“Sterling?”
He smirked, misinterpreting my confusion as a question. “Yeah, that’s what happens when people don’t know when to stop talking.”
Vaguely, I remembered a player named Mason Sterling. I hadn’t heard his name since I was a freshman, hearing whispers about how a solid player had suddenlyvanished. Transfer papers filed. A career derailed overnight.
The guys didn’t wait for me to answer. One of them slapped me on the shoulder, my injured shoulder — and not in a friendly way, more like a warning — and they peeled off toward the back of the bar.
I stood there, the weight of their words feeling heavier in the noisy bar. What the fuck had that been?
Chapter 14
Dante
I returned to the table.
Noah seemed surprised to see me sit down. “Thought you were out?” he asked, not the least bit guilty about demolishing his way through the second bucket of wings.
“Not feeling it,” I told him. I turned to look across the bar, and three of the five guys were watching me. I met their gaze directly.
“What’s up with that?” he asked, following my look at the ones staring me down. “You got a better offer?” he asked with a smirk.
“Something like that.”
Noah glanced at me sharply, losing the teasing look and paying more attention to the guys at the bar.
I told myself it didn’t matter and that it wasn’t my business. But why were they warning me — no, not warning me,threateningme? What were they hiding?
The ache in my shoulder throbbed in time with the memory of Doug’s not-quite smile in the training room.Less paperwork. Less confusion.
What had I stepped into, and what was it going to cost me?
Nothing.
I watched them watch me. I wouldn’t be cowed by any third-team benchwarmer. I pressed my lips together and gave a sidelong glance at the solid body across from me.
“Hey, Noah?” I asked him casually as I finished my beer. “How many bar fights have you lost?”
He leaned back, wiping his hands on a Wet Wipe. His eyes were on the guys, and his smile was sinister. “Never been in one,” he told me plainly. “Always took themandthe fightoutside, more room to kick their ass.” He grinned as he turned his attention to me, and I returned it.
I stood. “Good advice. I’m taking it outside,” I told him, taking off my suit jacket.
“You need a hand?” he asked, already shirking off his own jacket.
“No...” I hesitated. “Maybe someone on my side to make sure it stays fair?”
He nodded. “Sounds good. I’m right beside you.” Noah got up, and I felt a moment of guilt.
“You know, you don’t need to,” I said quickly. “You’re not Dustin, this isn’t your fight.”
Noah finished his beer, not looking at me. “Is it Dustin’s?”
“No, but I’ve known him a lot longer and—”
“I’ve got your back, man,” Noah said, sliding out of the booth, his eyes on the guys. “They don’t look like the kind of guys to keep it fair.” He rolled his neck. “Five on one?” he grunted. “I like the sound of five on two better.”
I held his stare for a moment. Was it fair to bring him into this? Noah raised an eyebrow in return. His eyes danced with anticipation, and I had the fleeting thought that if I told him to sit down, he’d be disappointed. Not just in me, but in missing out on the fight.
“Five on two is definitely better.”
