Craving Heat

by Adrienne Giordano

  “Hey,” he called.

  Grif angled back, arranged his face into a bright smile. “Morning.”

  “Kinda early for you, no?”

  Reid held up his wrist. “Superstar, you’re late.”

  Actually, he was right on time, but in Reid’s world if you weren’t early, you were late.

  “Dragging today.”

  “You okay?” Grif wanted to know.

  If he intended to keep up these early morning workouts, he couldn’t have Maggie keeping him busy half the night. “I’m good. Tired is all. What’s up?”

  “I had a call from Paskins last night.”

  There’s a name he didn’t want to hear this early. But, speaking of that son of a bitch, his two-day deadline ended today and he’d better be giving Jay some answers on the Celebrate Hope situation or Jay would start working his contacts first thing in the morning.

  “Problem?”

  “No, he was impressed with the work you’re doing down here. With the morale issues on the team since you left, he wants to bring some guys down for team building exercises.”

  “Yeah. He mentioned that. What about it?”

  “Listen,” Reid said, “if them being here is gonna screw up your focus, we’ll tell them no. I have eighty guys coming in from Southern Cal on Sunday. We’re not hard up for business.”

  They’d turn away a professional football team for him. Talk about loyalty.

  “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Blah, blah. We know. I got no problem turning them away.” Reid looked at Grif. “Right, Pretty Boy?”

  Keeping his gaze on Jay, Grif flipped his brother off. “What the knuckle-dragger is attempting to say is, the Knights were shitty to you and you’re our priority. If there is any hesitation on this, just say the word.”

  For years, he and Sam had been watching each other’s backs. They had been alone and untrusting of their own mother, emphasis on the alone. Until now. Now, Grif and his family had taken them in.

  “Guys, I appreciate it, but it’s not necessary. Whenever they’re coming, I’ll steer clear. I’ll get off the property completely. I’ll take a day, maybe explore the area.”

  And look for potential homes to buy. Because if he got really lucky, this thing with Maggie would work out and he’d become a North Carolina resident.

  Grif cocked his head. “You’re sure? I thought you’d be pissed.”

  A couple days ago, he had been pissed when Paskins had asked about doing this. Now? With Maggie pounding sense into him, there were more important things to get pissed over. “It’s all good. Tell me when they’re coming and I’ll bolt.”

  “Game is a week from Monday night. Paskins wants them focused for the big stage. He’s looking to send some starters tomorrow morning for the day. Test the waters. If it works out, they’ll schedule some off-season stuff.”

  “All right.” Jay waved a hand at Reid. “We’ll do our normal morning workout—”

  “Cash is coming tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Jay said. “I could use it. Let’s book extra time for Cash and a workout. That’ll take us to eight or eight thirty. Give me an hour to eat and get cleaned up and I’m gone.”

  “I’ll tell Paskins we can have them here at ten.” Grif turned to Reid. “You’ll arrange to get them from the airport?”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Jay held his hands out. “All settled. Now, I’m gonna warm up.”

  “When you’re done,” Grif said, “come see me. There’s an offer on the table I didn’t anticipate. I was gonna say no, but I want to run it by you.”

  “Will do, boss. Now get the fuck out.”

  He needed to stay sharp and game-ready. And with Maggie agreeing to give their relationship a shot, even with this bullshit embezzlement crap, he was starting to feel good about his life again.

  * * *

  At 9:00 sharp, Jay walked into Maggie’s office. All buttoned up in her uniform, she sat at her desk, tie perfectly straight, badge in place, and her hair pulled back in a slick ponytail. A definite contrast to the woman who’d wrapped her long legs around him last night and let her hair go wild while telling him exactly what she wanted from him. Yow. He needed to stop thinking about that.

  Wicked turn-on though, this all-business Maggie versus the sex goddess Maggie.

  She peered up at him with her big brown eyes and a sly smile slid across her lips. Tonight, he’d get her out of that uniform and they’d see about her handcuffs.

  “Hello,” she said. “How was the workout?”

  “Good. You’re not gonna believe this one.”

  She widened her eyes and took a breath. “What now?”

  “Paskins wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass about training with Reid. He’s really doing it. He called Grif last night and wants to bring the guys down tomorrow.”

  Her head lopped forward. “On a Saturday? Don’t they have a game on Sunday?”

  “It’s a bye week. They’re not playing until next week. A night game. Ton of pressure with national coverage. Knowing him, he wants to get them sharp for that. Reid and Grif were gonna tell him no. They’d turn away what could turn into not just the Knights, but the entire league training down here. Can you believe that?”

  “Of course I can. That’s my family. We take care of our own.”

  Our own.

  Maggie’s family stood behind each other, shoring up, adding energy and strength to the united front. Something he’d only had with his sister and suddenly, experiencing it from Maggie and Reid and Grif, he wanted more. Wanted to be part of it for as long as his twisted life would allow.

  “For me,” Jay said, “it’s weird. My family is so screwed up, we never had that. It was me and Sam. No one else.”

  “Well, that’s changing, isn’t it?”

  “I guess it is.”

  He took the seat across from her, slouching enough to appear casual, but they both knew better.

  She eyed him for half a second. “You ready?”

  Never. “Yep.”

  “Are you lying?”

  “I am.”

  She laughed. They’d talked for a long time last night, debating the pros and cons of a warrant for the private DNA database and calling Cam about the mess with Celebrate Hope. If Jay made the call, his nasty secrets would be out there. Maybe, Maggie had argued, the feds could keep it quiet.

  Maybe not.

  After so many years of shielding his image and hiding the miserable truth of his upbringing, this felt…foreign. Like driving in a foreign country. On the wrong side of the road. With no navigation.

  In the end, after weighing every option either of them could toss out, he’d told her he’d sleep on it. Which he did. As of 5:30 this morning when he rolled out of her bed to head back to Tupelo Hill, he’d informed Sheriff Kingston she could get the warrant and they should call Cam. It scared the ever-loving shit out of him, but he was tired of running. And with radio silence from Paskins, deal or no deal, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

  He pointed at her desk phone. “Let’s do it.”

  She nodded. “Good, because I already have the wheels rolling on our warrant. My favorite judge is in court this morning, but I should hear something from her by lunchtime.”

  “What happens then?”

  “Then I send the warrant over to the genealogy sites and we run the DNA through their databases.”

  “That fast?”

  “They could stall, but I’ll put pressure on them.” She smiled. “I can be convincing.”

  He snorted. “Don’t I know it?”

  “I took the liberty of texting Cam that I might be calling around now. He said he’d be at his desk.”

  She pointed at the door. “Want to close that while I dial?”

  Jay hopped out of his chair and gently shut the door. The snick of the locking mechanism reverberated in his head, shifting his hypervigilant system to protection mode.

  Don’t do it. He could leave. Open th
e damned door and walk right out.

  That, however, would make him the worst kind of coward. The one who couldn’t face his own past.

  He ignored his slamming pulse and turned back to Maggie.

  She tapped a button on the desk phone, sending a dial tone blaring into the room. “You’re doing the right thing. I’m sure it doesn’t feel like it, but you and Sam are being set up here. And worse, they’re blackmailing you. You shouldn’t be forced to accept that. Not for an image. This embezzlement has to be addressed. Particularly for the folks Celebrate Hope should be helping.”

  Don’t do it. The panic hit him like a freight train, stealing every ounce of air from his body. Can’t breathe. Jesus.

  Maggie hit the button again and the room went silent. “Jay?”

  He should haul ass. Right now. Forget the whole goddamned thing. He snapped his gaze to her fingers still on the keypad.

  “I’m here for you, Jay,” she said. “Whatever you need.”

  Damn, this woman could read his mind. He inhaled hard, forcing oxygen into his body. Maggie. Even with his career in flames, she was right here with him.

  He took three more breaths and focused on the task. On doing the right thing, no matter the consequences. “Thank you,” he said. “Now let’s do this.”

  Maggie nodded and dialed. The line connected and rang twice.

  “Blackwell.”

  His voice was deep. Rough. Like Maggie’s all-business voice. Might be a cop thing. Who the hell knew?

  “It’s me,” she said.

  “Hey, Mags.” His voice eased to a more casual, less clipped tone. “What’s up?”

  “I—” she glanced at Jay. “We need your help with something.”

  “We?”

  “I have Jayson Tucker in my office. He has information he’d like to share. About Celebrate Hope.”

  17

  On Saturday morning, the morning the Knights were set to arrive, Jay stood at the stove in Miss Joan’s kitchen throwing together a Denver omelet. Miss Joan had broken his heart by choosing to leave on a day trip with Eddy rather than joining Jay for breakfast. A day trip. Really? Must be what older folks called it when they wanted to get laid.

  Day trip, my ass.

  The heartbreak was probably meant to be because he hadn’t factored in time to prep the food and cook when he’d given Reid his timeline for clearing out of Tupelo Hill. The wall clock tick-tocked and he glanced up: 9:15. Shit. Paskins and crew would be arriving at 10:00. Giving himself a cushion meant peeling out by 9:50—or sooner unless he wanted to risk running into his former teammates. Some, he wouldn’t mind seeing, but he wasn’t sure who all would be in the group and he wasn’t risking it.

  Paskins, though, he needed to see, or at least talk to. Jay had left him a message the night before regarding their deal and the blown deadline. Jay had yet to hear back. The son of a bitch was ducking him, testing Jay on his threat to go to the press. At this point, Paskins shouldn’t push it. The only thing keeping Jay from reaching out to a few well-chosen reporters was the fact that Cam Blackwell had asked him to hold off.

  As of last night, Cam had spoken to the Columbia, South Carolina, field office regarding opening an investigation into Celebrate Hope. The public needed to know where their money went and an investigation would, in Jay’s mind, clear Sam as well as himself.

  His cell phone rattled against the counter and Reid’s name flashed. Jay tapped the screen. “What’s up?”

  “You got company heading your way,” Reid said. “A couple of your buddies from the team.”

  Crap. He glanced at the clock again, knowing full well he hadn’t suddenly fallen into a fugue state and lost forty minutes. “Now? What happened to ten o’clock?”

  “A couple of the guys came down last night. They got here early to catch you. I told ’em you were staying up at the house, but might be gone already. Feel free to not answer the door. I wasn’t making that decision for you. Your friends, your decision.”

  “Who is it?”

  “Dirks and Rothstein.”

  Ah, jeez. Two of his closest friends. How the hell could he ignore them? “All right. Thanks for the heads-up.”

  Jay punched off the call and slid his omelet from the hot pan. Rather than sit, he stood at the counter, shoving in forkfuls of food before his friends knocked. He polished off half the omelet and took a slug of water before the bam, bam, bam occurred. Front door.

  Was he ready to see them when the stab of disappointment over being ousted from the team was still fresh? Even when it came to his friends, it seemed too damned soon. But these guys had had his back from the get-go, deflecting questions from reporters and leaving him messages of support.

  The knock—pounding, really—sounded again. He’d have to answer it. What kind of chickenshit asshole leaves his friends at the door? He wiped his face and hands with a napkin and tucked it under the plate.

  Bam, bam, bam.

  Friggin’ animals might knock down that door banging so hard. “Ho! Keep your goddamned shorts on.”

  No chance Sam might still be sleeping after that racket. He strode to the door, set his hand on the knob, and took a second to breathe. He ripped open the door. “You two dumb-asses almost broke the door down.”

  Dirks shoved him aside and let himself in.

  “By all means,” Jay said, “come in.”

  On his way past, Rothstein lightly smacked Jay’s cheek. “Dude,” he said, “whassup? Do you miss us?”

  More than you know.

  “Dream on, douchebag. I finally got some peace and quiet.”

  Dirks stopped in the living room and spun back. “Quiet? Who needs that shit. I say it’s overrated.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  As much as he’d like to act pissed off about these guys busting in on him, seeing his friends brought on a smile. Because, yeah, he’d missed them. “But, you know, you assholes do grow on a guy.”

  Rothstein made pistols with his fingers and clicked his tongue. “Exactly why we’re here. Whatever this wargaming shit is, you’re doing it with us.”

  Hold on now. “Thanks but no thanks. It’s team business. You might have missed it, what with the reporters and psychos trying to kill me, but I’m not a Knight anymore.”

  Dirks waved that off. “Who gives a crap? You’re our guy. We want you up there.”

  Awww, sweet, but…no. “No way, boys. Not happening.”

  “Come on. There’s only eleven of us. All the senior guys. Your guys. Paskins told us to check it out before he sent the whole team.”

  Now this was interesting. “Which guys?”

  Rothstein rattled off the list of names. All men Jay had played with over the last few years. Guys who’d shown loyalty to him before and after the Eric Webb shit show.

  “That’s why you came in early? To talk me into this.”

  Dirks held his hands wide. “We love you, man!”

  “Plus,” Roth said, “we got the rundown from the swol guy.”

  “That’s Reid. He owns the place.”

  Roth waggled his hand. “Whatever. He said he’s letting us loose in the woods for team building. Paintball guns and shit.”

  Reid had bounced his plan off Jay during his workout that morning. He’d come up with a fictitious hostage situation where the guys would be split into teams, competing to be the first to find and rescue the hostage.

  Roth circled his finger. “You know the layout of the place. We’ll put you on our team and ace this thing.”

  Jay snorted. If only it was that easy. “There’s about twenty acres out there I haven’t seen, so don’t count on me to bail your asses out. Is Paskins here?”

  Dirks shook his head. “Last I heard, no. But we weren’t on the plane.”

  “I gotta meet with him about something.”

  Rothstein set his hand on Jay’s shoulder and shoved. “Even more reason for you to hang around. Don’t be a pansy-ass and run. Stick around. Meet with Paskins and then war-game. It’ll
be fun. Christ knows you haven’t had any of that lately.”

  Not true. Media chaos, would-be assassins, and embezzlement issues aside, he had Maggie. That right there? Fun with a capital—and bold—F.

  “It’s not bad here.”

  “Hicksville?”

  Now Roth was pissing him off. “It’s not Hicksville. Yeah, it’s quiet. But the fresh air is…pretty fucking awesome. I’m thinking I’ll buy a place here.”

  His friend’s jaw fell open. “No way. You?”

  Jay laughed. “Wait’ll you see the property. And if I do buy a place, I’ll let you idiots rent a room from me.”

  “Generous,” Dirks said.

  “It’s in my nature.”

  Rothstein wrapped his thick as an oak arm around Jay’s neck and added enough pressure for him to feel it in his throat.

  “Give in,” he said, “or I snap your pencil neck. Pretty boy quarterbacks and your skinny necks.”

  “I may have a skinny neck, but I got a free hand that can twist your balls until they break off.”

  To add drama, Jay held his hand out and wiggled his fingers.

  “Shit.” Roth let go. “Don’t touch my junk, man. That’s dirty.”

  Dirks got in the middle of them. “You two about done horsing around? We’re on the clock here. Come on, Tuck. What have you got to do that you can’t stomp around in the woods with us?”

  When Jay didn’t answer, Roth shoved him to the door. “That’s what we thought. Go. Let’s kick some ass.”

  * * *

  Jay’s reunion with his former teammates lasted all of seven minutes. After which, Reid turned into a drill sergeant sending his troops to stow their personal belongings, including cell phones, in lockers.

  There’d been no sign of Paskins. Either he hadn’t made the trip or he was locked in an office somewhere doing business. Later, Jay would ask Reid about it.

  For now, a bunch of grumbling, electronics-free football players assembled behind the training center where a grinning Reid set equipment out on rolling tables. Nothing Reid loved more than getting under the skin of guys who’d like to kick the crap out of him.