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“Then why do you think my brother is there?” I pushed.
“Because all our sources are saying he is,” he cleared his throat. “And until we’re proven otherwise, that’s where we’re going to keep our eyes trained.”
I sensed the subject was closed.
I also sensed that if I pushed it, he not only wasn’t going to answer, he would also likely get a little ticked off.
And I didn’t want to piss the guy off.
Regardless of my thoughts about myself, I knew I wasn’t trained, nor skilled, enough to be here on my own. I may be in good shape. I may know a lot of things…but none of those things would keep me alive in this place.
Sure, I’d give it a good run, but this was a foreign country. This place was completely and utterly new to me, and I was at the mercy of these men.
“You know, I was really looking forward to watching you play ball tonight,” Park said for the first time. “I wanted to see how you played against the girl’s brother.”
A smile turned up the corner of my mouth.
“I’d have blown his ass out of the water, and kissed his sister while he watched,” I grinned and turned to stare at the man. “How do you know about her?”
“Everyone knows about her,” Crassus pointed out. “The whole freakin’ world watches y’all. Sees y’all. Loves y’all.”
That made my heart happy, despite knowing that the world knew about me. I hated being in the public spotlight.
“ESPN has this new ‘Sway and Parts’ watch that they air during the newscast before the sports recap for the day,” Tucker added in.
I shook my head.
“That’s crazy,” I mumbled. “How did I not know that?”
Probably because I was too busy fucking my woman to watch a report on Sports Center about us.
“They asked Sway’s brother his opinion on y’all dating, and he said that he had no problem with the hook up. That you seemed like a good guy, and that you were her favorite player since you showed up in the majors. He said that it was only a matter of time,” Tucker continued.
That was news to me. Not that Sway had a weird sort of obsession with me, but that her brother approved.
“We’re here,” Park said as he pulled up in front of an old apartment building that looked to be about eight hundred years old.
But it was nicer than all of the other buildings surrounding it, so I guessed that was something.
“Home sweet home,” Tucker grunted as he pushed through the door to what I guessed was the apartment the men were using as their headquarters for the mission.
A very small apartment that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
See, I wasn’t the cleanest of people, but at least I knew how to throw away a fucking empty beer bottle.
These men, though, seemed to be decorating the room with their empties.
“Don’t look so disgusted,” Tucker grinned. “You’ll get used to it, rich boy.”
I laughed.
“This has nothing to do with my being rich, as you put it, and everything to do with the fact that there’s Cheetos dust all over the couch and the arm rest where you’re sitting.” I pointed to the offending materials.
“Hmm, would you look at that,” Tucker said as he took a seat in the cheese dust. “Game’s on.”
My eyes flew to the TV.
“How do you get this?” I asked.
He pointed to a large antenna that was on the balcony, and I hummed in understanding.
“State of the art stuff, thanks to your god-daddy,” Tim grunted as he walked to the fridge that was only about ten paces behind the couch, cracked the door and came back out with a beer in his fist.
“That’s nice of him, I guess,” I murmured, taking a seat in a recliner that looked like something most people would be throwing out. “He’s like that, though.” I looked around. “So, what do we do now?”
Tucker picked up a remote and hit the red button, and another TV came on next to the game. One that was showing about twenty different camera angles on a gated house. “Now we wait.”
***
It took one week, three days, and eight hours of constantly watching the TV, parading myself around in town, and expressing my general annoyance at the situation before something finally happened.
I’d missed seven games, six of which my team had lost, and I was beyond irritated.
A, because I was missing the games and I hated that we were losing them. And B, because the catcher who’d taken my place while I was ‘injured’ was now trying to take Sway as well.
I’d watched her, time after time, go out on the field when the stupid little fucker acted like he was hurt.
I was now contemplating his death.
I also realized that this kid was a little asshole who needed to be put in his place, that’s for damn sure.
