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“Sure, kitten.”
The way her mouth popped out in a pink moue, her eyes blazing as they narrowed was worth it, even if she never spoke to me again.
“Fuckboy.”
“Probably.” I grinned and raised my wrists. “Help a player out?”
Her smile turned wicked as she withdrew a slim blade from her back pocket. “Not a problem.”
My mouth went dry. “Ah, that’s not what I—” I broke off as she slipped the sharp edge straight through the tape at my wrists and had done my ankles by the time that I picked the tape from my arms. The tattered pieces held far too many of my hairs as their trophies, but I couldn’t argue with being free.
Plus, I had a game to play.
“Thank you. Is there a chance of getting back to Rippon in a hurry? I don’t even know where we are.”
“They did a job on you, didn’t they? What did you do? Never mind, don’t answer that.” She held up a hand to halt a protest that died a short death on my lips. “It’s forty minutes back. Hop in.” She gestured to her car.
I wouldn’t last that long. The memory of the water I’d drunk at the gym tweaked the rising pressure. “Uh...” I received a raised eyebrow for my efforts. “It’s been a while,” I waved vaguely at the area in front of my crotch. “I need to—” I gave her a pained smile, turning my back to the passing traffic. Myoptions were to either sit in pain for the next near hour or choose a foot high desert bush to pee on.
“Oh!” Her face flaming, she spun around in my peripherals. A moment later the car door slammed behind her.
I hoped she wouldn’t drive off on me while I relieved myself.
CHAPTER TWO
WRENLEE
I sat in the driver’s seat, holding my phone and ignoring the peeing ice hockey captain outside. It wasn’t like I could just ignore the man bound on the side of the road, though calling the cops might have been a smarter course of action. But something about the way his shoulders stayed in a hard line despite his situation, and his silhouette, reminded me of someone I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Napoleon Lancaster was the last person I expected to see duct taped together in the middle of Death Valley, but thinking it through, I understood why someone might want to sabotage his day.
The Rippton Hails were bred on championship stock only and had a frat-party culture just like any of the Allstars–Rippton’s dedicated and usually draft worthy level sports teams. Ice hockey, lacrosse, the swim team and the odd tennis champ. Hell, we even had our own rockstar. Money drew to money, and Rippton’s coffers were overflowing with the stuff.
Speaking of dollar signs...I grabbed my phone from its cradle where I’d put it the moment I slid into my coupe and turned the engine over if only to garner heat away from the frigid wind that decided today was a good day to turn cold.
Without thinking it through, I sent off a message to my father.
Wrenlee:I won’t make it. Forgot something and had to turn around. Forgot tickets.
I winced at the utter transparency of the line.He’ll see right through it.
Dad: You’re back with Brett? He was always a good boy. We will miss you.
No, Brett was a cheating asshole.
I didn’t say that, forcing the same smile I hated that surfaced thanks to conditioning whether my father could see me or not. The thought of his friends being there too, with their lecherous glances and occasionally wandering hands left me relieved I had an excuse not to go. My father’s social standing–and bank account–-wasn’t big enough to cover my own groping hands in the form of a high-five to a face. Mind, I’d seen Lancaster Snr., Napoleon’s father, there plenty of times, though thankfully the man kept his eyes and his hands to himself.
Wrenlee:No, I’m not with Brett. It’s a hockey game.
Dad:Ahh, the Lancaster boy then. Good catch. Do anything to keep him. His father is a valuable connection.
I winced at the terminology and closed my phone before Napoleon could see the conversation. The poor boy just got kidnapped–though he probably pulled some stupid stunt that led to the prank. Who knew what he’d think if he saw that from my father of all people.
I sent off a quick message to my roommates, Effie and Isla, in our group chat.
Willow:Looks like I’m coming to the game after all.
Isla:She said what? This girl doesn't do games
