Bet on Me (The Love's a Gamble Series Book 1)

by Saxon James

  “Can I?” I reach out for his laptop, and even though he hesitates, he eventually hands it over.

  “Can’t hurt.”

  I sign in to my social media accounts and start searching through my teammate’s personal pages. There are a few who like to post photos from the shit we go to—Zane especially—and when I start to search through his photos, I come across a bunch from the night of the brain cancer fundraiser. There’s a picture of Zane with Fallins, and a few of Zane and the team. Another of Zane and me, and yet another of him, me, and Elliot. But just as I’m about to keep scrolling, Elliot stops me.

  “Holy hell.” He zooms in on the screen and points out a woman standing in the background, openly staring at us as the picture was taken. “That’s Charlene.”

  We stare at her for a full minute.

  “Still doesn’t prove anything,” he finally says. I don’t like how flat he sounds.

  “But it’s something. They had the opportunity to meet. They were in the same room, right before Zane was injured.”

  “My boss is a dick, but… he’s always been so funny about everything being above board. He caught onto a scheme in basketball last season and nearly bust a nut. He reported it anonymously to the NBA. He’s a lousy bastard, but he has a weird set of ethics buried somewhere down in there.”

  “Which is why he was so pissed when you took that large bet.”

  “Yeah. I mean, it was about the money too. He loves his income. But I guess when what you’re doing is already illegal, you’ve got to hold onto some morals, otherwise you’d drown.”

  “But his wife…”

  “Yep. His wife.”

  I blow out a huff. “Kinda sounds like he’d know about it then.”

  Elliot’s lips scrunch and release. “Guess so.”

  He finds another handful of photos, and then finally finds the exact connection we’re looking for—Doctor Fallins and Charlene Lewers listed as board members of a charity for immunodeficiency.

  I tap the screen, and Elliot’s quick to move it out of my reach. Trying to stifle a laugh, I point again, this time not touching. “Well, there’s no way they can say they don’t know each other when there’s all of six board members for that charity.”

  “True.” Elliot’s head drops back onto my shoulder. He’s finally bothered to wash his hair, and I love that it smells like my shampoo. “Now what the hell do I do?”

  “We take this further. It’s the only thing we can do.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I’m so damn glad Taryn made the call because I probably would have deliberated moving forward for weeks. Instead, I feed off his decisiveness which is why, a week later, right after my post-op follow-up appointment, we’re in the elevator of my old office building.

  Taryn’s beside me, and Iora and Jetson are behind us both. It’s ridiculous, but also the only way Taryn would let me leave the house, and now that the specialist has given me the okay to ditch the wheelchair, like fuck am I going to let Taryn handle it all. Nerves attack my stomach, and I itch to grab his hand, but that’s hard to do when the only things holding me up are the crutches digging in under my arms.

  “He’s going to kill me,” I mutter, but it’s loud enough that they would have easily heard.

  “At least that would give us something solid on him,” Iora states.

  “Your concern for my wellbeing is overwhelming.”

  “Your dramatics are overwhelming.”

  “Don’t worry,” Taryn cuts in. “I’d be concerned if you died.”

  “Concerned, huh? Don’t strain yourself.”

  He smirks at my reflection in the elevator mirrors. “I’d cry at your funeral, if that helps?”

  It does help. Not the crying at the funeral thing, but the distraction works wonders. Until the elevator slows and the doors slide open.

  Suzanne is behind her desk like always, and I have this weird feeling of both coming home and complete disconnect. She stands, torn between welcoming me like she always has and asking me what the hell I’m doing there with three mountainous bodyguards.

  “Elliot?”

  “Gary in?”

  “Umm…” She hurries from behind her desk, but I keep walking—limping—straight past it, awkwardly maneuvering one leg still in a cast and one in a brace. After a cursory glance over the other three, she thinks better of trying to stop us. I hear her curse right before I open Gary’s door. He doesn’t look completely surprised to see me, and I’m not sure whether he’s covering that he is surprised or if Suzanne somehow tipped him off in the three point seven seconds it took for us to walk across the lobby.

  He doesn’t say anything as we enter, and I awkwardly lower myself into the seat across from him, happy to finally take the pressure off my aching legs. On top of my busted-up knees, the strain of constantly repositioning my weight is wearing down my thighs. Iora and Jetson step into the room far enough to close the door behind us, but Gary’s gaze stays glued to Taryn as he takes the seat next to me.

  “This is an interesting development,” he finally says.

  “Yes, I bet.” I’m feeling less than confident. “Considering you and your wife had my knee caps smashed in.”

  Gary bristles. “Excuse me?”

  “Didn’t think we’d figure it out?”

  Then to my surprise, he smiles. “I don’t think you’ve figured out what you think you’ve figured out.”

  I frown as I sort through his words. “Of course I have. You’ve been fixing games, and we have proof.”

  The stormy expression I’ve been waiting for the whole time finally settles across his features. Gary folds his hands on his desk and sits forward. “Are you questioning my integrity?”

  “This is more of a formality, really. Think of it as me giving you notice. The NFL is being notified as we speak. They’ll take our concerns to the police, and I’ll hand over the evidence I’ve gathered.”

  “And what evidence might that be?”

  “The bets being placed in your wife’s name, across multiple bookies, all on the same games, same injuries … all of them winners.”

  His jaw works. “And the evidence you have on me?”

  “Her bets are being placed through your employees. Do I need any more?”

  “So, because my wife has gotten lucky, you automatically assume we’re fixing NFL games? That’s a little farfetched, wouldn’t you say?”

  “No.” We knew the evidence wasn’t exactly stellar, but I was banking on confidence and bravado making it sound like more than it is.

  “Show me this evidence.”

  Taryn leans forward and drops the itemized printouts on the desk. As Gary flips through them, I watch his face, waiting for a tell, for any slip to give away his thoughts. None come. Finally, he sits back in his chair and turns his attention to Taryn.

  “I’m surprised to see you here. I would have thought you’d think twice before showing up in public with a gay man.”

  “Doesn’t matter anymore. My coach knows, my team knows, and others will find out as they find out. I’m not hiding it anymore.”

  Gary smirks. “Mature.”

  “I suppose I have you to thank for this new perspective.”

  “I wish I could claim that honor. But unfortunately, none of this has anything to do with me.”

  I snort. “You as good as threatened me after I took that massive bet.”

  “Because I thought you were dirty dealing, Elliot.” He frowns, thumbing through the paperwork once more. “Ask your guard dogs to stand outside.”

  Taryn laughs. “Yeah, not a chance in hell.”

  “If you want to talk openly, I suggest you do it. And now. I’m not in a patient mood.”

  “Sorry…” Taryn says, shaking his head. “What part of this makes you feel like you’re in charge?”

  “The part where your evidence is jack shit. But I’m willing to talk.”

  Taryn and I exchange a quick lo
ok. I know he wants to keep me safe, but even though Gary is a solid guy, I’m pretty confident Taryn could take him. I give a short nod.

  With a pinched expression, Taryn asks Iora and Jetson to wait outside. It’s not until the door clicks closed behind them that Gary speaks again.

  “What do you want?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What do I have to do to make all this disappear?”

  I glance over at Taryn who looks like he’s barely holding back from punching the guy. “I thought you said this has nothing to do with you?”

  “It doesn’t.” And damn him, he looks far too relaxed for someone potentially headed for jail time. “But I can’t deny it looks like my wife is involved.”

  Taryn lets out a skeptical sound, but I talk over the top of it. “Looks like? We have the proof right there.”

  “No, what you have right here is proof that you’ve been working as an illegal bookie, which will throw everything you and your boyfriend have to say out the window.”

  And that’s the crux of it all. He’s right. Now, he has me pinned. “If you don’t think we have anything, why are you looking to bargain?”

  “Because I’ve spent years building the reputation of my business. If it gets out that my wife has insider information, it’ll automatically throw speculation on me, true or not. This whole situation sounds like a loss for the three of us.”

  True. If we do the right thing with this, there’s no way anyone will believe we had nothing to do with it all, especially if that supposed evidence is still out there.

  “I take it you have a plan?” Taryn finally asks.

  Gary smiles, and his game face is back. “I have ways of persuading people to do what I want.”

  “By breaking their knee caps?”

  Gary laughs. “That’s far too crude for me. Amateurish. If you threaten someone properly, their mind will submit without having to touch their body.”

  “Well, someone broke—”

  “Clearly.” He cuts me off. “But I don’t have time to argue who and what and why. You give me these papers, and keep my wife’s name out of it, and I’ll get you the evidence—real evidence—you need.”

  The offer is tempting. Very, very tempting. Our way, and the names get out there but we all get dragged down, and there’s only the slight possibility of our links being enough. His way… if we can get proper evidence that will at least have this doctor taken down for the reckless way he’s been treating his players, that would be worth it… right?

  When I glance over at Taryn, I’m relieved to see his slight nod. Knowing we’re on the same page with this makes me feel more confident about the decision.

  “Okay.”

  “Deal?”

  “Evidence first. Show us what you have, and if it’s enough to bring this person down, we’ll give you all the originals of that paperwork.”

  He nods. “Deal.”

  With nothing more to say, I awkwardly shift to the edge of my seat and Taryn hurries to help pull me up and position the crutches. I’ll be so damn happy when I’m done with them. As I start for the door, I realize Taryn hasn’t moved. He’s drawn right up to his full six foot three and planted his feet wide.

  “One more thing,” he says, his normally warm voice as cold as Gary’s. “You will get me the name of the person who hurt Elliot. You will find them, and you will make sure they never think to mess with him again. If you don’t, the deal’s off. I don’t give a shit how incriminating your evidence is.”

  He turns on his heel and yanks open the door, his dramatic exit hindered by the way he has to wait and help me out.

  And of course, Gary gets in the last word. “I’ll do you one better, footballer. Forget the name, I’ll get you the person who hurt Elliot. And I can promise you it won’t be pretty.”

  By the time we reach the elevator and step inside, Taryn’s breathing has evened out and is almost back to normal.

  “Feel better?” I smirk.

  He doesn’t answer; he just wraps his arms around me tight and doesn’t let go.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When we get home, Elliot lets out a groan of relief to be back in familiar territory. I wrap him up and hoist him into my arms like I have so many times before, his crutches clattering to the floor. Carrying him up the stairs bridal style is probably something I’ll keep doing long after he’s better.

  “I can’t wait until I can walk properly again,” he moans into my neck.

  When I get to the top of the stairs, I hover, unsure which direction to head. In the end, my dick wins out, and I turn for the hall, carrying Elliot into my bedroom, and when I lay him out over my bed, I’m hit with the idea that I want this to be forever. He belongs here—in my bed, in my house, in my life. My chest restricts as I look down into his beautiful face, and all I want to do is hide away in here with him forever.

  “You’ll be out of the cast soon, then the braces will make it easier,” I say, gently positioning his legs to the side so I can blanket his body with mine.

  “I know. Thank fuck.”

  “You won’t need me anymore.”

  His chuckle is low and deep. “What’s this shit?”

  I press my face farther into his neck to cut him off from what I’m feeling. “I mean, you’ll be able to go home soon enough.”

  “Home?” He sounds confused, and I hope I’m reading him right.

  I finally pull back to look at him. “Is that what you want?”

  “It’s… Well, even with everything apparently okay, I still want to move out of my apartment. Maybe find a new one a bit farther away…”

  “Hey.” I cup his face. “You’re safe now. But apartment or no apartment”—I suck in a deep breath—“that’s not what I want. I want you to stay here. I want to come home to you every day. Move in. Properly. Officially. Please?”

  His eyes widen at all the things falling out of my mouth, and I half want to take them back, but I’d only say them again anyway.

  His lips start to curl up at the corners. “You… want me to move in here?”

  “You’re already living here—”

  “With an expiration date. There’s a difference.”

  “Yeah there is. This way it’s torture not knowing how much longer I’ll have you here.”

  “You don’t think it’s too soon?”

  “No. Never.”

  “But…” His forehead crumples under his confusion. “You were with Liam for six years.”

  “And it wasn’t right. Which goes to show time means nothing.”

  Elliot’s hands cover mine. “You’re serious?”

  I’m almost too afraid to answer. I force myself to anyway. “Yes.”

  “You’re really serious?” His smile splits his face completely in half. “Move in. Here.”

  “Still haven’t given me an answer, babe.”

  “I’m sorry, but if you can’t read my ridiculous smile and shaking hands for what they are, maybe you’re a dumb jock after all.”

  I hum and wrap my arms around his waist. “Still not an answer.”

  “Yes, you big idiot. Yes, I want to move in with you.” His smile is heartbreaking. “I love you. Such a stupid, fucking amount.”

  My heart could beat right out of my chest, and because I have to do something or I might cry, I lean over and catch his mouth with mine. I kiss him with bruising pressure, cupping his jaw with one hand and palming his cock with the other. We’ve been taking sex slow since Elliot got injured, but now that he’s well and truly on the mend, I can’t hold back anymore. I strip off my shirt, then kick my pants and underwear off before undressing Elliot. I take it easy with his pants, easing them over his knees, but have no reservations about yanking his shirt up so hard the cotton makes a sharp noise in protest.

  I finally pause when he’s laid out across my—our—bed, lean body on display, long thin cock leaking onto his stomach. My breathing deepens when I meet Elliot’s
lust filled eyes, and I reach out, slowly running my hand through his hair until I tighten my hold. “You’ve made me very happy,” I tell him, and all he manages is a strangled moan. I lean forward and press another hard kiss to his lips. “Now I’m going to show you exactly how I plan on taking care of you.”

  “Taryn…” he pants against my lips. “Fuck me.”

  That gets a smile. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”

  Confusion briefly ruffles his brow until I take his hand and draw two fingers into my mouth. His stare never leaves my lips as I suck and once his digits are good and wet, I slide them from my mouth and guide his hand around to my ass.

  His eyes fly wide, even as he traces my crease. “You… you want…”

  “I want to ride you.”

  “But I thought—”

  “Like I told you, I’ve been practicing.”

  Some of the lust seeps from his expression as his eyes soften. “You’re sure?”

  “There’s no one else I’d trust with this.”

  He stops hesitating. I grab the lube, and Elliot covers his fingers completely. His fingers slip between my cheeks, and I shudder as he lightly brushes my hole. I’m still anxious and worried about how this is going to feel because there’s a massive difference between my fingers and his cock, but I’m anxious to try more.

  Elliot traces a circle around my entrance before easing a finger in. “This okay?”

  I nod, because even though there’s a slight burn, I’m prepared. I try to relax and try to take him in. He adds a second finger and the stretching increases to a point where I completely retreat into myself.

  “Stay with me, Taryn.” His fingers still. Up to the knuckles. Waiting for me to adjust. It feels like the pain will never go away, but a couple of seconds later, it subsides.