Page 55 of Who's Saving You
Nik gives a warm laugh. “It’s not about ego. Like I said, we’re always being watched so it’s about leading by example. Jameson is the king of it, and we all fall in line. You keep your hands clean, your head high, and remember what thejersey means.” He puts his hand up. “Don’t get me wrong, I had some choice words.” He chuckles. “But they knew I meant well.”
“Nik, where do you go from here?”
“I feel lucky. Like I took the biggest gamble and won. The team’s locked in. We continue to train hard and stay focused. You show up, you do the work, and you trust the guy next to you.” It's a classic, safe answer, but then his eyes slide to mine again briefly, just a flicker, and he adds, “Trust is everything when you’ve got someone depending on you.”
I stiffen. What in the world is going on with him tonight? He finishes with the press, offers a few more smiles, and signs a ball for someone’s nephew. The room practically sighs in admiration. I slip out the door and wait a few feet down the hallway. He exits, and a moment later, he’s moving toward me.
“How was that?” he asks.
“Noble and family-friendly for the cameras. You’re really committed to the whole altar-boy act,” I say as we turn and begin to walk down the hall together.
“Of course. Teamwork. Sacrifice. Trust. All the good stuff.” He lowers his voice and says, “They believe in the Saint,” he pauses and glances at me, “but you’ve got one up on those people. You’ve met the sinner, and if they knew what I was really thinking up there, they’d bench me for life.” I swallow hard, and he tracks it. “I know how to play both sides.” He grabs my wrist and strokes my pulse point with his thumb. “And you're just mad because you like it.”
My skin lights up from his touch, and I jerk away like it burned. He raises a brow at my sharp movement.
“It’s not aboutmeliking it, but at least the world’s still cheering for you.”
His cocky reply is, “You’ll like me soon.”
“Just don’t be a disappointment.”.
He smiles. Not cocky this time, almost dangerous. “Oh, I never disappoint.” He grabs my wrist again as we come to the player exit. It’s a firm grip, not a sweet gesture. “We have dinner plans. You’re coming with me.” I try to shake him off, but he tightens his grip. “You’re not out of my sight while we’re in the city. So I hope you’re hungry.”
All I can do is follow, beginning to wonder if I’m his captive or his accomplice.
22
Nik
Loud music and flashing lights fill this tiny restaurant making us feel like we’re caught in a spotlight. Loving swears he picked this place because “it’s quiet,” which, given the wall of electric neon signs that buzz and the mariachi band two tables over, is complete bullshit. His girl Valentina, loves margaritas. That's why he picked it.
We’ve got a corner booth big enough for six but not quite big enough for three NFL egos.
Loving raises his glass first. “To the Rage, the Drillers, and the Warriors. May we all continue to be wildly better than each other.”
“Translation,” Soba says, “to me, for getting drafted first and carrying this group.”
“You’re carried by your mouth, not your stats,” I say, clinking my glass to his.
He smirks. “That’s what Scottie says, too.”
We all groan, and she gives him a pinch to his bicep before asking, “Is it always like this? The paparazzi? The fans?”
I nod. “Your man is a big deal.” I wink at Soba. “But having the Trickie Nickies in the same place at the same time?” I whistle. “That's the pull.”
The table groans in mild laughter. Noelle hides her smile behind her margarita, but her shoulders shake. She’s wearing this little black dress with a strap that keeps falling off her shoulder. It’s enough to ruin a man’s concentration. She knew exactly what she was doing when she walked out into the hallway in the hotel. And I suppose I deserved it, after the innuendos I dropped during the press conference. We’ve been doing this dance since we first met and though I continued to tell myself it can’t happen, right now I’m not so sure I can stand by that thought. I catch her watching me from over the rim of her glass, and when I raise a brow, she doesn’t look away. She just places her glass down and licks the salt off her thumb, slowly, and I’m done. I adjust myself in my seat and try to focus on the table.
“So,” Loving says, always ready to stir the shit, “looks like Saint Nik finally met his match.”
“Bro,” I groan.
He smirks. “What? I’m just saying, for someone who's been adamant about the non-girlfriend, you two look pretty cozy together.”
“Non-girlfriend?” Noelle laughs. “Is that what you call me?”
“He’s just trying to cause trouble.”
Soba chimes in, pulling out his phone. “Should we review the tapes?”
