"Direct. I like that." He poured himself a scotch from the car's bar, not offering me any. "We understand you are friendly with a certain up-and-coming hockey star."
"Not any longer," I muttered bleakly.
His smile was razor-thin. "His father would prefer he focus on his career rather than playing savior to every damaged creature he encounters."
The casual cruelty in his voice made my stomach churn. "So what, you're here to threaten me? Tell me to stay away from him?"
"On the contrary." He sipped his scotch, studying me over the rim. "I saidhis fatherbelieves that. The people I represent, however, think a singular focus would improve his attention, so I'm here to offer you a job."
I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "A job? Doing what?"
"Exactly what you were already doing. Getting close to Cole. Earning his trust." His eyes glittered with malice. "But with one key difference—you'll be reporting everything back to me."
I stared at him, trying to process what he was suggesting through the fog of pain and exhaustion. "You want me to spy on Cole? For his father?"
"'Spy' is such an unpleasant word, and Cole’s father isn’t my concern. I would call it 'maintaining awareness of his activities.'" He swirled his scotch. "My associates are deeply invested in his career. Cole's judgment can be...compromised at times."
"And what exactly would I be looking for?"
"Anything thatmight damage his reputation. Drinking. Drugs. Inappropriate relationships." His gaze lingered meaningfully on my face. "Your job would be to alert us before Cole does something foolish."
“But doesn’t that include me?”
“No.”
My stomach churned with disgust. "And if I say no?"
"Then young Mr. Manning loses his job at the Avalon. His girlfriend loses her position at the daycare center. Their apartment becomes suddenly unavailable." His smile never reached his eyes. "And that's just the beginning."
"You'd destroy their lives over this?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Cole is a significant investment to the team." He pulled an envelope from his jacket. "Five thousand dollars now. Another five thousand each month you provide useful information."
I stared at the envelope. Five thousand dollars would get me an apartment, food. Ten meant I could help Ricky with his bills. I could stop being hungry all the time.
"What happens to Cole if I do this?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged. "Cole remains the star hockey player with a bright future ahead of him."
I thought about Cole's face when his father had appeared at the celebration. The resignation. The quiet anger. The way he'd seemed to fold in on himself, becoming smaller somehow, despite his physical size. “You’re working for his father,” I said.
“I work for a group of investors who want this team to succeed.” Which wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a direct answer either. His voice hardened. "You have quite the interesting history, Phoenix. Foster care. Petty theft. That unfortunate incident at your last job. I wonder what Cole would think if he knew everything about you?"
I almost laughed. "Cole already knows the worst of me."
"Does he? Does he know about the fire at your last foster home? The one that nearly killed the family's biological son?"
My blood froze."That wasn't—"
"I know it wasn't your fault. But would Cole believe that? Would the police, if someone were to anonymously suggest they reopen the case?” The words hit me like a physical blow. I hadn't heard anyone mention that fire in five years—hadn't let myself think about it in almost as long. The foster family's son, Gavin, had been in a coma for three weeks. I'd been blamed initially, cleared later when the real cause was found to be faulty wiring. But the damage was done. Another foster placement burned to the ground, literally this time.
“You bastard," I whispered.
His smile widened. "I prefer thorough. So, what will it be, Phoenix? A comfortable arrangement that benefits everyone, or shall I make some phone calls?"
I stared at the envelope in his manicured hands, my vision blurring with rage and despair. Five thousand dollars. More money than I'd seen in years. Enough to change everything—for me, for Ricky, for his baby who couldn't breathe properly in that moldy apartment.
All I had to do was destroy the only person who'd looked at me and seen something worth saving.
