Night Games (17 page)

Terry retakes his seat, shuffling through the paperwork in front of him, unable to meet my eye. “Dr. Brownstein, would you like to get things started?”

I walk over to the vacant chair next to him and recline against its leather surface—nothing but the best for the Kings. I glance quickly around the table to see who’s here. Two of Arnold’s sons, who are junior partners; Liam, the team’s trainer; and Tony, my manager, round out the lot. The firing squad is fully loaded and prepared to take aim. All that’s left is pinning my back against the wall and pulling the trigger.

“There’s been a new development since I saw you last.” Dr. Brownstein shoots me an encouraging look from across the table. “I went over your MRI with a colleague of mine over at St. Luke’s this morning. He’s of the opinion that, if the Kings shut you down completely for the remainder of the season, there’s a chance that you might be healthy enough to play next year.”

That certainly isn’t what I expected him to say.

“There’s no question the ligament is badly damaged. There’s nothing we can do surgically to correct it, but resting your knee might be just the solution we’re looking for. But it’s going to require keeping your weight off it. You’ll have to get around on crutches or use a wheelchair for the next six months.” Dr. Brownstein grimaces, unsure if I’ll be willing to comply with his request.

“So I’ll basically be off my feet until January?” My mind shifts into overdrive, pondering my options. “And there’s no guarantee this will work?”

“No, there’s not. You could very well be giving up your mobility for nothing. At the end of it, your knee could be just as damaged as it was before. But we will monitor your progress and keep a close eye on you.”

“But, Chase, this is huge.” Terry jumps in. “You could be playing again by the time spring training rolls around.”

“I’d ease him into it gradually,” Dr. Brownstein pipes up. “Start with some strength training down in Florida. The muscles are going to atrophy a bit from not being used. We’re going to have to work from the ground up, and even with a full recovery, you might not be able to perform at the same level you’re accustomed to on the field.”

“If we can get back even seventy-five percent of the Chase Whitfield I know, that’s like getting a hundred percent out of most guys,” Tony Liotta grumbles as Arnold’s sons furiously scribble down notes.

“But what about my contract?” It’s the elephant in the room. I might as well bring it up. “I might not still be with the Kings come spring training.”

“Are you planning on testing the free agency market? Seeing what other teams have to offer?” Terry doesn’t like the sound of that. I can tell.

I was planning on shopping around to drive up my value. My agent thought it’d be a good idea. Make the Kings realize what they’d be missing. Shake them up a bit. I’ve never played with any other organization and I don’t really want to. I’ve been with the Kings since I graduated high school. It’s where I belong. It’s where I want to stay. And if they’re willing to take this big of a chance on me, they deserve my loyalty. Why mess around when I already know what I want? And until five minutes ago, I thought my career was over. Getting this opportunity is a miracle. Something I never expected to happen when I walked in here.

“You know my heart is with the Kings, Terry. It always has been. It always will be. I don’t want to go anywhere else.” I look at Arnold as I speak, watching his mouth curl up on the one side.

“Then you think we can call Steve and work out a deal?” Terry glances up at me hopefully, clicking his pen in midair.

“Yeah. If he finds the terms to be agreeable, I don’t see why not.” He’s going to be mad at me for caving, but it’s what I want. He’s only doing what I’m asking him to do.

“Excellent.” Terry stands and slaps me on the back, shaking my hand firmly. “It’s great to have you back, Chase.”

“Funny. It seems like I never left.”

At that, the entire table erupts into laughter, the tension visibly easing its way out of the room.

“I’ll consult with Dr. Brownstein and get you set up with a regimen, Chase. All the dos and don’ts,” Liam shouts from the far side of the table.

“So you’re serious about keeping me stationary, huh?” I stand up as Dr. Brownstein hustles over to congratulate me.

“I’m sure it won’t be hard for you to find someone to be at your beck and call.” Tony gives me a playful shove before giving me a quick hug. “Good to have you back, kid. Even if you can’t help me kick Boston’s ass until next year.”

“Don’t worry. You and the guys will pull it out. It’s not over yet.” I give him all of the enthusiasm I can muster. It sucks not being able to participate, but Tony has a difficult job and it kills me that my absence is just making it harder.

“On that note, Chase, Mr. Heimlich and I still have some business we need to discuss with you. So if everyone would clear the room, we can get started.” Terry sounds like he has a bug up his ass. It has to be about Grey. What else could it be?

As the room begins to empty, even Arnold’s nurse gets up and leaves. Shit. This can’t be good.

“I talked to Mr. Heimlich privately about this matter before you arrived. The last few hours have been a bit of a whirlwind, and we’re still trying to sort it out. But we were sent an anonymous email last night that I think you should take a look at.” Terry slides his finger over his iPad, pulling up something I probably don’t want to see.

It’s a video. My stomach drops. I lean in closer to get a better look. Shadowed figures are writhing in the darkness, the guitar riffs of Def Leppard wailing in the background. It’s hard to make out what’s going on until intermittent flashes from the strobe lights illuminate the scene. The quality of the video is grainy, but it’s showing the catwalk of a strip club, most likely The Blue Room.

I watch silently as the clip cruises by the two-minute mark. So far I haven’t seen anyone who remotely resembles Grey. If someone thinks they can blackmail me with this shoddy evidence, they’re nuts. It could be any strip club in America for all I know. The girls are onstage look nothing like Grey. But then the speed of the video slows down significantly and a spotlight is aimed dead center.

Grey totters slowly toward the crowd in a pair of heels and not much else.

There’s no denying that it’s her. Her alabaster skin looks translucent under the lights, her ebony hair blending into the darkness that surrounds her. The jerk operating the spotlight isn’t even focusing on her face. She’s lit up from the neck down, wearing nothing but a flesh-colored bikini.

Seeing the men below paw at her ankles makes my blood boil. She carefully steps over their outstretched hands, not caring to bend down to pick up the dollar bills they’re tossing her way. She stands at the end, gazing blankly out into the raucous crowd. The expression on her face is vacant, like she’s not even there, like she’s inhabiting someone else’s body.

Slowly, she swings herself around the stripper pole at the bottom, careful not to trip over her feet. The men hoot and holler even louder as she gets into the act. The other girls are nowhere in sight, and she has the audience’s full attention. The song over the loudspeakers is blaring the words “…sticky sweet…” and as if in a trance, she’s prompted to start touching herself between her legs before raising her hand to her lips and licking her finger provocatively.

I blush hotly knowing that Terry and Arnold have already seen this. I want to knock the shit out of Terry for having it stored on his iPad for future use. They’re both respectively looking away as I watch it, but it’s too late. They’ve seen the girl I’m into gyrating in front of a gang of lewd, ravenous men. I don’t want this to be the first time I see Grey naked, but I’m afraid it’s going to be.

I grit my teeth and keep watching. She twirls around the pole, dipping her head, her hair flying through the air. The big finale is coming. I can feel it. The music is amping up to its conclusion, the lights on the side of the stage blinking in time with the beat. Grey lets go of the pole and strides forward dramatically. There’s a wild gleam in her usually soulful brown eyes as she reaches back to unhook her top. With one tug, it falls away from her body, revealing her heaving breasts for all the world to see.

The men go absolutely insane when the lights go out. The clip ends, but my heart is racing. I hate myself for being turned on by what I just witnessed. And it only makes me think of the reaction every hot-blooded male is going to have after watching this.

I shove the iPad away from me, sliding it back across the table. “Who sent this?”

“I notified our lawyer the minute it came in. He’s had his tech team working on it all night. Apparently, it originated from an IP address in Stockton.”

“Well, sorry if I’m not impressed since The Blue Room is located in Stockton.”

“Hold on. There’s more to it than that. Our attorney checked with the police to see if there was any criminal activity associated with that particular IP address.”

“And was there?”

“That’s the kicker. We put pressure on them and they got the hosting company to reveal the name on the account. Apparently, it belongs to the owners of Buster’s Crab Shack. Ever hear of it?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. I ate there while I was in Stockton. My driver recommended it.”

“Well, their little deviant son is about to get mommy and daddy in a whole lot of trouble.”

“What do you mean?”

“He had security cameras set up on every light pole in their parking lot. Then he got his friends to bring the girls they picked up at the local bars and clubs there. He supplied them with the roofies. They got the girls naked in their cars, doing God knows what, and he got it all on video. He then uploaded it onto the net, making a hefty profit off some pay-per-view porn site he set up.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“But we have to squash this now, especially if you were seen there.”

“How did he get that footage of Grey?”

“Possibly took it himself. He seems the type.”

My head is pounding at the revelation. There’s only one person who could’ve tipped Keith off. Noah. It had to be Noah. And I just left Grey sitting out there alone with him. I have to get to her. Now.

Springing up from the table, I start limping as fast as I can toward the door. My knee is paining me with every step I take, but I keep going. I have to get Grey away from him before something else happens.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here,” Terry calls out angrily.

Arnold’s eyes follow me, commanding me to stay without uttering a sound. I know that look. Even though half his face is paralyzed, he means business. This is his team and he’s not going to let me fuck it up, especially after he just went out on a limb to save my ass.

“The guy who leaked the video is in town, and I have a pretty good idea where he is. Wouldn’t it be the best use of my time to go and nab him instead of sitting around talking about it?”

“You know where this asshole is?”

“Yeah.”

“Then bring him to me. I’ll take care of it.”

“But for now, as far as you know, no one else outside the organization has seen that video?”

“The tech team was able to determine that the upload source came directly from a cell phone. The date and time stamp confirm it. From what they can gather, it’s the original file. It hasn’t been distributed yet. But if the person makes good on their threat, it’s set to go live by five o’clock.”

“Have you reached out to them? What do they want?”

“Money, of course.”

“How much?”

“They’re talking at least six figures. Maybe more if we want all the copies.”

“Shit.”

“You want my advice?”

“You want me to distance myself from this girl, right?”

“Normally, that’d be the plan of attack, but there’s more. Another clip came in this morning, this one of you getting into her truck in the parking lot of Buster’s Crab Shack. It shows that you two have a history. One sighting we can spin and deny, but her driving you around in Stockton is like the smoking gun. They have you, plain and simple.”

“I don’t care about me. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Well, you better care because Chase Whitfield dating a Stockton stripper isn’t going to go over well.”

“You’re blowing this way out of proportion, Terry. You’re acting like we made a sex tape or something. She took off her top—big deal. Half the actresses I dated do the same thing for millions of dollars. What’s the difference?”

“Don’t be so naïve, Chase. Do you need me to spell it out for you? This girl is a nobody. She has no clout, no prestige to back her up. She’s nothing but a small-town con artist looking to move up in the world. You’re one of the most famous people in New York. Heck, the entire country. No one’s going to want to see you with someone like her.”

“I don’t care what they want. I’m not giving her up, Terry.”

Arnold groans, feebly raising his hand.

“What is it, Mr. Heimlich?” Terry crouches down beside him when Arnold grabs him by the collar.

He says something I can’t understand, but apparently Terry is able to decipher the message.

“He wants me to stay out of your personal affairs,” he says tersely, straightening up and smoothing out the creases in his pants.

I nod at Arnold, thanking him for his consideration, but all he does is stare stonily back at me.

“The only way this is going to work is if you act like you’re in it for keeps. Have her take care of you during your recovery. Show how devoted she is to you. Never be seen in public with another woman at your side. Play the part of the man who reformed the stripper, even if you get sick of her by the end of the week.” Terry is admonishing me like his love life is such an open and shut case. He’s already on his second marriage after he decided to marry his mistress. He’s not exactly a guy who should be preaching about family values.

“I assure you. I’m not going to get sick of her.”

“Good.”

“Am I free to recover wherever I see fit? You’re not going to make stay in New York, are you?”

“As long as you do what you’re told and report for your regular checkups, I don’t care where you go.”