wore that same obsidian pendant. The same one he’d dived fifty feet from the White Sands Beach in Oahu to dig up. He’d almost died that day. His family would have never given it away.
“Miss Jilani?” Pukui asked, smiling as he looked up at Gia. He looked to her, then down at his pendant, frowning when he spotted her staring. “This is from a…friend. An old friend.”
“I’ve only ever seen one like it before.”
Pukui nodded but didn’t ask her to explain. Instead he cleared his throat, acting as though he expected her to answer him. When she didn’t he lowered his shoulders. “So the vacation…”
Gia needed answers and she wouldn’t get them with the man staring up at her. “That’s fine, Pukui, as long as you’re back in time for spring training.”
“Of course.”
She stood, and he mimicked her taking her hand before she offered it. “Thank you, truly. I was going a little lolo over not being back there.” Gia jerked her hand back, but hurried to cover her quick reaction with a smile.
“We’re happy to help where we can, Mr. Pukui.”
“Thank you.”
The man smiled and, maybe from habit, maybe from self-consciousness, touched the pendant under his shirt before he nodded and left her office. Gia waited for him to enter the elevator before she called Cat into her office, shutting the door behind the woman as soon as she entered.
“Ma’am?” Cat tried, going silent when Gia waved her quiet.
“Kai Pukui,” she said, sitting on the edge of her desk. Out of habit, she grabbed the flying pig, rubbing her thumb along the smooth edge of one wing. “I need you to find out everything you can about him.”
“Is he in trouble?” Cat asked, scribbling in her small notebook.
“No,” Gia said, looking down at the smiling, laughing pig face in her hands. “But I may be.”
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.
Edited by Kiezha Ferrell at Librum Artis Editorial Services
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Formatted by Elaine York, MNM, Allusion Graphics, LLC
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction.
ROUGHING THE KICKER
For Kele Moon, who brought me to this party and knew I’d want to stay.
All my characters are alive because of you.
Thank you for fifteen years of friendship, advice, support, and,
as always, for WM Ron and Connor.
I miss them both.
SPANISH TRANSLATIONS
Coño – damn
Mierda - shit
Bueno/a – good
Cabrón- Bastard
Pendejo – asshole
Ay Dios – oh God
Abuelo – Grandfather
Vete al diablo – Go to hell.
Dios por favor – God, please.
Eres mi hermana – You’re my sister.
Tu eres un pendejo – You’re an asshole.
PLAYLIST
Joanne, Lady Gaga
Palace, Sam Smith
Losin Control, Russ
Skin, RagnBoneMan
Irvine, Kelly Clarkson
Come Back, Pearl Jam
Love on the Brain, Rhiannon
Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd
Thinking Bout You, Frank Ocean
Dancing On My Own, Calum Scott
Nothing Compares 2 U, Chris Cornell
All that we love deeply becomes a part of us.
—Helen Keller
1.
REESE
PRE-SEASON
THE PREDATORS WERE CIRCLING.
With every deliberate step, Reese Noble felt those weighted stares and the hot, wet breaths that came at her right alongside the flicker of lights and the shuddering noise of cameras. They wanted her blood. They craved it, but she would show no fear. This was too important.
“They want you to fail.” Gia Jilani had been right. The beautiful woman had given Reese that warning the night before, gaze focused, her mouth pinched as she spoke.
“They expect it.” Then her new general manager—the first woman with the job in the NFL—leaned forward, steel in her dark eyes, a glint of something Reese took for unyielding resolve. “Prove those bastards wrong.”
It was a burden Reese wasn’t sure she wanted, but here she was, walking down the dim hallway, decked out in her New Orleans Steamers’ practice jersey, concrete walls painted with a silhouette of the city skyline and the names of players she admired: Jackson. Baker. Wilson. Pukui. Pérez. Then, one name that had played on her tongue