kissed Alfie on his fur, and then stalked out, slamming the door as hard as I could behind me. I prayed pictures would fall from the wall and create such a mess of glass he’d cut up his perfect soccer feet.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I made my way to the first Central Market I could find. I cut the engine, ran inside, grabbed two bottles of my favorite blend, and waited in line.

Only to suffer through more torture.

His face was everywhere.

US Weekly. In Touch. People.

They all had him featured.

European bad boy.