Hard Pass by Sara Ney Page 0,7

And she sold them.”

I doubt she has a son to pass them down to and if she does in the future, who even says the kid would give a crap.

“Guess I’ll keep them for my son then. Or daughter.” I shrug, not wanting to get into a pointless argument. “None of my business why she’s selling the cards as long as she sells them to me.”

I expect him to keep arguing, but he surprises me by nodding. “When you meeting her for the drop?”

My eyes roll toward the ceiling; they’re making it sound like I’m doing an illicit drug deal on the wrong side of town.

“Wednesday.”

“Want me to come with you? Just in case? I’ve seen To Catch a Predator—I know how this shit goes down.”

“First of all…” I sigh. “Neither of us are children. Secondly, I doubt she’s going to try to jump me.”

“You don’t even know for sure it’s a girl. It could be some old dude pretending to be a girl. Next thing you know—whammo, you’re being held at knifepoint in a seedy parking lot by some little dude.”

Keep in mind: I’m six foot two, weigh two hundred pounds, and have a glare that would send a junkyard dog running in the opposite direction the way I run from home to first base.

“We’re meeting at the police station.” Idiot.

“You can get held at knifepoint in the police parking lot.”

What is he even talking about? “I’m not worried.” I slide some cheese and sausage in his direction, along with the fruit platter. The more he has in his mouth, the less nagging he can do. “Besides, it’s not me who’s going.”

The guys consider this new information, and Donahue—our first baseman—cocks his head. “You sending Rudy?”

Rudy is my manager-slash-assistant on those rare occasions I need assisting. Mostly he just manages appearances when I have to make them and my time when baseball is in season.

“Nah, I’m sending Wallace. He’s bored and looking for something to do.” He shoots me a glance from where he’s planted on the sofa. Throws me the peace sign to let me know he’s down with whatever.

A few of my friends laugh. “You’re not worried he’s going to steal this girl out from under you?”

Steal her out from under me? “Under me? When was I on top of her?”

They laugh again. “When doesn’t Wallace chase after someone? She could have a bag over her head and he’d find her attractive.”

Brownbagger—someone called me that once, a girl I went out with on a blind date. She got piss ass drunk then slurred the insult at me when I put her in a cab at the end of the evening and sent her home. Alone.

I force a grin, feel it tugging at my cheeks in the most unnatural way.

“Whoa, watch it or your face is gonna crack,” Anderson jests, elbowing me in the ribs and shoving me aside to gain better access to the cheese and crackers. “Let’s get this show on the road, yeah? Keely wants me home in an hour.”

An hour? We won’t get shit done in an hour and the fact that his wife won’t let him stay is beyond fucked up.

“So pussy whipped,” Landon Johnson says, shaking his head. “Okay boys, you heard him—let’s get this show on the road. Wallace? Get the game on son. Let’s see what we’re up against this season.”

2

Miranda

Why am I so nervous?

I shouldn’t be—I don’t even know this person. For all I know, he’s some creepy pervert whose opinion of me I don’t care about at all.

Twenty-five thousand dollars, cash.

I’ve never had that kind of money in my possession before! Will the bank even take it when I try to deposit it? What if they think I robbed a bank? What if they think I’m a drug dealer? Who carries around that kind of money?

Cashier’s check, maybe?

He didn’t say that, though; he specifically said cash. Cold, hard cash.

My palms sweat as I pull my car into the police station, plenty of spots open. I’m right on time, not early and not late. I let my car idle while I wait, looking around for a vehicle that doesn’t belong to the police, one that’s not a squad car.

A minute ticks by, then another, a knot forming in my stomach, the baseball card tucked safely in my purse. Okay, so maybe not so safe—anyone could rob me blind, could steal my purse along with my money and the baseball card.

A cop in a dark navy uniform steps out of