Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(81)
I’m staring past her, through her, and out at the ocean, my head still trying to catch up and figure out what the hell to even say right now.
I’m going to be a father.
It’s both a world-shatteringly awesome feeling, and an utterly terrifying one wrapped up in one little bundle. And suddenly, I’m looking right up at Vivian, focusing on that last part of what she’s just said.
“Wait, what did you say?”
She frowns. “Which part?”
“The part about her making a mistake for me.”
Vivian looks away, but I stand and put my hand on her arm. “Vivian-”
“Vince made a deal with her.”
I can feel a cold, sinking feeling in my gut, my blood feeling chilled in my veins.
“What deal.”
Vivian’s eyes grow sad as her mouth falls a little. “A trade, Austin,” she says quietly. “She went to Vince to settle whatever this debt was you had with his family.”
Holy. Fuck.
My feet feel unsteady, and my legs suddenly buckle as I drop right into the seat behind me.
She did it for me.
Vivian suddenly glances at her watch. “Look, the wedding is at St. Anselm’s in about forty-five minutes.” She looks up at me, and gives me the smallest little smile as she arches her brow.
“I think you should do something about it.”
My child.
Our child. Natalie’s having our child.
“Dude-”
Kyle’s poking me in the back but I wave him off. “Hang on-”
“Austin.”
I turn around this time to see Kyle’s eyes wide open as he stares at his phone. “What is it?”
He’s shaking his head, his jaw hanging open. “It’s an internal memo.” His eyes dart up to mine. “They’re officially bringing Lorenzo Capra into custody.”
“Who?” My brow shoots up. “Wait, Capra? As in-”
“My sister’s douchebag future father-in-law,” Vivian mutters.
I frown. “Yeah, well, apparently he’s mob connected or something. At least that’s what Natalie-”
“Austin.”
Kyle looks up at me sharply from the phone in his hand. “Your dad’s implicated in this.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“Dude, I’m reading it right here. He’s in the damn memo.”
I whistle. “Harry’s got himself under the microscope of the FBI? Shit, that’s-”
“You’re in the FBI?”
Kyle shoots me a look before nodding at Vivian.
“Uh, there’s more…” he trails off before he whistles lowly at the screen. “Austin, you’re in this.”
That cold chill creeps up my back again as I snap my eyes back to him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“That thing with your dad and the money?” Kyle looks up, grinning. “The ‘mistake’ Natalie’s making for you?”
“Kyle, I am in zero mood to be fucked with right-”
“There was no loan, man.”
What.
“It says here it was a shakedown - your dad and Vince’s family trying to blackball you for cash. They’ve got an inside source confirming. It’s one of the reasons we’re moving in.”
Kyle’s phone suddenly rings, and his face gets serious as he puts it to his ear.
“Reporting in, sir.”
I raise a brow questioningly.
“Yes, sir. I’m in the Venice Marina, I can be there in thirty minutes.”
Vivian pulls a phone out of her clutch and frowns at it. “Look is there a cab stand or something around here? I actually seriously need to get back. This debacle starts in like forty-five minutes.”
“St. Anselm’s in Malibu right?”
Vivian nods and I grimace. “Wedding’s in forty-five? That’s at least an hour and a half in traffic right now.”
Vivian swears, her eyes going wide. “Oh you’ve got to be kidding me! She’s going to kill me if I’m not- good LORD!”
Her eyes go wide, and as I whirl back around to Kyle, my jaw suddenly drops at the sight of the silver and black .45 in his hand.
“Uh, buddy?” I nod at the gun in his hand, standing and backing towards Vivian.
He rolls his eyes as he snatches a plastic ID card on a chain from the boat’s glove box and slings it over his neck. “FBI, remember?”
“You carry a gun?”
“Yes?”
I wrinkle my brow. “But you’re like, a computer guy.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a computer guy with a gun who’s actually taking point on this raid,” he mutters. He turns back to to the wheel house, and the boat guns to life a second later.
“St Anselm’s is on the water,” he yells over the engine as he jumps to the side of the boat and starts casting mooring lines off.