by Lexi Blake
“You knew about Paloma?” If anything shocked him, it was this. He assumed Carey Kendrick would be possessive, but the man was right. People were complex creatures.
“Not his name or face, but I knew she took some pleasure from other men,” he admitted. “And I knew she cared for me in her own way. I wish she’d come to me. When she found out, I wish she’d trusted me to take care of it. I think deep down she knew I wouldn’t. She knew I would let it out.”
“What did you do?” Isla asked.
Carey pressed some button on a tablet that seemed to control the footage. The screen went blank and then light filled the room again as the film started. He paused the scene.
It was footage from a locker room. David tried to remember everything he could about the game. Trey Adams had been hurt in the first half and came out in the second like nothing had happened. The Guardians had won and Trey was named the MVP.
David watched the screen. Trey was nowhere to be seen. The clock was in the background. The championship game started late. This would have been sometime in the first half.
After Trey had won the MVP, he took the plaque and the microphone and then he didn’t speak. He shook his head and everyone had said he was far too emotional.
What if it hadn’t been emotion?
“What did you do to get him back on that field?” David asked.
It fell into place. Portia’s rage, her desire to strike back. She’d called Henry to make an appointment because she wanted to see if there were criminal charges she could bring against the man who’d hurt her husband.
“What do you mean?” Isla stared at him.
Carey was looking at him, too. “Exactly what every owner and coach does when he can smell it. You remember. Don’t you remember how you would have done anything to win that one game? When you’re in the moment, it seems like everything. It seems like if you can find a way to pull it off, the world will fall into place. Almost like you’re in a movie and you’ll get to the happy ending if you push through, if you sell your soul. The problem is the movie doesn’t end and the characters have to live with what they did.”
“And you weren’t selling your soul,” David pointed out. “You sold his.”
“I want to see it.” There was a hitch in Isla’s voice that let him know she was emotional.
“You have to know I didn’t realize this footage even existed. I didn’t know where all the cameras were. No one ever mentioned it so I didn’t know. I certainly didn’t send my fluffy wife out to hurt someone. I wouldn’t have. If Portia had come to me instead of her, I would have told her to put it out there, to let everyone see. I would have given her anything she wanted. God, I didn’t remember it being this way. I knew I was pushing him, but . . . I’m a monster.”
He picked up a tablet, and the scene on the screen started up. Trey, the team doctor, and Carey walked in and they were alone in the locker room.
Trey groaned and held his head. Everything hurts. I don’t want to go back. I know I’m letting everyone down, but I think something is wrong with me.
Carey got on one knee in front of him. You took a hard hit. You’re fine. We’ll get you all the medical care you need after we win. Okay?
David’s gut churned as the scene played out. At one point Carey yelled, screaming about Trey being a quitter. And it ended with the doctor doping Trey up so much that he didn’t care if he hurt anymore.
“How could you? You knew something was wrong,” Isla said, watching as Trey Adams lay on the bench waiting for the drugs to work.
“We wanted to win.” Carey stared at the screen. “It was all we ever wanted. When I was going through it I told myself he would thank me. And he did. That’s the worst part. The next day, he thanked me. I sent him out again and again, killing off little pieces of him, and he thanked me. I wonder if Austin would have done the same.”
He was an old man, finally facing his sins, and David’s heart twisted with the tragedy of it all. None of them had meant to end this way. They’d been children looking to please their parents first, their coaches later on, and that mob of fans at the end. They’d done it for the love of the game, to find glory, to lift themselves out of poverty. None of them had meant to come to this end. Not even the owners. They’d been greedy and shortsighted, and it all seemed so useless.
“David, I need to speak with Carey alone,” Isla said quietly.
He turned and realized his cheeks were wet. Damn it. He brushed the tears away and nodded. Carey wasn’t going to hurt her. And this was a family matter.
He needed to be out of this room, out of this place entirely, but he would take walking back into the sunlight. “I’ll be outside.”
He couldn’t get away fast enough. Not from her. He needed to get away from this place where he was faced with how useless he was, how utterly helpless he was to do anything.
He hit the door and then strode through the vault. He got outside where the sun lit the whole place up and shone on all those trophies and honors won by warriors who lost. Lost their futures. Lost their hope.
Palms on the railing, he stared out, forcing himself to breathe.
He had no idea how long it was before she walked back out. She’d done her makeup before they’d left the penthouse, but her mascara was ruined. It didn’t matter. She was still lovely even in her grief.
“I’m going to ask you to do something for me.”
He nodded. “Anything.”
“Please don’t tell anyone what you saw today. Apparently, Amber never told Kristoff the truth. She told him Portia had video proof of their affair and that she might have sent it to me. What she honestly worried about was the chance that Portia had sent me the tape we just saw. The tape from the locker room. They were terrified I had a copy.”
“So you want to let him get away with it?”
“I want to take something horrible and make it better,” she said, tears starting again.
“You can’t make this better, baby.” Maybe she would understand now. He was potentially doomed and there was no reason for her to go to hell with him.
“But I can. After he has his will rewritten, I will be Carey’s only heir. I’ve agreed to sell the Guardians, the stadium, the businesses, everything. I will take all the liquid cash and form a foundation to cure CTE,” she said, her jaw firming stubbornly. “Oddly enough I’m keeping quiet for the same reason Amber did. If that tape gets out, the Guardians as a business will take a huge hit, both financially and public relations–wise. I want the company strong when I sell it. I’ll put everything Carey worked for into fixing this. That’s what we agreed on. I want you to head the foundation.”
“You’re talking billions,” he said, not quite believing the words that came out of his mouth. What she was talking about seemed impossible. No one did that. No one except Isla. “Carey’s worth billions.”
“And we’ll raise billions more because we won’t just go after CTE. We’ll go after them all. Dementia. Alzheimer’s. We’ll beat them all,” she swore.
She was the single most amazing woman he’d ever met, and she’d done the one thing he thought no one could. She gave him purpose. He’d thought he was useless in this fight, thought there wasn’t much of a fight at all, and she’d turned it all around. She gave them a chance. Maybe they wouldn’t win, but they could fight.
Wasn’t that all anyone could ask for?
He dropped to one knee. “Isla Shayne, will you marry me?”
Her eyes went wide and a smile broke over her face. “I thought it would be harder than that. All I needed was a billion-dollar charity fund?”
He was going to ignore her ill-timed sarcasm. “I promise whatever time we have on this earth together, I’ll spend it with you. I’ll be your husband and your partner and we’ll build a family. We’ll build a future.”
“Come what may?” She knelt down, getting to his level.
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br /> “Come what may.” Whatever happened, he would face it with her.
“Then yes, I’ll marry you.”
He leaned forward and kissed her and vowed to spend the rest of his life being as brave as his almost bride.
EPILOGUE
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Are you sure you want to do this here?” Henry straightened his tie. “We could do it out on the island.”
“The press would still find out.” David stood outside the judge’s office. He didn’t want some big wedding. He wanted a big, long marriage, and this was the first step. “Since Isla announced she was selling the Guardians, they’ve been all over us.”
Carey Kendrick had died quietly three weeks after the day they’d gotten engaged. No one was particularly surprised he’d left his fortune to the woman he considered a daughter, but they had been surprised that she was basically giving it all away. Well, not giving it away. His woman drove an incredibly hard bargain. She’d let everyone know she wouldn’t take anything less than an incredible offer because she was going to do something wonderful with it.
She’d already raised millions, even without the sale. The Kendrick/Adams Foundation was well funded and he was starting to hire the best specialists for his board.
It was time to fight the good fight.
Was it time to find out his fate?
The envelope had come this morning. His test results. He hadn’t opened them, wasn’t sure he wanted to. He was going to do what he always did now when it came to important decisions. He was going to talk to his wife.
It didn’t matter that they hadn’t said I do yet. She was his soul mate.
“I’m just saying the justice of the peace isn’t where I thought you would go,” Henry replied.
“I think he wanted to be your wedding planner,” Noah said with a grin. “He had a binder and everything.”
Henry’s eyes rolled. “Can we get rid of him now?”
“You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” Noah wore a designer suit, looking every bit the successful young lawyer he was. “Let’s get this thing done and get to the reception. Margarita made empanadas. Isla loves them so she insisted on prepping them herself. You should have seen her stare down the caterer.”
“What’s up with you two?” Henry asked.
Finally someone had found a way to make Noah Lawless blush. “Nothing. We’re friends. Just friends. I can be friends with a woman.”
Henry shook his head and David knew exactly what he was thinking. This was going to blow up in someone’s face.
But he wasn’t thinking about anything but his wife today.
He turned and there she was, Margarita and Win at her side. She was in a lovely designer suit, her hair pulled into a bun and a bouquet of tiny roses in her hand.
Henry patted him on the shoulder. “Come on, guys. Let’s go inside and give these two their last single moments.”
He didn’t want single moments, but he did want to be alone with her.
Their friends all entered the judge’s office and they were left alone.
God, she was beautiful. She was everything. “Hey, wife.”
She smiled. “Hey, husband.”
“I love you.” It was an easy thing to say. “And thank you for being so kind to my mom and dad. You know our reception is going to have an alarming amount of nurses on duty.”
Because Trey was coming along with his kids. And his father would be there, accompanying his mother.
“Everyone’s family is crazy in their own way,” she said. “I can’t wait for ours.”
They were trying. And trying and they would try some more. He liked nothing better than trying with his gorgeous woman.
He pulled the envelope out. “One thing before we go. It’s here. I know you didn’t think I should take the test.”
She looked down at the envelope. “It’s not entirely accurate, David.”
“But I wanted to give you a chance to know,” he said.
She took the envelope. “What do you want me to do?”
“Whatever you feel like. This is your choice.”
Her lips curled up and she found the nearest trash can and tossed it away. “No going back on me. We’re in this together. Now let’s get married.”
He took her hand and finally found his future.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lexi Blake is the New York Times bestselling author of the Courting Justice novels, including Order of Protection; the Lawless novels, including Ruthless, Satisfaction, and Revenge; and the Masters and Mercenaries series, including Love Another Day, For His Eyes Only, and Submission Is Not Enough. She is also coauthor with Shayla Black of the Perfect Gentlemen series, including Big Easy Temptation and Seduction in Session, and the Masters of Ménage series, including Their Virgin Mistress and Their Virgin Secretary.
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