Page 55 of Bad Ruck

"That's naïve," I said. In football and in life. No one won all the time. "Especially when the new team has fresh blood and the determination to win. Let the old team get complacent. They'll realise their mistake eventually."

"You think the Brantley family has become complacent?" he asked bluntly.

"Why wouldn't they?" I asked without blinking. "It's been years since anyone truly opposed them. Who wouldn't get complacent? If anyone was going to take advantage of that, now would be the time. But that's just my opinion." I sat back.

"I'm of the same opinion," he said. "I think your brother, you and your boyfriends will be useful to me. The question is, can I trust any of you?"

"I could ask you the same thing," I said. He'd be expecting me to say something like that. If I was too willing to jump straight in, he'd be suspicious.

"That remains to be seen," he said. "I have a job for you. If you can carry it out, I may have more." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk. "I happen to agree that the Brantley family has become complacent. We'll show them the consequences of that. There's power to be taken and we're going to take it."

I smiled. "As long as you leave some of it for me. And my brother. Believe me when I say things won't end well if you try to leave him out of it. There's not much he wouldn't do."

"I'd expect nothing less of Doctor Isaac Miller," King said. "I'd much prefer to work with him than have to have him killed."

As if killing my brother would be easy. I tried to keep most of the scorn off my face. A fraction of it would be okay. I was supposed to have faith in me and my brother, so he'd be expecting that exact response.

"He'd also prefer that," I said. "Working with you instead of having to kill you." I smiled sweetly. I didn't want him to think I was threatening him. I was just stating a fact.

He actually smiled. "You have some backbone. I like that. Do you have enough of it to do what I'm going to ask you to do?"

I met his gaze unwavering. "I have the spine, if it's in my best interest to do what you request." I wasn't going to say, ‘yes sir, no sir’ and behave myself like a good little minion. Even after trying to stay out of the lifestyle, I had some clout. My brother had even more. Enough that we didn't have to roll over and play dead. If we did that, King would try to walk all over us. That wasn't going to happen.

Not to mention that none of my guys, or my brother, would go for it anyway.

King didn't flinch. "Otis Skinner mentioned you discussed Coach Stanley with him."

"That's right," I inclined my head slightly. "He suggested Stanley doesn't agree with the direction you want the team to go."

"He doesn't, and I don't believe he'll come around to our way of thinking," King said. "I want him taken care of."

I blinked. "I see. You want me to take care of him."

That was fucking perfect, wasn't it? Not.

"If you're up to it," he said. King seemed certain I wasn't and that he was about to call my bluff. That I'd make some excuse and get the hell out of the building. Maybe out of Dusk Bay.

"I'm up to it," I said, also unflinching. "I'll quietly take care of him and leave you to replace him with someone more suitable."

He actually seemed surprised, but rallied quickly. "Good. You have two days. I don't care what you do, but if it can be traced back to me, you'll be the one with regrets."

With more confidence than I felt, I snorted. "This isn't amateur hour. No one will know what really happened to CoachStanley but us. Nothing will be traceable back to us. No one will have a reason to sniff around, or have suspicions. Except for the short amount of time between the death of the former GM and then the head coach."

"I'm sure you can make it convincing," he said. "That will be all."

Resisting the urge to respond to his curt dismissal, I stood and slipped out of the room.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Atlas

"This is some bullshit,"Storm said. He gripped on to the steering wheel of his SUV so tight his knuckles were white.

"Yeah." I couldn't disagree with that statement. "We did what we had to do, though."

"It sucked," he growled. "He was a good man. A good fucking coach. Who are we going to get now, some prick from the Devils? Someone who thinks the sun shines out of his own ass? Someone who got his head up there so hard, he hasn't seen daylight for fuck knows how long?"

"None of the coaches we had were that bad," I argued.

---