“Well, they have to have proof for that.”
“They do,” Jay said.
“Come again?”
Maggie stepped forward and set one hand on his arm. “They think they have proof.”
Whether from the placement of Maggie’s hand or her statement—could’ve been both—Grif’s eyebrows shot up. “What does that mean?”
“They have canceled checks. Allegedly, Jayson signed them.”
“Terrific.”
“It’s not my signature,” Jay said.
“Good.” Grif looked at Maggie. “What do we do?”
She shrugged. “We debunk it.”
We. He liked the sound of that.
“I have a call in to a handwriting expert I know from a previous case,” Maggie said. “If he’s available, we’ll ask him to do an analysis. Jay is also having his accountant go through his finances to prove there were no reimbursements.”
“With the amount of money at stake,” Grif said, “the league and Celebrate Hope will try to keep this quiet. That’s in our favor. While they’re busy covering their asses, we’ll get the evidence to clear you both and be done. Mags, what about the lab results on the bullet you dug out of that tree?”
“Nothing yet.”
“And Ariel Bowman?”
Ariel Bowman. The psycho who’d pulled a knife on Maggie at the press conference.
“Still locked up,” Maggie said. “She can’t make bail. She’ll go to trial eventually, but for now she’s out of our way.”
Grif nodded. “At least we know where she is. All right. What can I do?”
Jay thought it through. Couldn’t come up with a damned thing. “Nothing. We’ve got this. You concentrate on finding me a job. Did your contact at the league say if this has filtered to the teams yet?”
“He didn’t say. Why?”
The year prior, Paskins had told Jay the team’s cut on the retail sales from the Celebrate Hope campaign. The amount never sat well. In Jay’s mind, the team should have donated all proceeds—particularly since much of that merchandise had his name on it—not just the percentage earmarked for Celebrate Hope.
“The Knights made over four million on this campaign last year. On a good day, Paskins loses sleep worrying about ticket and retail sales being down. Now his team’s quarterback might be involved in skimming money. If he knows about this, he’s already taking a stroke over fans boycotting games. Forget about merchandise purchases.”
Maggie cocked her head. “What’s your point?”
“I could talk to Paskins,” Jay said. “Let him know, being the team player I am, there’s a major fucking scandal brewing that could make the team’s stock price plummet.”
“Whoa,” Grif said. “I don’t know about that.”
Maggie put up a hand to silence him. “Let’s think this through. Paskins will want to protect his team and in doing so, might be able to help Jay prove his innocence. A win-win.”
Grif leaned back on the counter, crossed his arms, and mulled it over. “A win-win until we find out Paskins is in the loop and he throws you out of his office. Tuck, if this gets out, no team will touch you.”
“I’ll risk it. Staying out of jail is more important than my football career.”
Grif clucked his tongue. “Okay. What else? Besides the general shit show this has turned into?”
“Nothing from me,” Jay said.
He glanced at Sam. “Can you think of anything else?”
She stared at him with big doe eyes and it snapped him back twenty-five years to her watching him get a beating from Drunk Marlene. She’d stood there, in the hallway outside his bedroom, staring at him with those same spooked eyes while Marlene took her father’s belt to Jay’s bare ass.
Over the years, those big eyes always told Jay his sister had something on her mind. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
She looked away from him. “Nothing. I’m listening.”
“You’re also lying. I know you. Whatever you have to say, you can say it in front of Grif and Maggie. They’re gonna help us get out of this mess.”
“I don’t think it’s anything.”
Jay fought the swear word begging to be let loose. Losing his shit on Sam wouldn’t help matters, though, so he held his breath a second and corralled his slipping patience. “It doesn’t matter. If there’s something you think is even slightly odd, it could help.”
She lifted her phone off the table and put her thumbs to work. “Last night, I got an e-mail. Telling me to stop digging around about Celebrate Hope’s finances. With everything going on, I didn’t want to bug you with it. I figured I’d tell the lawyer you got me about it.”
“No,” Jay said. “I want to see it.”
“I’m pulling it up.”
Jay relieved her of the phone and skimmed the e-mail. Sender: Joe Smith. How very original.
The more important part was the single line of text.
Stop investigating Celebrate Hope or we’ll make you stop.
What the fuck? Sam didn’t think this was important enough to pass on to him? Rather than embarrass her in front of Grif and Maggie, he’d deal with it later, in private, where he’d set his sister straight on them being a team. One that stuck together through anything. Even threatening e-mails.
Jay read the message again, as if somehow it would make more sense. Then he handed it to Maggie. “This is definitely a problem.”
After a few seconds, Maggie passed the phone to Grif. “Well,” she said. “Lucky for us we have a couple of grade-A hackers in the family. Sam, forward that to me, please. I’ll ask Jonah or Micki to trace it. Maybe we can get an IP address. For now, let’s focus on Jay’s meeting with Paskins. Hopefully, he’ll tell us something that’ll keep you both out of prison.”
13
On Wednesday morning, the sound of sirens leaked through the service entrance to Jay’s condo building. This is what his life had reduced him to. Standing in a narrow hallway with his ear to a door while he hid from the insatiable New York paparazzi.
The ka-chunk of a dumpster being emptied joined the mix and Jay paused, waiting for the truck to move on. A horn blast followed. Probably a pissed-off cabbie trying to cut through the alley.
None of it was foreign. All of it wrapped into sounds he’d spent his lifetime adjusting to. Had even, at some point, loved. City life, for a hotshot athlete in his prime, meant access to restaurants, shows, and clubs—and the women within them—most only dreamed of.
All of it there for his pleasure.
Until it all turned to shit and he’d been forced to enter and exit his own damn home via the service entrance. Last night, while on a private plane that landed at Teterboro airport in Jersey to avoid crowds, he’d changed into ratty jeans and a hoodie with a baseball cap pulled low on his head. He barely recognized himself. A quick call to the doorman granted him access to the service door and he slipped into the building with ease.
Since sneaking in through the alley worked, he pushed it by attempting to leave in the same manner, only this time dressed in a suit. After the Paskins meeting, he’d head back to Steele Ridge—to Maggie. Before her, he’d hated leaving the city. Now it didn’t seem so bad. In fact, he found himself almost anxious. Excited to get back to her. Maggie made him laugh when he sure as shit shouldn’t be laughing. The idea of leaving her behind felt like a brick to the chest.
Damn. So many complications.
Jay’s phone beeped. His driver. Pulling into the alley. He cracked the door and spotted the nondescript black SUV similar to the other ten million black SUVs prowling the city. Across from the dumpster was a blue sedan. His security guy. As much as Jay understood the importance of security, he needed space. He’d compromised with security following him, rather than riding in the same car. Was it dumb? Maybe. But he couldn’t live with a security team listening in on his life.
In seconds, he’d hopped into the SUV and received a welcoming smile from Saul, the retired cabdriver who’d been tooling him around New York for five yea
rs.
“Jayson,” Saul said, “so nice to see you, my friend.”
Jay sat forward, patted Saul’s shoulder. “Thanks, Saul. You too. Just so you know, my security guy is in that blue car. He’ll tail us.”
“All right. Thank you.”
“Now, what have I missed?”
He spent the thirty-minute ride with Saul regaling him with stories of the New York social scene. If you wanted dirt on people, New York livery drivers were the ones to call.
By the time they reached the stadium, Jay was up to speed and finding comfort in the normalcy of Saul’s storytelling.
After his meeting, Saul would drive him back to Teterboro, where Jay would hop on a plane back to Maggie. After that, who knew when he’d be back in New York?
When the car came to a stop at the entrance to the executive offices on the backside of the stadium, Jay opened the door. They’d long since given up on Saul racing around to handle the job. What was the point when Jay could save a minute or two by doing it himself. Before sliding out of the vehicle, he peered up at the domed roof of the stadium. The whole of his career had been spent as a Knight and for the second time, he caught that brick to the chest. Too many emotions wrapped up in all this bullshit. He looked back at Saul, met the old man’s gaze. “Thank you. For everything.”
“Bah! I should be thanking you. You’re a good kid. Always respectful. I’m not buying any of this garbage I hear in the news. You’ll land on your feet.” He waved a hand at the building. “They’ll be sorry. Now go. I’m wasting gas. I’ll park and be here when you’re done.”
In the absence of Jay’s father, a man Jay learned long ago put his own ambitions and needs above all else, Saul had become the voice of reason. The protector. The one barking at paparazzi to “leave the kid alone” and coming up with alternate routes to avoid the media when necessary.
“I know you will.” Jay stepped out of the vehicle. “I shouldn’t be long.”
The minute he closed the door, Saul hit the gas. He’d wait in the same parking spot—first row, third space from the right—as every other time Jay had a meeting.
He stood in the sunshine, dressed in his best suit. The gray one he’d bought while in Italy during the off-season. The suit reminded him of better days and a life more complicated than most, but one he’d worked hard for.
Now, staring up at the reflective glass of the Knights executive building, Jay let out a breath. No matter the outcome of this meeting, his tenure here was over.
Time for a new life.
Despite the chaos of the last week, it didn’t seem so bad.
He strode into the building, received a warm greeting from Denny, the day shift security guard manning the desk, and headed up in the elevator. In the executive suite, he received the same greeting from the receptionist and two assistants. He had friends here. Good people he’d relied on to help him navigate the trappings of fame.
Hearing the chatter welcoming Jay back, Paskins met him at his office door, extending his hand.
“Jayson,” he said, “good to see you.”
Jay believed him. Paskins had always been a straight shooter, a man committed to saying exactly what he thought. If he didn’t like you, he made it clear. If he saw you as an asset, he made it clear. Until recently, Jay had always fallen into the asset column.
“Thanks,” Jay said. “Sorry to bust in on your day.”
“No problem. Come in. Doreen? Let’s get Jay his coffee, please.”
“On it,” Doreen appeared in the hallway, her hand wrapped around a mug.
They had an espresso machine in the kitchen and Doreen made a killer cup of java with that thing. He never wanted to insult anyone, but if Doreen didn’t make the coffee, he had no interest.
He took the mug and held it up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused for a second. “We miss you around here.”
Whoa. He appreciated the support, but she probably shouldn’t be saying that, considering this team had fired him and her boss was sitting right there.
In an effort to shut down any chance of the conversation continuing, he simply nodded.
“Jay,” Paskins said, “have a seat. What can I do for you?”
Most meetings held in this office took place at the small round table in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the practice field. The office, roughly fourteen by fourteen, was actually the smallest in the suite, but Paskins craved the view more than the ego boost that came with a large, overly decked-out work space. Jay had always appreciated that about Paskins. The man knew what he needed to get his job done.
Paskins waved him to the table and Jay took his normal seat. Well, not his seat anymore, he supposed. The thought should have meant something. Some great epiphany or heartbreak, but the brick that had been sitting on his chest broke apart. Allowed him to take a breath.
Start a new life.
Which meant tying up the old one. Jay sat back and met Paskins’s eye. “I wanted to bring you up to speed on a couple of things.”
“Regarding?”
“Celebrate Hope.”
“Ah.” Paskins gave him the solemn face. “I heard they let you go. I’m sorry about that. I know you liked those folks.”
“I did. Until they accused my sister of embezzlement.”
Pow. If he’d rehearsed it, he couldn’t have delivered a better line. A touch of sarcasm yet casual enough that it should have left Paskins momentarily stunned.
Should have.
Paskins, though, he sat stone-faced. No outrage, no shock, no…anything.
What the hell? “You knew,” Jay said.
“I’d heard something from the league.”
Jay ignored the stab of betrayal. Did he expect Paskins to give him a heads-up? To warn him? If they’d been friends, which Jay thought they were. At least prior to them firing him. Yes, he’d hoped his friend would warn him. Possibly support him.
Which meant Paskins was just a guy trying to make a buck.
“Good,” Jay said, “then I’ll save my breath and cut right to it. This is crap. The charity is trying to rope me into this with some bogus reimbursements they supposedly made. I have my accountant on it and I’ll be able to prove by the end of the day there were no payments made to me. At all. And my sister? She’s the one who brought the suspicious account to Will in the first place. If she were stealing, why would she call attention to herself? She’d keep it hidden.”
“On that, I agree. The logic is…flawed.”
Sure was. “My sister’s boss leaves unexpectedly and then she’s suddenly accused of embezzlement. Interesting timing.”
Paskins remained silent.
“And why would the league be notified of that embezzlement? Given the cash the league makes on the shared antiviolence campaign, I’d think Celebrate Hope would want to get their act together, figure out what the hell is going on with their books before admitting there’s a problem. Too much to lose. For all involved parties.”
“Exactly why they came to us.”
Us. “Who us? The league or the Knights?”
“I’m not at liberty to say who is involved. I was notified.”
Of course he was. The league didn’t piss without telling Paskins. He demanded it. His team funneled enough revenue to the US Football Federation to make them fall in line.
Jay sat forward. “Here’s what I know. I didn’t take a dime from Celebrate Hope. If I were the league, I’d start looking real hard at joint endeavors. The money in that account my sister found was being siphoned off from somewhere and the joint campaign brought in two hundred million last year. You told me yourself the Knights’ share of that was four mil. Amounts that big, who knows? Might be easy to hide indiscretions. The problem is, hardworking people don’t like their donations fucked with.”
Paskins’s mouth lifted to a smirk. “You’re threatening us.”
“No. I’m trying to save my career. That means being loyal to the league and giving you—and t
he league—a heads-up that I’m done keeping quiet. I’m not letting my sister go to prison for Celebrate Hope and their incompetence.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want what all of you want. For this to go away. They’re telling Sam that if she goes quietly, they won’t press charges. I think they’re buying time to keep her from getting a lawyer and fighting. Hell, someone sent her a message threatening her, if she kept asking questions. If Celebrate Hope doesn’t back off, I’ll start talking.”
“To the press?”
Jay nodded. “The league will have plenty of attention. Not sure you all want that.”
“Of course not. We can’t have any hint of impropriety around this campaign. That’ll bring the feds in.”
Bingo.
Paskins sat forward, let out a sigh. “What do you want from me?”
“Look into this. Put pressure on Celebrate Hope to figure out what the hell’s going on. A lot of people depend on them. They need to make this right. I’m guessing they got rid of Jack Hill by telling him to keep quiet. They let him walk so they could cover this up. At least until my sister discovered Hill’s secret account. They’re using her—and me—as the patsy and I don’t like it. I’m not about to let them sacrifice my sister to save their asses.”
Paskins held up two hands. “Take it easy, Jay. No one is doing anything. We’re all just working through it. I’ll call the commissioner this morning. See who knows what. Do I have your word you won’t talk to the press?”
“I’m not waiting weeks. I’ll give you two days. That’s plenty of time for the league to start asking questions.”
“Let me see what I can do. And thank you for the heads-up. For giving us some time.”
Something Paskins, his old friend, hadn’t bothered to do when he’d been informed of the embezzlement accusations against Sam’s former boss. Jay nodded. “I want a job in this league. I’m willing to cooperate.”
Paskins sat back, swiveled his chair sideways, toward where the stadium loomed on the other side of the practice field. “You’ll get picked up. You’re a good leader. We didn’t appreciate it enough.”
Damn right. Jay never needed a lot of stroking. Another thing Drunk Marlene had equipped him for. Praise, for him, was never expected. Or needed. He knew his worth and he’d kept the Knights’ locker room in tip-top shape. “Thank you.”
Craving Heat Page 18