Wrapped Up: A Triple Threat Sports Romance

by Lexi Cross

  The man at the desk held a hand to his ear. “How much money do you need?” he asked. I wondered what the gesture was all about, then realized Joe probably spoke into the man’s ear through a device. He didn’t take any chances.

  “Five thousand dollars.” The words sounded heavy as they left my mouth. My friend in the suit chuckled.

  “A lot of money,” he pointed out.

  “I need a lot of money. You said you didn’t want to hear the sob story, so I guess you’ll have to believe I need it very badly.”

  “Lady, nobody comes here unless they need something very badly.” He sneered. His words, and the tone in which he delivered them, made me shiver.

  “Am I a good candidate for a loan, then? Do I qualify?” I looked up at the camera, staring straight into it. I wanted him to see I wasn’t afraid. I was terrified, actually, but he didn’t need to know that.

  The guard held a hand to his ear again, listening closely. “Yeah, you qualify.” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Before you give me the money, I need to know about the terms of repayment.”

  He laughed. “You’re sharp. Most people don’t think to ask about that.” He leaned toward me, hands folded. “Joe wants one thousand dollars a week, starting a month from now.”

  I thought fast. One month. That was almost no time. I had nobody to ask for the money, or else I wouldn’t be there. Would that be enough for me to find a grand?

  “Keep in mind,” the guard said, “if he doesn’t get his money on time, he adds interest. But he likes you. He doesn’t usually let people wait a whole month before they start repaying.”

  “That’s nice to hear.” I did what I could to keep the sarcasm from my voice. I’d always been accused of being a smartass, and I made no excuses for myself. I didn’t think it would be appreciated in the present circumstances, though.

  The man stood, and I gulped at the size of him. He reminded me of a redwood tree, tall, thick, the sort of person it would take a lot of effort—or large-gauge ammo—to take down. He didn’t say a word before walking out of the room, through a door near his desk. I wondered if that was where they stored the money. How did they manage to keep it safe? I realized I didn’t want to know.

  He came back, tossing an envelope into my lap. “There.”

  I blinked. “As simple as that?”

  “As simple as that.”

  How would they find me if I didn’t repay the money? Another thing I didn’t want to know. I’d already told him my name. It was probably enough. Besides, I had no intention of letting myself fall behind. I stuffed the envelope into my purse without bothering to count the money—I didn’t want to insult them—and nearly ran for the door.

  “Hold on a sec.” Damn it. I closed my eyes, knowing there had to be a catch. “Just remember, my boss has ways of getting his money back when he wants it. You don’t look like the type who borrows cash like this all the time. You better be ready to pay back when the time comes.

  “I will be.” I turned to him, giving him the closest I could get to a smile. “I promise.”

  “We don’t want your promises. We want money.” I took that as a dismissal, so I nodded and hightailed it out of there. I could hardly breathe, my heart raced so fast. I was afraid I might pass out until I reached the outdoors again, breathing deeply of the cold, clean air. I could have danced for joy. I finally had money. The thought of heat and food and security was enough to push aside the fear which took root when I wondered how the heck I would get my hands on the money.

  ***

  “Where’s the money you owe my boss?”

  My eyes flew open wide. I’d been watching my back for days, unable to make the first payment on the loan. I knew somebody would be coming for me, I just didn’t know when or how. I’d only been walking out of the corner store with a bag of food when a thug in black clothing had accosted me, cornering me against the front stairway of an apartment building. He wedged me between the stairs and the front wall.

  I stammered, tripping over my tongue. “I don’t have the whole thousand. I had a second interview for a job, but it fell through.”

  “My boss don’t give a shit if your interview fell through. He wants his money. And now that you’re a week late, he wants interest. So you owe fifteen hundred.” He sneered, then added, “That’s not counting the next thousand, either. You know, the money you owe today.”

  My eyes widened. “Twenty-five hundred?”

  “Starting tomorrow, it’ll be that, plus half of that.” I knew he couldn’t do the math. I didn’t need him to. I was drowning in debt to a loan shark. What had I been thinking? Yes, having the bills paid was nice and everything, but not when it resulted in threats of violence.

  “Like I said, I thought I was good for it. I really did. I was almost sure this job was going to come through, and then…”

  “I don’t wanna hear your bullshit stories, and neither does my boss.” The man was thin, wiry, but there was tension in every part of him. Violence, just waiting to be unleashed. On me. Steel gray eyes blazed, burning into mine.

  “I’m sorry. I am. Look, I still have a couple hundred left over from what he gave me. I can give that to you now.”

  “He doesn’t want your couple hundred bucks. He wants what you agreed to pay him.” The man moved closer, and I pressed myself into the corner to get as far away as possible. I held the bag of groceries in front of me, a sort of desperate shield, but he batted it away. I shrieked, watching as the milk carton and eggs burst on hitting the pavement.

  “Gimme the money.”

  “I don’t have it! How can I give you something I don’t have?” My eyes darted back and forth, looking over his shoulders, hoping somebody would come by and help me. It wasn’t very late at night, so there should’ve been foot traffic. The cold kept people indoors, though.

  He snarled, and I whimpered with fright. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him raise a fist. I flinched, throwing my hands up over my face, squeezing my eyes shut. I managed to get out a single scream.

  Then, a cry of surprise. My eyes flew open to find my attacker grappling with a second man. There was no room for me to get by—if there had been, I would’ve run like the wind, groceries or no groceries. All I could do was watch helplessly as they struggled.

  My savior landed a sharp, clean blow to the would-be attacker’s nose, sending him staggering back into a row of trash cans. He went reeling backward over them, then groaned, too dazed to get to his feet.

  I let out a shaky sob of relief. “Thank you so much—” The words died in my throat when my savior turned, meeting my gaze. Fear greater than even that which I’d felt before rose in me, blotting out everything. All I saw were those incredibly sapphire blue eyes. I would’ve known them anywhere.

  “Well, if it isn’t my ex-wife,” Grayson growled. “Long time no see, Jess.”

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  Other Books by Lexi Cross

  Click on the cover below to check out the book!

  Left for Dead

  A taste of poison is deadly. A taste of me is a whole lot worse.

  She found me on the side of the road.

  I would've bled to death if it wasn't for her.

  The bastards who tried to kill me had come real damn close.

  But she picked me up, carried me home, nursed me back to health.

  Big mistake.

  How could she miss it? How didn't she see?

  I'm a walking virus, a natural disaster.

  Death and violence follow me like a second shadow.

  The right thing to do would have been to leave me where I was.

  To let me die a dog's death — hell, I probably deserved it.

  She didn't, though, and it's too late for regret.

  Already, my past has co
me roaring back with a vengeance.

  We don't have much time left.

  I should send her packing.

  Run, silly girl! Get out while you still can. My enemies are coming…

  But something deep inside won't let me.

  I had a taste of Sophia, and now, I can't get enough.

  I want to claim her, ravage her until her cries shatter windowpanes.

  And I won't take no for an answer.

  I'm here, baby. I'm never leaving again.

  If you didn't want me — well, too bad.

  You should have left me for dead.

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