shrugged. “Show up on time or you're fined. We drug test every week, and I don’t tolerate that shit. You put a hand on a woman, you’re off the team. That kind of thing. Read it over.”
I scanned through and nodded. It was all stuff I did normally, anyways. I signed it, then slid it back across his desk. He grinned and offered his hand, then shook mine with a firm grip, respectful of the millions of dollars my hands were worth to him, but strong enough to let me know he was in charge.
“You’ll like it here, Malone. We take care of each other, we win, and most importantly, I don’t have a daughter for you to fuck.” He lifted a black brow over a pale green eye.
“Noted,” I quipped. It wasn’t exactly a secret why I’d been traded, and I had the feeling he was testing me.
He studied me for a second, then let my hand go with a slow nod. “Good. Listen, unlike the Raptors, I don’t give a shit who you fuck as long as she’s legal and willing. I prefer if you stay away from anyone with a ring on her finger, especially if she’s married to another Cougar, but I also think a man should keep his wife satisfied enough to stay in his bed. But that’s just me.” He shrugged. “You have a place to stay?”
“Yes.” It hit me then, just how real this was.
“Good. Practice tomorrow.” He turned and shook Weston’s hand. “Thanks for the call about this one, but it’s not going to save you at this month’s game. I’m still taking you for all you’re worth.”
“It’s never fun to take your money if you don’t put up a fight,” Weston replied with a grin. “Treat him right, would you? He’s one of my oldest friends.” He nodded toward me.
Gareth looked out the wall of glass that made up a quarter of his office to the hallway beyond, where Brynn paced, talking on the phone. “Funny, I was always hoping you’d say the same thing about that one.”
My eyebrows shot up, and Weston straightened to all six-three of his height, going visibly tense.
“And we’re leaving,” I said quickly.
“See you in a couple weeks.” Maxfield gave Weston a shit-eating grin, knowing he’d rattled him.
Weston was way more obvious about his weakness than he thought he was. Glaringly obvious. Fuck, I bet the guys on the international space station could see it from up there.
“I’ll be the one taking your money,” Weston said as we walked away.
Maxfield just laughed. “Welcome to the Cougars, Hendrix.”
“Thanks for having me,” I called back but kept walking for the good of both men in the room. Maxfield might be rattling Weston just to tease him, but the guy was downright dangerous when it came to Brynn. “How often do you lose to him?” I teased as we made our way into the hallway of the brand-new stadium.
“Never. Why?” Weston’s eyebrows furrowed.
“Your poker face is shit.” I laughed.
“What?” Brynn asked, hearing the last of our conversation.
“Nothing,” Weston rushed. “Let’s get Hendrix settled at his new place so we can get up to Cleveland.” He put a hand possessively on her lower back.
Cleveland. Because he was still the owner of the Raptors…and I was now a Cougar.
A little over a week later, I found myself entrenched in the corner booth of a bar near the Reapers’ arena called Scythe, the name of which probably had something to do not only with it being in Reaper territory, but the long, bladed weapon that hung above the pristine ebony bar. Not that I was any good for company.
The Raptors had posted a picture of Coach and Savannah today on their official Instagram, all smiles and congratulations for the family atmosphere of the team. She’d looked happy—maybe a little paler, maybe darker circles under her eyes, but smiling. She had the exact life she’d wanted.
I’d been exiled.
“So let me get this straight. None of you are drinking, and yet you brought me to a bar?” I asked Nathan Noble, Nixon’s twin, who happened to play hockey for the Reapers.
The guy was also permanently engaged to the owner’s sister.
“Nixon told me you aren’t allowed to wallow, and we have practice in the morning,” Nathan said with a shrug and threw back a bottle of water from his seat next to me, where he watched his fiancée at the bar with a few other women.
“And you all sit like this is a junior high