Page 27 of Blindside Sinner

Then he slams the door in my face.

“Go fuck yourself with a cactus,” I yell at him through the door, not that he hears me. With an irritated grunt, I get out and head around to the staff entrance. “God, he’s such an asshole.”

I try to calm myself down, but I keep seeing the violent gleam in his eye, like I was a snake in the grass. A desperate, horny little girl begging for his attention. Agroupie.

By the time I make it inside my apartment, I’m steaming mad.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” I ask myself, snatching my phone and dialing the one person I know will understand my woes.

She answers right away. “Come to beg for your job back yet, traitor?” Monroe’s voice is surly and dry and exactly what I need.

“This motherfucker is the worst!”

She pauses. “What did the hot hockey star do now?”

“He called me a groupie!”

“Are they actually considered groupies if there’s no?—”

“Monroe,” I snarl, “focus.”

But she just laughs. “Babe, why are you letting him get to you? What happened to the badass who used to work with me? That Sloan didn’t take shit from anyone. In fact, she would’ve punched that smug S.O.B. in the mouth by now.”

Monroe is definitely thinking about herself. I’m no slouch, but physical altercations aren’t my thing. And even if they were, there’s no world in which I’m going to punch a hockey player who’s easily twice my size and can probably bench press three of me, just because he poked at my feelings a little.

I’m stubborn, not stupid. Still, I get what Monroe is saying.

I sigh. “That Sloan realized she couldn’t bury Beck just because he’s an asshole.”

“No, but you don’t have to be nice to him, either.”

“Don’t I? I need this job, ‘Roe.”

“I know, babe, but does Hockey Hunk sign your checks?” She takes my silence for the affirmation that it is. “I didn’t think so. If he’s going to be a dick, then he doesn’t deserve your kindness. Show him the Sloan Reeves who had no problem kicking drunk idiots out of the diner. Show him the Sloan Reeves who can’t be messed with.”

“Yeah,” I say miserably. “You’re right.”

But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.

I need this job to work out and that means I need to get Beck in line and out of the tabloids. I have no doubt that will take all of my willpower, but I can’t lose this salary, even if it means making an enemy of Beck.

Not when I have the Bloodhound nipping at my heels.

Like he can hear my thoughts, my phone lights up with a text from the debt collector himself.Don’t forget this week’s payment. I won’t remind you again.

I’m not going to let Beck win when I have so much riding on this myself. No, the asshole is done and so is Miss Nice Sloan.

Time for the Wicked Bitch of the West to come out.

15

BECK

I’m exploring face-first between Sloan’s thighs, aching to see exactly what kind of trouble I can get into, when the loudest noise of my entire goddamn life startles me awake.

BOMMMMMMMMMMM.

I jerk upright, still half asleep and desperately trying to figure out what happened. Did a helicopter just crash through my window?

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