by Layla Reyne
“Can you find out who that is?”
Dane nodded, and Alex slid into the chair beside him. Knees bouncing, Alex cracked all the knuckles on his hands. Then his toes.
“That’s my nervous tic,” Dane mumbled.
“See how fucking annoying it is.” And see how nervous he was, doing the thing that usually amounted to nails on a chalkboard to him. Unable to sit still, Alex went back to the kitchen for their coffees. “What do we do when we find this person?”
“Tell Coach, tell the Committee. Get the person to sign an affidavit admitting what they did and why.”
“Would they really implicate themselves?”
“Maybe it won’t be as bad if—” Dane slapped the laptop shut and shoved back from the table, staggering to his feet, the chair tipping over behind him. “No fucking way.” He stared at the computer like it’d bitten him.
Setting the mugs on the table, Alex hadn’t seen what was on the screen to cause such a reaction. Whatever it was, it couldn’t have been good. “Dane?” He glanced back and forth between his boyfriend and the computer. “What’d you find?”
“That’s not . . . That’s not what I expected.”
Stomach in knots, but needing to know the truth, Alex opened the laptop and stared in utter shock at the picture on the screen.
Betrayal ran hot and deep, scorching through his veins and burning away the knot in his gut. Burning right through it. No, that’s not what they were expecting at all.
Their plane touched down in San Antonio just past noon. They hadn’t been able to secure a private hangar, but they had snagged a main concourse gate near the airport exit. They needed to book it, every second one Dane couldn’t afford to waste. The clock was ticking down on getting Alex’s suspension overturned. The team had one more open practice this afternoon, one Dane was expected to be at, then they were scheduled to fly out to Vienna for international training tomorrow.
“Are you sure about this?” Dane asked as they hustled up the Jetway. “We could have taken this straight to the Committee.” That had been Dane’s suggestion, clearing Alex his number one priority. After last night’s near run-in, they knew the chairman was still at USOC HQ. But Alex had insisted on confronting his betrayer first, anger perhaps eclipsing logic.
That anger held firm, just shy of boiling, judging by Alex’s clenched jaw and fiery eyes. “I’m sure,” he said. “I need to know why he did this.”
“Because my parents paid him a lot of money.”
“You sweet-talked the family banker on the way here. No unusual transfers.”
“Maybe they haven’t paid him yet.”
Hand on his arm, Alex halted on the concourse-side of the security gates, other exiting passengers parting around them. “This isn’t just about me. I’m the captain. He’s our teammate. I have to know why he’d do something like this to me and the rest of the team.”
Alex, always bearing responsibility, which, Dane had to admit, when it was fueling Alex’s confidence instead of weighing him down, was one heck of a turn-on. Without thinking, he leaned in for a kiss, but a chorus of “There they are!” stopped him short.
Head whipping to the side, he glanced through the security gates, and sure enough, a herd of reporters were converging, jostling exiting passengers out of their way to get to him and Alex as soon as they stepped on the other side of the security glass.
“Shit!” Alex cursed, and Dane’s gaze swung back to him. Worry crept into those brown eyes, but it was kept at bay by anger still. “Who the fuck called them?”
“Someone who wants to stall us so he can cover his tracks.”
“How? You have copies of everything already.”
“Are the doping rumors true?” one of the reporters shouted. “Are you off the team, Alex? How does it feel to go from captain to cheat?”
Great, just what they needed. An airport full of people, of fans, hearing the false story they’d tried to keep under wraps.
“What’s your involvement with this, Dane?” a different reporter called out. “Were you suspended too? Why did you bring Alex back?”
“Dane,” Alex snapped, captain-tone demanding his attention. “Can he cover his tracks?”
“No, but he may not know that. Or maybe he just wants to cause maximum damage. To both of us.”
Alex tilted his head toward the gathering crowd. “Exposing you like this doesn’t fit into your parents’ plan.”
“It does if I disavow you. I threatened the other day to call my own press conference. They’re calling my bluff.”
They’d set up the last airport ambush, during which Dane had conceded to their demands and backed down. They were betting on that Dane to resurface, the old one who turned his back on himself and those he loved. The Dane who cut and run when the going got tough or when the truth hovered too close to the surface.
Alex connected those same dots, a sharp inhale acknowledging the cliff they stood at the edge of. Before yesterday, Alex, resigned to the belief Dane would always leave him, would have made the jump himself. After last night and this morning, though, Dane was beyond pleased, the tightness in his own chest loosening, when Alex held out his hand, offering Dane a chance to prove the declarations he’d made.
Believing he’d stay.
Dane didn’t have to think twice, sliding his hand into Alex’s. “I said I’m never leaving you again. I meant that. But if you don’t want to be thrust into the spotlight, I’ll distract them while you find another way out. Or if you want to handle this on your own, I’ll leave.”
“You’d give up the spotlight?”
“If that’s how you want to handle it, yes. This is your call, Cap.”
Alex interlaced their fingers. “We stand together.”
“Let’s do it.”
They exited to the gathering crowd of reporters and onlookers, and TSA ushered them out from in front of the security gates into one corner of the check-in area. The press continued to lob questions at them, about the doping rumors, Alex’s suspension, and why Dane was there.
“I’d like to make a statement,” Alex said, projecting his voice. “On our behalf.”
Our echoed through the crowd, and their clasped hands received renewed notice, cameras clicking a mile a minute.
Alex talked over the racket. “Yes, I was accused of using a banned substance. We have evidence, however, that proves the test was falsified. I have never used drugs of any sort.”
“We were on our way to tell Coach Hartl that until you lovely people interrupted us,” Dane said, laying on the charm, big smile and all. “I have no doubt Alex will be cleared, reinstated, and back to captaining the team at this afternoon’s practice, where he’ll run my tail into the ground for missing yesterday’s practice.”
“What substance? What evidence?” several reporters shouted.
“Dane,” another called out, “why were you sent to Colorado after Alex?”
He glanced at Alex, who gave him a nod. Moment of truth. Now or never.
Jump.
“I wasn’t sent to Colorado. I chose to go there. Snuck there, actually,” he said with a smile. “I went there to help my teammate, my captain, my boyfriend.” He smiled even wider on that last word. He did like the sound of it. A lot.
Drugs forgotten, the cacophony of clicking cameras, shocked gasps, and shouted questions was thunderous.
“Dane, have you always been gay?”
“Did Alex turn you gay?”
“What do your parents think?”
“I have always been gay,” Dane answered, same as he had the night before last to his teammates. “It took me a while to accept and admit that. Twenty-six years, to be exact.” He chuckled at himself, and some of the crowd laughed with him. “And this incredible man—” he drew Alex closer, against his side “—who I’ve been in love with going on a decade, gave me another chance I didn’t deserve, and I’m just so happy and grateful to be here with him.”
“How will this affect the team?”
“Are the d
oping and this revelation connected?”
Alex pulled captain’s rank and tone again, commanding attention. “My teammates have never had an issue with my sexuality or anyone else’s on the team. I don’t expect they’ll have an issue with Dane’s. As for the doping allegations, an official statement will be forthcoming after we speak with Coach Hartl. We appreciate your patience and understanding as we sort this out.”
“And on that note, ladies and gents,” Dane cajoled, flashing his press-practiced smile and feeling honest about it for a change. “Now, if you’ll please excuse us, we’ve got a name to clear.”
“How about a kiss for the cameras?” one reporter shouted, and a round of applause broke out among the onlooking travelers who were standing watching.
Dane directed his answer to them, to the people they swam for, to their fans. “You’ll get a kiss when we win the gold.”
Despite what they’d told the reporters, they didn’t go to Coach first.
Alex blasted open the locker room door with a two-handed shove and didn’t slow when it crashed against the tile wall. It would have flown back in his face but for Dane, totally in sync with him now, reaching out a long arm from behind him and stopping the recoil, clearing his path. Alex ignored the wide-eyed stares of his gasping teammates, his focus solely on the one standing two rows back.
The one whose expression wasn’t surprised so much as Oh shit.
With good reason.
Alex stalked toward the traitor, Dane’s steps thundering in his wake.
“What’s going on?” and “What the fuck?” echoed around them. Hands reached for Alex, but he dodged and shook them off, not to be deterred.
He dropped his bags in the aisle, rounded the endcap of the second row, and stood on one side of the bench, Dane on the other, blocking any exit. “Nowhere to run,” he said.
Ryan backed into the row, retreating to the corner to make his stand. He straightened his spine, set his feet apart, and crossed his arms. Always trying to play the big man and never quite pulling it off. Even now, the fear in his eyes and the rapid rise and fall of his chest gave him away. “Why would I run?”
“I think the better question is, why’d you do it?”
“What’d he do?” Bas asked from over Alex’s shoulder.
“Changed the results on my drug test.”
“Tell us, Ryan,” Dane said, defensive posture matched, but every bit of his confidence real, even more so now. “How much did my parents pay you?”
“I didn’t change your results,” Ryan bluffed. “You tested positive.”
“No, I didn’t.” Alex took two steps down the row, and Ryan backed into the lockers, rattling the metal doors. “We have before and after images of the test results, including one with your User ID on it, proving you were the one who changed them.”
His guilty eyes darted to Dane.
“That’s right,” Dane said. “I’m a better hacker than you. Or did the CompSci professors at Florida forget to teach you how to delete your ghosts?”
Jacob entered the fray, shouldering past Dane, his rangy frame so puffed up with anger Alex would have sworn he’d put on twenty pounds and grown a half foot overnight. “You changed Cap’s test results?”
“How much did my parents pay you?” Dane repeated.
“Fucking hell, Ryan, really?” Kevin weighed in from somewhere behind them.
“You were in the room with us the night we found out,” Bas said, low and angry. “Why the fuck would you do that? Frame Alex, then let us think you were on our side?”
“Our side,” Ryan scoffed, his narrowed-eye gaze cutting to Bas. “You’re only ever on his. Always the loyal second.”
Bas crowded into the row behind Alex. “What the fuck does that mean?”
Alex appreciated his teammates’ support, but he wanted answers, now. From this teammate who’d swum in the same circles as him for years, who’d stood on the medal podium with him four years ago. “Why’d you do it, Ryan?” Alex pressed. It had to be more than just Dane’s parents and the money that had turned his supposed friend against him. “Because I’m Hispanic? Because I’m gay?” He hated to think Ryan harbored that sort of hate toward him, toward Bas, toward Dane, but he couldn’t think of any other reasons.
Ryan threw his arms wide, hands slapping the lockers on either side of the row. “I don’t care who you fuck or what color your skin is.”
Dane sprung the trap. “So you admit you did it then?”
The traitor’s mouth clamped shut.
“What’s going on here?” Coach’s booming voice bounced off the tile walls. “Ellis, Cantu, you were supposed to come straight to my office.”
Alex glanced over his shoulder to reply, and Ryan made a break for it, jumping up on the bench to run out between them.
He didn’t make it halfway before Jacob took him down in a stunt-worthy martial arts move.
Kevin whistled behind them, and Bas choked out an awed “Damn, Pup.”
Jacob smiled up at him. “You know you’re impressed.”
“I repeat,” Coach said, interrupting the momentary burst of action. “What the hell is going on here?”
Alex helped Jacob haul Ryan up, each of them holding one of his arms. “Tell Coach why you changed my drug test results,” Alex demanded.
Coach’s brow furrowed. “You changed Alex’s results?”
“My parents paid him off,” Dane added.
“It had nothing to do with your parents,” Ryan said, wrestling out of the hold. “It was about you—” he pointed an accusing finger at Bas, then swung it to Alex “—and you—” then to Dane “—and you and fucking Mo. You guys keep getting older but keep coming back.”
“But you’re a vet too,” Bas said.
“But I’m not a starter, and I’ll never get a chance at being a starter, at getting gold for myself, if you’re taking spots on the teams and crowding the goddamn podium.”
“But you’re in our one slot for IM,” Coach said. “You’re also swimming backstroke, and you’re the alternate for medley relay.”
Ryan held up that same single finger he’d pointed earlier. “One possible gold, one. Then I’m losing the backstroke gold to you,” he said, glaring at Alex. “And I’m not even on the relay team, even though I beat both you and Dane in the pool last week. This Olympics was supposed to be my turn to start. My last turn. I wanted my shot, and I took it.”
“By making sure I was off the team?” Alex asked, astonished by the team jester’s vitriol.
“Yes.”
One word, spat with such disdain that it landed like a punch to Alex’s gut. Ryan had always been part of the camaraderie he valued most. Always there with a joke, a stopwatch, or a high five, cheering on him and others. How had Alex never seen this resentment and jealousy buried behind his joking facade?
“You called the press on us this morning, didn’t you?” Dane said. “You tried to implicate us both.”
“He was in Coach’s office when Alex called,” Bas said, and Ryan hung his head, the final nail in the coffin.
“All right, that’s enough,” Coach said. “Bas, take Nichols to my office. The rest of you—” his black gaze swung around the locker room full of stunned faces “—get in the pool. We’re already ten minutes late starting our last open practice here.” When no one moved, he barked, “Move it,” and the rest of the team snapped out of their shocked daze, springing back into action. “You two,” he said to Alex and Dane, “wait.”
Alex collapsed on the bench, adrenaline dwindling and disappointment weighing him down. How had he not seen the festering resentment Ryan carried? Did other teammates feel the same?
Dane moved behind him, and Alex leaned back against his legs, taking what little comfort he could in the knowledge at least something had gone right during the last forty-eight hours.
“You’ve got proof?” Coach asked once the door swung closed on the last outgoing swimmer. “Something solid I can take to the Committee?”
�
�It’s solid, Coach,” Dane said. “I can show you now or after practice.”
“Plus you’ve got a room full of witnesses to that scene just now,” Alex added. “And this.” He dug his phone out of his pocket, recorder on, taping Ryan’s outburst and confession. Alex tagged it off. “I wasn’t doping, Coach.”
“I’m sorry I doubted you. I should have known better.” He glanced up at Dane. “Should have had the same confidence in you that your boyfriend does.”
“You don’t seem surprised?”
“Caught a little of your impromptu press conference. Bas filled me in on the rest.” He ran a hand over his black hair. “Way you two circled each other, it was going to come to one end or the other, love or hate. I thought maybe there was something there, but I didn’t want to put either of you in an awkward situation. Glad it worked out this way.”
“Thank you,” Alex said, “for that.” He wasn’t ready to forgive the other slight yet.
“Can you get him cleared to swim in time?” Dane asked.
“Come with me, and show me what you’ve got.”
Alex stood to follow, and Coach held up a hand. “No, Cantu, just Ellis.”
He nodded in understanding. He was the guilty party, and he wasn’t officially cleared, yet. It was technically the right way to handle the matter. Still sucked. Moving back into the aisle, he picked up his duffle from where he’d dropped it and slug it over his shoulder. “I’ll just wait in my room,” he said, then floundered. “Or I guess mine’s gone now.”
“Go to mine,” Dane said, digging out his key.
“That’s not what I meant,” Coach said. “I’ve got to deal with whatever evidence Dane’s got and then with Ryan. You get out there on deck and captain.”
Alex almost dropped his bag. “You’re sure it’s okay?”
“Fine by me. I’m sure it will be fine by your team too.”
“But what Ryan said, about us repeat performers, maybe other feel that way too.”
“Maybe they do, but this is the nature of the sport now. Some, like Ryan, may resent it, but I think, I hope, the bigger portion are happy to learn from your experience.” He nodded toward the door, toward the pool beyond where Alex’s teammates were waiting. “Go out there, and show them it’s worth having repeat performers on the team. Go be a captain, Cantu.”