After All These Years (One Pass Away #2) (17 page)

“Riley!”

“I think we should take our chances.” Still holding Claire’s
arm, she pulled her across the street. “But just in case, you keep a watch out.”

“Laugh all you want. If a big black sedan comes barreling
down the street, you’ll be glad I had your back.”

“What are you going to do? Pull out your Glock and shoot the
tires?”

When Claire didn’t answer, Riley stopped in her tracks.

“Are you carrying a gun?”

“No. Logan talked me out of getting a permit. I’m rethinking
the decision. We had an ambush situation in Oklahoma.”

“Rein it in, Annie Oakley. This is downtown Seattle. And
that is Sapphire. I say we take our chances.”

“Thank goodness. Come out of the light.” Sapphire nervously
licked her lips, her eyes darting from side to side. Normally put together from
top to bottom, the woman looked frazzled. Not messy—but a bit of a mess. The
buttons on her jacket were in the wrong holes and she was missing color on her
upper lip.

Whatever was wrong, it had Sapphire off her game.

The doorway was a tight fit for three grown women, but
Sapphire seemed determined not to move, so Riley went with it.

“What is going on?” Riley felt like a human sardine.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t catch you in time.”

“In time for what? Why didn’t you simply call me instead of
recreating a scene from
Three Days of the Condor
?”

“Oh, that was a good one,” Claire nodded.

“I tried to call. It went to voicemail.”

“Crap.” Riley took out her phone. She turned it off when she
plugged it in last night and forgot to turn it back on.

“I shouldn’t be doing this.” Sapphire moved farther into the
shadows, her eyes darting toward the street. “But you were nice to me. Besides,
this is wrong.” From her bag, Sapphire pulled out a mini-iPod. “There’s
something you need to hear. I hope it isn’t too late.”

“Too late?” Riley’s gaze met Claire’s. That didn’t sound
good.

“Listen.” Sapphire hit the play button.

She had no idea how long the recording lasted. A minute? An
hour? As she listened to the voices plot the unthinkable, Riley felt first cold
then unbearably hot.

“This has to be a joke,” Claire exclaimed. “A sick, sick
joke.”

It wasn’t a joke. It was her father. And he was deadly
serious.

Without a word, Riley ran in the direction of the parking
garage housed under her condo. Claire was at her side.

“Start making calls,” she said, her voice unnaturally calm. “Anyone
and everyone. Make them listen.”

“Sapphire ran in the other direction.”

“She warned us. I guess that was as far as her courage could
carry her.”

Riley didn’t have time to worry about that. She was too busy
staying upright and not breaking an ankle. For the first time in years, Riley
cursed her four-inch heels. They slowed her down, but she didn’t have time to
take them off. She dialed as she ran.

No luck. She skipped Sean and Gaige. They wouldn’t have
their phones with them on the field. Wednesday meant everyone was at practice
running full drills. There was no use wasting time trying to reach them
directly.

“No one is answering.” Claire’s fingers were white where she
gripped her phone.

“Keep trying.”

Riley wanted to scream and kick and punch anything in her
path. But now wasn’t the time. She had to hold her emotions in check. If she
started to cry, she might never stop.

Thirty feet from her car she used the remote to unlock the
doors and start the engine.

“Where the hell is everybody?” No one answered at Knights’
headquarters. “I’ve tried the front desk. The training room. Damn it. This can’t
be happening.”

Riley’s hand shook as she tried to insert the key into the
ignition.

“Do you want me to drive?” Claire hesitated before buckling
her seatbelt.

“No.” On her third try, the key slipped in. “Just keep phoning.
The building can’t be deserted.”

If they were lucky, they could get to the field in less than
an hour. That would be pushing it. Praying for light traffic and no police
cars, Riley sped around the corner. She heard Claire leaving messages. So far
she had reached nothing but voicemail.

“Finally.” Claire pumped her fist. “I have the head of
maintenance. He can get security.”

“No. That’s perfect. Put him on speakerphone.” Riley’s heart
was in her throat. She swallowed, trying to make room for her words.

“Deacon? This is Riley Preston.”

“Riley? Is that panic I hear in your voice? Tell me what you
need.”

Thank God. She had known Deacon Michaels when he cleaned
floors at an hourly wage. He would turn a blind eye to her slinking around the
stadium—always making sure she stayed safe. Now he was top man and exactly the
person Riley needed.

“I don’t have time to explain, Deacon.”

“Then stop talking and tell me what’s up.”

“I need you. And every man you can get your hands on.”

Riley merged into traffic saying a silent prayer. Please,
don’t let them be too late.

“THAT LAST PLAY looked like shit. Where the hell are your
heads? You think Miami is going to roll over and let us stroll into the end
zone just because we have a better record?”

Harry Coleman stopped in front of a big rookie offensive
lineman. Without a word, he had the younger man fidgeting from side to side.

“He did the same thing to me when I was a rookie.” Logan
shook his head. “I got
the look
in training camp. I sweated bullets,
convinced he was going to cut me.”

“He singles a newbie out every year,” Gaige said with a
chuckle. “Pretty boy here almost lost his lunch when his turn came.”

“I was green around the gills for a month,” Sean agreed. It
was easy to smile now. Eight years ago, he couldn’t find any humor in it.

They were on the practice field and things weren’t going
well. Normally sure-handed receivers dropped passes. Running backs acted as
though the ball was covered in grease.
Ha. Good one. Greased pig skin
.
Wisely, Sean kept the joke to himself.

The offensive line had more holes in it than swiss cheese.
If there were ever a time for Harry to pull out his patented rookie mind-screw,
this was it.

“And you.” Harry turned on Rob Cotter.

“What did I do?” Rob’s eyes darted around the field, landing
on anything but the coach. “I’ve been playing hard all practice.”

“Too hard. Those are our guys on the other side, Cotter.
Pull up before you do some damage. Understood?”

“I can’t help it if the offensive line isn’t doing their
jobs.”

“Are you arguing with me?”

“No, Coach.” Rob wiped the sweat from his upper lip. He’d
taken something before practice. A pill meant to chill his nerves. It seemed to
be having the opposite effect. “You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight.” Impossible as it seemed, the volume of his
voice rose. “That seven and two record doesn’t mean shit. Miami will be gunning
for us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Coach,” the team chanted as one.

“If I get the impression a single one of you is looking past
Sunday, I will ream you a new one.” He got in the rookie’s face. “You want to
walk around with two assholes?”

“No, sir.”

“I love that man.” Sean whispered the words, but the men
standing next to him heard and agreed wholeheartedly.

“What the hell?” Harry’s attention shifted to the end of the
stadium. “Get off my field. Now!”

Puzzled, Sean turned. Close to a dozen men ran toward them
at full speed. They wore jackets in the team colors, the blue and gold
signaling that they worked for the Knights. However, they didn’t belong on the
field in the middle of practice.

“Sorry, Coach.” Deacon Michaels faced Harry Coleman without
an ounce of visible fear. His burly arms were crossed, his feet planted a
shoulder’s width apart. Behind him, the other men mimicked the stance. “We have
our orders. No one makes another move until Ms. Preston gets here.”

Riley? Sean shrugged when everyone looked his way. He was as
puzzled as they were.

“Deacon, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Deacon, Ms. Preston doesn’t have the authority to interrupt
my team during practice. Get your asses out of here right now and maybe,
maybe
,
you’ll keep your jobs. In ten seconds, I won’t give you any guarantees.”

“With all due respect, Coach.”

“Don’t say it,” Harry warned.

“We aren’t budging.”

Sean worried that Harry was on the brink of blowing
something vital. The red face, the bugged-out eyes. The steam coming out of his
ears. None of that boded well for Harry’s health.

“We’ll take care of them, Coach.” Rob Cotter and five
massive linemen stepped forward.

“You.” Deacon pointed. “Ms. Preston told me to keep a close eye
on you.”

Rob swallowed, but backed by his teammates, he held his
ground.

“Stand down.” No one made a noise, yet Harry’s voice was
getting louder. “Do you want to break your hand three days before the next
game?”

“No. The idea was to break Sean’s leg.”

Out of breath, a pair of high-heeled boots in one hand and
gripping her phone with the other, Riley ran to Harry—but her eyes were on
Sean. Close behind, Claire stopped beside Logan. Seeing the questions in his
eyes, she shook her head, then she took his hand and squeezed.

“You want to explain?” Harry growled.

“Are you okay?” Riley asked Sean.

“I’m fine. What about you?” Dropping his helmet, Sean took
Riley into his arms.

“Great. Now.” Riley’s arms circled his waist, never wanting
to let go. She didn’t care about the sweaty uniform or bulky pads. Sean was in
one piece. Thank God.

“This is sweet.” Harry’s words dripped with sarcasm and
heat. “You’ve disrupted practice and if I’m not mistaken, accused one of my
players of something heinous. You’d better start explaining.”

“Not here.” Reluctantly, Riley let Sean go. “Please, Harry.
The damage is already done. Give me ten minutes. If you don’t agree that I did
the right thing, I’ll let you ban me from the stadium. Permanently.”

That was enough for Harry. He knew two things about Riley.
One. She didn’t go around crying wolf. And two. She loved the Knights too much
to risk being banned. Whatever was happening, it was serious.

“Well, I’m not standing around for this shit. If practice is
over, I going home.” Rob Cotter blustered.

“You leave the stadium, you’re off the team.” Harry pinned
Rob with his steely gaze. “That goes for everyone. Hit the showers, but stick
around.”

“This is your rodeo,” Harry said to Riley. “Who do you need?”

“You, Sean, and Gaige.”

“Come on. Let’s go to my office.”

“SHOULD I BRING everyone some coffee?”

“This isn’t a social call,” Harry barked at his secretary.

Used to his ways, the woman didn’t blink an eye or miss a
beat. Without looking up, she continued rapidly typing away.

“Should we call your father in on this?”

“Believe me, he already knows.”

Riley waited until the men were seated. Deciding to let the
recording do the talking, she silently pulled the iPod out of her purse and hit
play. The voices were instantly recognizable. Gerald Preston. And Rob Cotter.

“
You’ve been betting on games.”

“Never on the Knights.”

“Son of a bitch.” Stunned, Gaige shook his head.

“
You think that matters?” Gerald laughed. “Ask Pete Rose
how that defense worked for him. You won’t play another down if word of this
leaks.”

“I was done after this season. What difference does it
make?”

“Reputation can earn you a few bucks after you retire.
Yours will be shot. However. Do me a little favor and you’ll get out of this
without the stink of a cheater.”

“Fuck that. You mentioned money. Lots of it.”

There was a pause. Riley could almost see her father’s sly
smile.

“Five million. In an untraceable offshore account.”

“Who do I have to kill?” Rob laughed.

“Not murder. Simply mayhem. Break Sean McBride’s leg. Or
arm. Pick a bone. As long as it takes him out for the rest of the season. I’ll
throw in two million if the injury ends his career.”

Riley couldn’t look at Sean. She felt too sick and ashamed.

“How am I supposed to pull this off?”

“Things happen during practice. Blindside him. No one
will call it anything but an unfortunate accident.”

“They might call it deliberate.”

“Who cares. The Knights won’t win squat without McBride.
You can sit at home on your pile of money and watch them flame out in the first
round of the playoffs.”

This time, it was Rob who paused. For a heartbeat.

“
I get to teach McBride a long overdue lesson and get
paid for it? Consider it done.”

Stunned didn’t begin to describe the silence that filled the
room. Thick and oppressive, Riley closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable
barge.

“Where did you get that.” Unlike on the field, Harry’s voice
held no emotion.

Not what she had expected, but it was as good a first
question as any.

“My…” Riley couldn’t bring herself to call him her father. “Gerald’s
assistant. It seems he’s been playing Richard Nixon. Every conversation in his
office is recorded. She took a big chance, getting me the recording.”

“I’m flummoxed.” Harry sighed. “What’s our move? Turn the
recording over to the police?”

“Tempting. But no.” Between panic and nausea, the drive to
the stadium had given Riley time to think. “If everyone agrees, I say we handle
it internally. That means keeping this between the four of us. Five if you
count Claire. Make that six.”

“Logan,” Gaige nodded. “Okay. I get where you’re going. I
agree. The team doesn’t need the kind of media circus this story would create.
However, Gerald and Rob can’t walk away scot free. What they planned is
unconscionable.”

“I agree. What should we do?”

“Sean?”

“Hmm?” Shaking away the haze of disbelief, Sean looked at
Gaige. “What?”

“Your career was at stake. What do you want to do?”

“Burn the bastards.” Sean slammed his fist onto the arm of
his chair, rattling the frame. “What the hell? Why?”

“You know the answer.”

“Riley.” Sean held out his hand. “Please.”

She was too tired to argue. The adrenaline surge that had
gotten this far was dropping fast. Riley dropped into the seat next to Sean.

“I don’t have any answers. Except this. We all know why you
were targeted. If all he wanted to do was derail the Knights, why not take out
Gaige?”

“Because Gerald wanted to hurt you
and
the team.”
Sean didn’t like how cold her hand was. He rubbed it between his, hoping to
provide some heat. “He’s a bastard. We’ve always known that.”

“This reaches a different level.” Gaige patted Riley’s back.
His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to figure out a solution to this
mess.

“Here is my suggestion. Tell the team it was an outside
threat. Cut Rob. Use the recording as leverage. Hopefully, he’ll be smart
enough to slither into a very deep hole and keep his mouth shut.”

“What about…”

“My father?” Riley’s tried to smile, but her lips wouldn’t
cooperate. “We can’t avoid calling him what he is Sean. He’s my father. And he’s
my problem.”

“What does that mean?” Sean stood when she did.

“It means the three of you have a game to get ready for.”

“And you?” Gaige asked.

Riley paused by the door. Without turning, she said, “I’m
going to dropkick his ass as far as humanly possible.”

“Tell me you’ll be okay?”

Sean had followed her into the corridor. He looked as wiped
out as she felt.

“This has been coming for a long time. It never occurred to
me it would come to a head in such a dramatic manner.” Unable to stand it a
moment longer, Riley rushed into Sean’s arms. “Thank God you’re all right.”

“My hero.”

“Are you laughing?” Riley couldn’t believe her ears.

“It’s either laugh or cry. It isn’t manly to cry.” Tipping
her chin, Sean looked into her eyes. “I’m standing, Riley. We both are. Do you
know what that means?”

“Tell me. I need some good news.”

His lips brushing hers, Sean whispered the answer.

“We won.”

IT TOOK TWO days to track down her father.

Not that he was hiding. Exactly. The Caribbean island
retreat wasn’t a secret to anyone. Access was by boat or helicopter, making it
difficult for the average person to get there, however, Riley was not your
average person. She had the resources to travel any place in the world with
little or no notice.

Riley stepped onto the dock, rolling her head from side to
side, trying to loosen the knots. They weren’t the result of long hours on a
private jet or the luxury yacht ride from the main island. The knots had formed
two days ago when she heard the recording of her father plotting to remove Sean
from football—permanently. She hadn’t relaxed, or slept, since.

Riley hoped today’s meeting would go a long way toward
righting her current state of perpetual anxiety.

“He knows we’re here.” Ross Morrisey nodded toward the
security camera mounted above the dock.

“He knew before we arrived. This isn’t about him hiding. It’s
another one of his games.”

Calling Ross Morrisey had been Riley’s first move after she
left Knights’ headquarters. As the senior member of the board and her friend,
it made sense to let him know what was going on.

Ross agreed to her plan. Keeping as many details as possible
out of the press was goal number one. The statement needed to be
straightforward and convoluted, all at the same time.

After years of exemplary service, Gerald Preston is stepping
down as president of the Knights, effective immediately. The Knights’
organization is pleased to announce that long-time minority owner Ross Morrisey
has agreed to step into the job. Everyone expects it to be a seamless
transition.

Blah, blah, blah.

Riley approved the message. It was up to the PR department
to field calls and sell the message. Her job was to make what was going on
behind the scenes stay there. If her father wanted to draw out the drama, so be
it. No matter where this meeting occurred, the end result would be the same.

“Running to his little hidey-hole is immature beyond words.”
Ross wiped the perspiration from his forehead. He was an active, fit man.
However, the quick transition from cold, rainy Seattle to the eighty-plus
weather was a shock to his system.

“Why aren’t you sweating?” Ross looked closely at Riley’s
face. “Dry as a bone.”

It was hard to sweat when your insides were coated with ice.
Riley wondered if she would ever be warm again. Then she saw her father
lounging on his ocean view veranda—a tropical drink in one hand, a cigar in the
other—and the heat that had eluded her for two days shot through her veins.

It appeared the bastard didn’t have a care in the world. In
all likelihood, he didn’t. To feel anything approaching guilt or remorse, you
needed a conscience—something her father never had, and never would.

“Welcome to paradise. You’ve had a long flight. Sit. Have a
drink.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mouth agape, Ross looked at
Gerald, then at Riley. “He’s crazy. Right?”

“No.”

It was all part of the game. This time, Riley wasn’t
playing.

“Sign the papers.” She dropped the document onto her father’s
lap.

“Hello to you, too.” Gerald took a puff from his cigar. His
crisp white shirt and perfectly pressed linen slacks looked as cool and unruffled
as he did.

Riley didn’t blink.

“What? No moral outrage? No recriminations? I’m
disappointed, Riley.”

“Sign the papers.”

“Don’t you want to know why I did it?”

“I do.” Ross took a bottle of water from the
umbrella-covered drink station, chugging the contents.

“I already know.”

“You do?”

Gerald and Ross asked the question simultaneously. Ross
incredulous. Gerald skeptical.

“Daddy issues.”

Riley had the satisfaction of seeing her father’s cool slip.
That little tick in the corner of his eye made the trip worth every mile.

“You can’t be serious?” Ross paused in the middle of opening
another water. “That’s—”

“Sad and pathetic?” Riley watched Gerald’s grip on his cigar
tighten. “I agree.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The cigar snapped. Riley didn’t think he noticed.

“Grandpa didn’t love you enough. He loved me too much. That
has been the basis of our relationship since day one.”

“Sounds like someone is quoting her shrink.”

“I didn’t need to lie on a couch to figure that one out.”

“Good for you.” Gerald picked up the document. “Should I
have my lawyer look these over?”

“I would.”

That was all it took. Without glancing at the contents,
Gerald picked up a pen and signed away his rights to the Seattle Knights. God,
Riley thought with amazement. Her father, for all his intelligence and business
acumen, was woefully predictable.

“Are we done?” Gerald held out the papers.

“Yes. I believe we are.”

“HERE’S TO TEN and two. Let’s celebrate tonight. Tomorrow it’s
back to reality.”

Sean raised his bottle to Gaige’s toast. As Harry predicted,
Miami hadn’t rolled over. The game had been a hard fought affair, but the good
guys had come out on top. The team had put aside the drama of the last few
days—banding together. On and off the field.

The Rob Cotter issue wasn’t discussed. Sean wasn’t certain
if his teammates bought that the guy was cut—end of story. If there were any
questions, no one asked them.

Instead of heading off in different directions as they
usually did after a long flight home, most of the guys gathered at
The Extra
Point
. Some played pool. Some sat around and rehashed the game. It was all
about supporting each other—through thick and thin.

“I’m proud of you.” Gaige clicked his beer bottle against
Sean’s. “You played a hell of a game. It couldn’t have been easy with all that’s
on your mind.”

“Between the lines, brother. Sometimes I think that game
time is the only sane place left on Earth.”

“Sad but true.” Gaige leaned back in his chair. “Have you
heard from Riley?”

“Three texts and a quick call before she left town.”

For all intents and purposes, Riley had been incommunicado
since Wednesday afternoon. She explained what she needed to do. He understood
that it was difficult and she didn’t have time to be in constant contact. That
didn’t stop him from worrying. This mess had hit her hard. Harder than anyone
realized.

The world saw a strong, confident woman. And that’s exactly
what she was. She was also human. Sean wished he was with her to lend some
moral support. He wished she would call him and let him know she was all right.

“She’s due back tonight.”

“How do you know that?” Sean demanded. And why the hell didn’t
he?

“She wanted to know where you were.” Gaige showed him the
text.

“Why not contact me directly?”

“Ask her yourself.”

Sean’s head whipped around. Riley stood at the door looking
fresh as the proverbial daisy. She wore a red leather jacket and jeans. Casual.
Elegant. Just like Riley.

Eyes fixed on the most beautiful sight in the world, Sean
weaved his way through the crowd.

“You look tired.”

Riley smiled. “So do you.”

“I’m beat.”

“Me, too.”

Sean wrapped his arms around Riley’s waist and lifted her
off the ground.

“Hey, Sol.”

“Yeah?”

“Open the door.”

With a sigh, Riley rested her head on Sean’s shoulder. No
one said a word or tried to stop them. The team simply smiled and watched as he
carried her out of the bar.

SEAN’S BEDROOM WAS blissfully quiet. His steady breathing was
the only sound. He had fallen asleep moments after making love to her. And that’s
what he’d done. Made love. Riley had felt it in the way he slowly undressed
her. His gentle touches and lingering kisses. Sean made her feel cherished. She
knew he loved her. As much as she loved him.

It made leaving him the hardest thing she would ever do. She
had made the decision before she met with her father. She wasn’t good for him.
Because of her, he almost lost his career. The thought of Sean, crippled for
life, was all the extra push Riley needed. This relationship was poison for
him.