Trick Play (Mavericks Tackle Love Book 3)

by Max Monroe

  His voice was mocking but light, and I smirked. Of course, the razzing of the newlywed had already started.

  “Great.”

  Sam jerked up his chin and turned for the field, calling over his shoulder, “See you out there,” as he went.

  My eyebrows drew together slightly as I turned to Sean in question, but he just shrugged. “Beats me, man. Seems like something is off with him, but I tried to ask, and he told me he didn’t need a therapist.”

  I sighed. “Oh well, then, I guess.”

  One glaring difference between men and women: men had the ability to drop it.

  Sean nodded. “Go get ready. I’ll meet you out there. I gotta call Six real quick and check in before we start.”

  I smiled at the expectant dad’s nervous energy. “How’s she feeling?”

  He winced. “Sick, dude. This pregnancy is making her miserable. There’s literally nothing I can do for her, and I hate it.”

  I grabbed his shoulder and squeezed. It was crazy how much more easily my mind wandered to the idea of feeling helpless when it came to the woman of your dreams than just a couple of weeks ago.

  Apparently, meeting someone who could easily slide into your vision of the future really helped.

  “That sucks. But I’ve heard it passes. Hopefully, she’ll turn a corner soon.”

  He eyed me closely, but I ducked away from the scrutiny by opening the locker room door. It wasn’t that I thought I could avoid the subject of what had no doubt changed about me altogether, but I needed to at least get a move on with getting dressed.

  If he wanted to press further into my feelings, he’d have to wait for during the training session to do it.

  The locker room was still relatively busy when I entered, but I kept my head down and went straight to my locker.

  There’d already been enough chitchat for one morning.

  Tossing my bag into my locker and unzipping it, I changed quickly from my street clothes to my workout clothes, rezipped the bag, and grabbed my towel, water bottle, and headphones.

  Most of the time, we talked during a field workout, but there were a couple of occasions where I preferred to get a little extra energy from isolation and music.

  Quinn caught sight of me as I was on my way out and jumped to escape the group of guys trapping him close to his locker.

  “Mitchell,” he called, and the desperation in his voice made me slow my step and wait for him.

  He got to me just in time to step outside the door together.

  I laughed as he took several deep breaths in the fresh air.

  “Something wrong?”

  “They’re like vultures, man! Asking me for details and shit.” He shook his head. “Like I’m going to give them a play-by-play of the intimate vacation I just took with my wife.”

  “Did you have a good time?” I asked simply, conveying pretty directly that I wouldn’t be engaging in their game of twenty inappropriate questions.

  His smile could win awards. “The best. I love football, you know that, but I would gladly go back and stay on that island with Cat forever.”

  I laughed. “Must have been pretty good.”

  The sun hit us like a wave as we stepped out of the dark, shaded tunnel and onto Mavericks field.

  Sean jogged toward us with his phone in hand and a smile on his face. I imagined he’d gotten some good news about Six and how she was feeling, so as soon as he arrived, I said as much.

  “I guess she’s feeling better?”

  He did a double take, his eyebrows pulling together, before understanding.

  “What? Oh, no. She still feels like shit. But she was lying in bed with some magazines I picked up for her at the grocery store, and fucking look at what was on the cover of one of them.”

  Sean turned his phone and shaded it from the sun, and Quinn and I both leaned in to take a closer look.

  There on the cover was a picture of me on my motorcycle, Lana on the back, and the headline? Does Cam Mitchell Have a New Lady Love?

  The picture was grainy and ambiguous at best, and even though Lana’s face was completely covered by her helmet, it was pretty easy to make me out on the front of the bike.

  Knowing Lana’s scared kitten tendencies, I felt relief that her identity had remained private, but I couldn’t deny the excitement I experienced from seeing a photo of us together.

  Pathetic as it was, I had the urge to print the damn thing out and frame it on my mantel.

  Obviously, I wouldn’t do that, but still, the thought had crossed my mind.

  Quinn whistled, and Sean jabbed me with an elbow. “Well?”

  I’d known this time would come eventually, and as much as I usually dreaded a razzing, I wasn’t exactly feeling that bad about sharing my new relationship with my friends. It made it feel a little more real to talk about it. I shrugged and put my hands on my hips. “Well, what?”

  “Who is she? Are you really dating someone?”

  I laughed and shook my head, stepping around the guys and heading for the field as I spoke. “You guys are worse than a bunch of teenage girls.”

  Falling in line behind me, Quinn and Sean took up their own conversation. “I’m thinking that’s a yes, Sean.”

  “Hmm. Sounded like it to me, QB.”

  I rolled my eyes and called over my shoulder, “Yes, I’m seeing someone. It’s new.”

  “Ah, but how new, I wonder,” muttered Quinn.

  “What was it you were saying about your honeymoon?” I teased, stopping and turning around. “You wanted to tell us everything?”

  Quinn raised both his hands and sighed. “Fine, fine. I get it. I’ll give you your privacy.”

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I held up a finger and shielded the screen from the sun. Beth was apparently texting, and according to the preview, she and my parents had some questions about the topic of the day.

  “Is today a slow news day or something?” I asked with a laugh, sliding the phone back into my pocket.

  I had no intentions of answering her now, as it was time to get practice going.

  It felt funny to be the center of attention, but I didn’t hate the reason.

  I was excited about Lana and our potential future together, but practice was supposed to start at eleven, and it was officially five after.

  I might have had a mystery woman, but I also had a job.

  And I sure as hell wasn’t going to let the two interfere with each other any more than they already had. I had all the time in the world to be excited about Lana and me when practice was over.

  Plus, the sooner we got this going and over with, the sooner my naked pool date with Lana could take over my thoughts.

  “Okay,” I yelled, garnering the attention of everyone on the field. “Huddle up. Time to get this show on the road.”

  They actually listened. I’d never been the real leader of the team, but apparently, there was still potential.

  Game on, baby.

  “You wanted to talk to me?” I asked as I hesitantly stepped into Sergeant Miller’s office.

  “Well, hey there,” he greeted. “Thanks for dropping by on short notice.”

  He’d called me when I’d been very nearly losing my shit in the grocery store parking lot. It’d been a brief call, merely asking me to stop by his office for a quick meeting, and boy had it caught me off guard.

  I’d been so lost in my scattered, scary as fuck thoughts, consumed by the possible terrible scenarios that stupid tabloid article could create, it had taken all of my strength to answer it and find some semblance of normal conversation.

  My mind had pretty much gone into overdrive after that.

  Even though the gossip rag hadn’t managed to get an actual photo of my face, I still couldn’t get over the fact that they had a photo of me to begin with.

  But the fact remained, I was the woman on the back of Cam’s bike.

  I was the Mystery Girl. The one the media seemed keen on trying to figure out.

  By th
e time I’d reached the station, I was drowning in visions of my reckless actions, worried that my relationship with Cam could turn into a compromised case, or worse, a forced resignation from the police force.

  Not to mention all of the groceries I’d bought—including the ice cream, which had to be melted by now—were still in my trunk.

  I hadn’t even thought about stopping by the loft to drop the damn things off. Hell, I’d pretty much forgotten they’d existed while I stood in the checkout line with that fucking tabloid magazine in my hands.

  But cleaning up groceries and melted, rancid ice cream was the least of my concerns.

  Now, face-to-face with Sergeant Miller, I was focused on the unknown, on whether or not my actions had consequences, and if they did, what they were about to be.

  “Well, what are you waiting for?” he asked and gestured to the seat across from his desk. “Sit down and take a load off.”

  Jesus. I was acting so weird. Just standing there in the doorway of his office like a timid, uncertain puppy. The complete opposite of the strong, confident woman I generally was when I was inside this station, inside his office.

  Get it together, Lana.

  “Of course, sir.” I nodded, cleared my throat, and followed his instructions. He slid his reading glasses off his face and set them down beside his laptop as my nervous, sweaty ass met leather.

  “Patrol has located ten of your possible informants,” he stated, and my eyes went wide with surprise.

  I didn’t know what I’d expected, and honestly, this line of conversation should have been the most obvious choice. But when it came to anxiety, sometimes there was no actual logic at the base. Only irrationality and fear.

  “That’s uh…that’s good news.”

  “It is,” he agreed and slid a file across his desk toward me. “It’s also not the only good news.”

  I pulled it into my hands and started to scan the first document.

  “Anthony Kaiser and Bobby Maranetti are the two we’re gunning for,” he explained as I studied the previous mug shots we had on file for them. “We’ve had run-ins with these two before, and every time, they’ve buckled during interrogation.”

  Drug charges, robbery, and a few petty crimes were spread between the two, and it wasn’t a shock they were involved with Sabella.

  The fact that they were blabbermouths, however, was unexpected.

  This news was huge.

  Jubilation and emotional overload struggled to acclimate to the presence of one another inside my body, and they finally settled for separating completely like oil and water.

  Thankfully, the density of my anxiety over Cam was heavier than my excitement over the case, and therefore, sank to the bottom half of my body, far away from my mouth and any possibility of tattling to the sarge.

  “I’ve instructed patrol to take it slow with these two,” he continued. “We’re going to keep surveillance on them over the next few weeks or so until we find the right time to move in. I’d prefer to have them stuck between a rock and an arrest hard place instead of just bringing them down to the station for intense questioning. I think we’ll have a better shot at getting them to talk if they have the threat of a jail sentence hanging over their heads.”

  Over the next few weeks or so, I replayed his words in my head as I stared down at the mug shots of Maranetti and Kaiser.

  God. In the scheme of more than half a year on this case, it seemed like nothing. Like it’d all be over so soon.

  I’d spent actual months of my life solidifying a good case against Sabella, one that not only would help our PD with getting him off the streets, but would also provide the DEA with important information about the South American gang that had become a thorn in their side.

  I’d been working and working toward this, and we were finally in the homestretch. I should have felt elated.

  But in the wake of my turmoil, it felt like a lifetime.

  I wanted this case to be done. I wanted to live my life freely without the noose of undercover secrets wrapped around my fucking neck.

  I wanted to be free to love and be loved and spend some actual goddamn time living my life.

  It scared me how quickly—how easily—my priorities seemed to have shifted.

  “You good with this plan?” he asked, and he narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized my face.

  “Of…of course, Sarge.” I nodded and swallowed hard against the anxiety taking up residence in my throat.

  “Good. Good,” he responded with a little nod. “So, unless anything changes, over the next few weeks, I need you to be extra vigilant when you’re inside that club. You hear anything or see anything, especially these two asswipes coming in for a good time, let me know. I want to keep patrol hot on their tails.”

  I nodded again, but evidently, my confidence didn’t runneth over.

  “You okay, Simone?” he asked, and if I were standing, my knees would have probably buckled at his words. My body felt like it was drawn taut like a bow and ready to fire straight into a breakdown at any moment.

  Fuck. Now is not the time to lose it.

  “I’m good, Sarge.” I forced a neutral smile to my face. It felt more brittle than anything else, but apparently, it did the trick. “And I’m happy to see we’re making progress on this case.”

  He stared at me for a brief moment, but he took my words as Gospel. They were close enough to the truth, after all.

  I’m happy it’s almost over.

  “All right, then,” he said. “I guess I’ll let you get back to it. Sorry to call you down here on your day off, but I wanted to brief you before your next shift at the club.”

  “No problem,” I said, but those two words felt far from the truth.

  I, in fact, had problems. I had lots of fucking problems.

  As I walked out of his office, the guilt of not being open and honest with Sergeant Miller started to wreak havoc on my mind.

  Should I have told him about my relationship with Cam?

  Should I have opened up about the tabloid article?

  Maybe you should just be honest with Cam. Now. Even before this case is closed.

  Confused and fearful that I’d unravel in the middle of the station hallway, I picked up my pace to my office and shut the door behind me the instant I stepped inside.

  The weight of my sigh seemed to match that of my body as I let go and fell into my chair.

  Between getting involved with Cam, being spotted by a fucking tabloid on the back of his bike, and keeping information from my sergeant, I felt like I had gone off the fucking rails.

  Unease clawed its way from my belly, into my lungs, until it sank its nails into my throat.

  I tried to rationalize the situation.

  I tried to convince myself I deserved to have a life outside of my job.

  I tried to tell myself I hadn’t done anything wrong and I had nothing to worry about. My identity hadn’t been revealed, and the case hadn’t been compromised.

  I tried to tell myself all of those things, but every justification I conjured felt more like an excuse than anything else.

  I’d taken an oath when I’d accepted my badge.

  And when I’d been assigned to this case, I’d vowed not to take any unnecessary risks. I’d vowed to play my part as Trixie and focus all of my energy on using my undercover role as a means to close an airtight case on Marco Sabella.

  I sure as fuck hadn’t vowed to let myself fall in love and lose my fucking focus.

  Fall in love?

  My eyes popped wide, and all of that anxiety that had filled my lungs and clogged my throat started to choke me.

  Fucking hell.

  I wasn’t in love with Cam…right?

  Breaking things off sure feels an awful lot like the end of the world…

  I was out of control.

  Old Lana never would have let this happen.

  Three knocks to my office door stole my attention, but the familiar caller didn’t wait for an invitation. With ba
rely a pause at all, my cousin Steve walked in and made himself at home. He was dressed in his uniform blues, ready to dive headfirst into an evening patrol shift.

  “Another off day spent hanging out at the station?” he asked with a teasing grin.

  Normally, I’d be quick with sarcasm and wit, but I was all out of jokes for the day. They’d all, along with my oxygen, been sucked right out of me.

  I just shrugged. “Sarge called me in for a briefing on the case.”

  “That’s interesting.” He looked around dramatically. “Considering I don’t see Sarge anywhere in this office.”

  His comment was meant to tease, but I was too far gone in my dark mood to respond.

  It didn’t take him long to realize I was completely off-kilter.

  “What’s going on, Lan?” he implored and leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the edge of my desk.

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” he said and scrutinized my face with his far-too-knowing gaze. “You’re strung up tighter than a rubber band, cuz.”

  “I am not.” I definitely was.

  “Yeah, you are. You look like you’re ready to fucking snap at any moment. Seriously, what’s going on?” he asked again, but this time, the soft tone of concern that filled his voice brought unwelcome tears to my eyes.

  Fuck.

  Averting my gaze, I did my best to blink away the emotion.

  “You know you can tell me anything, right?” he said quietly. “I know we spend the majority of our conversations tormenting each other, but that doesn’t change the fact that we’re family. You’re the little sister I never had. You know I’m always here for you.”

  I met his eyes, and before I could stop the words or second-guess myself, my truth faucet opened up and the words started to spill out.

  “I got involved with someone I shouldn’t have gotten involved with,” I blurted out, and his eyebrows rose in confusion.

  “Got involved with someone?” he asked. “You mean the guy you went on a date with a while back?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Well, yes, it’s about that guy, but I wasn’t exactly honest with you about him,” I explained, and instead of beating around the bush, I just laid it all out there. “His name isn’t Mike. It’s Cam. Actually, it’s Cam Mitchell.”