Filthy Player

by Stacey Lynn

  “I need a drink.” I leaned in, hissing. “You’ve freaked me out, I can barely stand up straight, thanks to you, and I didn’t have time prepare to meet your only family. Plus,” I circled my face with my finger, “I have this freshly-fucked look going on and I need to chill out.”

  He leaned against the doorframe during my rant and grinned. “You can barely stand up straight? Legs shaking too bad?”

  I tossed the Q-tip into the trashcan. “I’m freaking out!”

  “I know, crazy. It’s funny. Seriously, it’s Shannon. And as far as your freshly-fucked look, do you know how many times I’ve shown up at their place to see her looking the same? It’s about time I got my payback.”

  I had no way to respond to that.

  Nothing. This man was the biggest ninny I’d ever met.

  “Beaux,” I said, warning him.

  He stepped back. Wise choice. “I have sauvignon blanc and pinot noir. What would you prefer?”

  “Red, please.” A rush of breath fell from my lips, shoving my shoulders down. “And thank you.”

  “No need. I grew up with Shannon. I know how to calm down psycho.”

  He skedaddled quickly, giving me no time to retort and by the time he returned, I was working on calming down.

  I still drank half the glass in one large gulp.

  ***

  I had nothing to worry about. Damn Beaux for not only being a sexy beast in bed but for always being right. Well, mostly always right.

  I was sure he’d been wrong a time or two at some point in his life.

  Still, Shannon and Oliver showed up at Beaux’s place approximately five seconds after I finished my first glass of wine and they came with three large plastic bags of carryout.

  She’d dropped the bags in her hand to her feet when she saw me and threw herself at me so hard, I went back a step. “I’m so glad to meet you,” she’d exclaimed. She shook me like a rag doll and pulled back, grinning. “I was going to come to your suite today but I didn’t want to scare you. But I insisted we have dinner tonight since they’re gone next week again. Oliver and Beaux have told me so much about you. Any girl who’s willing to dump a bucket of ice on my brother is a-okay in my book.”

  “Uh,” I ‘d said, my gaze flying to Beaux.

  “See?” he’d said. “I know how to deal with psycho.”

  “Shut your pie-hole,” Shannon had snapped. “I’m being friendly.”

  “You’re scaring the bejeezus out of her, babe,” Oliver had said. He’d pulled his fiancée into his hold and with his free hand, held it out to me. “Nice to see you again, Paige. Your dad like the game today?”

  “Well, you won, so yeah.”

  “Glad I could make that happen for him.”

  “You?” Beaux had cried out, aghast. “You made it happen?”

  “Again,” Oliver had said, ushering Shannon into the kitchen, not looking at Beaux. “I’m so glad you and I have come to an agreement on things.”

  “Smug little son of a bitch,” he growled. His face was twisted with such confused aggravation I burst out laughing.

  Like sheep, we followed them into the kitchen, Beaux wrapping his arm around my lower back as he guided me there. Shannon had made herself at home, pulling out plates and silverware, while Oliver unloaded the carry out containers.

  They lined everything up, we filled our plates, Beaux gave Shannon and me more wine while he and Oliver stuck to water, and then we sat down at his dining table and ate.

  And talked.

  And laughed.

  It took me about twenty-two point two seconds to not only stop being nervous around Shannon but to absolutely fall in love with her.

  She was a bit loud, a lot crazy, insanely in love with her fiancé, and fiercely protective of her brother. That came about when she started bitching about comments he’d already received on Instagram.

  Oliver had turned to her and asked, “Why don’t you get this worked up about people saying shit about me?”

  “Please,” she’d winked, “you’re a grown man. You can handle yourself.”

  “And what the hell am I?” Beaux had asked.

  “My little brother.” Her expression showed she meant every word, and I knew we’d get along perfectly. Because I loved that Beaux, even if he was technically a grown man, had someone like that in his life.

  They left shortly after dinner, claiming they didn’t want to stay out too late and it was already closing in on ten, and they still had to drive back to their house outside Raleigh quite a distance.

  As soon as Beaux had closed and locked the door behind them, engaged his security panel, he picked me up, flung me over his shoulder and carried me to bed.

  Where we stayed for hours.

  Not sleeping until much, much, later.

  ***

  Life moved quickly over the next few weeks.

  The Rough Riders were leading the league, undefeated, surprising no one.

  I saw Beaux when I could, sometimes going to his place, sometimes him hanging out at mine with my dad and me. He stayed the night with me, despite my quiet protests he shouldn’t with my dad there.

  He’d laughed at me and carried me to my room saying, “Your dad likes me, so I think we’re past the concern of him shooting me. And it’s not like he doesn’t know we sleep together when you’re at my place.”

  Still, I kept the physical contact to either the bathroom or above the waist in the bed.

  No girl wanted to have her dad hear her having an orgasm. With as effectively and powerfully as Beaux delivered them, it would have happened.

  One Saturday when Beaux had left for an out of state game, Dad, Melanie, and I went to eat dinner at Ride’Em Rough. As much as I had been enjoying the freedom of having a life again, I was also missing Hannah and my job there. Unfortunately, she wasn’t working when we went in and I made a mental note to check in on her.

  Sure the uniform sucked, getting ass-grabbed and propositioned every ten minutes wasn’t my favorite thing in the world, but while things were going well at the garage, the looming hospital bills I knew were coming from Dad’s surgery and recent hospital stay were already stressing me out.

  We had decent insurance but even then, the bills were going to be astronomical.

  I’d rested and spent time with Beaux like he’d wanted to have happen when he hired Melanie.

  That didn’t mean I didn’t still have additional responsibilities.

  And after our dinner the night at Ride’Em Rough, I talked to Paulie about returning in another week.

  “About damn time,” he scolded me. “You’re lucky I haven’t replaced you yet.”

  I leaned in and kissed his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart, Paulie, you know that?”

  He’d growled at me. “Get out of here before I change my mind.”

  I hurried away but grinned the entire time. He blustered and puffed out his chest, but deep down even if he wouldn’t admit it, Paulie was a big ol’ softie.

  Dad wasn’t only healing from his surgery and his leg, but his paralysis was continuing to improve. It was something we’d always known could happen, but with the additional therapy Melanie provided during the day, he was now spending more days out of his wheelchair than he ever had before.

  Then he gained a different cast and crutches to use to hobble around the house, and Melanie was becoming less of a constant necessity. She took him to physical therapy appointments several days a week, but now that he was more mobile again and off his pain meds, she usually only stayed a few hours in the afternoon and overnights when I wasn’t there.

  I was beginning to feel guilty Beaux was basically paying for her to be our friend.

  When I mentioned it to both of them, they told me to be quiet and enjoy the help.

  So I stayed quiet.

  The garage business was picking up.

  I assumed that had something to do with customers who had several times spotted Beaux leaving there when he stopped by to see me either over lunch or af
ter he was done with practice. Candid pics had hit the Internet after that and made the rounds on fan sites and Instagram and Facebook.

  I wasn’t aware of it until Mike shoved his phone into my face when I showed up to work one morning wondering why we had fifteen cars lined up for oil changes and maintenance. That particular morning, all our customers were beautiful women, around my age, wearing a lot less clothing than I ever did and who had clearly spent a lot more time on their makeup.

  I tried to forget the bitchy comments about my ass being fat or being too ugly for him.

  I never spent much time caring what people thought and I was trying not to let it bother me. The fact I could be found doing squats and lunges and eating salads after that meant nothing.

  Overall, life was good. I had help. I had a guy I was falling ass over kettle for. I was in love with Beaux Hale, had been falling in love with him for weeks by the time I realized it but was too chickenshit to say anything.

  My dad was healing not just from his broken leg but his stroke, regaining strength every day.

  I had new friends. A social life. Even Shannon and I spent some time together occasionally and when the guys were gone, she would come and watch the game with Dad and me.

  Life was better than good.

  It was perfect.

  But like so often when you were riding the top of the wave, enjoying the freedom and exhilaration of beautiful scenery, at some point, you had to crash into the dark water below.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  BEAUX

  “Hey, Beaux. Do you have a couple minutes?”

  I paused as Shelly, one of our main PR reps grabbed my attention. I was in the training facility where we practiced. I’d gone upstairs afterward to talk with our marketing department about scheduling a photo shoot.

  “No problem, Shelly. What’s up?” I slid my hands in the pockets of my jeans.

  “Come into my office.”

  She backed up and I followed her in. Shelly was in her late forties, married to the same guy since she was eighteen. She had two grown children and already had three grandchildren. Typically, she was full of smiles and laughter and had a friendly attitude with everyone.

  Her serious demeanor gave me pause.

  I closed the door to her office. “What is it?”

  “I’d debated sharing some things with you. It’s probably nothing, but regardless, I think you should know. And, before you say anything, I’ve already spoken with security.”

  Security? A cold chill pricked the back of my neck. Only one reason for security in this life.

  “What happened?” I demanded. “And who? Me? Shannon?”

  “No. Paige.” I fell into the chair behind me and Shelly pulled out three letters in plastic bags from an envelope. “As you know, we have our interns go through your fan mail. Don’t get much of it anymore, not handwritten letters with technology the way it is, but these started coming in.”

  I ripped them out of her hands.

  The first letter seemed like every other sort of weird fan I’d been getting messages about since I was in college.

  I love you Beaux Hale. You’re the best man in the entire world.

  Your new girlfriend doesn’t deserve you. She’s ugly and broke and you can do so much better.

  It went on. A bunch more nonsensical rambling, but it was the date that turned my blood cold.

  Early September.

  “This is one week after I met Paige,” I said more to myself than Shelly.

  “That’s what made me worried enough to save the first one.”

  I scanned the other letters, fury and fear fighting in my brain giving me a headache. All my muscles tensed.

  You will never be happy with her.

  She will ruin you.

  I will always be here for you.

  I will always love you.

  Get rid of her.

  More threatening, more angry. It wasn’t the typed letter that was the worst.

  It was the photo she’d scanned into the last letter of Paige standing outside Halloway Motors. Hands on her hips, sunglasses covering her eyes. Her standard skinny jeans and work shirt.

  Smiling at Mike, her head thrown back in laughter.

  I had no idea when that photo was taken, but the letter was dated four days ago so it had to be recent.

  “Holy shit.” I rubbed my chest. The pain didn’t go away. My heart was pounding.

  “She’s following her?”

  “Like I said, Beaux, we’ve notified security. They’re going to be here soon to look over these with local police. I think it needs to be looked into.”

  “Looked into? This crazed nut job is stalking my girlfriend.” I waved the last letter in Shelly’s face. “At her family’s garage.”

  “I know you’re worried, Beaux. But don’t forget this happens all the time. It could be nothing.”

  My common sense fizzled. Visions of Paige spread out, sleeping on my bed, curling into me at night flashed in my mind. Her smiling and laughing over dinner. Drinks with her girlfriends, coming to me tipsy and dropping to her knees with that smile still in place. Taking care of her father with all the sweet patience I’d ever seen.

  Could be nothing, my ass.

  “I want someone on her. Even if I have to hire a security guard myself. She needs a driver and someone on her at all times.”

  Paige would kick me in the nuts for it. I didn’t care.

  I had athletic cups I could wear when I told her.

  “How about we wait until we speak with the police and see what they recommend?”

  “Oh. I’ll be talking to them, but I want it anyway.”

  There were private security firms we’d used before. I already had a couple of numbers. Jaxon Hayes was my next phone call.

  “When are the police coming?”

  “Any minute,” she said, checking her watch. “Until they get here, I have something else to talk to you about.”

  “Jesus. Something good, please.”

  She laughed at my joke, but I didn’t. I couldn’t get the photo of Paige out of my head. It was one thing for a professional athlete to be photographed, even though it was rare. It was a completely different thing for my girlfriend to be noticed by a stalker within days of me being with her. Which meant the woman had been stalking me first, then moved on to Paige.

  Terrifying freaking nut jobs in the world and all of it slammed against my brain, I barely paid attention to Shelly as she asked me to do an interview.

  “Who?” I asked, even though I know she’d already said it.

  “Curt Banner,” she replied. Her eyes were soft, her faint smile even more so. She knew I wasn’t listening to her and had no problems repeating herself.

  Something about that guy always rubbed me the wrong way. He’d played defensive end for the Dolphins back when they were winning division championships. He’d also been a player in his day, three different marriages, rumors for decades about multiple women on the side.

  His interviews didn’t just stick to the sport or the game. He got personal. He was also the highest rated sportscaster on ESPN.

  “Two weeks, right before you play Seattle.”

  “Hyping up the re-match?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Fine.” Banner was a jerk but I had other, more important things on my mind. I’d keep his questions to the game and that was it.

  ***

  I walked out of the training facility feeling a thousand times worse than I had when I arrived.

  Agent Joe Spellman, an investigator with the Raleigh PD, had come, talked to Shelly and I about the letters and he’d taken them with him for evidence. Although he’d also told me most people were smart enough not to leave fingerprints on things like this.

  Which made me feel like pummeling my fist through a wall.

  Stadium Security who came with him told me they’d provide additional security for Paige and myself when we were in the buildings or on Rough Rider property, but they couldn’t watc
h her personally.

  Which made me feel like throwing a chair across Shelly’s office.

  Basically, there was nothing we could do yet. Wait and see. Let the crazy lady keep following Paige or myself.

  Which meant I was already on the phone with Jaxon Hayes by the time I reached my truck.

  “Beaux Hale,” I said as soon as his assistant Charlie answered the phone. “How are you, Charlie?”

  “Better than you are probably.”

  “What have you heard?”

  “Nothing,” the feisty blonde replied. She’d worked for Jaxon for six years. I’d only known her for one but we’d met several times. “But no one calls for Jaxon on a good day.”

  “Right.” My tone was clipped. “Need his help. Or someone else’s but I’ll make it worth his while to take this on for me. Does he have time to meet?”

  Clicking sounds came through the phone line. “He’s got a short opening at three. What’s it about?”

  “Some fan stalking me and my girlfriend.”

  Dead silence hit me and I looked at my screen to see if the call dropped.

  “Charlie?”

  “Uh, yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. You said girlfriend? I’m talking to Beaux Hale, right?”

  I laughed, despite the shitty day and my shittier mood. “Yeah. You heard me. We just had a meeting with Spellman with Raleigh PD and stadium security. Someone’s following her. I think it started with me and now whoever this whacko is, has photos of Paige.”

  “Paige,” she whispered. I rolled my eyes. “Pretty name.”

  “Pretty girl,” I said. Because Charlie was good at her job and feisty but I had a feeling she could be a major pain in the ass, too. “I’ll be there at three.”

  “I’ll let Jaxon know.”

  I said goodbye and hung up. Leave it to Charlie to treat this more like a lunch date than a serious issue. Although, based on what she saw and heard on a weekly basis, this was probably nothing to her. Jaxon Hayes used to be a special agent with the FBI and before that he was special ops military. His client list was distinguished, at least the ones he was allowed to share he worked for. It was the fact he had a list of clients he couldn’t talk about that made me confident he was the guy for this job.