“I’m the one who set you up with her. I thought… I don’t know. There was that one little kernel of hope that she’d been telling the truth, you know? She was a damn good liar.”
Michael froze, his suit jacket half on a wooden hanger, half off. “Sawyer, speak slowly please, and use sentences that work. Who and what are we talking about? Kat? Has something happened to Kat?”
“To Kat?” Sawyer gave a gruff laugh. “Fucking wish. No. She did the happening. To you. To both of you, really. Yet another sex tape. Or an almost-sex tape. Why the hell would she think this was a good idea? She didn’t get away with it the first time. So hey, why the hell not try again?”
Michael’s insides turned to ice. He carefully placed the suit on the hanger and shut it in the closet, his movements clipped, precise. No room for error. Then he turned and stared blankly at the wall behind the hotel bed. “Sawyer, are you saying there’s another video of Kat and that douchebag tennis player having sex?”
Sawyer’s silence was damning, but damning to what, Michael didn’t know.
“Jesus shitting on the pot. You really don’t know.”
“I’ve been on a bus, a plane, another bus, and standing in a hotel lobby for about thirty minutes because the management screwed up the keys and had to get things resettled. My phone’s ringer has been off until just now. I’m not in a mood to be jacked around, Sawyer. Tell me what happened.”
“Kat. And you. In an almost-sex tape. You’re grinding against her, propped up on a desk in some sort of office, with her legs wrapped around you? I don’t know, I don’t recognize the location, but it’s definitely not a bedroom. I don’t know, man.”
Michael’s fist clenched, and his breathing felt tight, like he was running a marathon instead of standing still.
“You keep saying ‘almost-sex.’ So we’re not having sex?”
“The tape cuts out before that, but it’s clear that’s where the little episode is going. Maybe she chickened out before recording the main event.”
“You’re saying she recorded us having almost-sex.”
“Unless you recorded it…”
Michael let his nonanswer speak for him.
“Right. I assumed not.” Sawyer sighed. “Look, clearly she didn’t record it herself this time. It’s too far away, and the camera’s moving, like someone’s holding it and not able to stand still. So no tripod or anything like that. And then a door closes just before the camera shuts down.”
“So someone else recorded us. But where?”
“Fuck if I know. There’s a tennis racket in the corner. I assumed—”
But Michael didn’t need to assume. He knew without guessing. The tennis center. The office Kat had dragged him into before they’d gone at it like monkeys against the wall. Fuck. Shit fuck damn it to all fucking hell.
He swung out and punched the wall, denting the drywall with his left fist. Then he dropped the phone on the bed and howled in pain. He’d never done that before in his life, and now he fucking knew why. That shit hurt. God.
“Lambert. Lambert! Jesus, don’t go missing on me. I can only handle so much shit a day.”
Michael took the phone back. “So you’re saying someone else loaded the video up.”
“Clearly. But…”
“Say it,” Michael growled.
“Look, I get that you two have something going on, but we can’t ignore this is nearly identical to the last time.”
Michael’s vision hazed with fury.
“She obviously got someone else to take the video and upload it. The video is about thirteen seconds long, posted to Instagram from some account that looks like it belongs to a teenager, though that could be a ruse. While you can’t see your face at all, and you aren’t named… her face is clear. And she’s named. What’s that tell you?”
He sat on the bed, set the phone on speaker and laid it beside him. His left hand curled uselessly on his thigh. With his right hand, he scrubbed at his face. In anger. In frustration. In total helplessness because he couldn’t make this shit go away for either of them.
“It tells me,” his agent continued, taking his silence for encouragement, “that she didn’t want to name who she was with. Maybe for protection, maybe because your name is more important than hers in the media and it would overshadow her attention-grabbing stunt. I don’t know. But she’s front and center, the focus of the video, and the captions that go along with it.”
“She didn’t do this,” Michael said roughly. She wouldn’t have.
She couldn’t have.
She… could have. Of course she could have. Anyone could have. To deny that she had the ability was to be an idiot. But she wouldn’t.
She…
No. He wouldn’t do that. Wouldn’t analyze every word she’d said, every little gesture she made as if she were on trial in his mind.
“I know what you’re thinking.” Sawyer’s voice was steadier now, calmer. As if he were attempting to calm a savage beast. Not far off probably. “You’re thinking she’s the victim again. She’s being taken advantage of. She’s got the worst luck known to man.”
The unspoken you poor, naïve sap was left off.
“You don’t know,” Michael said softly. “You can’t know. You don’t know her like I do.”
“You’ve seen one slice of her. I’ve known her for years. Hell, her own tennis coach just dumped her. They’ve trained together for years. Fucking years, Michael. And he’s done with her.”
“Gary?”
“What? No. Peter, her coach in Florida. He’s done. Washed his hands of her. Embarrassed as hell. Final straw. Insert several Russian curses here that I can’t pronounce.”
Michael let out a mirthless chuckle.
“If her own damn coach doesn’t believe her, why the hell should I? Why should you?”
Because I love her.
The thought shocked him. He’d known her less than three weeks. How could love have entered into the equation so quickly? How could his heart, always so cautious in the past, have made such a massive leap from zero to ninety in the blink of an eye?
Because… Kat. That was all it took. The right woman to come along and grab him by the balls, kick him off-balance and steal his heart. She’d done it effortlessly because of who she was.
His silence while he analyzed his heart’s desires clearly worried his agent.
“Aw, Jesus. You’re going soft, Lambert. You don’t let those baby Bobcats manipulate you. Is it because she’s got tits?”
“Fuck off, Sawyer,” he warned in a low voice. His hand was starting to throb viciously. He needed ice.
He needed Kat.
“Answer me this first. Who dragged whom into that office?” When Michael didn’t answer, Sawyer pressed. “Who instigated the whole sex-in-an-office thing? Who convinced whom the office was safe?”
Kat.
No.
He wasn’t going to let his agent poison him against her. She deserved better. “Drop her.”
“What?”
“Drop her. Or, you know what? You should let her have the satisfaction of firing you. She deserves an agent that isn’t going to be against her every step of the way.”
“Lambert, she’s sucked you in. I warned you about this.”
“She’s not some black fucking widow,” he snarled, feeling his insides clench. He needed to fight something. Someone. Why was there no outlet for his rage?
His hand chose that moment to throw pain up his arm.
Oh, right.
“You’re going to be ID’d eventually. It hasn’t happened yet, but within the hour someone is going to recognize you. It’s going to blow back on you.”
“Gotta go.” He hung up without a second thought and ignored the immediate call back from Sawyer. No, he only had eyes for one contact.
She answered on the first ring. “Hi.”
Her voice was tight, and he barely heard her.
“Kat,” he breathed. “Kat, did Sawyer—”
“Yeah.�
�� She swallowed audibly. “Yeah, he told me. Michael…”
Neither said a word.
Then the doubt crept in. Like a termite gnawing faithfully through a thick block of wood, he heard Sawyer’s voice.
She’s sucked you in. I warned you about this.
“I’m sorry,” she said on a sob.
Who instigated the whole sex-in-an-office thing? Who convinced whom the office was safe?
“It’s not your fault.” The words sounded unnatural, not his voice.
“No,” she said slowly, “it’s not. But this stuff keeps happening to me. Just when I thought…”
You’re thinking she’s the victim again. She’s being taken advantage of. She’s got the worst luck known to man.
Her breath shuddered out. And he wanted her to say it. Finish the sentence. Know what she thought.
“It’s probably best if I take off,” she finally said, her voice small and a little… scared.
And though he wanted to say something, he couldn’t.
He didn’t believe her. Oh, he’d said it, but that voice wasn’t Michael’s. Not really. That was the voice of someone trying to keep the peace. Placating, making everything seem fine until you could handle the crazy situation at a later date.
“You don’t believe me.”
“That’s not…” He sighed, and she read between the lines.
“I get it, Michael. Two strikes, right? How could lightning strike twice in the same way?”
“Kat, that’s not what—”
“Did I bring it on myself? Is that the party line? Or maybe you’re thinking I actually did it. That I set it up.” Tears clogged her throat, but she shoved them down. Shoved them back. She had walked right into this. “I get it. You’ve got things going on, all those mentoring possibilities… can’t be tainted with the scandal.”
“Kat.” His voice was rough, like he was forcing back some emotion.
Probably disgust.
“It might not even come out that it’s you,” she said, noting her voice was tight. Hysterical almost. “Maybe the lawyers can get some sort of injunction and you’ll be kept completely out of it. I’ll leave town tonight, and it won’t be connected to you, and—”
“I believe you.”
Those three words sucked the breath out of her, and she collapsed onto the desk chair.
Michael waited, then waited some more. “Kat?”
“Yeah.”
Her voice was almost childlike, and it scared him. “Kat. You’ve got to straighten that spine.”
“I know.” But her voice was weak. “You believe me.”
He hated that he’d doubted her even for a single second. That it had even crossed his mind to doubt. That he’d let their former agent—because no way could Michael stay with Sawyer now either—worm his way in and plant the seeds of disbelief.
And he’d never let it happen again.
“I don’t just believe you, Kat. I love you.”
He let that soak in for a moment.
No reaction.
Okaaaaay. Not how he’d envisioned saying those three big words, but they were out there, so time to push forward. “How could I love someone who would do that? I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. You didn’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this, and it’ll all be okay.”
“You’re going to be found out. Cut ties,” she said bluntly. “Don’t walk into this trap. I’m serious. Bad news follows me like gnats on rotten fruit.”
“Don’t talk like that about my girlfriend,” he said in a mocking growl, but it didn’t elicit the chuckle he was going for. “My lawyer is going to be calling you here in a bit. I’ll text you his contact info so you know to answer the phone. Don’t answer unless it’s me or my lawyer.”
“Why not use my lawyer?” A bit of her feisty fire was back, and he relished it.
“Do you have a lawyer?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then we use mine. He’ll be yours too.”
“Michael, your mentoring. Your camp…”
“Let me worry about that. This isn’t going to stop anything. Watch me.”
“What would you tell one of your mentees if they were in your place?”
“I’d tell them to fight like hell and don’t lose the girl.”
She sighed, and he could almost picture her closing her eyes in resignation. “You won’t let me save you from this, will you?”
“Nope.” He felt damn near cheerful now. He always felt like that when he sensed a challenge coming on… at least on the field. This time the challenge wasn’t a linebacker but a video and a scandal. And maybe Kat, trying to be selfless by stepping away when what he needed most from her was to cling closer.
He flexed his sore hand, the one he’d used to punch the wall, and relished the feel of pain.
Bring it on.
Chapter 25
Kat’s bags were packed before she heard from the lawyer. He’d been brisk, seemingly undaunted by the whole thing. God only knew what that meant. He’d either seen worse or trained himself to pretend like it. What a career he must have.
He’d asked her to go stay somewhere else for the night, just in case. She decided a hotel was a bad idea—not to mention expensive if she didn’t want to end up in a dump. So she called Gary.
Which was how she ended up on his sofa two hours later, drinking a bottle of water and sitting in silence while the clock ticked. Gary sat in the armchair beside the couch, looking a bit weary.
“So you’re… having sex in this video.”
“No.” Somehow she’d been spared that much humiliation this time. But… “It’s pretty suggestive though.”
“Hmm.” Gary sat back, unusually subdued compared to the festive green and orange hummingbird shirt he wore. “And this is at the tennis center.”
“Yes.” Her face burned with embarrassment. “Gary, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It never… I never meant… I didn’t…” She scrubbed at her face and swallowed a sob. “Sorry.”
“I assume you didn’t set this up. Did the big guy do it?”
She looked up sharply. “No. Definitely not. He’s pissed for me.”
“Good.” Her coach nodded once, looking pleased. “He didn’t strike me as the type to pull that sort of stunt. Keep him.”
“I shouldn’t,” she muttered, then shrugged when Gary raised a brow. “What? I’m a walking disaster. I should let him go. Give him a chance to escape with his reputation intact. He’s got a name for mentoring. He has these plans for an amazing camp for kids who can’t afford…” Her breath hitched at the thought of all those lovely, beautiful plans that would benefit so many boys. “What if nobody wants to send their kids to his camps because of this?”
“Then there are a lot of stupid mothers in this country.”
Kat snorted before she could catch herself. “I should get out of here. Spare him the embarrassment.”
“I’m disappointed.”
She blinked at that. Gary hadn’t moved a muscle, but frustration radiated off him. “What?”
“When that first tape released—”
“I didn’t release that.”
“Did I ask?” He waited while she shook her head. “When that first tape released, you fought back. You told the truth even if nobody else believed you didn’t do it. And you fought back by letting your behavior swing the opposite direction. I’ll be what they think I am. I’ll show them.”
How… Kat sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. Of course Gary would have known. Would have sensed. “So?”
“So… you could have slinked away. Found some dark hole to lick your wounds in, occasionally poking your head out to see what the weather was like. You stayed active, you stayed out there. Why quit now? Why walk away because things are tough? Too old? Too tired?”
“I’m not too tired,” she bit out.
“Do you love him?”
“Yes, I… yes.” She nodded and clenched her fists in her lap. “I love him. So what if the best thing for him is to dista
nce him from this?”
“He’s going to get pulled in regardless. No way people aren’t already trying to figure out whose head they’re seeing the back of. Add that in to the fact that you’ve been spending time with Lambert thanks to the auction stunt last week… they’ll know before dinner,” was his final prediction.
“Great.”
“So stand with him. It’s a video of two adults, in a private office, your office. Clothes still on… right?” he added hopefully.
“Yes.” At least at that point. The video suspiciously cut out before anything further happened. Thank God for small favors.
“Then this will blow over. It’s not a thing. You give me the date, I’ll check the security footage, we’ll figure out who was in the building and could have done this. That’ll at least clear the part where people assume you released it for attention.”
Kat didn’t know what to say. Her coach—the only coach that mattered—believed her. Her… boyfriend? Whatever Michael was, he believed her. They were the only ones who mattered.
Fighting through the emotions clogging her throat, she managed to say, “Thank you.”
“Until then, I’ve got a daybed in the guest room. I can’t promise it’s comfortable, but you’re welcome to it.”
She nodded, unable to speak as a tear rolled down her cheek.
Gary stood, and she stood with him. “I’d hug you, but… I don’t do that crap.” The gruff statement made her laugh, which only allowed a few more tears to spill out. “Go get your suitcase and take it to the back bedroom on the right. And don’t argue about dinner. It’s chicken and broccoli. Good for you.”
“Yes, sir,” she managed with a smile and had a brief moment of hope invade the darkness.
“It’s like a goddamn Greek tragedy. Every season. Every freaking season, I get to deal with this.” Simon Poehler, head of PR for the Bobcats, slid down onto a chair in the small conference room they’d snagged in the Los Angeles hotel. “Could we maybe get through one season without having someone do something insane for a change? That would be nice.”
Michael sat silently, knowing Simon would finish when he finished. He was a blowhard, and a bit too full of himself… but he was also damn good at his job. A shark, Cassie had called him before. A shark in a bespoke suit. Fitting description.
Challenging the Center (Santa Fe Bobcats) Page 23
