by KB Winters
Player
The Elite Part Four
By USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
KB Winters
Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Copyright and Disclaimer
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination and have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright ©2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Player - The Elite Part Four
Copyright and Disclaimer
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
More From KB Winters
Free Book Offer!
Acknowledgements
About The Author
Dedication
This book is dedicated to the brave men and women of our armed services who put their life on the line everyday to protect our freedom.
Thank you for your service.
~ KB
Chapter One
“Hey handsome, thanks for the good time.”
I grinned at the message scrawled across my bathroom mirror in pink lipstick. “I like your style,” I mused, rubbing a hand down my stubble coated jaw. I’d woken up minutes before, surprised to find an empty place in the tangled sheets beside me. The night before had been spent with a very…enthusiastic…blonde named Kimberly. I’d picked her up at a bar over a game of pool, and had her screaming my name before my buzz had fully evaporated. Afterward, I’d crashed out across the mattress before I could figure out the right exit strategy to get her in a cab back to her car. Wherever the hell it had been parked.
Apparently, she didn’t need any prodding.
With a grin still on my face, I got into the shower, and relived the highlight reel from the hot night. Those tits, damn. A man could get lost…
I stepped out, toweled off, and paused at the sink long enough to use the steam from the shower to scrub away the lipstick message with the corner of the towel in my hand. I stalked—bare ass naked—out into the bedroom, not caring that the blinds were up on the large picture windows, and went to my dresser. I dug through my drawers, and threw on the same damn thing I wore everyday. Jeans, tee, and my black leather jacket. It was comfortable, familiar, and worked to amplify my bad ass persona. I slid my work boots on and headed out the door.
A few minutes later, I was next door at the warehouse that occupied the majority of my property. The Rosen Air Museum. My inheritance. My business. My life. I strolled through the warehouse as everyone rushed around to open for another busy Saturday, nodding as my employees called out their morning hellos as I passed by.
“There you are!” Lana, my assistant, raced up to my side.
I glanced down at her clunky shoes, and for a brief moment, wondered if they were doctor ordered, or she just had a thing for big ass, grandma shoes. I thought about asking, but then thought again. I knew it’d be too cruel. Lana had a not-so-secret crush on me, and while I wasn’t even in the same realm of feelings, she was a good worker and I wouldn’t want to lose her over a crass joke about her fashion sense.
Or lack of.
“Damn girl, A crisis already? I haven’t even had my coffee.” I rolled my eyes.
“No, no. Nothing like that,” she assured me, batting her eye lashes up at me as she took two steps for every one of mine to keep pace with my long strides. “The F-4 is here!”
“Shit! Already?” How had I forgotten? Oh yeah, I remembered. Blonde. Tits. Ass made for spankin’…
Lana nodded furiously. “I called you earlier…”
My hand automatically went to pat the back pocket of my jeans. Shit. I’d left it over at the house. Or at the bar. Who knew? After the night I’d had, I was lucky I wasn’t reeling from a hangover. I’d thrown back a few more beers than I normally would have after my unsettling meeting with Talia.
“Do you think we could start over? I’d like to get to know you…”
Talia’s words came back to me and an uneasy feeling turned in the pit of my stomach. In hindsight, I’d been somewhat of an ass, and although I was still angry with her for her role in the O’Keefe scheme, I knew she wasn’t really the one I should be taking issue with. After all, without her warning, I would’ve walked into that meeting blindly. Even though I knew I wouldn’t have taken the deal, it was a big help to have the upper hand from the get go.
She wasn’t the real villain.
No, that honor lay with the pompous asshole Henry O’Keefe and his little band of spoiled cronies who wouldn’t take no for an answer and were more than willing to bend the rules until they broke—in their pursuit of whoever or whatever they had their eyes on.
In this case, my father’s museum.
My museum.
“They have some paperwork that needs to be signed,” Lana continued, her tone starting to grate on me.
“I’ll be out in the hangar in five,” I told her, cutting in before she could rattle off the rest of my to-do list for the day. I wasn’t ready for it all to be dumped on me just yet. I had just barely taken a sip of my first cup of coffee. “I need to go back to the house and get my phone.”
She sputtered a rebuttal, but I set my cup down and took off at an easy jog, out the front doors, and back across the gravel drive that separated my house from the museum. The property overlooked the Pacific Ocean from a bluff high above the coast, and down the steep ravine lay Holiday Cove, the sleepy little beach town that had become my home since the day my father passed away and left me in charge of the big ass estate.
I ran inside the bungalow style house, took the stairs two at a time, and searched my bedroom. I tore through the sheets and rummaged through the drawer of my bedside table. No phone. With a growl of frustration, I ran back through the memories of the night before, and with a laugh, I remembered that my antics with Kimberly hadn’t started in the bedroom…
I raced back down the stairs and found my discarded pile of clothes littering the living room floor where Kimberly had stripped them off. We’d crashed through the front door, ready to rock and roll, and ended up on the couch before making our way upstairs, both of us already naked as fuck. A rush of sensations crashed over me like high tidal waves when I remembered the sounds she’d made when I’d plowed into her against the wall next to the fireplace. Her thighs had gripped my hips tighter with each thrust and she’d torn my back up with her long fingernails.
With a shake of my head, I pulled myself from the steamy memories and found my jeans on the floor. My wallet and phone were still in their respective pockets, and I transferred them both to my fresh pair, before tossing the worn jeans back to the couch. I’d deal with it later.
I ha
d more important things to do today than laundry.
The F-4 was the fighter jet I’d won in an auction, and while the victory of winning it was slightly dampened after seeing the shit storm it had started with O’Keefe, I was still amped to get the beauty in my museum as the latest in a series of vintage finds that would bolster my already impressive collection. People were coming from all over the world to the sleepy little town, with the sole purpose of seeing the Rosen Air Museum. It was a project that was the perfect blend of passion and legacy.
My father had started the museum as a hobby, and I’d taken it on as my personal mission to grow it into something that would be around for a long time, even longer than I would be—if I played my cards right.
Of course, I had no intention of having any kids of my own, but I liked the idea of transforming into some kind of eccentric millionaire who could groom a replacement when I was on my way out of this world. It would be my Mr. Miyagi moment.
Which was exactly why I couldn’t let O’Keefe have his way and get his freshly manicured claws into it.
No way in hell
* * * *
“Ready for the finishing touch?” Lana asked, smiling up at me.
It took me a moment to figure out what she was referring to, but it came back as she produced a flat box. “The plaque,” I said, taking the package from her, my voice was thick with emotion, and suddenly, I wished she wasn’t standing so close. “Thanks.”
She’d already unsealed the tape around the end, so I could easily slip it open. I dumped out the bubble wrapped contents and unfolded a cherry wood plaque with a bronze plate on the front.
IN MEMORY OF JAMES M. ROSEN
THIS ONE’S FOR YOU DAD
I swallowed hard, pushing down the lump in my throat before it choked me. There had been a time in my life when I wouldn’t have been able to recall the last time I’d cried. However, since my dad’s passing, it was easy to pinpoint the last time I’d lost complete control.
It had cost me a lot more than just a few tears.
My last meltdown had cost me my Navy career.
I turned the plaque, letting the sunlight from the large windows shine across the polished, unblemished surface.
I cleared my throat. “All right, looks good. Once those guys are finished and the plane is put back together, I’ll order a fancy stand and set it right in front. Probably over there,” I pointed at the place in front of where the F-4 was now being set up in a prominent space. They’d taken the wings off for transport, and the moving crew was busy putting everything back in place. They had roped off the space and were busy getting the F-4 set up.
It wasn’t the first thing visitors would see when they came in, I wanted it to be more of a show stopper, and I had it positioned along the back row, in the center, with smaller, less flashy planes flanking each side.
Lana took the plaque from my hand and the rest of the employees that had gathered around all hustled back into action, going back to whatever they’d abandoned when Lana had called everyone together for the unveiling.
“Let’s get ready for a full day,” I called out behind me as I hurried back to my office. I could feel pressure welling up inside me and if I was going to break, I wanted to be alone.
Thankfully, Lana had the good sense to leave me alone, and after a few deep breaths, alone in my office, the tense knot in my stomach loosened and I could breathe without a sharp stabbing in my gut.
Back on the floor, the doors had been opened, and a steady stream of tourists and visitors were flowing through them and checking in at the front counter. None of them had any idea who I was—they probably wouldn’t suspect a guy with tattoo sleeves, dark shades, clutching a black leather jacket was the owner of such an establishment.
It was the stereotype.
I didn’t care.
If anything, I appreciated people’s bias as it allowed me more mobility and freedom. I wasn’t like O’Keefe, the type of business owner that had to see and be seen everywhere he went. I could move in the shadows if I wanted, and on the occasions that called for it, I was pretty damn good at making a splash.
Now, I was content to stay in the shadows, and made my way out of the building without anyone chasing after me. I hopped into my truck and went down the steep and winding road that dropped me down into Holiday Cove and made my way through the small town to my favorite coffee shop.
“Hey handsome,” a familiar voice called as soon as I stepped through the front door of the quaint shop.
Carly, the source of the greeting, popped her head over the glass case and smiled in my direction. “Hey gorgeous,” I drawled.
“Little early for you, isn’t it?” She wiped her hands on her apron before side stepping to the old school cash register.
“Yeah, but I needed a little break…” It was as much of a confession as I was willing to make.
“Your usual?” she asked, already crossing to the espresso machine.
I gave a nod and she went to work. “Everything okay?”
I raked my hands through my hair. The small shop was empty except for an elderly man sitting with a newspaper at one of the tables off to the right of the counter and pastry case. “Just a long couple of weeks, that’s all.”
She nodded and turned her attention back to the silver pitcher in her hand as she steamed the milk for my latte. After another half a minute, she topped off the drink with a light dusting of cinnamon, and brought the paper cup over to me. She set it on the counter with a sweet smile. “Hey, I meant to ask you, did you ever find out anything more about that land development thing we were talking about last time you came by?”
My heart flipped at her question. Carly and I had known each other for a long time, and I knew she’d keep my confidence—even in a small town overrun with gossips—but I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about everything with Talia and O’Keefe. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about what had happened, and telling Carly about it would require me to have thoughts or conclusions about it. I wasn’t quite ready for that conversation, yet.
“As far as I know, the permits to build still haven’t gone through,” I said, offering the only piece of real information I had.
“Hmm.” She nodded, but her eyes wandered to some point behind me, and I could see the mix of emotions at the news. If O’Keefe got his way and built the monstrous condo building he’d been planning, it would mean a huge spike in business—and income—for Carly and other shop keepers in Holiday Cove, but there would be obvious trade-offs to such a development. Traffic. Noise. Pollution. Crowds. Crimes.
“It’s probably for the best,” she concluded, returning her bright eyes to mine. She smiled and reached across the counter to pat my upper arm. “You look stressed, Player. You ever think about taking a weekend off?”
I chuckled and gave her my best smoldering look. “Only if you go with me, gorgeous.”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. Carly and I had long ago come to an unspoken agreement that we wouldn’t be crossing any lines. We’d never even seen each other outside the coffee shop or the occasional run in at the grocery store.
“Thanks for this,” I said, holding up the cup. I fished a five out of my wallet and handed it over.
“Anytime,” she said, smiling as she rang up the drink and put the money in the till. I dropped the change into her tip jar and started back towards the front door. “Take care of yourself, Player!”
I turned back and gave a mock salute. “I always do.”
Chapter Two
“I don’t mean to nag…”
“Then don’t,” I answered, cutting into Lana’s sentence. She’d been hovering over me ever since I got back from my coffee run, and I knew she was worried about me. Her anxiety for me rolled off her and only pissed me off. “Lana, listen, I’m fine. You’re fine. Go home. I’m just gonna look over these numbers once more and then I promise I’ll lock up and call it a night. Okay?”
She wrung her hands on the outside of the clipboard she always
carried with her. I’d offered to buy her a fancy, techy tablet a million times, but she insisted that she was a “paper person.”
“Seriously,” I added, turning in my office chair to focus back on my computer screen where I had the monthly budget projections pulled up.
“Okay. Okay. I’m sorry. I just…”
“Lana.”
“Goodnight, Aaron.”
“Goodnight.”
I waited until I could no longer hear the sound of her clunky shoes on the cement floor and released the pent up breath I’d been holding all day. I muttered under my breath about finally getting some peace and quiet, when a new sound pricked my ears.
Footsteps.
But not the chunky, rubber soled variety.
No, if my fine-tuned ears were to be trusted, those were stiletto heels walking across my floor.
My heart plummeted into the pit of my stomach as I stood up to see who it was. There was only one person who walked like that, and not a second later—after her face appeared in my mind—her curvy body was draped across the frame of my open office door.
“Talia,” I said, my tone a mix of surprise and irritation.
Irritated or not, I couldn’t stop my eyes from taking a tour of every lush curve, reacquainting myself with what was arguably one of the sexiest women I’d ever had the pleasure of…pleasing. She was wrapped tight in a black skirt that stretched across her hips in a way that made me want to moan. Her pink top was tucked into the skirt and pulled snug across her perfect breasts. The top two buttons had been left open to reveal just enough to get me uncomfortable in my jeans. Her long, dark hair was down, falling over her shoulders in loose waves and her even darker eyes were trained on me with an intensity that both, unnerved me—and turned me on.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, barely keeping the husky desire out of my tone.
Talia was the type of woman who knew exactly how fuckin’ sexy she was. Every move, glance, and inflection was a tool she could use to bend men to her will—or, in the case of our meeting—to the will of her master.
