Page 30 of Colliding with Ten

Eli fell into step near me, Jace, Theo, and Reggie, phone in hand and a frown on his face. “You guys see this?”

Reggie glanced over. “See what?”

“One of the Arizona players got robbed while they were at a game in Seattle.”

That pulled more than one head around. I slowed.

“What player?” Tre asked from behind us.

“Dorsey,” Eli said.

Jace’s joking expression faded. “Anybody home?”

“No,” Eli said. “That’s the only good part. But they got watches, jewelry, designer bags, and some cash. The article says they cased the neighborhood beforehand.”

“Planned it around the game?” Reggie asked.

“Sounds like it.” Eli kept reading, his frown deepening. “Security cameras caught a car outside the house.”

An ugly feeling moved through the group. Our schedules were public. So was the money we made. The houses got photographed, and the cars were easily recognizable. People knew the restaurants we frequented and the women we dated, and they watched from a distance, taking notes.

“See?” Jace said, with no humor in his tone. “That’s why I don’t post my house.”

“You posted your closet last week,” Reggie said.

“That was a small angle.”

Tre snorted.

My mind churned. No one was hurt because no one was home this time. “You all need to check your security.”

The conversation quieted.

I looked over my shoulder at them. “I’m serious. Make sure your people don’t post their location. Don’t put your designer crap on Instagram or tag locations in real time.”

Jace lifted a brow. “Are you worried?”

“Everyone already knows where I live. It’s been photographed in the tabloids. That’s why I have a good security system. But I also don’t keep many valuables at home.”

Reggie nodded. “Ten is right. We all gotta make plans.”

Eli slid his phone into his shorts pocket. “They said Dorsey had a private security system too.”

“Systems don’t help if people know how to beat them,” Tre said.

We all got quiet. Fame made strangers feel close, and the money made them feel entitled. Football made it easy for them to know when your back was turned.

We reached the facility's side entrance, and one of the staffers held the door open. Cool air spilled out, smelling like turf rubber and laundry detergent.

Jace stepped in ahead of me, then turned. “I’ll call my security guy again.”

The guys split off to meetings and the weight room. I went to the training wing and asked for Mateo, a trainer with strong hands and plenty of patience. I liked working with him because he didn’t waste words, but that wasn’t the only reason I was here.

Today, he put me through a focused recovery for my hips and knees. Later, he ran an instrument-assisted soft-tissue program on my quads and calves. It hurt in that good way that would put me to sleep for eight hours tonight.

When we finished, I sat on the table with a towel around my neck. Mateo returned a roll of tape to the stack beside the resistance bands hanging from metal hooks by the sink.

He then leaned against the counter. “You’re moving well. Whatever you did in the offseason worked.”