RISKY PLAY (RED CARD #1) BY RACHEL VAN DYKEN Page 0,16

the best wingman a guy could ask for.”

“So true,” I grumbled. I’d been in relationship after relationship until my last ended in tatters, so my wingman status had been on hiatus.

A fresh breeze drifted in from the open window. It was cooler than the one in Mexico, but it reminded me so much of my day spent there—my night in her bed—that my chest hurt.

Her fault.

She’d caused all of this.

I needed someone to blame.

And I couldn’t blame myself, I just couldn’t.

“Alright, so I hope you got all that.”

“What? You were speaking still?”

He just laughed. “Do me a favor, don’t be an ass. She’ll be at the house at eight in the morning. I gave her the code to the gate. Her background is solid and the NDA is ironclad, you’re welcome.”

I frowned. “Wait, why are you sending me a woman again?”

“Were you listening to anything I said?”

“Not really, no. My life’s a bit of a mess, so forgive me if I mope around in misery a while longer.”

“Wipe that moping ass with a few hundreds and get your head back in the game. You have practice in the morning, and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this to someone who used to donate half his earnings to the cancer charities in London, but be nice, alright?”

“I’m nice!” I roared.

He sighed. “You’re . . .” His voice lowered. “Never mind.”

I knew what he was going to say.

I was sad.

Angry.

Confused.

I ran a hand through my long hair. “I won’t yell at her. Happy?”

“Thrilled,” he said in a dry tone. “See you at practice.”

“Shit, you’re coming?”

“Someone has to make sure you play nice.”

“I’ve never had a problem before,” I pointed out.

Another long sigh. “Slade . . . if you need someone to talk to . . .”

“I don’t want to talk,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, man.”

Silence crackled over the phone.

“I gotta get some sleep,” I rasped.

“Yeah.”

“Night.” I hung up before I spilled my guts, before I burst into tears and told him every fucking regret I had. I’d never told my dad I loved him. I never got to tell him how much he meant to me.

I never got to say those words.

Because there would always be another time.

Another day.

And now, he was gone. There would never be another day again.

I reached for the beer and slammed it against the wall.

Chapter Thirteen

MACKENZIE

I pulled my Lexus up to the keypad and typed in the code. The black iron gate made a dinging noise and then whined a bit as it opened wide, revealing a three-story mansion. A fountain complete with statue sat in the middle of the circular driveway.

I tilted my head and examined my surroundings as I pulled to the front. A red Ferrari was parked outside and running like the owner was warming it up before taking off. The garage attached to the house probably held enough cars for half the human population.

My aunt hadn’t said anything other than this guy was big-time. And by the time I passed the background check and talked with the guy’s agent, he was so thankful that I wasn’t crazy and could start right away that I wondered how horrible his client really was.

I typically worked for rich clients who needed me to walk their dogs or water their plants. The job was mindless, but it kept me away from Alton.

It kept me away from my old life, and for some stupid reason it made me feel invisible, for once I wasn’t the one getting my picture taken.

I wasn’t at some society event being asked if I was going to hop back on the horse or if I was sad that Alton was already dating.

I shuddered.

No. That would come soon enough.

My dad gave me two months to get my head straight.

What better way than feeding some rich guy’s dog and making sure he had groceries and clean clothes?

“Well, here goes nothing.” I killed the engine, grabbed the small bag of dog food I’d been instructed to bring, and got out of my SUV.

The stairs leading up to the house were a black marble that looked expensive, giving me no clue as to what this guy played.

Was he a football player? Basketball?

What athlete had a house like this? Maybe he played for the NBA? Mariners? Hawks?

I was told not to ask too many questions and to make myself as invisible as possible.

No problem. That was part of this job, gain trust and become nonexistent. Rich people were almost too trusting when they