Page 17 of A Game of Deception
It couldn’t be.
I leaned forward, straining to see better. The distance made it impossible to be sure, but something about the way she moved... I swore it was Tara.
Christ, you’re losing it, McCrae.
I rubbed a hand on the back of my neck, disgusted by the paranoid turn of my thoughts. This was Miami, for fuck’s sake. Half the women here had dark hair and athletic builds. It wasn’t Tara. It couldn’t be.
But the seed of doubt had been planted, and in my exhausted, alcohol-soaked brain, it took root. I made a note to buy a pair of high-powered binoculars.
“Morning, sunshine.”
Leo appeared beside me, two steaming mugs of coffee in hand. He was wearing crisp linen shorts and a button-down shirt, looking infuriatingly put-together. He handed me a mug, his nose wrinkling at the empty whisky bottle.
“Did ye sleep at all?”
I grunted, accepting the coffee. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re going to regret this when you have to perform for your new team in—” he checked his watch, “—about two hours.”
I took a sip of the coffee. Black, scalding hot, and strong enough to strip paint. Just how I needed it.
“Don’t forget,” Leo continued, scrolling through his phone, “you’ve got your first PT session with Dr. Swanson at eight.”
Something inside me snapped. The mention of her name—so casual, so normal—as if she were just another team doctor and not the architect of my current nightmare.
“How did you not know?” The words came out low and dangerous.
Leo glanced up from his phone, brow furrowed. “Know what?”
“Your one job—youronlyjob—was to do the research before I sign my life away.” I set the coffee mug down with enough force to slosh liquid over the rim. “You let me walk into a trap because you didn’t do your homework.”
Comprehension dawned on Leo’s face, followed quickly by hurt. “Xander?—”
“Hold on,” I said, my voice rising with each accusation. “You didn’t know the owner was Hank Swanson? Or that his daughter was head of sports medicine? What am I paying you for, Leo? To organize my social calendar? To make sure I have enough whisky?”
Leo’s expression hardened. “That’s no’ fair, and you know it.”
“Fair? You want to talk aboutfair?” I laughed, the sound harsh. “Fair would have been knowing what I was walking into. Fair would have been having a fucking choice.”
“The team’s ownership was hidden behind a series of LLCs,” Leo shot back, his temper rising. “The high-level staff weren’t publicly listed until the launch. I’m your assistant, Xander, not a corporate spy! They obviously wanted it kept quiet and disguised their tracks!”
“Bullshit. You could have found out. Youshouldhave found out.” I jabbed a finger at him. “But you were too busy planning parties and chasing tail to do your actual job.”
Leo recoiled as if I’d slapped him. “That’s what you think I do? After twelve years? After everything we’ve been through?”
“I think you dropped the ball on the most important transfer of my career, and now I’m fucking trapped by a CEO billionaire who hates my guts.” I turned away from him, staring back at the beach where the dark-haired runner had disappeared from view. “I think you let me walk into an ambush.”
“An ambush?” Leo’s voice was incredulous. “You’re acting like this is some kind of conspiracy. It’s a football team, not the fucking CIA.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” The words came out tired, defeated. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
“Then enlighten me! Because from where I’m standing, you’re having a meltdown over seeing your old friend’s family again.” Leo stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I get that Jimmy’s death was traumatic, but this? This isn’t normal, Xander.”
I whirled on him, fury coursing through me, anew. “Normal? You want to know what’s normal? Normal is not having the father of the kid you basically killed manipulate your entire fucking career. Normal is not having the sister you almost—” I cut myself off, the words too dangerous to say aloud.
Leo’s face softened with concern. “The sister you almost what?”
“Nothing.” I ran a hand over my face. “Forget it.”
