Wrapped Up: A Triple Threat Sports Romance (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jake

“Looking good,” my trainer said as I walked along the treadmill.

“Yeah, right.” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe I was getting praised for walking on a treadmill! I was the team’s star receiver. I had literally carried us to more victories than I could count. And yet I was being trained on how to walk again because the injuries from my accident were severe enough to make healing a difficult process.

I had taken all of my speed and agility for granted, and I was paying the ultimate price for it. The unthinkable was happening. I was probably never going to play again. I was being forced to face that fact.

However, I was supposed to consider myself
lucky
that nothing had been broken. I had a lot of bruises, scrapes, and torn, pulled, twisted muscles. I had herniated discs in my back and damaged cartilage in both knees. In fact, my first session of physical therapy was just geared towards helping the doctors and trainers assess just how bad things were.

Movement was sheer agony, but I wasn’t going to let them know that. I was going to grin and bear it, and push my body just like I always had. I was mad at myself for getting wrapped up in so much nonsense outside of the game. I had lost focus, but nothing brought it back like the shooting pain in my back with every step.

“How are you hanging in there?” my trainer asked. He stood in his workout clothes with a clipboard in his arm. He was thin and muscular, in perfect shape and health. I hated him at that moment.

“I’ve got this,” I told him, panting against the pain.

“No, it doesn’t look like you do,” he said, and he reached up to hit a couple of buttons on the treadmill, bringing my walk to an end.

“Come on, Steve, let me finish,” I urged him.

“Jake, look, there’s no benefit right now to pushing yourself the way you would on the practice field.”

“Yeah, but if I don’t push, how am I supposed to improve?” I shot back.

“No dice, man. Your body is in a sad state right now, and it’s not going to heal faster just because you want it to. Now, it’s going to be slow at first, man, but don’t try to make your injuries worse. Maybe with some of your muscle injuries, you can push a little harder and get results, but with these bone injuries, that’s just going to make it worse. Trust me on this. It’s my job.”

I looked at him and felt the shit-eating grin spread across my face. He’d just walked himself into my territory.

“No, you sit in here at this facility every day and you deal with health insurance claims. You deal with people who have to get up off their couches or step away from their desks for the first time in forever, and because their bodies aren’t used to the abuse and exertion in the first place, you have to hold their hands,” I said.

“I work with athletes, too, Jake. I’ve worked with college and NFL teams. I’ve worked with the NCAA. I’ve helped basketball players get back on the court. I am a trained and certified professional. Helping guys like you is what I do,” Steve snapped at me.

“I want our trainers and doctors from the team,” I demanded.

“Who do you think put you in my hands? Your training facility isn’t equipped for the PT you need, and your trainers have other players to tend to every day. So, to put it nicely, you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” he replied.

“And not so nicely?” I asked.

“You’re shit out of luck, cupcake. Now, you’re done for today. Think you could handle a few more stretches before I send you back up to your room?”

I thought about it, taking into account how much I was hurting and what all he had just said to me. I wanted to be a man and tell him I could, but I knew I couldn’t. I knew I wasn’t there yet.

“No, I think I’m finished for the day,” I told him, shaking my head.

“Hey, you did a good job today. I know you’re used to expecting more from yourself, but be patient with your body. It’s been through a lot.” He patted me on the back. “See you tomorrow?”

“I guess so,” I told him as a nurse met me at the door to the PT facility to walk me back up to my room in the hospital.

“Alright, that’s the spirit,” he said, encouraging me further.

“You have a visitor waiting on you,” my nurse told me as we walked along the hallway. It was the same brown-eyed nurse from when I woke up. I had learned her name was Lisa, and it seemed like she never went home.

“Who is it this time?” I asked without even attempting to hide my exasperation.

“It’s a Mr. Clark. Does that ring a bell?” she asked.

I groaned. “That’s the team’s new owner.” I ran my hand down my face. On one hand, I was impressed that I was finally going to get to meet the new owner. On the other, I didn’t want to face him after everything that had happened.

“Should I tell him you’re not feeling well from PT?” Lisa asked.

I laughed. “That’s nice of you to offer, but no, I need to meet with him. He probably has business to discuss with me. I’m sure he’s not here just to check on me.”

“Maybe he is. He could surprise you,” she said optimistically.

“I sincerely doubt that,” I told her. “But, hey, let’s stay positive.”

Mr. Clark was already seated in my room when I returned. For some reason, I wasn’t surprised in the least. He wore a charcoal gray suit with a red tie and short salt-and-pepper hair combed back away from his face.

“Excuse us, Lisa, if you don’t mind,” I said to her at the door.

“I need to take your vitals first,” she insisted in her typically friendly and almost cheerful voice. “Then, I promise, I’ll leave you two gentlemen to talk.”

“Take your time,” Mr. Clark said. It was the first time I had heard his voice. It was what I imagined a brick wall would have sounded like. His voice was hard and solid. It carried weight and mass. And it just made me want to stop what I was doing.

Once I was hooked back up to all of the machines registering my vitals, Lisa checked my numbers and patted my forearm before leaving the room. She glanced back one time before closing the door, her brown eyes taking in the scene in the room, as if she was making sure it was okay to leave me in there with Mr. Clark.

“So, are you having sex with her now? Have you managed to get that in bed yet?” Mr. Clark asked once the door was closed. His voice was still hard and humorless. His joke was not meant to be funny. It sounded more like an accusation.

“Well, it’s definitely a pleasure to finally meet you, sir,” I said, letting my voice drip with sarcasm.

“You, too, Jake, believe it or not. You’re one of our star players. Or, you were,” he said.

“Do you actually have something to say to me, or are you here just to throw cute little insults around?” I asked him. With the amount of pain I was in, I didn’t really care if I pissed off the owner of the team.

“Actually, son, I do have something to say. I have a lot to say, in fact, starting with how much you fucked up. You have cut your career short, and the tabloids are having a field day with you. You really had them going with that girlfriend of yours. There were even rumors that you two were engaged to get married. She was taming the bad boy. She was living with you. You finally had someone who seemed permanent.” He sounded unhappy about the arrangement with Brooke. I thought it had been working out really well.

“Isn’t that what you wanted, Mr. Clark?” I asked him. “Didn’t you want us to start portraying a positive image? Wasn’t that what you had Coach talk to us about at the beginning of the season?”

“You’re right. He did have that conversation with you, but I wasn’t expecting it to become a spectacle like it did. You actually took something that was supposed to be a positive image and made it negative. Then, on top of that, you go and wreck your car after a night of drinking. You crumbled up a Ferrari like it was a beer can that you could just toss in the trash when you were finished with it.”

“I’m not proud of that,” I told him.

“I’m not either. Now it looks like you won’t even be able to make it back onto the field. Your career is essentially over,” he continued.

“Yeah, keep reminding me. That helps. I feel a lot better.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better, son. I’m trying to tell you just how badly you fucked up.” The conversation felt like it was just moving in circles.

“I get that. So, what’s your point? Before the accident, I was working in the office,” I told him. “I was helping with fundraisers and charity events, that type of thing. I’d actually like to get back to that once I’m out of here, since I can’t play on the field. That’s assuming you don’t just fire me right here on the spot.”

He sighed. “I know that’s what you were doing, and we did get some good press for helping out some local organizations. That’s always a good thing. But, son, you’re not the face I want to put on this team right now. I’m trying to clean up the image of the team, and I don’t want to put some playboy in the middle of a drunk driving scandal front and center right now. That won’t help my cause at all.”

“So are you just letting me go?” I asked, keeping my jaw set and firm. If it was time to go, I wanted to face it boldly.

“No. Believe it or not, I wanted to check on your progress and talk to the doctors. For now, you just sit tight and get better. Hopefully, by the time you’re back on your feet, all of this will blow over and you’ll be back on top even if not on the field. I’m going to mull your future over while I watch this shit storm clear out.” He stood up and reached out to shake my hand.

As much as I didn’t want to shake his hand, I knew I wasn’t in a position to be
too
defiant. Without Brooke at my side, I was in big trouble.

“Mr. Clark,” I said as he started to walk out of the room.

“Yeah.” He stopped and turned back.

“I’m still working on that engagement with Brooke Scott,” I told him.

“Be sure that you do,” he said in his hard tone, making his words sound like a threat.

I laughed at myself and shook my head as he left. I wasn’t working on that engagement. I had just broken up with her, but I was realizing that was a bad move. There was something to our talk of business arrangements. No matter what happened between us on a personal level, we were good for each other professionally.

I had to figure out how to patch that up.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Brooke

I sat in my car, taking deep, measured breaths. I was trying to hold it together. I figured there was only one thing left that hadn’t started to crumble yet, and that was me. At least I could exert control over myself. I was parked in front of my house, a modest two-story home that I had filled with valuable art and beautiful antique furniture to give it a warm, cozy feel. It wasn’t wide open like my father’s home or Jake’s mansion.

It had high ceilings, hardwood floors, and old, tall windows. The house had personality. It had its own soul. I wasn’t the first owner. I hadn’t paid anyone to build it for me from plans I had to approve beforehand. It was an older home, built by a wealthy family almost a century ago, and it was worth every penny.

While I sat watching the house and listening to my breathing, a tap came on the driver side window of my car. I jumped, startled by the sudden sound. I turned to see a police officer standing next to the car.

I immediately rolled the window down. “Is everything alright, officer?” I asked, suddenly worried about my home. I hadn’t been home since moving in with Jake, even though I hadn’t planned on staying away for so long.

“Are you Miss Brooke Scott?” he asked, not exactly answering my question. I didn’t like feeling like we were playing a game.

“Yes, sir. Is everything alright?” I asked again.

“I’m going to need to you to switch off the car and step out,” he said, taking a step back from the car. His voice had a firm tone. He wasn’t being rude or commanding. He sounded cordial enough, but at the same time, there was an edge to his voice that told me I didn’t want to argue with him.

I opened the door so it wouldn’t seem like I was trying to hide by rolling up the window. Then, I cut off the car and stepped out. The officer stood with his hands on his hips. He was tall and thin. His almost wiry frame would have looked scrappy out of uniform.

I repeated my question for the third time. “Is everything alright, officer?”

“Can I see some ID, Miss Scott?” he asked.

Something was very wrong. He wouldn’t address my question. He insisted on sidestepping it every time with a statement of his own. An icy ball of dread sank to the bottom of my stomach when he asked for my ID.

“It’s in my purse,” I told him, and nodded back into the car where my purse sat on the passenger side seat.

“Would you mind letting me see it?” he asked politely.

“What’s this about, officer?” I asked.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and waited patiently for me to retrieve my license. At first, I thought maybe something was wrong with my house, and the officer was checking to make sure I was alright or didn’t go inside unprepared for what waited for me. I was starting to feel like I was in trouble here somehow, but I hadn’t done anything that I knew of. It was one of those moments where my mind ran back through my recent memory to find anything that could have landed me in my current situation. There was nothing that came to mind.

“Here you are, officer,” I said as I stood back up from the car and handed him my license. “Now, do you mind telling me what this is about?” I asked him again.

“Miss Scott, you are under arrest,” he said, turning me slowly around to face the car as he pulled my hands behind my back and cuffed me while he detailed my rights.

In sheer shock and horror, I laughed. It was so ridiculous to think I was actually being cuffed and arrested. I had never been in trouble with the law. What the hell had I done?

“Is this funny?” he asked.

“It’s absurd,” I told him. “What am I being arrested for?” I asked.

“Embezzlement, extortion, mishandling of private funds.” As he spoke, it sounded like a bad joke.

“My father put you up to this, didn’t he?” I hissed.

“Scott Enterprises filed charges against you, yes, but I don’t know who at the company actually did it. That’s something for you to sort out once I get you downtown,” he said.

I was impressed by how polite he was and how smoothly things were going, but I couldn’t believe I was being put in the back of a police car to be driven downtown to lockup. I hid my head as we pulled away from my house. I didn’t want anyone to see me.

We drove quietly back into town. The only sound was the squawking of the police radio. I had to devise a plan to get in touch with everyone I needed to talk to. I knew I would get a free phone call once I was booked. I also knew I needed to speak with my attorney. If I didn’t play my cards right, the chance to talk to her and the free call would be the same.

I needed to use my phone call to get ahold of Jake. After talking to him, I would have to request the opportunity to speak with Hollie. I wanted to know what the hell my father was up to, but I also needed to get out as soon as they would allow it.

I was escorted in and booked pretty much right away. I felt like I was cutting in line at a burger joint. There were people in a holding cell behind me, waiting to be booked or let go. They didn’t appreciate that I was walked up to the counter and processed almost right away. It didn’t make any sense to me. I always thought of jail as the one place where everyone was made equal, but apparently certain charges got priority.

“You can use the phone now to make one call, Miss Scott,” the clerk said. “Is there anyone you would like to call?”

“Yes, there is,” I answered, keeping it short and sweet. I realized I might have said too much when I was first arrested by acting like I knew who was behind it. But at the same time, since I worked for Scott Enterprises, who else would I have been accused of stealing from?

The clerk directed me to the phone in the wall behind me. There was a small blue plastic office chair in front of what looked like an old pay phone. I sat down and picked up the phone, dialing Jake’s number.

Jake had offered to help me financially through the fight with my father for the company, and even though it was unexpected to have to ask for bail money, I figured it counted as a fee for fighting against my father.

The phone rang several times while I waited on Jake to answer. With each ring, my humiliation at having to ask him for help grew. I had to fight the urge to hang up after each unanswered ring. I knew if it rang too many times, there wouldn’t have been any use in hanging up or not.

When he finally answered, I gushed into the phone. “Jake, listen, I only have a minute to talk. I’ve been arrested for embezzlement and a few other bogus charges.”

“What?” he asked, shocked.

“Apparently my father is trying to get me out of the way so he doesn’t have to keep fighting with me about the company. I didn’t know who else to call. I need bail money. I need someone to get me out of here so I can get back to the fight. I don’t know all the details yet. They just booked me, and they’re not too willing to tell me everything,” I explained.

There was silence on the other end of the line as Jake was obviously considering what I was telling him and asking of him. I didn’t know how long I had to talk on the phone. I didn’t know when they would come and tell me to get off the phone. I didn’t have time for silence.

“I don’t know where else to go, Jake. I’m sorry, but I need your help,” I pleaded with him.

“I’ll see what I can manage,” he said plainly. “Sit tight.”

“Funny. Real funny, Jake.”

“Talk to you soon,” he said, ending the call.

I stood up from my chair to let them know I was finished with the phone, and one of the officers acting as a guard grabbed my arm gently and guided me to where they were going to hold me. He took me to an interrogation room. I didn’t say anything as he sat me down at a table like all the ones on TV shows and in the movies. I wanted to remark on how serious it all seemed for something that was only meant as a petty way to get me out of the way of taking over my father’s company, but I kept my opinion to myself.

Nothing about this seemed legitimate. I expected my father or one of the board members to walk in at any time and tell me it was just a scare tactic to run me off, but they didn’t. Instead, a detective came in and sat down in front of me with a large file folder stuffed full of what I was sure was evidence piled up against me.

I wondered how they had compiled that much evidence in such a short time. It didn’t add up to me, unless that was all paperwork my father had turned over to them when he filed charges against me. I didn’t know a whole lot about police procedures, but this felt very rushed and very serious.

“Miss Scott,” the officer started, “would you mind describing for me your position at Scott Enterprises?”

“I’m not saying anything until I get to speak to my lawyer,” I told him.

“That’s fine, Brooke. I’m not trying to necessarily interrogate you, though. I’m just trying to see how you fit into the company,” he countered.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t talk to you about the charges that have been brought against me. I can only speak with my attorney,” I insisted.

He took a deep, slow breath and glanced down at the paperwork in front of him with raised eyebrows. “You’ve got quite an impressive history with Scott Enterprises,” he continued.

I lowered my eyes. I couldn’t believe he was still trying to get me to talk.

“I’ve taken a look at your personnel file. You’re Mr. Scott’s daughter and essentially the heiress to the throne at Scott Enterprises, right?”

I sighed as he continued. I had to bite my tongue. I wanted to comment on his heiress remark. I wanted to tell him I knew my father was behind the trumped up charges because I was trying to finally take the company from him. I’d been running it without him. It was my company, dammit!

“I see that your father retired about five years ago. I imagine you’ve been running the company by yourself since then. Is that right?”

Before he could continue, the door to the room opened slowly, and another male voice called him away from the table. I let out a sigh of relief as he got up and the questioning ended.

I wondered when I would get the opportunity to speak with Hollie. Did they just expect her to magically appear because I invoked her? I let out another long sigh.

I also wondered what the detective was talking about with the other gentleman at the door. In the movies, this was usually when new evidence arrived that either absolved or irrevocably damned the suspect. And seeing as it was my father who had put me in jail in the first place, he had the power to doctor up any documents he wanted.

If I didn’t do something, and soon, I was screwed.