Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1)

by Megan Ryder

  “Okay, I’m not.” Stacia swiveled the chair around to face the wall, fully aware of the ambiguity in the statement.

  “Bullshit. You’re sleeping with your client?” Sophie’s voice was a full octave higher, piercing Stacia’s eardrums. “After being accused of doing the same thing with Glazier? Stacia, not a good idea.”

  “I know, I know. But I had no idea that night.” When did her social life, or even work life, become Sophie’s concern? Stacia bit back the question, taking several deep calming breaths.

  Sophie snorted. “Only your luck. I mean, he’s hot and everything, but a client. Stacia, not a good idea.”

  “Actually, the team is my client, not Jason.

  “Semantics and you know it.” Sophie’s voice was lowering in disapproval. “Just be careful, okay? I know how you are.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Stacia spoke more sharply than intended, but her irritation at being second-guessed by everyone was really pissing her off.

  “Friar is a serious player, dating every supermodel and actress he could find. Despite the papers and the advantage you give him in the ratings, he’s not going to be there for the long haul. He’s not for you.”

  “I know, Sophie. I’m not getting involved. It’s just an act, for the ratings.” She crossed her fingers at the blatant lie. She was already in deep, almost over her head. She had to pull herself out before admitting it to anyone.

  “Right. Well, take care.” Doubt clouded her friend’s tone, but she finally moved on. “And just so you know? Glazier decided to do an independent bid, arrogant asshole. Donna is sucking at it. Nothing is going right for him right now. He’s missing you, even if he won’t admit it.”

  A dart of satisfaction zipped through her and she laughed. A cough in the doorway had her whipping around to see Cole Hammonds standing in the doorway. She gestured him in. “Sophie? I have to run. I’ll call you later.”

  “I want details!” Sophie called through the phone before Stacia could disconnect.

  Cole arched an eyebrow but said nothing. He sat in one of the chairs facing her desk and crossed one leg over the other, barely creasing his charcoal suit slacks. “I’ll admit, I was initially concerned about your plan but the headlines show a better reaction than I could have expected. This way you also have an excuse to stay close to him and keep coaching him. Your boss isn’t as confident in this approach.”

  His sideways glance confirmed her worst fears. Her boss had gone around her and was undermining her. Damn it. One mistake and no one trusted her. How could Michael do that to her and still tell her she was his best. She just wanted to lay her head down on the desk and rest. But, as they say, no rest for the wicked. And she had been very, very bad.

  Cole stood. “I’m sold. Go forward with it, but please keep me in the loop, okay? The interview is set up down the hall in the media room. Walk with me?”

  Stacia scrambled to her feet, smoothing her skirt to hide the slight tremor in her hands, hoping the uncertainty wouldn’t show in her face. They walked out of the room and down the short hallway toward the media room.

  “I was concerned when I saw this interview on your schedule. Is he ready?” Cole’s voice was skeptical.

  “Jason has been giving interviews since he was in high school. He’ll handle it.” He’d better handle it or she’d kill him, especially after their come-to-Jesus moment.

  “I understand that, but there’s bound to be a lot of questions about his personal life, especially with the news of a girlfriend. Is he prepped for that?”

  “Of course.” Stacia crossed her fingers beneath her folio. Shit. Those questions hadn’t been on her prep list, not that they’d had a chance to go through the list, not with Jason’s surly attitude that morning.

  They stepped into the room. The setup was almost complete.

  Cole leaned to Stacia and murmured, “I still don’t know how you did it. Hank Ryan is one of the top reporters in sports, working for an international sports network. I can’t believe you convinced him to come here and interview Jason Friar.”

  She smiled, pleased at the acknowledgement of her success. It almost took away the sting of everyone else questioning her. “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” She only hoped Jason appreciated the effort. Using her family name and the carrot that was her father and his war on steroids was a highly risky move and could backfire, especially considering how her father felt about Jason, or any baseball player really. But if they pulled it off, it would be worth the risk.

  A commotion from the other side of the room turned her attention from Cole. Jason emerged from the locker room, definitely not wearing the outfit she had picked out for him. The khakis and sports jacket was casual, maybe too much for the interview. Damn it. She had an image for him and clothes sent a certain message.

  Before she could walk across the room, Hank turned and greeted Jason. The two men shook hands and shared a laugh about something Stacia couldn’t catch. She joined them, greeting Hank and Jason. Hank stepped aside at a comment from his cameraman and Stacia turned her back, facing Jason.

  “Can I speak with you?”

  “No time, darling. Got an interview to finish.” He brushed past her and sat in the chair, allowing makeup and crew to wire him up and get him ready.

  Stacia glared at him, but didn’t want to make a scene.

  Finally, it was time to begin. Jason flashed his million dollar smile and set to work charming the gruff Hank. While the reporter hammered him on baseball, steroids, women, and anything that came to mind, Jason replied calmly, even poking fun at himself on occasion. The only tense moment came toward the end of the interview.

  “Jason, you went into baseball right out of high school even though you received a full scholarship to Texas A&M. What’s the story behind that?”

  Jason’s smile froze on his face and Stacia swore she saw a flash of hurt in his eyes, quickly masked. “Well, Hank. I was young and thought I was ready for the big leagues. I never expected to be in the minors for four years, learning the trade. You know how teenagers are.”

  Hank laughed. “Yes, teenagers think they’re invincible, but your coach thought it was a mistake, didn’t he? Thought you should go to college. Considering your recent shoulder injury, career threatening in fact, do you think it was wise to not have a college education?”

  “Like I said, Hank. I wasn’t very smart back then.” Jason’s tone cooled, a distinct chill plunging the temperature of the room. Hank hadn’t quite picked up on it yet. Or maybe he had and, like any good reporter scenting blood, dove in for the kill. Stacia prayed Jason would keep his cool, make it through the interview, not let them goad him into saying something he’d regret.

  “We’re hearing rumors he may be joining you here on the Knights as hitting coach. Are you looking forward to that reunion?”

  If it was possible, Jason froze even more, his expression immobile and stiff like a rock statue. He glared at Stacia and Cole. There was a flare of panic in his gaze. “Bill Monroe is coming here?” he stammered, the suave ballplayer gone, replaced by a stunned man.

  Hank glanced over at Cole, an innocent expression belying the glee in his eyes. “Oh, was I not supposed to say anything? The rumor has been spreading on all of the networks. I thought you knew.”

  He turned his attention back to the interview, but Jason had composed himself. Stacia relaxed infinitesimally “Obviously, I hadn’t heard that tidbit. I tend to avoid the newspapers. So much garbage and rumors are passed as truth. I prefer to go to the source.”

  Hank’s face tightened at the subtle barb.

  Stacia nudged Cole, alarm making the movement more of a shove. “End it. This could get out of hand.”

  Cole nodded then stepped forward and made a cutting motion across his throat. The reporter scowled but ended the interview.

  Jason ripped off the mic and stalked over to Cole and Stacia. “We need to talk. Now.” And he brushed past them out of the room.

  Chapter Thirteen
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  Jason’s head pounded and heat flooded his face as anger coursed through his body. How could Bill Monroe have followed him here? Was he never going to get rid of that man? What else would it take?

  He stalked into Stacia’s office and waited for her and Cole to join him, then he slammed the door. Stacia winced, but tried to hide it under her politician facade. Cole scowled at Jason but, before he could speak, Stacia interjected. “Why don’t we sit down and you tell us what’s got you all upset, Jason?”

  Adrenaline flooded his system. Sitting was out of the question, but there was no room to pace in the tiny office. He would have to settle for small steps, nothing that would rid his body of the tension. He almost bolted. He wasn’t ready for this conversation. But he had demanded it. He had to see it through. “Are you really hiring Bill Monroe as hitting coach?”

  Cole arched an eyebrow. “I’m not sure how the word got out so quickly. Dan needs to take some time off, the rest of the season, to help his wife through chemo. We’re just starting discussions. We thought you’d be happy to work with your old coach and mentor. Maybe it would ease your transition.”

  “Why Bill? I’ve had plenty of hitting coaches over the years. Why him?” Just when he’d thought he was getting back on track, away from the bloodsuckers, focusing on the sport again, a specter from his past, a soul-sucking leech reared its ugly head.

  Cole furrowed his brow. “I’m not sure. He’s a coach at Texas A&M now, but it’s their off-season. I think he approached us. He said he’s worked with you in the off-season before.”

  Jason sank into the chair next to Cole. Typical Bill Monroe. Still riding his freaking coattails. Probably angling for a major league spot. Why couldn’t he be rid of this man?

  “Is something wrong, Jason?” Stacia’s quiet voice broke into his reverie.

  This situation was yet another reminder of how far he had fallen. A year ago, if he had demanded they not hire Bill, Bill wouldn’t have been hired. No explanations needed. Now, he was a short-term player without any status, still proving himself. Cole Hammonds had made his position on the team perfectly clear—get the job done and shut up. To see Bill, after all he’d done, on an everyday basis, was intolerable.

  He took a deep breath. “I haven’t seen or worked with Bill Monroe since high school.”

  Stacia frowned. “In the interview, you implied that he was a mentor for you.”

  He laughed, a short sharp bark completely devoid of mirth. “Yeah, what was I going to say? The truth? How would you have liked it if I had said what really happened? But no, I have to be the reformed player, the lapdog being nice to everyone no matter what.”

  “What’s the truth then?” Cole asked cautiously and glanced at Stacia who shrugged.

  “It didn’t end well. I’ve had no contact with him since I was eighteen. I’d like to keep it that way.” Fifteen years ago and he remembered the pain like it was yesterday. Remembered the betrayal. He didn’t need that shit messing up his focus now.

  Cole sighed and stood. “You’ve put me in a difficult position. We already offered him the job. He’s in the locker room now.”

  The room spun and Jason stared at the desk, trying to get the world around him to steady.

  Stacia stood. “Cole, if he truly misrepresented himself, could we break the contract?”

  “Did he? Did he misrepresent himself? I’m not hearing anything that would stop me from hiring him, unless Jason has something more to share.” Cole prodded, exasperation echoing in every word.

  Jason barely heard the rest of the conversation amidst the roaring in his ears. No way was he going to tell them what Bill had done, how he had fooled everyone. He’d just have to make the best of things for another couple of months then flee as far from here as he could. Anything else he could say would just make him look like a bigger ass, a bigger fool than he already was.

  “Jason? Is this going to be a problem?” Cole’s voice broke into his thoughts.

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Not that anyone cared. Another reminder of how far he had fallen.

  *

  Jason resisted the childish urge to slam the office door and strode down the hall to the locker room, Cole following on his heels. At least Stacia stayed behind. Jason wasn’t ready to answer her multitude of questions. Not then, maybe not ever. He winced at the loud rap music echoing down the hallway. Cole eyed him with sympathy. “I can leave but you’re stuck in there. Ever feel old around these kids?”

  He bit back the automatic retort. I’m not old. Then he realized, yeah, he felt pretty damn old in that locker room sometimes. He shrugged, more focused on the upcoming confrontation.

  Cole put a hand on his arm, holding him back just outside the locker room. “Jason, I’ve made no secret that I didn’t agree with your signing. But you’re here and I have to deal with that.”

  “Thanks, Hammonds.” Jason tried to continue, but the other man’s grip was surprisingly strong.

  “You’ve seen these kids for a couple of weeks now. They’re at loose ends, no guidance, no direction. All talent, no focus. They want to win but don’t know how to handle losing. So, they just screw around.”

  “Yeah, and?” Jason’s mind was still turning over the news of his new hitting coach, playing out options, figuring out a plan. He had no interest in helping Cole out with anything.

  “I can’t say anything. They’d just ignore me. And the manager, well, he doesn’t know how to deal with the young guys.”

  “You sign their checks. Hit ’em in the pocketbook. They’ll listen,” he griped. “Be a bastard. They need it.”

  Cole arched an eyebrow. “Really? These kids are making more money than most have ever seen. They’re spending it like it’s never-ending. A piddly fine won’t bother them at all.”

  “So, what do you want me to do?” Jason leaned against the wall and shoved his hands in his pockets. Any conversation was better than what he had to face in there.

  “You’ve been around. You know that teams police themselves. Beanballs, spiking on the bases, team meetings. This is one of those situations. How would you have handled it on your last team?”

  Jason paused. Another reminder of how the game had changed. In his day, no one dogged it. Everyone played hard every day, and losses sucked. No celebrations. If there was an issue with a player, well, the players handled it themselves. Management didn’t need to stick their noses in the locker room. “We never had this issue.”

  “Really? Even when players dog it, jog to first, screw around? Come on, I know some of the guys you played with.”

  “These kids see me as one of those guys. They’re not going to listen to me. Besides, you told me to stay away from them. Didn’t want me to taint them with my ways.”

  Cole pursed his lips, irritation on his face. “That was when we were safely in first and not solidly in a weeks-long losing streak. Something needs to shake these guys up. They need a mentor. A role model.”

  Jason snorted. “Isn’t that what you hired Monroe for?” He pushed past Cole and into the locker room.

  The music hit him, an almost physical blow. He paused for a moment, watching the other players milling about, joking and screwing around. Not the pre-game preparation he was accustomed to. He scanned the room quickly, then walked along the outside to his locker.

  “Jason! It’s been awhile! Great to see you, boy!”

  Jason was grabbed and twisted, beefy arms wrapped around him, trapping him for a brief moment. Instinctively, he blocked and shoved the larger man, feeling more flesh than he’d remembered. He stepped back, away from the lockers and into the open room. The music stopped abruptly and all conversation died, while the players gawked, gauging the situation. Jason glared at the other man, the man he saw as a coach, a mentor, a father figure. Until the final betrayal. In that moment, he’d taught Jason the most important lesson of his entire life, a lesson that had ruled his life, guiding his every step.

  Everyone uses you. Walk away before th
ey can take advantage.

  Jason stuffed all emotion down deep in the well and covered it. He coolly studied the other man. “You’ve changed, Monroe.”

  “It’s been a long time, son. Years.” His round face broadened in a smile, but Jason could still see the calculating gleam in his eye, the money signs Monroe could never quite hide around Jason.

  “That’s not what you told Hammonds. And don’t call me son.” He tossed his jacket into the locker room and grabbed a t-shirt and sweat pants. “I’m hitting the cage, warming up for the game.”

  “Want some help? Your swing was a little rusty in Kansas City.”

  “No thanks. I got this.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  After the game that night, another loss, Jason stormed out of the locker room, hair still damp from the rushed shower. He scowled when he saw Stacia standing by the locker room door and brushed past her with a snarl. He had no interest in rehashing the interview, the confrontation with Monroe, the game. He just wanted to be left in peace. She didn’t let that deter her and scrambled to keep up with his long strides eating the concrete, feet pounding the pavement. When they got to his SUV, she tried to take the keys.

  “You’re in no condition to drive.”

  He whirled on her, hands raised to ward off discussion. “I’m not drunk, just pissed. Back off.”

  There was no way he was going to wait for her to get her car and she was not letting him go without her. She bolted to the other side of the vehicle and slid in, barely before he took off. He swore and slammed his foot on the brake.

  “Out. I’m in no mood for little Miss Sunshine and rainbows.” He pointed to the door, not in the mood of any more analysis.

  “I’m going with you.” She buckled her seat belt and locked the door. “Besides, I promised you a steak dinner, and, judging by your attitude, you need to eat.”

  He blinked a few times, confusion clouding his gaze. Then his face returned to the sullen scowl. He shifted into reverse and tore out of the parking space. “You asked for it.”