Page 41 of Shot Taker

“My bad,” I murmur as I hold out a hand and help him up after.

I glance up to see Harlan waiting in the wings, watching silently, hands in the pockets of his suit pants.

“You ever ditch the suit?” I cross to him, tugging on my shorts. “These things might put a little swing back in your step.”

“You think you don’t have a stick up your ass? Anyone tried to get up in your routine, they’d face the same kind of resistance. We’re not as dissimilar as you like to think.”

I’m trying not to think too hard on that when he goes on.

“He’s good,” Harlan says, nodding to Rookie. “It’s one thing for you to demand a trade, but don’t burn the place down on your way out.”

I stiffen. “You don’t see me helping him out?”

“I see you taking him out at the knees, giving him the same injury as you.”

My hands ball into fists. I’ve been working with Rookie all the time, but Harlan takes one look and decides he knows what’s up.

“For a man who thinks he sees everything, you don’t see shit.” This is why we can’t work together. I grimace. “I want an update on our deal.”

“LA’s got some issues, and we’ve had complications on this end too.”

“My stock is up. I’m averaging twenty-eight a night. We have a winning record.”

He rocks back on his heels. “Wins and losses aren’t the only complication around here. Tenth anniversary’s a big deal.” He shakes his head. “James is richer than God, and he's decided this is his time to put his mark on the organization whether it needs it or not, which means we’re all tasked with making it happen. The regular operations of the team are second to the spectacle.” Harlan clears his throat. “I know it’s not easy keeping up your end of the deal.”

The digging in my stomach could be guilt.

I return to my seat, turning over the fact he thinks I’m still keeping my distance from Nova.

Pretty sure he would agree that making his sister-in-law scream in the back room of Mile High is not within the terms of our agreement.

If I got any closer to her than I was last night, we’d be made of the same damn atoms.

But what kind of fucked-up deal dictates relationships between people?

He shouldn’t have asked me to do it. I shouldn’t have said yes. It’s that simple.

“Hey, Rookie,” I mutter, and he glances over. “Don’t say anything about Nova.”

“To the guys?”

“To anyone.”

Rookie starts to open his mouth, then closes it again.

* * *

NOVA

I’m curled up in a chair at Brooke’s place working on a sketch of Clay using my last drawing as a reference. But every time I start, I’m distracted by what happened between us.

"Bet you’re aching for me to fill you up right now."

"I’ll always look better on you than he does."

My throat is drier than a desert.

I jump up to get a soda from the kitchen, setting my sketchpad and the original drawing on the coffee table and ignoring the tingling between my thighs. I’m trying to make progress on this new section of the mural. Touching myself in the shower and picturing Clayton Wade while I do it doesn’t help.

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