Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Leslie motions for me to take a seat, but I decline. I don’t like him. He’s a slimy guy who’s taking advantage of the fact that I need money. It makes me wonder about the other players and their reasons for fighting for him. No football player with a good record would do this just for the money; it’s too dangerous.
“I’ll stand, thanks.” I cross my arms. I want him to know he doesn’t own me. “You said you had some news about the fight,” I say.
He studies me with a smile that’s overcrowded with small teeth in an otherwise large mouth. “Yes. Same terms as before. Your opponent has knocked out everyone before the second round. You up for it?” His beady eyes rake over me, an arch to his brow as he takes in the additional muscle I’ve managed to build up in the past couple of weeks. I’ve also healed up completely and feel like I’m at the top of my game.
“Who is it?” A whole list of names runs through my head, mostly SEC powerhouses since those are the ones I know the best.
“He’s an Alabama boy, and the fans are chomping at the bit to get to you. It’s all everyone is talking about.”
Everyone being his little circle of rabid rich fans.
My lips flatten. Alabama is the best in the country—this year. They defeated us in a tight Rose Bowl game last year, knocking us out of the national championship.
A muscle flexes in my jaw, and I give him a sharp nod. “Done. Just tell me when.”
“I’ll make the final arrangements and call you.” He puts out his hand for me to shake. There’s an ostentatious ring on nearly every finger, but I grit my teeth and take it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of movement outside the office, and I turn to see Muffin watching us, a petulant look on her face.
I narrow my eyes at her and she flips around then hurries toward the door, but not before I see that she had her phone out.
Did Ryker tell her we were coming here? That doesn’t make sense, not when I’m meeting Leslie here.
Brushing past him, I exit the office, my eyes scanning the gym for Ryker, who I find in the back on a butterfly machine.
Everything seems okay, but I know something isn’t right. I follow Muffin as she heads to the foyer, her bag slung over her shoulder.
I call her name, but she tears out the front door, a purposeful stride in her walk.
Following behind her, I exit the building and see her half-running to her little Mercedes convertible.
Jogging, I catch her before she gets it unlocked.
“Hey, I didn’t know you worked out here.” It’s not unusual for students to come, especially since the Waylon facility doesn’t offer the same variety of classes, but I’ve never seen her here. “What’s up?” I say.
“Yeah, well, I signed up for a CrossFit class here. The only time available is super late.” She’s fumbling around in her purse for her keys. “I thought it would be great since Ryker is here a lot.”
My stomach falls. He must have mentioned that he comes here. Dammit. I don’t need Muffin sniffing around and seeing me spar in the ring. I mean, it doesn’t look bad to box, but still…I want to cover my tracks.
“Oh, did you see him? He was on the butterfly machine.”
She blinks. “Uh, no…but I saw you in Carson’s office.”
My eyes narrow. “Is that right? Huh.”
“Yeah, that’s right,” she says curtly, giving me a sneer.
“You seem a little off, Muffin. You okay?”
With an aggravated sigh, she glares up at me. “Why so many questions, Maverick?”
I sneak a look at the phone she still has clutched to her side and nod my head at it. “Did you take a picture of me?”
She blinks. “What if I did? Is that a problem? Do you have something to hide?”
A scowl pulls my brow down. “No.”
She laughs. “I did actually, of you and the fat guy in the suit. Those glass walls are amazing—I could see everything.”
I stiffen. “Don’t meddle in my life, Muffin. Stick to Ryker.” My voice is hard and flat.
She bristles and opens her car door, giving me a cunning look as she slides inside. “Are you threatening me?”
I take a step back, holding my hands up. “No. I’m just asking why you took a picture of me with a man you don’t know.”
She arches her brow. “There are ways to find out who he is. Ever hear of reverse image search on Google? Besides, I asked Carson and he told me his name was Leslie Brock. Guess who I’m going to look up when I get home?”
I’m baffled by why she would even care.
Anxiety eats at me, imagining her blabbing around campus about who Leslie is. I know exactly what she’ll find out if she tries hard enough: he owns casinos.