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“I just landed. As soon as I get my bags, I’ll find him.”
“It’s worse. He’s out of control.”
I closed my eyes. “I know. I saw the latest headline.”
“Bring him back to center.”
“I will,” I promised, but I had no idea how I was going to do that.
Lachlan had just punched a member of the Brazilian paparazzi on camera. The photographer was threatening to sue him. Things had snowballed faster than I could have imagined.
I thought I was flying in to deal with a hell-raising partier. Now he was being labeled as unpredictable and violent. The brand could drop the British soccer star before I even had my first conversation with him.
“And if you don’t, it’s going to cost us millions. Millions. Development is finished. The game is already in the hands of reviewers. If we drop him…” Her words trailed off.
“I know it is.” She didn’t need to tell me what stage of production I was dealing with. I had made the Kenzie game my life.
“I will handle it.” It had become my standard response. It worked, but I didn’t usually have sponsorship problems like this. Lachlan had taken things to a new level.
There was a silence on the line. I was waiting for my boss to tell me that the other thing on the line was my job, but she didn’t need to say it. We both knew without this account, I was finished.
“Karen, I need to get to customs. I’ll call you as soon as I talk to him.”
“It doesn’t matter what time. Call me.”
“I will.”
I hung up and waited to be escorted from the plane. I was quick to dodge the passengers ahead of me on the jetway so I could make it to the front of the customs line. I didn’t have time to waste. If Lachlan could lose his shit while I was in the air, he could be a complete loose cannon. He could have half of Rio burned down by the time I made it to the hotel.
I presented my passport at the counter and waited nervously while the customs official scrutinized my paperwork.
He studied it as if I had handed him counterfeit bills.
“It’s all right there.” I smiled. “Have you been busy with the Olympics?” I asked, trying to speed up the process with a little small talk. “I bet it’s non-stop,” I added. “This is my first time in Rio.”
He raised one eyebrow, inferring I wasn’t the one who was supposed to ask the questions.
I clamped my lips together and stood behind the glass. Finally, he slid the booklet through and I tried to look calm as I hurried to baggage. National security was important—I got it. The entire world was descending upon Rio, but they had no idea what kind of chaos I was dealing with. I had to get to Lachlan before he cost me everything.
5
Lachlan
I hated social media. It was a fucking joke. My phone blew up with texts and alerts. My name was smeared across every damn sports headline in the past hour. It was worse than this morning and the splash about the girl in the bar. Worse than walking out on practice. Everything was balls up in Rio. There was only one person who could get me out of it.
I looked at phone. Rick had called three times.
I finally phoned him back. It rang a few times before he answered. “Hello, Rick.”
“Don’t start with that bullshit,” he fumed. “What the fuck is going on out there? I started calling this morning. Why haven’t you taken my calls?”
I had walked from the street where I left the photographer bleeding on the sidewalk. It seemed like wherever I tried to go, people were staring at me. I didn’t know if it was because they recognized me, or because they were now afraid I was some kind of bloody lunatic.
I paced along the edge of the athletes’ village. I still had to pass through security before I could check in to my room. According to the equipment crew at the hotel this morning, my travel bag was already deposited here. It was a safe haven for now.
“You know how the press is. The guy shoved a camera in my face. The idiot swiped my cheek with his lens. He cut me, Rick. So I shoved him.”
“You shoved him? Great.” Rick paused. “And you walked out on practice? Both in one day.”
