Trick Play (Mavericks Tackle Love Book 3)

by Max Monroe

  “You went on a date with Cam Mitchell?”

  “Not just one date,” I answered honestly. “I’ve been secretly seeing him for a little while now.”

  “Fuck,” Steve responded and ran a hand through his hair as he tried to process the information. “Have you told him the truth about why you’re working at Skins?”

  “No. Of course not.” My chest ached with that admission. “I mean, he knows my first name is Lana, but he doesn’t know I’m an undercover cop.”

  “Holy shit, Lan.”

  I shook my head. “There’s more to it than that.”

  “Like what?”

  I opened up my laptop, typed the words “Cam Mitchell’s Mystery Girl” into the Google search bar, and several websites popped up with articles showcasing that fucking grainy picture.

  I clicked on one and turned my laptop toward Steve’s eyes.

  “While I was at the grocery store this morning, I saw this article splashed across a gossip mag.”

  He glanced between me and my laptop a few times, before settling his gaze on the screen. “Cam’s Mystery Girl?” he questioned as he scrolled through the article. “That’s you?”

  “Yeah.” I sighed a vast breath. “That’s me.”

  “Damn, Lana,” he muttered. “I mean, I doubt anyone could figure out shit from this photo or article, but still.”

  “I know,” I said, and those stupid tears threatened to fill my eyes again. “Trust me, I know.”

  “This isn’t good. This is really bad, actually,” he said, but his eyes stayed locked on the laptop screen. “Have you told Sarge about this?”

  “No.”

  “Shit,” he muttered and ran a hand through his hair. “This case you’re on is dangerous as fuck, Lan. I hate to say this, and I’m sure you already know, but you need to be more careful. Hell, you’re not even just putting yourself at risk, you could be putting Cam at risk too. Marco Sabella isn’t the kind of guy you fuck around with.”

  “I know.”

  And I did. I really did. It was all I could think about, honestly.

  If something happened to him because of me, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

  I knew what I needed to do.

  My mind was resolute, but my heart, well, taking a sledgehammer to my chest would have been less painful.

  I had to let him go.

  Even though it felt like the hardest fucking thing I’d ever had to do in my entire life, I had to say goodbye.

  A door slammed outside, and Lucky started barking like a maniac.

  There were no other indications, but I didn’t need any. Freshly showered from a long practice at the stadium and with takeout containers filled with tacos sitting on the kitchen counter, I’d been expecting this special guest.

  Hell, I’d been anticipating her visit all damn day.

  I jumped from my spot on the couch and headed for the front door. My eagerness to see Lana overflowed to the point of overzealous.

  It hadn’t even been an entire day since I’d seen her, but it was safe to say I was in the dangerously obsessive phase at the beginning of a new relationship. I woke up thinking about her, her body, her smile—the shape of her eyes—and I went to sleep wishing I was doing it with her in my arms.

  After thirty years of a mostly empty bed, it was amazing how well—and somewhat freakishly—I’d adapted to sleeping with someone else.

  I liked the extra warmth and the crowded cuddles, and I fucking loved being able to turn over and cup her breast in my hand as I slept.

  It might sound simple, but trust me, it was much more hormonally complex.

  It was fulfilling, and in the scariest of ways, it made the nights she wasn’t there seem like the weird ones.

  Lana was just stepping onto the bottom step as I opened the door with a beaming smile, and it was immediately apparent she hadn’t been expecting it.

  I laughed as she flinched. “What? Do people normally wait for you to actually ring the doorbell to answer the door?”

  She smiled a little, but her eyes turned down to the stone steps in front of her long before they had the chance to change.

  I hated missing out on the view, but the last thing I wanted her to do was trip and fall climbing my front steps because I’d distracted her.

  In the interest of her safety, I waited anxiously for her to make it to the top, but after that, all bets were off.

  In a rush, I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around her. Her weight was easy to take, and I didn’t stop at a simple lift off her feet. Instead, I spun and nuzzled her neck, placing a kiss just behind her ear before setting her delicate frame back on solid ground.

  “God, I missed you.” I beamed. “And I was expecting you almost an hour ago.”

  Her nod was small as she stepped away and put some distance between us, and for the first time since she’d arrived, I noticed how truly shaken she seemed to be.

  “You okay, baby?”

  She spun away and sank her head into her hands, and I started to get truly worried.

  “Jesus, Lana,” I muttered. “What’s wrong?”

  I put a hand to her shoulder, but she shook it off immediately before spinning to face me. Her face was red and mottled, and the streaked-black-mascara evidence of her tears was still there.

  I’d been so excited to see her, I hadn’t even noticed before.

  “Just…let me get this out, okay?” she pleaded softly.

  I obliged with a nod—I mean, of course, I did. I’d do just about anything for her on any given occasion, but seeing her this upset? Doing what she asked was a guarantee.

  Still, I didn’t see the reason in living this out on my front porch, so I suggested a relocation. “Come inside. We’ll talk through whatever it is.”

  I reached for her hand to guide her inside, but she stepped back out of reach, and a little piece of me wilted immediately.

  I didn’t have tons of experience, and I wasn’t an expert at relationships. But body language was universal, and when the woman you were seeing balked at your touch, any outlook on the future dimmed automatically.

  “I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”

  “Do what? Talk about it?” I stepped closer to her but gave her the space to keep to herself. “You can,” I assured. “You can talk to me about whatever it is.”

  Her head began to shake, and new tears followed the paths of the old. I longed to reach out and comfort her, but with every anxious breath, she held her body a little farther away.

  “No, not that. I can’t do this. I can’t do us,” she said, the percussive blow of each word immeasurably stronger than the last. But it was the final word that really stung, the one that taunted of its falsehood even as she took aim.

  Because if she was breaking it off again—if I’d fallen victim to the same thing again—there had never really been an us at all.

  I stared at her, taking in the sad lines of her face and the big tears dripping down her cheeks. For a woman who was saying she couldn’t do us, she sure as fuck looked devastated. Like she was saying words she didn’t really want to say.

  Like she was being forced to do the very opposite of what she really wanted.

  Instantly, I thought about the article and started to wonder if she’d also seen the three-page spread about Cam Mitchell’s new Mystery Girl.

  Fuck. I hadn’t even stopped to process the way seeing an article like that might affect her.

  “Is this about that stupid fucking tabloid?” I asked. “Because if it is, you have nothing to worry about, baby. I swear—”

  “That’s not what this is about,” she cut me off before I could even get started. Before I could offer up soothing words or reassuring facts.

  What the hell is happening right now?

  “I-I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t do us anymore.”

  Can’t. There it was again. That fucking word. It only consisted of four letters and an apostrophe yet held the power to tear my heart s
traight out of my chest.

  “Why?” I asked simply, hoping she’d do me the honor of the truth but knowing I was a fool all the same. In preparation, the armor around my heart started to rebuild. “Why this time, Lana?”

  Her breaths were short as she looked up at me, pain in her eyes shielded only by a stronger dose of determination.

  Her mind was set, and her fucking walls were up again, a steel fortress resting just below her deep blue gaze.

  Any progress we’d made together over the past couple of weeks disappeared into thin air.

  And now, it didn’t matter what I said. When our conversation came to a close, we would too.

  I knew it with the certainty of a thousand men.

  “Why, Lana? Tell me why you’ve decided to turn tail and run again. And an actual reason, not some vague explanation. If you honor our relationship at all, give me a reason.”

  I knew I deserved at least that much from her.

  I deserved the fucking truth.

  “You don’t understand, Cam,” she said, and I snapped.

  Good or bad, I lost the control I’d been holding so loosely in the grip of my hand.

  “Damn right, I don’t understand! Because you won’t tell me! You come and you give me tiny little pieces that I have to dig and dig for, and just when I think you’re willing to give me more, willing to give me something of yourself, you rip it all away. I don’t even know your last name, for fuck’s sake.” I was breathing heavily as I ran a hand through my hair. “I know your body. I know your eyes. Other than that, Lana, I don’t know a goddamn thing.”

  Eyes wide and mouth tight, she stood there and took everything I had to give her like the woman I knew she was.

  Strong. Resilient. Sensitive.

  But just as she’d taught me all along, that was the extent of it. Opening after opening, she still didn’t give me one goddamn other thing.

  She just stood there, looking back at me with sadness seeping out of her eyes, without offering any-fucking-thing to help me understand.

  I did the only thing I could to save myself from any more hurt, and I took one last look at the woman I could have loved.

  Do love.

  I took in her eyes and the lines of her face and the emotion that now trickled down her cheeks and off her chin.

  A deep, gnawing ache took up residence in my chest as my heart and brain warred with one another.

  I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and make it all better.

  I wanted to beg her to rethink this.

  I wanted to kiss her until she remembered just how good we were together.

  I wanted to say and do a lot of fucking things, but I knew it wouldn’t have mattered.

  It wouldn’t have a changed a damn thing. Lana had already made up her mind, and for whatever the actual reason might be, I wasn’t a part of the equation.

  I took it all in, her in, before steeling myself to do the only thing I could.

  With one last fleeting look, I turned for the house.

  And once inside, I slammed the door behind me and left her standing by herself.

  It felt cruel just to leave her standing there like that, but she already had a monopoly on cruel.

  I fought against every ridiculous urge to wait by the door, in hopes that she’d realize this was a big fat fucking mistake.

  But I knew I’d be waiting there forever.

  Instead, I forced myself to walk out of the foyer and into the kitchen and away from Lana for good.

  “You okay, pretty girl?” Star’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up from my vanity and met her eyes in the reflection in the mirror.

  I shrugged. “Honestly, I’ve been better, but I’ll be okay.”

  Okay. What a crock of shit. I didn’t know the meaning of that word anymore. It felt so far off into the distance from my present situation that I doubted me and okay would ever really team up in unison again.

  “You sure?” she asked and reached out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder.

  No, I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t get into the logistics with her.

  “I’m sure, but thanks for asking.”

  Being raised with mostly male figures in my life, I’d never really honed in on my female bonding skills. Never been one to have a lot of female friends. But over the past few months that I’d been working undercover at Skins, Star had really grown on me.

  She was sweet in all the ways that counted, and I quite admired her backbone.

  In another life, we probably could’ve been good friends.

  “Well, if you need anything tonight, just let me know, okay?” she offered and I nodded.

  “Okay.”

  Jesus. There was that fucking word again.

  My okay was the equivalent to most people’s “I’m fine.” Total bullshit, but the only way to redirect the focus off my discomfort.

  While Star moved to the vanity beside mine and finished getting herself ready for the night, I looked at the girl staring back at me in the mirror.

  The light in her eyes was diminished, and the lines on her face focused down instead of up. God, she looked so sad. I looked so sad.

  It’d been twenty-four hours since I’d officially broken things off with Cam, and I’d yet to find any reprieve from the crushing pain inside my chest.

  I told myself I could focus on my job without distractions now.

  I reminded myself that it was for the best, and that by ending things with him, he’d be safe.

  I tried like hell to talk myself into thinking this was all some play of fate, and what was meant to be would work out in the end.

  But it didn’t work.

  No matter if I’d wanted it or not, Cam had wormed his way into my heart and stuck there. Although I had no idea what my future held, it didn’t include him.

  His absence felt like a giant black hole. A deep, cavernous void inside my life that only he could fill.

  Tears fogged my vision, and I swallowed hard against them, trying everything within my power to keep them at bay.

  Fuck. Get it together, Lana.

  I didn’t have time to be emotional. I had a part to play in this undercover game, and tonight, I had to be Trixie. I had to be bubbly and flirtatious and apathetic to anything but entertaining customers and living Trixie’s best stripper life.

  I had to be focused.

  I had to be aware and vigilant.

  I had to be on my game.

  I snagged a tissue from the box on my vanity and dabbed the moisture that had pooled at the corner of my eyes and reapplied a fresh coat of mascara.

  By the time I had a full face of makeup and my hair was tamed into long waves falling down my back, I’d managed to push my sadness and thoughts of Cam far enough back that I could focus on the task at hand—being Trixie.

  “Come sit down, sweetheart,” Marco requested and patted the cushion beside him. “I’d like to introduce you to some very important people.”

  The night was in full swing—music pumping through the speakers, the booths and tables littered with mostly boozed-up and enthusiastic customers—and I made the circuit around the club after finishing up my dance onstage.

  Marco sat in the VIP section, five men catering to his narcissistic personality.

  Three of them were smartly dressed in suits, while the other two appeared to be more burly, rough, and tough, security rather than anything else.

  I smiled in a way only Trixie would and sat down beside him.

  “Gentlemen, this is Trixie,” he introduced, and I offered a little wave of my hand.

  “Hello.”

  Marco wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and the instant I felt the scratchy and callused texture of his fingers touching my bare skin, it took all of my strength not to slap that slimy, very much unwelcome hand away.

  “You know, sweetheart,” he started with a smarmy smirk. “My friends here were quite enamored of your little dance onstage.”

  “Oh, really?” I asked and smiled
coyly toward the group. “Well, I sure love making new friends.”

  “I love making new friends too, doll,” a man with gray stubble highlighting his jawline responded with a little wink. His eyes flicked down to my breasts for a long beat before lifting back to my face.

  “It appears you’ve gained a few new admirers,” Marco said, a teasing, playful tone emphasizing his voice. “Ones who would very much enjoy some extra attention from you.”

  This wasn’t new. As much as I’d have loved to say I’d never done this before, I couldn’t. For the most part, I’d grown accustomed to it, learned the little secrets to keeping myself just out of reach enough to keep them from crossing a line. But tonight, it felt different. Wrong in every sense of the word and the world—downright sickening, even.

  Because of Cam.

  But I didn’t have a choice. “You boys feeling a little lonely tonight?” I asked and forced a small smile to my lips.

  “Very lonely,” one man in a navy suit replied, and his eyes darkened with intrigue as he unabashedly perused my body.

  God, this was fucking awful.

  You have got to get it together. You have no other option at this point.

  Discreetly, I inhaled a slow breath to ease my racing heart and forced a fake little pout to my lips as I met the man’s eyes.

  “Aww,” I tittered toward him. “Well, I’m sure I can help ease your suffering… at least a little bit.” I winked, and the man in the navy suit’s eyes lit up.

  Marco’s grip on my shoulder grew a little tighter at my words, and instantly, I sensed his teasing, playful mood shift into something darker.

  “Trixie here is my favorite girl,” he said, and I didn’t miss his emphasis on the word my.

  I also didn’t miss the firm way in which he’d said it or the way his body language had changed from relaxed and at ease to territorial.

  Cam was right about him.

  But of course he was. He’d paid more attention not only to me, but to everyone else around me than any other man ever had.

  Even from that very first night, he’d proven he was the kind of man who’d look out for me. Who’d protect me. Who’d never be careless with me. He was so good to me in all the ways that counted most, and I’d only given him pain in return.