Page 62 of Wild Fury (Fallen Royals 6)

Liam scouts out my place and grabs a beer from my fridge, then falls onto the couch. “What are you doing?”

“Plotting the demise of one of my teammates.” He got a scholarship last year to another Boston school, Ashburn College, but he didn’t exactly mesh with their sports teams. So now he’s here, on my couch, when I have to be at practice in… seven hours.

“Oh?”

I join him, sans beer. “Sebastian Redmond.”

He stares. “Shit, man. Like, the Sebastian Redmond, the best kicker LBU has ever seen? That one?”

“Yep.”

“Dare I ask?”

I scowl. He and I have always gotten along better than Caleb or Eli—the other two in our group of friends from high school. Even though we’ve split up geographically, we’re all still there for each other. Only last year, we were putting Liam back together after his childhood neighbor destroyed his fight club.

Well, it wasn’t his, technically, but he fought regularly. It was how he paid his bills.

I enjoyed a good fight every now and then, too, but luckily, I wasn’t dependent on it for my finances. Now, Liam lives in one of the brownstones I own. I have two in the city, investing the trust fund I received when I turned eighteen, and there’s still plenty left.

Too much, if you ask me.

But it funds my fixation on cars, and the incidentals I incur from Lux’s occasional theft… and my issue with speeding.

“He threatened me,” I finally say. “To stay away from Lux for two weeks. He wanted a shot at her.”

“Bastard. You said screw off, right?”

“No. He detailed how he would basically frame me for cheating.”

Liam winces. “What an asshole.”

“Right, so…”

“So the evil genius in you has come up with a plan?” He visibly brightens. “I was going to ask if you wanted to grab lunch tomorrow, but I can see this will be much more interesting. Maybe you want some help?”

I snicker. “Any excuse, huh?”

“Who, me? For what?”

To drag someone else through the mud. But I don’t say that—I’m not that mean. Not tonight, anyway. Instead, I ask, “Are you coming to the game Friday?”

He shrugs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re asking me for a reason.”

Friday will officially be fourteen days. The end of the bet—and also the downfall of Sebastian Redmond. I have three days to make it happen, but everything is in motion. Which means I can have my good luck charm back in the stands, protected by my best friend.

“Lux,” I say simply.

To my relief, Liam just nods.

“Thanks. Now get the hell out of here, I have to wake up early for practice.”

He drains the rest of his beer and belches, then stands. “I forgot how miserable early practices are. Good luck with that one.”

One more practice.

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