Parker (Face-Off Series Book 1)

by Jillian Quinn

  My stomach clenches, and I feel as though I will be sick. As much as I care for Alex, we cannot pursue a relationship without ruining what I have with Mickey and my clients.

  “I’m sorry, Alex, but nothing has changed since we were together last. Mickey still has rules.”

  “What if I can get Mickey to change the rules?” His tone is desperate. “Would things be different between us if that were to happen?”

  “Of course, it would, Alex. You’ve known Mickey your entire life, and that means you also know that he does not make exceptions. For anyone. He would kill me if he ever found out we were having this conversation or that we ate dinner together.”

  Alex presses his lips to my cheek, and a chill runs down my spine, igniting every sensitive part of my body at once. “If his approval is what we need to be together, then I won’t stop until I get it. I promise.”

  Our lips are so close, I think about kissing him, and I can tell he has the same idea.

  Instead, he backs up, his features matching the seriousness in his tone. “Wait for me.”

  “I’ll wait for you,” I mutter as he takes my hand and pulls it up to his lips. “Of course I will.”

  Alex smiles. “I need to go before I kiss you, and once I kiss you, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”

  He begins to walk toward his apartment and stops when I say, “Alex, for the record, I’m in love with you, too.”

  He pivots his foot and spins around, grinning. “Good, because I’m going for the win.”

  Alex

  “What do you need us to do?” Kane stares at me, confused. “Coach is my girl. I wish she had given me a shot instead of your punk ass”—he stops to laugh—“but I don’t have a problem with it.”

  Donovan raises a highball glass to his lips and chugs down the amber liquid. “Yeah, I don’t see what difference it will make to Mickey if we say we’re okay with you and Coach dating.”

  Leaning my arm on the bar, I sigh. “Because he needs to see that his clients are okay with it. If I can get some of them on board, then I might be able to change his mind about his stupid fucking rules. That’s why I wanted you guys to come here tonight. I need you to back me up.”

  I rented the private room at Luciano’s for the occasion. Operation Get Charlotte Back is in full effect. For our first real date in public, I took Charlotte here. She chose it because of the privacy. I guess that’s one of the perks of eating in a restaurant owned and operated by the Mafia.

  The restaurant is much larger than it appears from the outside with a second floor that overlooks an open kitchen you can see into from every angle. It has a rustic Italian vibe with brick walls, dark bamboo floors, and a wine bar made of casks, set up for tastings.

  Inside the private room, we have our own bar and bartender—though I’m nursing a Cherry Coke—and the circular booths remind me of something from a Mafia movie. Charlotte loves it here, and they have the best food I have ever tasted.

  “Mickey is here,” Kane says under his breath, his eyes fixed on the door behind me. “We’ve got your back. Don’t worry.”

  Donovan clamps his hand down on my shoulder, his breath reeking of whiskey. “Whatever you need, man.”

  “So, what is so important that I had to drive from Manhattan in rush hour traffic?” Mickey asks, walking up to the bar without making eye contact. He motions for the bartender with his hand, and he shuffles down to meet him. “Jack and Coke.”

  Then, he pulls the stool next to me out from the bar and takes a seat, so he is facing all three of us. “Are we having a team meeting?” Mickey reaches over to grab his drink from the bartender and takes a long sip.

  “Sort of, Mick.” I hunch forward and lean closer to him. “Look, I need to talk to you about Charlotte.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me, his gaze traveling down the row until he reaches Kane, and then he shakes his head, disappointed, before gulping down the rest of his drink. I hope Mick the Dick is not about to come out and play because I really hate dealing with him when he’s hammered and in asshole mode.

  “Bartender”—he raises his empty glass in the air—“Keep ’em coming.”

  “Mick, I need you somewhat coherent. Can you cool it with the Jack until after we talk?”

  “Fine, then talk. You know how I feel about you and Charlotte. She’s my agent and my employee, and I am not going to have you ruining my best earner, so you can have a fling.”

  I groan in frustration. “It was never just a fling with Charlotte. I am in love with her.”

  His mouth opens wide in shock, but he doesn’t say anything and allows me to continue.

  “I need her back. My life is not the same without her, and from what I’ve heard from Jamie, she’s just as miserable without me. I can’t sleep, I barely eat anymore, and my game is fucking shit right now.”

  “You’re playing worse than shit, kid. If your father were here right now, do you know what he’d tell you?”

  “That women and hockey don’t mix,” I deadpan.

  He nods and tilts his glass to his lips.

  “But he’d also quote some pro player and tell me how you shouldn’t give up on your dreams.”

  Mickey smirks and then he raises the glass to his mouth, finishing it off before he sets it down on the bar with a loud clang. “And Charlotte is your dream? Alex, you are only twenty-seven years old. You have very few years left before this sport will take its toll on your body. Five years from now, you can settle down and worry about all that, but right now, we need to get you back on track.”

  Kane gets up from his stool, beer in hand, and steps in front of Mickey. “It doesn’t bother me that Coach and Alex are together, and I doubt her other clients would care, so why does it matter to you?”

  “Because…” He cocks his head to the side and rubs the stubble along his jaw. “Would you want your daughter dating a guy like you or Alex?”

  “Hell no,” Kane says without hesitation. “I’d never let my daughter out of the house if she wanted to date someone like me.”

  “Thanks,” I growl.

  Kane shrugs his shoulders, an apologetic look on his face.

  “You just made my point for me.” Mickey folds his hands across his chest. “I never had a family. I never wanted to do the whole wife-and-kids lifestyle. Alex is my godson, and Charlie is like a daughter to me. She’s a good girl with a head on her shoulders, and I don’t want Alex to ruin her like he has done to every woman he’s slept with.”

  “Are you kidding me, Mick?” I yell, furious with him, my voice a rumble in the quiet room. “You’ve kept us apart for almost two months because you think I will ruin her?” The words are like acid on my tongue.

  “Look at what you did to your previous owner’s granddaughter. Not only did you almost ruin your entire career over that stupid sex tape, but that poor girl was so upset about all the media attention that her parents had to send her to a university in Paris just so she could escape the spotlight. You are family, Alex, but that doesn’t mean I want you to date Charlie. She has had a rough life. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter since the day you popped out of the womb. If you ruin your career, that will be on you, but you also have an inheritance from your father and your earnings from hockey to live on for the rest of your life. Charlie does not have that luxury. She has to work for her money the old-fashioned way.”

  “So, this has nothing to do with your rules about dating clients?”

  “No, that rule is in place for a reason, but I mostly added it to the company handbook after a few secretaries had sex with clients.”

  “You can change the rules, Mick.” I place my hand on his shoulder and give it a squeeze. “Please, for me. My dad wouldn’t let my game suffer if he knew there was something he could do to fix it.”

  While that might be a lame excuse for why I have been playing shitty, I can only hope it will melt the ice around Mickey’s cold heart. He has two soft spots—Charlotte and me.

  He frow
ns. “I’ll tell you what. If you can get the rest of Charlie’s clients to say they are okay with the two of you together, then I will change the rules.”

  “All of them?” Kane asks, slipping his hands into his jean pockets, perplexed. “That’s crazy. How do you expect Alex to get all of them to go along with this?”

  “Are you jerk-offs ready to eat or what?” Mickey slides off the stool, a fresh whiskey in hand. “I’m fucking starving.”

  I throw my hands on my hips, irritated. “We’re not done talking.”

  “Yes, we are, Alex. I don’t think you’re serious about Charlie, and until you prove to me that you can act like a man and do right by her, my rules will remain in place. You wouldn’t want me to have to fire her over your little crush, would you?”

  “You’ll see,” I snap back.

  He throws back the glass and empties it in one shot. “Prove it.”

  I hold out my hand, and he shakes it. “Challenge accepted.”

  Maintaining eye contact, he flashes a rare smile. “Good. Now, let’s eat.”

  Between practice, home games, and traveling across the country for away games, it takes me close to two months to track down each person since they are also professional athletes with the same hectic schedules. Most of the contact I made early on, some players brushed off, thinking I was prank-calling them. I would have thought the same thing if the situation were reversed.

  After waiting for our schedules to match, I’ve finally nailed down the last person on Charlotte’s client list. He just so happens to play for a rival team in the NHL. And we are playing him tonight. We have never gotten along, and the last time we played against each other, I head-butted him and was ejected from the game and suspended. Kane and Donovan wanted to come along for backup, but I can handle myself.

  As I knock on Bryan Clark’s hotel room door, I remind myself that this is for Charlotte. This guy is such a fucking dick.

  Clark answers in a pair of light-blue boxers and no shirt, his dark hair mussed up from sleep. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head. “What the fuck do you want, Parker?” Moving his hands onto his hips, he stares me down. “It’s too early to see your ugly mug.”

  “You haven’t answered any of my calls, so what choice did I have? I need to talk to you about Coach, but I’m sure you already know that.”

  Clark rubs his eye with the back of his hand. “I got your messages, but what does my agent have to do with you?”

  Placing my hand on the wall, I lean against the doorframe. “Are you going to let me in or what? I’d prefer not to have this conversation in public.”

  He looks down the vacant hallway and rolls his eyes. “No one is around. Just spit it out, and get the hell out of my face.”

  Coming here, especially this early in the morning, I knew Clark would be the most difficult of Charlotte’s clients to deal with, considering our previous history on the ice. I saved him for last because the asshole would not return my phone calls but also because I had a feeling this one would be the most challenging. In retrospect, I probably should have worked on him first.

  It takes every ounce of my self-control to man up and set aside our differences right now. “I’m sure you saw the papers a few months ago when they were talking about Coach and me, right?”

  He laughs into the crook of his arm. “Yeah, you looked like such a pussy in those pictures. Were you really begging Coach to go out with you?”

  With my hands balled into fists at my sides, I try to hold back my anger. He has always pushed my buttons on the ice. Fucking prick!

  “Not exactly, smart-ass. We were dating before that happened, and after Mickey found out, he put a stop to it. He has these stupid office policies about employees dating clients.”

  “You got a piece of Coach?”

  I want to beat the smirk off his face. He holds up his hand for me to give him a high five, and I shake him off.

  “Damn, Parker. Coach…mmm…that’s some top-quality pussy. Good for you.”

  Restraint is not something I have had much of over the years. I use that to my advantage when it comes to hockey, but I’m about two seconds from murdering Clark. “Are you going to help me out or not?”

  He snickers. “Why would I want to help you? After you head-butted me in the finals and broke my nose, no fucking chance I want to do a damn thing for you.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I got suspended for three games at the start of the next season because of it.”

  “Nope.” Clark shakes his head. “That doesn’t make me feel better. Sorry, I can’t help you.”

  He starts to close the door on me, but I push my hand out to stop him.

  “You are the last person on her client list. I need you to do me a favor. What will it take?”

  He opens the door wide, his hand pressed against the wood, and he leans into it. “You could beg. Why don’t you get on your knees like you did for Coach?”

  I snort. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “No, you get the fuck out of here, Parker. You come to my door at the asscrack of dawn, expecting me to do you a favor. You broke my fucking nose just because you were pissed off that you were getting your ass handed to you, and you think I’m just going to forget that, so you can fuck my agent?”

  My love for Charlotte has only grown stronger with each day we’ve spent apart. On occasion, I see her coming or going to her apartment, or we share an elevator, but it has been far too long since I last touched her. She knows I have been working on getting her back, and when we speak during those short-lived moments, I can tell that she is hoping I will set my pride aside and do whatever is necessary to get her back. And I have to do that right now.

  Sinking to my knees in front of Clark, I’m ashamed and embarrassed, hoping no one will open their hotel door at this very moment and snap another newsworthy picture.

  “Happy?” I say, holding my arms out at my sides. “Now, will you please help me get Coach back? I’m organizing something, and I need you to come.”

  Clark twirls his beard between his fingers, entertained, with a huge smile on his face.

  “I’m glad you find this so funny, but I have to leave soon for practice, and I need to know that you will do this. If you don’t want to do it for me, can you at least do it for Coach? After some of the deals she has gotten you, this is the least you can do for her.”

  “Just the sight of you on the ground, begging me, was worth it. Fine, I will come to whatever you’re planning, but let’s get something straight. I am doing it for Coach, not you. You should probably get up because you look like an even bigger pussy than you did before. At least, now, I know your weakness.”

  Charlotte is not my weakness. She is my strength. Using the wall to support my weight, I get up from the floor, feeling victorious even though I lost a little bit of my dignity in the process. My girl is worth it.

  “Be there tomorrow afternoon. Coach’s assistant, Kayla, will send you the details.”

  He nods and then closes the door in my face.

  Coach

  For close to two months, I have had more free time without Alex around to fill the void. Waiting on Alex to satisfy Mickey’s requirements has been painful, especially when I have to see him in the hallway or ride next to him on the elevator. Being around him is too much for me to bear without having all the perks. So, when we do see each other, very little talking is involved, and there is certainly no touching. Neither of us would have made it this long if that had happened. But he’s worth the wait.

  In Alex’s absence, I’ve gone back to my old routines of working myself to death and coaching my team. And, for the last two years, I have organized and hosted a youth basketball skills clinic to raise money for a charity that deals with the research and treatment of drug and alcohol addiction. This charity is near and dear to my heart, and so are my kids.

  Even before I had the idea to partner with Philly Clean, I would always donate money, of course, but I also liked to check out t
heir website and read their newsletters in hopes that their research would help me find an answer for why my parents had ended up the way they did. I never found one.

  I asked a few of the players on the Philadelphia 76ers to autograph balls and jerseys for the kids, and a few of them even volunteered to help with the event. Since I have a friend who works at Strickland University, she hooked us up for the day, and I rented the multipurpose event center on their campus.

  Standing inside this building and looking up at the high ceilings and stadium seating reminds me of the days I played college ball. A surge of electricity prickles my skin as the excitement of playing ball on a court this size again gives me the chills. The first time I held a basketball in my hand was the day I found real love. I never felt more alive.

  “Are you ready, Charlie?” Jamie snaps me out of my daze by hooking his arm around my back and pulling me against him. He gives me a squeeze and releases me. “I have everything all set up, and the kids are split up into groups.”

  “Thank you, Assistant Coach. Yeah, I think we are all set. Did you take a total head count?”

  I turn to face the lower-level seats. With over one hundred kids separated by age along the sidelines and seated in the first two rows at half-court, I walk over with Jamie to begin. Their parents are hanging out, chatting with each other midway up the row.

  “Yep, all done.” Jamie hands the microphone in his hand to me and pats me on the back with a smile. “Go get ’em, Coach.”

  I return his smile and clutch the microphone in my palm. “Good morning, parents and campers, and welcome to the Philly Clean Skills Clinic. I’m Charlotte Coachman, former shooting guard of the Villanova Wildcats and professional sports agent at Donoghue Media Group here in Philadelphia. Several years ago, I sustained a career-ending injury that changed my life. Athletes have to do more than train to stay in game-ready shape, and it’s important that you have a routine you stick with. Today, I’m going to kick off the guest lectures by talking to you about taking care of yourselves, both mentally and physically.”