Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 816(@200wpm)___ 653(@250wpm)___ 544(@300wpm)
When Jean took too long to answer, Jeremy said, “Reacher, good to see you on your feet. I’m sorry for your losses this summer.”
“Talk to me again and I’ll break your other ankle, Knox,” Zane said.
Jean put himself between them. “Do not threaten my captain, Zane.”
Zane dragged his stare back to Jean’s face. “Or what? Are you going to stop me?” He didn’t miss the onceover Jean gave him, judging by the mean smile tugging at his mouth. He knew Jean was doing the math, weighing his chances against Zane’s diminished state. The lazy challenge in his, “Try me,” warned Jean not to press his luck.
“Jean,” Jeremy started.
“Johnny’s busy,” Zane said, holding Jean’s stare.
“I was,” Jean agreed, tipping his hand toward Ingrid.
“I came all this way. You owe me your time.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“No?” Zane demanded, heavy and hateful and angry.
Next to talking to Zane at all, doing it with an audience was the worst thing Jean could think of, so he waved for Zane to follow. “Locker room.”
Jeremy reached for him. “Are you sure?”
Jean caught and held his gaze for a moment, but he had no easy answers for the questions in Jeremy’s searching stare. The best he managed was an uncertain, “I don’t know.” Behind him Ingrid was getting up off the bench, intent on following him and Zane out of inner court. Jean motioned at her, and Jeremy nodded a silent promise to run interference. Zane fell in at Jean’s side with the ease of long practice, matching stride and pace like they’d never spent a day apart. It was familiar enough to turn Jean’s stomach.
The locker room door had barely closed behind them before Zane said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Johnny.” He yanked hard at Jean’s sleeve, a fierce scowl cutting his face in two, and said, “You were a stranger out there. No fight, no bite. You let that team run over you like you have a fetish for getting bullied. The master would beat you within an inch of your life for such a cowardly performance.”
Jean braced for a blow that didn’t land and instinctively looked to see if the master was about. Of course they were alone, so he gritted his teeth and said, “Perhaps he would, but I am not one of his Ravens anymore. I signed a contract with the USC Trojans, and I am required to uphold their standards. If that means throwing a fight on the court, then that’s what I will do.”
“Toothless bitch,” Zane accused him.
“We are not in public anymore,” Jean warned him.
Zane got a hand around his neck easy as breathing, and Jean hit the wall so hard he lost one of his ice packs. Zane looked his fill, searching for something familiar in the red-and-gold clad man he’d spent so many years protecting. The disgust on his face said he came back empty-handed, but Jean was not the only stranger here. Once upon a time, Jean would have taken Zane’s disappointment personally, but Zane had burned every bridge between them. He was not Jean’s teammate or his partner anymore; his disapproval was worth less than a fly’s tiny shit.
“The sunshine court,” Zane said, thick with derision. “You. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Says the man found in his own puke this summer.”
Zane’s fingers dug in so hard Jean knew he’d be bruised by morning. He didn’t try to fight back. Zane had always beaten Grayson in their brawls, and Jean had never stood a chance against Grayson. He settled for glaring at Zane as he waited for Zane’s grip to ease. At last Zane snatched his hand back and vigorously wiped it off on his shirt.
“Asshole,” Zane said at last, heated and hoarse. “You should have let me die.”
“I should have,” Jean agreed, with a vehemence that had Zane stepping back from him. “But you were my partner, once. That meant something to me even if it meant nothing to you.”
“It meant everything to me,” Zane exploded, hot with rage. “Do you know what it cost me to stand at your side? Do you? The mockery I ignored for defending you, the punishments I suffered every time you couldn’t keep up, the side-eyes and sly remarks from our coaches and teammates? Every fucking day was a miserable fight, but I stuck with you because we were going to be something incredible together. And then you threw me away.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“Tell me you didn’t want Josten to have my number,” Zane demanded. “I saw your interview, Johnny. The Wesninskis and the Moreaus? You can’t convince me it’s a coincidence that two European crime lords got their sons into Class I Exy. You knew who he was all along, and you wanted him as your partner instead of me. I came here because I need you to say it to my face. Am I wrong?”