by Ashley Munoz
Wild Card
Rake Forge University Book 1
Ashley Munoz
Contents
Also by Ashley Munoz
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Sneak Peek
Prologue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Wild Card
Copyright © 2021 by Ashley Munoz & ZetaLife LLC
ISBN: 978-1-7337919-4-6
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No part of this book whether in electronic form or physical book form, may be reproduced, copied, or sold or distributed in any way. That includes electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or any other form of information sharing, storage or retrieval system without the clear, lawful permission of the author. Except for limited, sharable quotes on social media, or for the sake of a review. There is absolutely no lawful permission permitted to upload a purchased electronic copy of this book to any free book sites. Screen shots of book text or kindle passages are not allowed to be shared on any public social media site without written permission from the author.
This book is a work of total and complete fiction. The story was thought up from the authors curious and thoughtful brain. Any names, places, characters, businesses, events, brands, media, situations or incidents are all made up. Anything resemblances to a real, similar, or duplicated persons or situations is purely coincidental.
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 or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Cover Design: Amanda Simpson from Pixel Mischief Designs
Editing: C.Marie
Proofing: Tiffany Hernandez
Created with Vellum
Also by Ashley Munoz
Interconnected Series:
Glimmer
Fade
At First Fight (Free)
Standalone:
What are the Chances
The Rest of Me
Tennessee Truths
Vicious Vet
Only Once
Series:
Wild Card
Queen of Hearts
The Joker
To Emma, and my Grandmother, Sharon.
Your lives both began and ended just days apart and I was caught somewhere in the middle of sorrow and great joy.
I will never forget that the completion of this book was with the both of you in my mind and in my heart.
Prologue
One year earlier
I could feel my nostrils flare as I tried to inhale one of those calming breaths Marcus was always preaching to me about. Was I supposed to breathe in through my mouth and exhale through my nose, or vice versa? I always forgot. Even after attending sports medicine classes, my mind couldn’t seem to keep the order clear, but whatever…shit wasn’t working.
My fingers dug into the cool metal separating me from the field. I watched as Marcus slid into third base, a cloud of dust floating into the inky sky. I guess it wasn’t exactly dark over the diamond, not with the stark white lights overhead, but it was still annoying. Why the fuck were we out there at seven thirty at night? I had a job to get to by nine…not that any of my teammates would understand. It was technically against the team’s rules to have a job while you played. Our focus was to only be split between our studies and our team, but I didn’t have that luxury. I had explained this to coach, and even to the owners of the team—yes, the cherished North Carolina Devils had owners and none of us were allowed to talk about it. Shit went to the top fast, but only because we were considered a family.
Hilarious if you really broke it down, but the Devils wanted to support the players on and off the field in any way they could…while creating toxic environments and insane play schedules. It was all a little backward, but regardless, they were quick to accommodate me, though only because of my ‘situation.’
The evening practice almost felt personal. I understood how childish that seemed, but in the back of my mind, Elias, our team captain, had made this decision after hearing I’d landed the position at Geno’s Bar and Grill. I was sure he didn’t really give a fuck about the job, but the fact that I had approval to work it. He hated how much distance I kept putting between myself and the team, hated how I’d stopped attending the team parties and helping with the card games. He didn’t get it. No one, except maybe Marcus, understood the weight on my shoulders.
I bent down to grab a batting helmet, feeling my stomach tip with anxiety. I already knew the likelihood of getting out of this practice unscathed was next to impossible. There were rumors circulating the locker room and team house. Whispers coasting past my bedroom door, down a muffled hall. Loud jokes made with darting eyes as I walked by. They all knew something I didn’t, but it was my instincts that told me something was off about this particular practice.
Elias was planning something. Marcus said I was paranoid, and maybe I was…but I couldn’t seem to shake the feeling.
“Duggar, you’re up!” Coach yelled from the top of the stairs.
Shuffling up the steps, I walked toward home plate, readying my stance, then I heard my coach yell again.
“Hold up, Duggar!”
I turned for a fraction of a second to see him bent over, speaking to his assistant coach. Fear danced along my insides as I waited to see what he wanted. Caden was crouched behind me in his catcher’s gear, waiting with me…eerily quiet. Just the week before, he wouldn’t shut up about his girl and meeting her parents. It only confirmed my fear about something being off with this practice.
“Switch it up with Matthews on the hill—he asked to get in a little extra batting practice before we quit. Tell Caden to take a break.”
I nodded my understanding even though unease slid through me like sludge. Tossing the bat to the side, I slid my helmet off. My glove was near the fence already since I’d pitched the first half of practice, so I grabbed it and started toward the dust-covered plate in the middle of the diamond.
Elias kept his gaze down as I passed him, so I did the same. We hadn’t been speaking to each other much, not since the funeral—the one he skipped—although I supposed the first sign of our friendship circling the proverbial drain had probably been when he got those devil horns inked into the side of his head. He demanded I get a matching set, said we had to go together, like we were in fourth grade making friendship bracelets. I shoved off the idea with a laugh, reminding him we weren’t chicks and the Devils didn’t own my fucking body. That was when things began to tilt unfavorably for me.
Adjusting the glove on my hand, I readied myself for the throw. A calmne
ss always overcame me when I stood here, looking down the strike zone. I felt it now, even as nerves rattled me. I cleared my mind, lined up my sight, and tried another one of those soothing breaths before releasing the ball.
It flew from my hand, soaring toward that empty air hanging over home base. My throws usually registered at 96 mph, but we never threw that hard in practices. So, I knew this was closer to mid-seventies or so, nothing crazy. I just wanted to get this over with and head to work. It was the only thing I felt like I could control in my life at the moment, so I wouldn’t risk messing it up. I watched the ball soar toward the plate, and right when I thought it would pass it completely—
Crack.
The sound echoed around the field like a strike of lightning. Suddenly I was back in my bedroom, hearing the sounds of thunder rattle our house while we waited for my dad to come home, listening to the constant drip of rain upon the roof as I realized he never would.
A second later, a splintering pain wove through my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs. I pitched forward, slowly trying to play catchup to what had just happened. I’d never in my life been hit by the ball while pitching. I’d done everything right; I was lined up correctly…the pitch was good. How had this happened? My lungs burned and burned as my chest hollowed out. I registered people yelling my name, others yelling something I couldn’t make out. I fell face down into the dirt while I tried to process the commotion hovering above me.
What the fuck happened?
Hit him in the chest.
It was a freak accident.
That’s never happened before.
White jerseys went in and out of focus as my fingers dug into the dirt, my lungs struggling for air.
“Decker, can you hear me?” That was Marcus.
I knew if he was here, I’d be okay. He was the only team member to have my back. I struggled for that fucking inhale…I needed to calm down, needed air. My nostrils flared; my mouth gaped. Nothing came.
Then a body lowered into a crouch next to me, revealing a pair of navy blue eyes and a wicked smile hitching up his face, like he had planned this entire thing. How…how had he done it? Elias had one of his hands on my back, patting me…saying something in my ear.
“You’re finished, brother.”
I made a sound. It might have been me pleading with him to remember our childhood, our tree forts, or the bond we’d shared in middle school and through all four years of high school. He’d been my best friend; he wouldn’t do this to me.
Seconds later, he was standing over me, his spiked cleat leaving the ground. I saw it all in slow motion. My pitching hand was right there within reach, and there was enough commotion that no one would think anything about where he was standing…I still couldn’t seem to move, couldn’t say anything to anyone. I managed a cough, and a small breath rattled through my lungs as I struggled. It was slowly coming back, but not fast enough.
“No.” I tried to speak the word, but it came out garbled and unclear.
I heard someone yell for an ambulance, but I just wanted them to fucking watch their captain.
They didn’t.
I saw it in his eyes before he did it: a demon through and through.
His foot came down with a hard thrust.
Everything went dark.
Chapter One
Happiness is free vodka served in a pretty glass. Ask anyone.
I tipped my head back, my eyes catching on the soft glow above our table from the twinkle lights. A little jolt of excitement flickered inside my chest like a rogue flame while I ran my finger around the rim of my free drink.
I was finally finished.
Done.
I’d written my final article of the year, and it was going to be featured in the showcase for the coveted Kline Global internship.
“Girl, you have worked so hard for this spot. I am so excited to see the look on Trevor’s face when he reads your story.” Jules, one of the copy editors in the class, sipped a pomegranate martini. Her silky black hair was tied up into a twist on her head, making her look so much more grown up than me. Even her drink made her look more mature.
“Don’t forget us when you get hired on for a paid position at Kline.” Lydia smiled over her glass and grabbed for the small basket of fries we’d ordered. My friend, who wore her hair shaved on one side and the rest flipped over in a stylish way, made me feel a little more relaxed. She had demanded we order something greasy, combatting Jules’ request for Brussels sprouts.
“Not possible.” I laughed into my glass. I could feel my face burn at the mere idea of being hired on at Kline Global. It wasn’t even that I might get the internship—hell, anyone at that table could get it—it was just that I had been working on this one story for the last six months. I’d skipped out on other massive story leads, forgoing parties and big senior events…all for this article. I had literally put all my eggs in one basket.
I had to get a spot. Only five articles were chosen from the class, and from those five, only one person would be given the internship. I just wanted the opportunity to be selected. They stopped taking submissions in March, but I didn’t have to worry about that. My article was sitting in my editor’s inbox, ready for the showcase.
The waiter who’d delivered my free drink passed by again, giving me a flirty wink. He was handsome in that boy-next-door kind of way. He had been making eyes at me all night, which was the most action I’d gotten in months, so I welcomed his advances. Why not? I was riding on a high from finishing my article and could have done with a date or two. I watched as he checked on two more tables then made his way closer to the rear of the restaurant.
Following him with my eyes, I observed him slide the door open to one of the private rooms in the back. I could see a few dozen guys, all wearing dark ball caps flipped backward, and they all seemed to be wearing a red and white practice jersey in some varying state of disarray.
My brows dipped in confusion as I tried to piece together why the Devils baseball team would be meeting in a public restaurant instead of their massive team house. Rumors circulated that they were very private about their meetings. One time Hillary even said she thought they were more of a secret society than an actual team, had this whole theory about how it was the perfect coverup. When I brought up the fact that the entire team had talent and it probably was just a team, she scoffed and told me I was too close-minded.
“Mallory, did you hear us?” Jules asked.
My head spun back toward my friends, all of them on one side of the table, giving me ample space to myself. For a second, I hated that I had issues, hated that I needed the barrier of the table between us or I might hyperventilate. Just once I wanted to go out with people I hadn’t known forever and have drinks. I wanted to go to a huge party or a concert and not feel like I might black out any second just because too many people were near me.
My friend’s brown eyes narrowed while flitting over my shoulder.
“Yeah, next weekend, right?” I played off my brief inattention and jumped right in. Once her face relaxed and she took a sip of her drink, I did the same. I tried to listen to their stories, but my mind kept drifting toward the room in the back. It must have been the journalist in me, but I wanted to know why they were there. It made no sense; they were all clearly in Devils practice gear, drinking, laughing, and joking. Maybe they were just out for a good time…but then, why be in a private room? Wouldn’t they want to try their hand at landing a date or a fuck buddy for the night? These were college guys we were talking about.
Jules talked about her plans to hit up a spa the next weekend and mentioned we all should go. I nodded along, running my finger around the rim of my glass. The rough texture from the sugar rubbed against my finger as I stared blankly at my friends. I wasn’t going to look over my shoulder again. I had decided I wouldn’t, but then…what if the waiter closed the door again and I missed my chance to get one last look?
I couldn’t risk it. Twisting my head, I eyed the open door, gratef
ul it hadn’t been shut. We were close enough that I could somewhat hear what they were shouting about, but I couldn’t make out everything.
“The games start next week. I hope everyone remembers the rules—three of the bases have been assigned.”
Bases? Their season did start in about a week, but how would they divide the bases? Were they fixing the game?
“What about the last card?” someone yelled from the back of the room.
Card…now what the fuck was that about? I needed to get closer so I could hear better.
A second later, the cute waiter from before exited the room, carrying a tray of empty glasses. He twisted around and slid the door shut once again.
I snapped my head around, my face burning like I’d done something wrong. Why was I curious? It wasn’t like I had to write any more stories. I was done, completely finished; I didn’t need to be curious about the Devils. I smiled, returning my thoughts and mind to the conversation at hand as my friends planned more celebratory activities for us.
“Cheers, bitches. We did it!” We all raised our glasses, clinking them together joyously. I smiled and relished the glowing feeling that burned inside me.
I’d done it.
Tears nearly fell as I considered how proud my mom would have been that I’d achieved this step, small as it was. But steps led places, no matter how big or small they were, and this one felt monumental. I couldn’t wait to see that email pop into my inbox, notifying me that I’d been chosen.