Did I just hear him right?
I jerk away from his touch. “Don’t take it personal, Miriam. It’s just business.”
“What would your parents say? Or the Hunter Development Corporation, having its name attached to theft?”
Kieran’s laughter is dark. “Who do you think encouraged me to use what you designed after you dismissed me the way you did? As for Hunter Development”—I recoil at his breath fanning across my face—“it’s part of our business practices, among other things. Come home with me. I’ll make it better.”
“You disgust me,” I snarl.
“You came to me. You’ll be back.” He laughs as I sprint out the door.
I jog back to my car in record time, with no signs of collapsing from the cardio.
“Jesus!” I jump at the dark figure in my rearview mirror. “I thought you left.”
“How can I keep you safe if I leave, Maid Miriam?” Bread scoffs before ripping open a packet of gummy bears.
I frown. “Where did you get snacks?”
“Ran across the street to the convenience store while you went up. Want one?” He extends the bag.
“No thanks.”
He shrugs. “Did you get what you needed, or do I need to go up there and beat his ass?”
“None of that,” I say through a long sigh.
Antonio would catch a manslaughter charge if he knew what I was up to and would beat Bread in the process. He sat out another game. The press is officially turning on him. Some are speculating he’s hiding an injury. Others say he is dividing the team and not taking his leadership role seriously.
His head coach is forbidding interviews. With no one to set the record straight, made-up stories are piling up at his expense.
A gossip reporter spotted Antonio and Bread arguing in the parking lot after practice. Yards away, it was easy to assume a star player was beefing with his teammate. The reality is that Antonio had to talk Bread off the ledge before he took matters into his own hands.
The guys want to help, but Antonio won’t let them. He can afford to face any consequences from his protest. Things are tense, but the team respects their captain. They ignore press questions and focus on winning games.
“Thank you for coming with me tonight,” I say to Bread’s hulking frame that’s swallowing the back seat of my car. He’s dressed in all black but too big to hide from anyone.
“Like you had a choice,” he chuckles. “You know I got you and Cap’s backs.”
Bread overheard me on the phone with Reese a few nights ago at Steel House. I took the call in the main kitchen downstairs, hoping to avoid Antonio. Bread was grabbing a snack and told me he’d be my security just in case.
Reese picks up on the first ring.
“Are you safe?”
“Yeah.” I draw in a sharp breath and tap the speakerphone. “I got what we needed.”
Poor Reese is putting out fires left and right, trying to explain why one of the Steel’s star players isn’t on the pitch. I won’t stand by while the press eats him alive. When I asked Antonio in Vegas if he ever lets people take care of him the way he takes care of others, I made a promise to protect him the way he’s protected me.
Fuck Kieran and Mancini.
“Phase two,” I tell Reese.
“Phase two.”
“Hell yeah!” Bread shouts.
The incessant ringing of my doorbell wakes me from a deep slumber. Who is at my door trying to catch a toaster to the forehead?
