Page 141 of Twisted Collide

I did everything I needed to make sure she never ended up in his hands.

The man is a monster.

When the final horn blasts that the game is over, red-hot anger courses through me.

We lost, and I’m well aware it’s partially my fault. I played like shit and was too busy fighting to defend my men properly.

But my head wasn’t in the game, and now I have to change andfind him. Despite my earlier assessment that it was all in my mind, I know, in my heart, he’s here.

He has to be.

First—that monster never misses an opportunity to fuck me over.

Second—I wouldn’t conjure him, of all people.

As I walk out of the locker room, dressed, a security guard approaches me.

“Mr. Sinclair, a man claiming to be your uncle is trying to see you.”

Guess I didn’t have to search long.

“Where is he?”

“By the entrance. Would you like me to bring him to you?”

Do I? Or do I want to come outside to avoid a public shit show?

Both options suck.

I don’t want to be openly seen with him. Who knows why he’s here? That man was always after money. All those years ago, he thought Molly would be his payday. His intention to adopt her was never good.

Whatever he has to say to me is better said in private.

“Show him to the private room right beside the trainer’s office. That should be vacant.”

“Okay.”

I head in that direction, opening the door and waiting.

It’s not even two minutes later that the door swings open. He looks just as sketchy as the last time I saw him.

My father’s brother.

A real piece of work.

He’s just as bad as my dad, but this man never had the money my father did. Instead, he hated us for it.

When my parents died, he wanted the inheritance that their estate left behind and fought me tooth and nail to win custody of Molly.

An innocent pawn in his game.

I made sure that didn’t happen and haven’t seen him since.

When he walks into the room, there’s no question he’s still the same pathetic asshole, even after all this time.

The years haven’t been kind to him.

Gray streaks paint his dark hair. The strands look greasy against his weathered skin.

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