Traded

by Lorhainne Eckhart

  TRADED

  The Wilde Brothers

  by

  Lorhainne Eckhart

  Jake Wilde has two loves, but neither is going his way.

  Jake Wilde, the youngest of the Wilde brothers, has it all. He’s a pro football star with the woman of his dreams by his side…or so he thought.

  In a desperate attempt to keep the woman he loves, he asks her to marry him. The last thing Jake Wilde expects is for her to turn him down and walk out the door at the same time that his football team decides to trade him.

  Chris Jeger, a legal assistant and part-time cheerleader for the Cardinals, has been waiting for true love. When she overhears Jake Wilde making a personal plea to some woman on the phone, she can see he’s heading down the road to disaster. Instead of walking away, she steps in to offer him advice so he doesn’t turn his life upside down the same way she once did.

  Their friendship develops, and one night their emotions collide—but when someone unexpected suddenly knocks on his door, Jake learns that sometimes, what you wish for isn’t what you really want.

  As real life interferes with her hopes and dreams, will Chris once again be brokenhearted, left on the outside looking in?

  If you love the Wilde Brothers, you may also enjoy these other series:

  THE OUTSIDER SERIES: An emotionally charged romance series beginning with the Amazon bestseller The Forgotten Child.

  THE FRIESSENS: A NEW BEGINNING: The return of the Friessen men and the women they love in this family saga that follows THE OUTSIDER SERIES.

  THE SAVED SERIES: A hot suspense with a love story in a military setting. “This was a hard book to put down! A tough captain of a war ship finds a pregnant young girl in a dinghy alone in the ocean!”—Audrey

  “The story that unfolds after Abby is rescued is a story of love and how it can change even the toughest man.”—Crazy Fast Reader

  WALK THE RIGHT ROAD SERIES: “The Choice will leave you questioning your own morals and motivations and leave you asking others what they would do in that same situation. This is a genre-bending novel that will surprise you.”—JRA.

  “Rarely have I spent time reading a series that had me feeling every thought and emotion.”—Mary Ellen

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Afterword

  Other Works by Lorhainne Eckhart

  About the Author

  Links to Lorhainne Eckhart’s Booklist

  Copyright Information

  Chapter 1

  “Son, that’s the way things work here. You being traded is a part of life, and Phoenix is a great team, great place to live. It’s hot, never rains, plenty of women to choose from.”

  Jake stared into the deep-set blue eyes of Murray Donnelly, his about-to-be former coach for the Seahawks. The man had a heavily lined face and thin white hair, and he rapped his knuckles on the desk before leaning back in his chair. He had been behind this crappy old beat-up desk in the basement office for probably half a century. Hell, the team could afford better, had better, but Murray had a thing for old and beat up. Or so Jake often thought.

  He squirmed in the wooden chair, and it squeaked under his weight. It wasn’t that he was overweight: Jake Wilde, the youngest of the Wilde brothers, was in the best shape, he figured, of his football career. At six foot two and packing a solid 230 pounds, all lean and hard muscle, he wondered if the chair would hold his weight. It sometimes seemed like all the furniture around him had been made for a kid.

  “Look, I know you didn’t want this, but let’s get real, son. You’re young, at the prime of your life, and you’ve already been out with how many injuries?” Murray scowled and then ran his tongue over his coffee-stained teeth. He wasn’t much to look at, but he’d kicked Jake’s ass from one end of the field to the other and had been the closest thing to a father that he’d ever had—that is, next to Logan, his older brother.

  It hurt to be tossed away, turned away by a man he’d thought would fight for him.

  “Cardinals are a good team. Bucky Phillips is a good coach.”

  Jake wasn’t a moron. Murray always called out in great detail who was who and who sucked big time. Jake wondered if he’d had to choke out the “good” part, as Murray and Bucky were about as friendly as two hounds circling the same bitch. His lips actually twitched when he pictured them both snarling in the same undignified way.

  “Look, son.” Murray fidgeted in his chair, leaning back, resting his elbow on the seat arm as he turned to the side. He pulled away just enough that Jake could tell the old man was getting nervous. Feelings were the one thing this man didn’t do, didn’t talk about.

  “I know, Coach. It wasn’t your decision.” At least he hoped it wasn’t. He spied a flash of color on Murray’s cheeks. Maybe he was wrong. His stomach tightened at the thought that Coach could be responsible for sending him on his way.

  He cleared his throat, which thickened when he thought too much. Reading too much into a situation was one of his flaws. “So I’m replacing Brown?” he said. “He was a second-round pick, a favorite.” He couldn’t say anything else, as he knew he had tough shoes to fill. Brown had been fast, but Jake was faster—or had been before his ACL tear. Now the Phoenix quarterback would be looking for Jake on that field, and it was their relationship, the trust between them, that would mean the difference between winning and losing and being part of that team.

  “Yeah, Brown’s out. Tough card he got dealt with that last injury. Retired young, retired early. But not you.” Coach swung around, setting his feet on the ground and standing up, sticking his hand out to Jake. It was his way of saying they were done, so long, get out of here.

  It was awkward and impersonal. Jake thought the old man would have hugged him after all they’d been through: the games, hotels, travelling, training. They had been closer than family at one time, or so he thought. He stood up, feeling a twinge in his knee, and shook the old man’s hand, looking down at him.

  Murray slapped his shoulder with his other hand. “Get out of here, and make sure you listen to the doc. Stick with your physio. You can’t afford any more injuries, because right now the entire world is watching you.”

  Jake knew what he was saying. The football world was the only world that existed for the coach. Anyone or anything else out there was a nobody.

  Chapter 2

  As soon as his thumb pressed the numbers on his cell phone, he knew he shouldn’t have made the call. Hang up now, stupid! he could hear his head screaming at his heart. This was one of those idiotic things Jake couldn’t stop himself from doing. He felt, at times, as if he were part of a train wreck.

  He walked along the end zone as the phone rang, watching his team—his former team—practice. He loved the grunts, the whistles, the plays called, the sweat, the running, everything about the game. And he’d loved this team.

  Two rings and no answer. Dammit, he didn’t want to leave another message, because he knew he was starting to sound pathetic. Three rings…

  “Hey, Jake, wait up!” Glen Chalmer, the team physician who’d benched him, was jogging his way. Lean, middle aged, average, he was a man who wouldn’t stick out in any crowd—but he was also a dick, considering he overlooked injuries all the time, all except Jake’s. For some reason, Glen had it
in for him. It had to be that.

  Four rings. “Hi, this is Jill. I can’t take your call. Leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

  Shit! He held up his hand and gave Glen his back. “Hey, Jill, this Jake…” Crap, did his voice sound weak and pathetic? Of course she knew it was him. She was probably screening this call just like all the others he had made. “I know I said I’d give you some space, but I wanted to let you know I’m leaving tonight—for Arizona…Phoenix,” he said for emphasis, as if she didn’t have a clue where he was going or had missed all the other messages he’d left.

  He took the phone and smacked it against his forehead a couple times, then noticed the doc frowning. Maybe Glen had picked up on how desperate he was sounding. “I hoped you’d call me back before now. It’s been…how long?” Twenty-six days and counting, and it was almost the end of the season. “I’d still love for you to come with me. So…call me.” He made himself hit the “End call” button and pocket his cell phone as he jammed his fingers through his thick, dark hair. He could feel the ends, longer than they should be, but he’d let it grow, stopped shaving. Stopped caring, really.

  “Glen,” he bit out. He knew he sounded like a prick, but he didn’t care. Glen was the last person to whom he wanted to extend any bit of civility. He crossed his arms over his wide chest, his navy hoodie pulling against his back. He took a breath, puffing out his chest, letting Glen sweat just a bit at the sight of the big hulk of a guy staring back at him, a pissed-off hulk of a guy. Jake was big enough, strong enough, built enough that he could use it to make a man nervous when he wanted. And right now, he just didn’t give a shit about playing nice.

  “Just wanted to see how you’re doing, how that last checkup went for you with the ortho specialist I sent you to,” Glen said.

  See how he was doing, his ass. Jake started to say something, then glanced up and away for a second. “Fine,” he said. “Take care, Glen. Got to go.”

  He started to turn away when the man reached out and touched his arm. Seriously. Jake’s gaze went right there, to that light, slender hand on his bulging right bicep. He just stared at it with loathing, as if Glen had any hope in hell of holding him back.

  Instead of using his words, as he knew Logan, his big brother, would have warned him—damn him, too, for being in his head—he reached down and lifted Glen’s hand from his arm and took a step back.

  Glen must have known that Jake wasn’t in a mood to be messed with, as he raised his hands in the air in surrender. “Sorry, I can see you’re still a little upset. I’m sorry, Jake, but this is the business, and as the team physician, it’s up to me to make sure you’re okay. We’re a team here. Everyone gets injured, some worse than others. It just happened that your injuries were back to back. You pushed yourself too hard, didn’t let up. Listen, if you continue to push yourself, that knee injury won’t heal. Stick with your physio.”

  The way he rattled it off, Jake wasn’t interested. In fact, he started away again, one step, two steps across the turf.

  “Jake,” Glen called out.

  He glanced over his shoulder at the team physician, who was wearing the same light khaki pants he always wore, the dark blue and white team jacket, the light green lettering with the Seahawks logo on the front. He wore it like he owned it as his hands rested on his hips.

  “Your first stop tomorrow morning is at nine a.m. with the Cardinals’ physician. He’s expecting you. Don’t be late.”

  Jake hesitated a second, giving his head a shake, then walked out of the stadium, feeling Glen’s eyes burning into him the entire time.

  Chapter 3

  He hated red. The color unsettled him. It was one of those things he hadn’t given much thought to until it was shoved right in his face, firing him up much like a red blanket did a feisty bull. Everywhere he looked, there it was, that deep blood-red color. Red jerseys, red shorts, the banners, the seats…even the cheerleaders’ pompoms were red. Add to that the Arizona heat, a dry climate far different than the one he was used to. He never thought he’d say it in a million years, but he missed the rain, the clouds, the green, the ocean. He was homesick for Seattle even though he’d grown up in rural Idaho, with deep snow and long, cold winters, mountains all around them. Seattle had been his home, the first one of his adult life since getting drafted as a first-round pick for the Seahawks. He’d been the favorite then, but oh, how things changed.

  His gym bag tossed over his shoulder, Jake watched the team training on the field from the sidelines. He chewed a piece of gum as he took in the team, the Cardinals, running and tackling, then the whistle blowing and the coaching staff yelling. He spotted Jeger, a wide receiver, running a pass. The man was fast and had been with the team a long time, but the play he had called out at the line last year, when he’d fumbled the ball and cost them the season, would forever be his legacy. It was the type of screw-up every player prayed would never happen.

  “So you made it.” Bucky Phillips rested his hand on his shoulder. Jake had forgotten how tall the man was, this man he had never understood. He was in good shape and stood eye to eye with Jake, and he wore dark glasses and his trademark Cardinals cap, his sandy hair sticking out at the sides. His arms were tanned in his white golf shirt, blue jeans. His smile revealed white teeth, but Jake knew all too well that with men like Bucky, a smile only hid what they were really thinking.

  “Arrived last night.” It had been after nine when he checked in to the Westin, his home away from home until he found a new place to live.

  “Great to hear, great to hear. Heard you checked in with Danny.” The man didn’t say anything else, only pulling his hand away and letting it fall to his side. Jake wondered, when the coach said nothing else, whether the doctor had told him something he should be worried about.

  “Yeah, I’m anxious to get out there.”

  The smile Bucky wore widened, and he slapped Jake on the shoulders again. “Glad to hear you’re ready to go. Love the last of the season’s training.”

  Jake wanted to let out a sigh of relief, feeling the dampness under his arms and down his back. Even though it was warm out, he wasn’t sweating from the heat, so he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, holding it together. The last thing he wanted was to appear weak.

  He felt he should say something, but what? He just couldn’t get his tongue to connect with his brain. “Jeger looks good.”

  “Jeger looks like shit. He’s become cautious. You can see he hesitates now, ever since he busted his ribs. I don’t know. Some guys bounce back from an injury, but a few never shake it off. He’s lost it. Maybe he’ll never get it back. That’s when you’ve got to know yourself. When your career’s done, son, it’s best you figure it out yourself without anyone telling you.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that. It was a career burner, what Jeger had done, especially when he appeared to be on a downward slide. But then again, Jeger was one of the old guys, at thirty-two. He had been with the Cardinals for nine years, and when his contract was up, it wasn’t likely to be renewed. A nightmare for any pro ball player.

  “Last good year was two years ago, when he ran seven hundred and twenty-six yards on forty-six catches. You need to be quick, think fast, have agility—be smart, quick minded. Jeger’s lost his edge. No, that position takes a different kind of mental sharpness, being fearless to race across the middle of the field on a third and ten and stretch out for a crossing route when you know you’re going to get hammered, get hit hard by some guy who has thirty to forty pounds on you. And that’s what you got, Jake Wilde.”

  Huh? That sure in the hell wasn’t what he’d expected. He never thought of himself as fearless. No, that was his brother Logan. There were still times when life scared the ever-living shit out of him and he found himself picking up the phone to call his brother. Jake just did things, especially in the game, without thinking about someone coming at him or who was coming up behind him. He caught the ball and ran, moved, and he could spin on a dime when the other t
eam tried to take him out.

  But the time he got hit…it had been hard, coming out of nowhere and taking him out, knocking the wind out of him. He had never seen it coming. It had done something to him, but Jake knew that was when he had to push himself hard to be better, faster. That was why he’d torn his ACL, pushing himself through a minor injury, not listening to his body when it was screaming to stop. He was thickheaded and persistent, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why he couldn’t be like other guys and let things go. Jill still hadn’t called.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” Bucky said.

  This time, Jake faced him. This man, for the next three years in his contract, was the one person who would stand between him being benched and him having the chance to show his stuff on the field. “I talk when I have something to say. So do you want me out there?”

  The team doctor had cleared him. He was in great shape, having spent time every day in the gym, keeping every other part of his body primed and ready to go.

  Bucky slid off his shades, and his deep hazel eyes took in Jake as if trying to figure him out. Good luck on that. Jake knew he was as open as he was going to be right now, still feeling burned and betrayed by the coach who’d meant everything to him.

  “You got your stuff?” Bucky said, gesturing with his chin to the bag looped over Jake’s shoulder. “Go get changed and get out there.” He slapped Jake on the back and then walked away to where the Cardinals were training on the field.

  This was his team, his new team. Maybe if he said it enough, he’d start to believe it. He took a breath and blew it out, then headed to the locker room to find his things.

  Chapter 4

  He was sweaty and sore, and he could taste blood. He’d been tackled hard from behind, taken down by three of what he thought were the heaviest guys on the team. It was overkill. They had piled on him, and he heard something in his back crack as he moved his now stiffening shoulder. He knew he needed a rubdown to work all the kinks out. The blood in his mouth must have come from the last of the four poundings he’d taken—even though this was just practice and he’d had his mouth guard firmly in place. Evidently, this was his “welcome to the team” initiation.