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“I didn’t…” He trailed off as he remembered signing the contract. “I didn’t mean it.”
“Doesn’t really matter if you meant it or not,” I pointed out. “What does matter is that you did. Sorry for your bad luck.”
I gathered my one overnight bag that I’d yet to drop in at the hotel.
Once it was thrown over my shoulder, I gave Hancock a look and he followed me outside.
The door slammed closed behind us, and I started to laugh in the poor guy’s face.
“It’s okay,” I said to him. “You can kill him after I leave. That’s too much paperwork.”
He ran his hands through his rapidly graying hair.
Years ago, when I first played with him, I was intimidated.
Now, it was like looking at a longtime friend.
A very stressed-out longtime friend.
“I didn’t know that taking a coaching position would put me dealing with all these little assholes,” he grumbled darkly. “I swear to fuckin’ god. It’s like dealing with a bunch of three-year-olds that can bench-press small cars. And this dumbass.” He gestures at the closed door. “I don’t even know what the fuck to do with that one. He’s a complete and utter moron that has one hell of a pitch. Though I told the management staff he was a bad sell. They still overrode me. Now look at where we are. He sleeps with someone he shouldn’t have, and now they’re suing him. He doesn’t like it, so he fights it. And now half the world hates him because of his poor taste in treating women correctly. And I have to deal with the fucking fallout.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed.
“Should’ve gone with Gunner like I told you,” I suggested.
Gunner was a hell of a pitcher. Someone that I’d recommended after seeing him play college ball. The Longview Lumberjacks didn’t pick him up, but the Devil Rays did, and now he was the best pitcher in the freakin’ league.
He had it all. He was at the top. Had a wife and kids. Was in every single all-star game played since he’d entered the MLB—Major League Baseball. Was overwhelmingly loved by everyone.
He was a true American sweetheart.
“Fuck you,” Hancock said with no heat.
“I’m out.” I held out my hand.
Hancock took it, and we parted ways.
I went to my rental car and got inside.
I was at the airport and passing through security fifteen minutes later as I got my private plane fueled up and ready to go.
I was halfway home when I learned that the stupid fuck got shot by his ex-girlfriend.
Though it wasn’t life-threatening, it was serious enough that it required surgery and he’d be out a minimum of six months.
Suddenly, I was happy that I wasn’t there anymore.
It sucked that the poor schmuck got shot, but it didn’t suck that I didn’t have to deal with the aftereffects of that.
I was getting too old to do this job.
Or maybe my outlook on life was waning.
I fucking hated bodyguarding for assholes that didn’t deserve it.
A few years ago, when I’d started this endeavor, I’d only taken clients that were women and that were running from something. Or something was running toward them that was dangerous.
I wasn’t quite sure how I’d transitioned into this type of job front, but come Monday morning, I would be talking to my secretary about screening what jobs I did or didn’t take. The same went for the rest of my guys.
If they wanted to take the dumb ones, that was their own prerogative.
Meanwhile, I was going to take what I wanted and stay home when I wanted.
That would give me the freedom to pick and choose what appealed to me while also being there to do what I wanted to do.
Like a certain brunette that was likely home alone under her covers, all warm and willing…
We touched down in Accident at Wake’s private airstrip an hour later.
After the plane landed I waved to my pilot, then took off to let him do his thing.
The ride through town at this time of night was beyond peaceful, and when I arrived at home it was to find every single light in the house on.
I frowned and parked my bike up near the garage, then took the steps two at a time as I hauled ass inside.
The last thing I expected to see was my sister taking a shot through her PEG tube.
“Ummm,” I said as I saw what she was doing. “What are you doing?”
Carrie snorted. “What does it look like I’m doing, Kyle?”
I rolled my eyes. “It looks like you’re making a bad decision.”
She scoffed. “I’m making a perfect decision. Would you like to join me in my bid to get drunk?”
I thought about it for a few long seconds, seriously contemplating it, before I shook my head. “No. What I really want to do is crawl into bed and sleep for the next twelve hours.”
