Risky Play (Red Card #1)(19)

Cleats tied so tight my feet hurt.

Shin guards squeezing the life out of my sore-as-hell legs.

And then Jagger opened his fat mouth, and his irritating voice pierced the tension. “You’re not gonna last, pretty boy.”

I grinned at that. His Russian accent was barely noticeable now that he’d been in the States for the last few years.

I stood and crossed my arms. “Thanks, man, I’ve always wanted another player to call me pretty. Life made.”

He glared.

“Oh, and maybe next time you compliment my good looks, make sure it’s around other dudes so I don’t assume you want to see me naked, yeah?”

He lunged for me, but I was already jogging out onto the turf. Coach stared me down, then nodded while I started the mile run to loosen up my muscles. Jagger fell into place beside me and what started as a jog ended as a fucking sprint. My legs burned once we circled around to stretch.

“Rodriguez, Komokov, try not to be competitive assholes . . . you’re on the same team now. Act like it.”

“Yes, sir,” I said quickly.

Jagger grumbled, “Sure, Coach.”

Lying through his ass, that guy.

We didn’t speak the rest of the day, and when we broke apart for drills, I purposely stood on the opposite end of the field so I wouldn’t have to look at him. We might be on the same team, but there was no chance in hell we would ever be mates.





Chapter Seventeen

MACKENZIE

It wasn’t in my nature to sit and stew over things out of my control. Like the situation with Alton? I’d like to think I did something a bit crazy, made a few bad choices, and now avoided him like the plague.

But with Slade? I was stewing.

I analyzed every single piece of furniture. Every stupid coffee mug, and even his choice in dog.

“What do you think, Alfie?” I yawned and reached into my purse. I had a few of the magazines stashed for my lunch break later. I never realized how much help the guy needed. My job was to water plants, feed the dog, clean up.

How Slade managed to live in his own chaos like this and sleep at night, well, I had no clue. He’d managed to keep the kitchen clean, and the living room looked fine, but when I finally made it upstairs all I saw were boxes.

Frowning, I sent a text to his manager.

Me: Hey, this is Mack. Am I helping your client unpack as well?

Matt: Ha, be my guest. Just make sure you check the labels beforehand, some shit he won’t want you to see.

Me: Hey whatever I see I forget immediately, that’s part of the contract.

I could tell he was typing.

What could I possibly see that I hadn’t seen before? I tried not to think about seeing him naked, and what that did to me. Okay, so I hadn’t seen a man like that before, but that was different than unpacking boxes.

My insecurity chose that horrible moment in time to come flooding back, filling my cheeks with heat while I thought about the things I let him do to me, and the words he threw at my face earlier today. “Just because I saw your pus—”

A text came in.

Matt: If it’s labeled family, father, or anything related, don’t open. Anything else is fair game.

I was both curious and ashamed that I was spending time being angry with him when he’d just lost his father.

Was it crossing a line if I probed a bit about that? I chewed on the thought and typed back.

Me: Got it. I’m sure he’s still struggling with losing his father.

Matt: If struggling means nearly losing your shit every day since, then yes, he’s struggling. I hope he’s being nice to you.

I rolled my eyes.

Me: The nicest.

Matt: Bullshit, but thanks for putting up with it.

I didn’t respond, just shoved my phone back into my jeans pocket and made my way into the large master bedroom. With a sigh, I knelt down and patted Alfie on the head. He snuggled against my hand and let out a whine.

“I know, buddy . . . it’s a lot of boxes.”

He whined again, took off toward a stack of boxes, and ran headfirst into it.

“Alfie!” I yelled, leaping after him. “Bad dog! No, no, no, we don’t make a mess like that!”

He whined again and hit the tower of boxes.

Before I could reach the top box it fell over. The crunching sound of glass made me cringe.

“Please don’t let that be a picture. Please don’t let that be a picture.” I gently picked up the box, flipped it, and opened.

“Pictures.” I sighed. “Crap.”

Alfie whined some more and then turned around in a small circle before sitting right in front of the box.

I pulled out the first wrapped picture. It wasn’t broken. It was a family photo from the looks of it.

The next was a team picture.

I sighed in relief when each picture I pulled out was in perfect condition.

The sound must have been the pictures hitting each other? I reached in and jerked my hand back as a piece of glass sliced my two fingers.

I sucked the blood and then winced as more blood poured down my palm.

With a curse I jumped to my feet and turned blindly toward the hall to run to the bathroom.

“Doing some recon?” Slade tilted his head, his eyebrows shoved together in an angry slant while he put his hands on his hips like he was guarding me from leaving the room.