He’s tall, with dark brown hair and insanely bright blue eyes. He’s a good three or four inches taller than Tracker, so I’d guess six-four or five, and every inch of him screams athlete.
He reaches to shake Tracker’s hand, and I observe the firm grip. When my gaze travels upward, his eyes lock with mine, and there’s the slightest tilt to his lips.
I release a long, slow breath, hoping to ease the giant ball of anxiety growing inside me because. . .I believe this man is my assignment.
Tracker introduces TJ and me as his associates as we take seats opposite each other. A good decision on TJ’s part. One more smart comment, and I’m not sure I’d be able to keep from jamming my fingers up his nose.
I rest back in my chair, hoping they’ll get on with it so I understand what I’m doing and why this man needs protection.
“So, you’re here to discuss our services.” Tracker opens his folder and shuffles some papers. “It appears, Cole, you’ve been dealing with some death threats.” Tracker glances at him over the top of his glasses. “I believe Rob sent me the latest, which was tacked to your tire after they repeatedly punctured it.”
I watch Cole. He sits tall, his arms resting on the table, his fingers linked together.
“Yes, sir. At first, they were just typical threats in Rob’s email, but now they’re coming in the mail, and the last was left on my car.”
“Players are threatened all the time. Ex-girlfriends, obsessed or angry fans, people thinking they’ll get paid. . . ” Greg, the GM adds. “We just started the season, and Cole doesn’t have time for this distraction.”
I watch Cole as his GM makes it clear his only concern is the season ahead.
Rob leans forward. “Steve—”
“You can call me Tracker.” Track clarifies, leaning back in his chair.
Rob nods. “We need to be sure that Cole is safe. This could be nothing. Just some kids messing around, but I don’t like it. I’ve seen a lot of threats, but these are different. They’re persistent and seem to be getting more personal.”
“Do you have any idea who would want to hurt you?” His eyes are set on Cole. “Former players, teammates, girlfriends you’ve pissed off, fans that seem to be a little too invested?”
He shakes his head. “I’ve racked my brain, trying to think who could be doing this, but I’ve got nothing. There’s bad blood with my aunt and uncle, but this isn’t them.”
“Did your dad have any enemies that would be targeting you in his absence?”
Cole’s face falls with Tracker’s direct question. It’s clear I’ve got a lot of research to do, and on top of that list is finding out who his dad was.
“No, sir. Not that I’m aware of.”
“Have you noticed anyone following you or coincidentally showing up where you are? Do you have any friends that are a little. . .off?”
Cole shakes his head again.
“Look.” Greg holds up his hand. “We’re here for twenty-four-hour protection. Security has been tightened at the practice facility, and he’ll have detailed protection during games. We need to be sure he’s making it back and forth without any issues. We have a season to tackle. Cole doesn’t have time to be worried about some crazed fan.”
Ummm. Did this man just say twenty-four-hour protection?
I very slowly turn to look at the only man I trust sitting next to me. Tracker ignores me. TJ, on the other hand, is hiding his grin by pretending to scratch his beard.
These people need a larger agency that can rotate agents on and off the clock, but something tells me Tracker won’t suggest that. He said he knew Cole’s agent, and that’s why they’re here.
“I understand,” Track’s tone is edging toward irritation, but he has no idea what’s happening inside me at the moment.
My body temperature climbs as every muscle winds so tightly they ache.
“We need to make sure we know exactly what we’re dealing with before Ryder takes over.”
The sound of my name tacked onto the end of that sentence has my internal security system sounding all alarms.
Has Tracker lost his ever-loving mind?
He knows the anxiety this kind of forced proximity will cause me.Whatis he doing?
