Rascal (Edgewater Agency Book 2)

by Kyanna Skye

  No, it was peaceful now. And that was the way she needed to keep it. When Ellie was awake, her limits would be tested in the ways of energy. She would have none, and trying to keep up with a four-year-old only taxed her further. The chance to recharge her batteries was a rare delight.

  She settled in front of the TV and set her dinner on a TV tray and checked to see what Rachel had been watching. Whatever the show was, it was on a commercial. She took the opportunity to cut and chew a piece of her steak. It was good, but the wine was better.

  When the show came back on she nearly choked when she saw what Rachel had been watching.

  Monday Night Football.

  That alone was nothing strange; she knew that Rachel liked to watch football. They’d watched a few games together. But the game that was on… it didn’t feature Rachel’s preferred team. It was for another game… another team…

  Why…?

  And as if it were a sign from god the image on the screen opened up with the profile and stats of a particular player that the announcers spoke of heartily, almost reverently. Their words mocked her without them even realizing it and she hated them for it. They spoke of a player that was Susie’s older brother… a player she had not seen in four years.

  She scrambled for the remote and quickly clicked the TV off. She sat there in the dark, staring at the blank screen that only a moment before had held his image. And in the dark, she stared at the blank screen.

  “It doesn’t mean anything… it doesn’t mean anything…”

  Chad Cinch sat on the chair that came supplied with his hotel room. He rested his weight evenly across the backrest of the chair, a glass of chilled whiskey in one hand. The sun was only just beginning to creep over the horizon, filling the room with its early rays and chasing away the last pockets of the night. He looked down at the sleeping form in his bed.

  It was a woman that laid there.

  She was naked, but half-covered in the sheets that they had shared. Her hair was a tangled mess that was nearly as twisted as the blankets. Her chest slowly rose and sank with the gentle breaths that she took. Her skin was olive-colored and he could see that she wore a tattoo on the small of her back.

  A tramp stamp, he thought with amusement.

  He’d gotten a good look at it last night.

  She’d liked it doggy-style, this one. She had responded well to his thrusts, her moans had been enough to urge him on. She’d been more commanding than other women he’d fucked before. She had told him where she liked to be touched… how hard she wanted him to fuck her… that she wanted them to be in front of an open window while she sucked his cock so the whole world could see she was fucking an NFL star.

  Joke’s on her, he thought, sipping his whiskey. The windows to the room were tinted. Nobody could have seen them, but she didn’t know that. Still, there was something exciting in her request. He’d never given in to voyeurism before. This girl had surprised him with that. None of the others before her had ever made such a demand. It had been different if not fleeting.

  He would remember that: that she was different. But he wouldn’t remember anything else. Hell, he didn’t even remember her name. She had been like so many others that he’d found waiting for him outside the locker room after the game. Dressed somewhat slutty and with a face that was pleading for attention. And once he’d checked to be sure that she wasn’t some minor that an angry father would sue for millions, he’d brought her here.

  No, she was definitely no teen looking to up her social status. In bed she’d demonstrated a few techniques that he knew only a practiced woman would know. And clearly she’d been practicing for a long time.

  He sipped his whiskey, thinking that this nameless girl was like so many others: a star-fucker. Whatever it was that she’d hoped to get out of this, he felt certain that she’d gotten it. He’d taken so many women to bed that wanted something from him other than his body.

  Some of them just wanted to be close to someone famous. Others had wanted bragging rights with their own circle of friends. But most, he knew, just wanted to be close to danger.

  He almost chuckled again at that thought. “Bad Chad” the papers called him. It was a nickname that was so childish that it bordered on stupid. Apparently those that followed his career with interest couldn’t think of anything better. Not because he was overly troublesome like a few others in the business, nor was his reputation as a miscreant entirely original. But he’d hit the milestones. He’d been arrested once or twice, he’d been suspended for a few games, and there were wild rumors flying around about him that he would bed debutantes in every city he visited when they played away from home. The latter could not be substantiated, of course, which added to the mystery of Chad Cinch. And it was a mystery that so many women before now had tried to crack.

  He grinned inwardly at that. The secret was nothing major. It was the simplest thing about his career in point of fact. The truth was: he didn’t care.

  He didn’t care about his criminal record. He didn’t care what the public thought of him. He didn’t care how he was punished for his legal troubles. He didn’t care how his coaches thought best to reprimand him for this transgression or the other. And the reason was that he put up points during the game… he brought people into the stadiums… generally speaking, his adverse behavior was balanced – maybe even cancelled out – by the fact that he made lots of people money. It was all part of the package of being a pro-athlete. It had its quirks as well as its perks.

  Just like this woman before him.

  At first he’d been excited about having a different woman after every game… sometimes even after every practice… or whenever he wanted. There was something nostalgic about it. It reminded him of home, back in the days when he had just been a high school tailback that everyone loved and because he was popular for his sportsmanship. That he was star athlete had spread many a girl’s legs for him even then. He was on fire and so many lovely girls had been eager to get warm near that flame. He’d been happy to oblige.

  At least he had at first.

  He remembered some of them.

  He’d had a cheerleader or two, both from rival teams. There had been a stewardess on one of their trips across the country. There had been a news reporter inside the back of her own news van. There had been a roadie that had snuck him into one of their trucks. There was that one girl that sold concessions at the game. There had even been a night when he’d enjoyed a couple of rich men’s daughters. They all blurred together in one never-ending parade of images that were held together by sweat and lust.

  It had been fun in the very beginning.

  But somewhere along the way, even the perks of his job had lost their appeal. It was too easy to bring these women to bed. There was no challenge to it anymore. They stood outside the locker room waiting for him, flashing him their brilliant smiles and showing a little – or a lot – of cleavage hoping to catch his attention. And those that did won the prize that the sleeping girl in his bed had enjoyed: a night with an NFL bad boy.

  It was the same damn principal as having a pizza delivered. And it was pizza that was growing stale. He could eat it, but he couldn’t live off of it. Not anymore.

  That made him smile as sipped his drink again, watching the naked woman before him whose name he did not know.

  She didn’t begin to stir until he began moving around the room and packing himself up for the trip. She finally woke up to the sounds of a zipper being closed on a duffle bag. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked around drowsily, taking in the sights of everything that was around her as she sat up, the sheets falling away from her naked form. When she saw him, she put on a small smile as if expecting him to return the expression.

  He didn’t. He looked away as if she wasn’t even there.

  Then her eyes fell onto his bag, sitting idly on the edge of the bed and being filled with his clothes. He stood shirtless before her, the tattoos and scars of past games and old impulses greeted her.

&
nbsp; “You’re leaving?” she asked sleepily, trying to flash the smile that he had first noticed last night. She played with the sheets, making sure that both her tits were visible as if inviting him back to bed.

  His sexual energy did stir, but his interest didn’t. He’d had her… she’d been vibrant and full of energy and before her energy had been spent she’d made sure that they did everything she wanted. Apart from sucking him in front of what she thought was in view of the whole world, she’d done nothing to impress him. And Chad wasn’t in the habit of doing things that bored him.

  “Flight leaves at ten,” he said, putting his shirt inside the bag. “It’s eight-thirty now. I have to get to the airport.”

  She furrowed her brow in confusion. “I thought you weren’t leaving until the day after tomorrow?”

  “The team leaves the day after tomorrow,” he corrected. “I’m leaving now. I have a special appointment that I need to be getting to.”

  She stirred in the bed, sensing his immanent departure, her posture telling him that she didn’t like the idea of him leaving. “Where are you going?”

  “Home,” he replied.

  She smirked. “Can I come with you?”

  He scoffed at the words, like she was telling him that she could fly by attaching propellers to her already hard nipples. “No,” he said flatly.

  Her smirk faded. “Why not?”

  “Because I only just met you.”

  “But…” she asked confusedly. “I thought that… last night…”

  He shook his head at her. “Let me ask you something. Do you think you’re the first to fuck me… or the hundredth?”

  Her face remained confused. It was clear that she didn’t get the implication.

  “Never mind,” he said, turning to pick up a shirt he’d saved from off the back of a chair and pulling it on over his torso.

  “Can… can I call you? Maybe visit you in L.A.? That’s where you live, right?” she asked hopefully, grasping at straws. “I can get your address from–”

  “No,” he interrupted. “I won’t be in L.A.”

  Her look of confusion deepened, offset by a little panic at his sudden departure. “But… I read an interview you gave. You live in L.A.”

  “I live part of the time in L.A. during the offseason. But that’s not home,” he replied as he tucked his shirt into his jeans.

  “But you said you were going home,” the girl reiterated, getting to her knees as though she might spring on him to try and keep him in the pocket of what was sure to be a high point in her life.

  “Yes, I did… and I am,” he said, plucking a jacket from the wardrobe and pulling it on. “My sister is getting married this weekend and there aren’t any airports in our hometown. I have to drive part of the way and I have to get there today.”

  The girl’s face brightened, like a cat that saw an unsuspecting and plump mouse that she could sink her claws into. “I love weddings! I can go as your date!”

  He ignored her over-eagerness to attach herself to his life. He felt like a shark that had suddenly became aware of the remoras that had attached themselves to him. And all it would take was a small swat of the fin to remove the problem.

  “I don’t think so… you’re not that great to have around.”

  Her face fell. “But… last night… it was great!”

  This time, he did chuckle. “Maybe it was for you.”

  She froze at the comment and looked at him confusingly, and a little hurt. This was where his reputation for being “Bad Chad” came into play.

  He slung his duffel on over his shoulder and he moved for the door. “Thanks again… whatever your name is,” he said, giving her a final wink and the realization of the simple gesture washed over her as if he’d poured scalding acid on her.

  With a soft chuckle he opened and closed the door behind him, hearing the girl quickly scrambling off the bed. Whether she was intending to follow him or not, he couldn’t guess, or maybe she was just eager to get at her precious phone and find the memento that she expected to find there.

  She wouldn’t.

  He’d gone through the girl’s phone while she slept. Looking for any evidence that she might have had picked up to show off to her friends or worse, a news agency, that could land him in hot water was a habit by this point. It was a simple thing, taught to him by one of the team’s tech gurus so that he wouldn’t wind up in more trouble than he liked. It was as standard a thing to do as getting the girl’s panties off.

  He hadn’t been surprised to find that she had a recorder app on her phone that had recorded the whole of their tryst. From the time they’d been in the elevator to the time they’d fallen asleep, she had recorded the sounds of their lovemaking.

  Now I know why she called me by name so often, he’d thought.

  He’d been quick to delete it.

  It always amused him when they tried such things. It was bold. It was also dumb… but bold. He did admire that kind of commitment, even if it was foolish and would amount to nothing.

  He walked to the elevator bank and stepped into a vacant car. He’d seen girls chase after him naked through the halls before and his most recent challenger didn’t strike him as the kind that was above being seen naked if only to cling to him for a while longer.

  By the time the doors closed, he felt safe that this most recent remora wouldn’t be a problem. Even if she did chase after him, she’d probably be looking for a limo waiting outside the lobby or a fancy sports car being looked after by a valet. He had neither, but had done what normal people did when he wanted to fly under the radar: he had a rental car waiting in the parking garage.

  The game may be getting old and the benefits of being a top-rated NFL player might have been getting a bit dim, but one thing that he hadn’t lost interest in was how he left some of these debutantes in the dust.

  As the elevator descended, he felt a small wave of nostalgia come over him. He was going home today. Odd as it was, he felt a prickle of uncertainty in that. He hadn’t been home since before he was drafted.

  Good old Holy Oaks… he found himself wondering what it would be like to go home after all this time. Would it have changed? Doubtful. Had he changed? Apart from a successful career, not really. How would other people have changed? What about Susie? He hadn’t seen her in years, apart from the yearly family holidays. And what about this guy she was supposed to marry?

  All were good questions and ones that he thought would be interesting to get answered. Maybe he could look up a few friends from back then, if any of them were still around.

  The thought brought a new memory to the fore of his mind.

  Old friends…

  Yes… that seemed like something to do. Maybe not any of the guys he’d played ball with or anything. But maybe some of the girl’s he’d known back then. Or maybe he’d look up just one… one that he remembered more than others.

  Kelly felt like she was sweating bullets and not because of the heat.

  She had finally answered Susie’s texts, citing that she’d left her phone at home all day and that it needed to be recharged before she could use it as the excuse for not having answered sooner. Susie seemed to have bought the excuse easily enough and had sent her the details of their itinerary.

  The list of things to be done was almost laughable. The entire wedding had been planned out, down to the minute. Kelly knew that Susie had gone off to California to study filmmaking at UCLA. It seemed that her studies had agreed with her if her own wedding had been organized like a film shoot.

  And the first item on that last had been easy: Introduce Kelly to future hubby.

  Oddly enough, Susie had actually called her to verify that part of the schedule. And untrue to genuine Hollywood form, Susie had actually sounded quite friendly on the phone. Her voice had changed… she had sounded more confident… stronger… like somewhere she had been hammered on the anvil of industry and been made tougher. Kelly had almost expected to hear the squeaky and excited voice of the
girl she had once known.

  It had been just another reminder of how people that she had once known had changed. But her? She had changed too… just not in the ways that everyone else had thought she had.

  She knew Susie’s car at a distance, even though she had never seen it before. A large custom SUV stood out in Holy Oaks the same way Paris Hilton stuck out in a convent. And though she felt like a nervous wreck, she stood her ground.

  What the fuck am I doing here? She asked herself over and over. What the fuck am I doing here?

  The sun beat down on her mercilessly, warming her already overheating body. She wore her best outfit, a pant suit that she had only had cause to wear twice before now. It didn’t look like much, but it was the single most professional outfit that she had. And it seemed appropriate enough to wear for a meet-and-greet like this. She hoped it would be enough to perhaps allay suspicion and maybe even offer enough of an excuse as to be pardoned from this wedding.

  As the SUV drew nearer she contemplated simply turning and walking away. Susie would never know that it had been her standing here and waiting to meet her old friend and her new fiancé as they came into town. Who was to know? She could always meet up with them later… make some excuse…

  No. No, she couldn’t do that. She’d already resolved that the sooner she got this over and done with, the better off she would be. A quick hug, a quick introduction, an endearment or two, some congratulations and… ‘Sorry, Susie, but I can’t be at your wedding. Why? Well… because. Hope it all works out. See ya!’

  “Yeah… what could possibly go wrong?” she thought out loud.

  As the SUV finally pulled up to the Hayman rest stop, Kelly summed up her courage. The windows were tinted in classic California fashion to keep the paparazzi from peering inside. The license plates were arranged in a manner befitting someone successful as they spelled out “BIGTIME”. Kelly felt herself withering on the inside. To be so near to someone that had enjoyed such success felt like sunbathing naked inside a nuclear reactor.

  Just get it over with quick, she told herself.

  When the passenger door opened up, a slender figure poured out. She recognized Susie at once. Her hair had been long and streaked different colors when last she had seen it, now it was cut short to the length of her jaw and its natural dark brown. She was still skinny, though her breasts had swelled to an impressive size and her hips were flattering inside the business skirt that she wore. The sunglasses that she wore, Kelly realized, were easily a month’s pay from the diner and Susie wore them as if she had picked them up at the last gas station on the road.