“What? She kissed the guy.”
“On the cheek, son. On the cheek. Women casual kiss all the time. Like you and your cousins.”
I take another glance at the photo on my phone.
“She’s smiling too much.” Even to me, I sound like a petulant preschooler.
“She was probably letting off some steam. How long ago was this?”
“A few weeks.”
“Don’t tell me. You didn’t talk to her about it?” He sighs heavily, the way he’s done since I was a kid and fucked up royally.
“I need to focus on football.”
“Yeah, you do, but then what, Jack? A girl like her comes around only once in a lifetime.”
I grunt. “I got plenty of women throwing hotel keys at me.”
“Uh huh. You want them, son?”
“No sir.”
“Call her, right now. Do it. You’ll feel better.”
“I doubt if she’ll take my call.”
“Good God, have someone do it for you.”
“I’ll see. Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m expecting you to come out on top in the forty.”
“I’ll do my best.” I hang up, piss in a cup, and screw on the lid.
I can’t believe when I exit the bathroom and Shannon is there.
“Think you could buy me off that easily?” He grins all- snakelike.
I glance around the floor for Chris or Coach to run tackle but they’re nowhere in sight.
I guess I’m on my own so I push him aside. “Get lost. CJ paid you off.”
“It doesn’t work like that, kid. Let me introduce you to your new agent, Dale.”
I thought my first agent was slimy but his pal oozes primordial scum. More used car-salesman than agent, shifty eyes narrow under heavy brows. His hair is perfect, teeth white, and he wears a suit more suited for the front cover of GQ magazine. A flat gold chain hangs around his neck which matches the watch band with a diamond studded face.
“Nice to meet-cha.” He reaches out a hand with as many rings as fingers.
Shannon leans in. “Kid, I like ya so I’m gonna do this favor and I’m only gonna tell you this once. You take on this agent and you keep your fucking mouth closed or the pink haired girl is going to find herself in real trouble. Understand?”
My fists tighten and I picture taking him down but not here, not at the Combines. I nod but this isn’t over, not by a longshot.
“I got someone watchin’ you so don’t try anything stupid. Your coach? He’s got a pretty wife and three kids. I’m just saying…”
“I won’t do anything.”
CJ was supposed to find me a new agent. Hopefully, when he hears I’ve hired someone, he won’t delve too deep. I can’t put his family at risk.
After Dale leaves, I step back into the bathroom and latch the door. In the back of my sweats I’ve got a hidden pocket. I take out a miniature burner flip phone and text Star.
Me: It’s me, Jacks. 911. Pick up.
“What’s wrong?” She doesn’t even say hello.
“You need to hire a bodyguard, right now. Get one for Coach’s wife and the kids, too.”
Someone raps on the door, then Dale says, “They’re askin’ for youz.”
I flush, turn on the water, and shout out the door. “I’ll be right out.”
“Shit. I understand. Go. I got this. I love you.” She hangs up.
~~
After speaking with Jackson, I grab my overnight bag. It’s already pre-packed with cosmetics and essentials. Then, I add a few outfits, none of them suitable for Vegas. I’ll have to shop when I get there. On the way to the airport, I book the next flight out and find a hotel. I cringe at the dent it will make in my trust fund but so be it. Jackson needs me.
I arrive at the gate just as an earlier plane is boarding. When I ask if there’s any seats, they find me one on first class, of course at yet another exorbitant cost.
Credit card smoldering, I board. As I wait for takeoff, I call Kira and share Jackson’s strange request.
“Where are you?” She seems pretty calm, considering.
“Heading to Vegas. I’m supposed to hire some protection for myself, too, but I don’t even know where to start.”
“Hang on, I’m going to give the phone to Jack. He’s mine.”
“You have a bodyguard? What the fuck is going on?” When she doesn’t answer, I assume she’s given the phone to someone else.
A bass voice sounds in my ear. “Ms. Johnson, this is Jack Taylor, Grayson Securities. Where are you and what kind of trouble are you in?”
“I just got a call from my fiancé, Jackson Farnsworth. He told me I needed protection and to get some for CJ Quinn’s wife and family.”
“I don’t suppose he gave a reason?”
“No but I can guess.” I explain everything from Jackson’s diabetes to how his creepy agent was fired.
“I’ll have someone waiting for you at the airport by the baggage claim. He’ll have your name on an iPad. Understand?”
“Okay. Thank you. I need to hang up now. The stewardess is giving me a dirty look.”
The woman waits for me to put my phone in airplane mode then pushes my seat in the upright position before moving on.
I try to rest on the plane but I’m so keyed up, I can’t even concentrate to watch the movie. When I close my eyes, my imagination runs wild with thoughts of kidnapping, killers and Kung-Fu.
When we touch down in Vegas, it’s the middle of the night. I’m wired from too much coffee and too little sleep. Zombie-like, I find the luggage area and as promised, a guy dressed like a limo driver in a cheap suit holds up a screen at the bottom of the escalator.
I reach out my hand, “I’m Star.”
“Nice to meet you.” He helps me off with my knapsack. “Is this it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” With a hand to my back, the huge guy ushers me out the door, across the street, and to the short term parking lot.
His eyes dart all over the place and his head swerves. With one hand cupping his ear, he talks into his chest. “I got her.”
He opens the door of a dark SUV, jumps in the front, and takes off. “Where you staying?”
“The Tuscany.”
“Okay. Got it.” He turns out of the airport and onto a desert highway. Even at this late hour, traffic is heavy.
“I’m Suds. Want to tell me what’s going on?”
Again, I explain as best I can. “… I really don’t know any more than that.”
“Seems to me you’d be safer back at college than Vegas.”
“My guy needs me.”
“CJ says he’s a decent guy.”
“Yeah, he is.” He’s also hard-headed, opinionated, and jumps to wrong conclusions. Other than that, he’s perfect.
A shiver runs down my back when this bodyguard checks us into the hotel room using a fake id. Inside our room, he settles down on the couch after putting some kind of device into the door jamb.
At my questioning look, he says. “Key cards aren’t secure. Neither are bolts. That little device will keep us safe. I need some shuteye. I’ll take the couch.”
Despite his friendly demeanor, Suds is more than a little frightening. Still, I’m glad he’s on my side, or at least I hope he is.
~~~
Praying Star and CJ’s family are all safe, I try to swallow down some breakfast. A limo brings us to the Combine. TV cameras are everywhere and before I can get onto the field, a microphone is jammed into my face.
“Think you’ll win the forty?”
I look to Chris for clearance to answer the question and when he nods I answer with humility. “I’m going to do my best.”
All week long I’ve been hammered with advice on how to act, how to speak. I’m surprised they didn’t tell me how to take a piss.
I’m also supposed to act like a trained monkey in front of agents and owners. Fuck. Today, I’m not sure if it’s worth the bother, especially if it means I’m
to be owned by a crime syndicate.
I wish I could tell Coach but he’s got his hands full with Ryan. He’s expecting my trainer to deal with me.
When my new agent shows up, Chris scowls at him, then me. I don’t dare say anything, not until I’m sure everyone is safe.
As I stretch for the forty, I say a rare prayer. I’m no holy roller, God, but this good ol’ boy needs a break.
I place my fingertips into the dirt, coil every muscle, and hyper-focuses until my universe shrinks. The gun sounds, I shoot forward, and I tap into energy I didn’t know I had.
My legs burn, my sneakers pound the surface and with the finish line in sight, I lean my chest forward.
At first, I think I blew it because Chris’ mouth is wide open as is almost everyone else’s.
Shit.
Then, he breaks into a wide grin. My brain is still in the weird slow motion thing it does when I’m in the zone and it takes a few seconds before I realize the whole fucking stadium is applauding.
There’s this number flashing on the big screen under a picture of me and people approach me from all sides until I’m surrounded.
“Jackson Farnsworth. What does it feel like to break the record?”
I stare at the mic in front of my mouth and look back up at the screen because the number can’t be right.
“Holy fu…nhouse.”
No cursing on national TV.
The guy from the Sports Channel chuckles. “You think the number is your ticket to the NFL?”
I’m glad Coach and Chris hammered ready-made phrases into my brain because it refuses to function.
“I did my best. I, ah… hope it’s good enough.”
Remember to smile. I glance up at the giant monitor where they’re showing me being interviewed.
The reporter blinds me with his toothy grin. “Well, I don’t think anyone will be beating that time soon.”
“No, sir.”
When it comes time for the high jump, again, no one comes close.
A little looser with the reporters, I joke around. “You can thank Ryan. He’s been throwing too high for four years. I had to learn to jump or I’d never grab his balls/throws?”
I wave at him watching close by. He’s favored by far to come out on top of the drafts but I’m up there, too.
At the end of the day, we shake hands and pat each other on the back.
It’d be a fucking perfect day except for the snake, Dale. No matter where I go, he slithers nearby waiting for me to say or do something wrong.
In the bathroom stall, I text Star, but still no answer.
Shit.
~~
Too late to buy stadium tickets, I watch from my hotel room with Suds. When Jackson breaks the record for the forty yard dash, I jump up and down and scream.
His time is a full second faster than any other at the Combine.
My bodyguard smirks. “That ought to find him a slot on a good team.”
“How does the draft work? Does he get to choose his team?”
“No. Basically, the last placed team gets to pick first but there’s a whole lot of trading that goes on behind the scenes. For example, if I get first dibs on a first rate quarterback but don’t need him, I might use him to trade him for someone else.”
“Wow. I had no idea… but Jackson is in, right?” I watch my man’s handsome face flash onto the screen and turn up the volume when a gray-haired reporter begins another interview.
Jackson’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright, and his perfect mouth smiling wide. Every ounce of my being reaches out to him.
Dammit, I love you.
“I need to see him.” I grab my coat and glare at Suds, raising his brows at me.
“I don’t think so, little lady.” He steps in front of the door. “From what you’ve said, your boyfriend is associatin’ with a pretty nasty crowd.”
“But you can keep me safe, right? That’s what you do?” I send him my puppy dog eyes and when they don’t seem to affect him I mutter. “Figures. A guy like you? Probably never been in love.”
I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.
His brows crease and he sighs. “You stay close. You hear?”
“Do you know why Jackson said I needed to call you?”
“Of course, it seems the syndicate didn’t take kindly to CJ’s intervention.”
“Why can’t you just, I don’t know, arrest them?” My sarcasm perhaps is over-the-top.
Suds scratches his head. “Ain’t so simple, Miss. You got to have proof and these guys know how to stay squeaky clean.”
“But…”
“Grayson Patten, the guy who owns our firm? He knows people who knows people. Dale Pierce is representing your man. He’s shadier than a big ‘ol elm tree.”
When he opens the door for me, I ask, “Where’re we going?”
“I suppose you’ll need to go shopping, and get dolled up. Then, we’ll roll some dice and see how things play out.” He winks and I grab my purse, anxious to hear his idea.
~~
I don’t know which was more grueling, the trials they put me through or the interviews after. When it’s all over, I’m in the draft’s top ten. I’m thrilled as hell except for two things. My agent is a cold-hearted snake and my girl fucking broke my heart.
Damn it, she’s better off without me. Fucking Chris and his fucking connections. He’s the one who got me into this.
I clench my fist, pace the small area in front of my bed, and tear open my last burner, a cheap flip-phone. It takes forever to type on the tiny keyboard but I find the number for the local FBI. I start to hit send, then look around the room. Every day the help comes in and moves shit around. What if someone placed a bug in my room?
I’m about to make millions of dollars a year and this Dale guy is going to own me. Anything is fucking possible and I need to be careful.
“You ready?” Dale opens my hotel door with the duplicate key card he insisted I give him.
Without letting him see, I stick my phone in my back pocket with the FBI’s number on speed dial, praying Star and CJ’s family are safe.
In the lobby I meet up with Chris, a few scouts, and some owners. Dale seems pretty buddy-buddy with these guys which does not bode well for the evening or my future. We walk a few blocks, pause at the Bellagio fountains, and enter a casino.
CJ and Ryan are at a blackjack table and I wave. I try to join them but Dale steers our group toward roulette and buys me some chips.
“I don’t gamble.” I glare at him.
“Why not? I’m staking you. It’s free.”
Yeah, right. Bastard.
I shoot him a grin and shrug because the scout from the Rams is watching me closely. These guys study everything from the lint inside my belly button to my great-grandmother’s middle name. Surely they know this dude is slime. Why then, are they willing to do business with him?
One of the draftees puts some chips on red and I choose a few odd numbers to start out with. I win a few chips and before Dale can object, I point to a table.
“Poker?”
~~
Dressed to the hilt, I saunter past Jackson as he leaves the rotating wheel. Feigning to wobble on extreme high heels, I catch his arm.
With my head facing the floor and my new hairstyle, he doesn’t recognize me until I turn. Then, his mouth drops open.
“Oh, thank you, sir.” I pray he understands what I’m trying to do.
His brows raise, and I hold my breath until his arm slips around my waist, his gaze to my ample cleavage.
Expensive diamonds on my wrists sparkle as I take his thick forearm. “I wouldn’t want to intrude on you gentlemen…”
“I insist.” Jackson’s mouth finds my ear. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
I whisper back. “Everyone is safe.”
His body relaxes but his face remains stony. I would say more but his weasel of an agent closes in on us.
“Can I buy you a drink?” His lecherous gaze sends c
hills down my spine.
“I got this.” Jackson moves me to his other side and says to the scouts, “I’m afraid my fiancé has played a little joke on us. This here is Star Johnson. She wanted to congratulate me, in person.”
~~
The three men shake Star’s hand while she shoots me a questioning gaze. This is obviously not how she wanted the evening to play out but the way everyone in the whole casino is looking at her, I want her tucked under my arm until I put her in my bed.
I play a few hands of poker, careful not to take chances. I need to be able to pay Dale back in full. God knows what kind of interest he’ll charge.
While I bet, the scouts give all their attention to Star.
One asks, “When are you two planning on getting married?”
“We haven’t talked dates, yet, have we hun?” Her pretty pink lips grin. “I’m going for my doctorate and he needs to concentrate on his career.”
“What school are you planning on attending?”
“Not sure. I haven’t said yes to anyone, yet.” She flutters her eyelashes.
“Are you waiting to see what team he’ll end up playing for?”
She blushes. “Something like that, yeah. It would be nice to be close.”
Well, hell. I wish she had let me in on some of this. Now, I don’t know whether to kiss her or kick her to the curb.
My personal scumbag rises, stretches, and says. “Ready to up the stakes?”
The other guys look at me and finally I get what this night is about. They all think I have a gambling problem. I let tension fill the air while I pretend to be mulling it over in my head.
Then, I stand, hand Dale back his chips, and grin. “You guys go ahead. I’m turning in. Ready, luv?”
There’s no way for my agent to back out so, for the first time since getting introduced, I’m free of him.
Outside, we’re met by a couple huge guys. Star introduces her bodyguard and the other one is none other than billionaire, Grayson Patten.
“I understand you’re in a bind.” He shakes my hand and points to a limo pulling up to the curb.
Before we get in, I need to know. “Is Coach’s family safe?”
Red Flag (FSCU Pitbulls Book 2) Page 16
