Sinner(118)

After the crash, when any other team owner in the world would’ve sent me a nice card, their condolences, and a “fuck off, you’ve been replaced”, Sam stuck me in management. And hell, if I thought I’d been good at marshaling meatheads on a football field, turns out I was a natural at cracking skulls in a boardroom. I made chairman six months into the job, and I’ve never looked back.

I flop down in a chair next to Sam’s bed, frowning at the shell of a version of the man I know so well. Sam Horn: sixty-five years old and still the life of every party. Fast cars, young women, lavish nights out - perpetual bachelor extraordinaire. Sam saw promise in a wild, lawless young kid like me because he was that wild kid. Hell, he still is that kid, even if he learned to channel it better with business.

Seeing him like this - broken and cold - just seems like such a fucking waste. Horrible timing too, if we’re being honest. There are a million questions I want to ask him right now - most if not all of them having to do with her.

Serena.

Make no mistake, I’m grateful for everything Sam’s given me in this life, and I have zero qualms about splitting up ownership of the team with someone else if that’s the direction he’s chosen.

But her?

Serena Roth came out of nowhere - first a month ago back in Houston, with a night that stands out in a sea of forgettable nights. And they’ve all been forgettable since Sarah.

A hundred women, and every single one of them one-time, forgettable nights. Quite purposefully, I might add. Because I have time in my life and space in my heart for two things, and two things only: my daughter, and this job. There’s no room for anything else, and that’s the way I like it. Focused, unburdened, and armored.

And yet I can’t stop thinking about that night with her. Her, the girl I never saw coming, and the one that won’t get out of my head. The girl I stayed up all night talking with - letting go with.

I shake my head as I reach out, pat Sam’s hand, and then stand to leave.

Love will only break you. Love will leave you cut open and empty, even when you do find it.

So will unknown variables suddenly owning half of your mentor’s legacy.

I’m calling the investigative team before I’m even out of the hospital. Kyle and Silas were referred to me by Austin, a one-time possible recruit for Denver who turned into a friend, and I’ve used them for a couple jobs now.

Nothing like this though.

Nothing this personal.

Kyle picks up on the second ring.

“Long time, bud. What’s going on?”

“Got a job for you guys.”

Part of this feels wrong. Part of this feels like it’s probably nothing I should be doing. But the other part is pretty plain and simple: I need to know everything there is on Serena Roth. I need to know who the hell she is, where the hell she came from, and how she got half this fucking team.

And I need to know now.





Chapter Nine





Landon




Four Weeks Ago:



“Jesus Christ it’s hotter out here than it was in there,” I groan as we stumble out of the dive bar and into the dry Houston heat.

So much for coming out for a breath of fresh air.

Serena laughs. “Yeah, well, welcome to Texas.”

Three drinks later, and I’m quite possibly on the best date I’ve been on in years. Okay, not a date. A non-date. A chance encounter. A run in.

With the enemy.

I grin as I turn towards her, and for a second, there’s a moment. There’s a moment where we freeze like that, inches apart outside that shitty little bar. And I know what happens here. I know this is where I close that distance, slide my hand across her hip and another into her hair and pull her into me. This is the part where I kiss her hard and leave her breathless before asking her to come back to my hotel room.

The perfect way to salvage a night that started with a possible corporate acquisition walking out of dinner with me.

Except.

I groan inside.

Except I have somewhere to be. There’s function at a cigar club downtown here - this stuffy, old-money meet-up of team owners and investor-types that I’ve made promises to go to since I was going to be in Houston anyways.

Serena raises a brow at the expression on my face.

“Look, I have to go to this…thing.”

“A thing, huh?” She nods emphatically. “I see. Well it sounds very...verb.”

I grin. “It’s this after-dinner meet-up thing for football team owners and investors and board directors and all that, where everyone sits around congratulating each other on athletic feats accomplished by people they pay. It’s very boring, and-”

“And you want to know if I can come with?” She makes a face like she’s thinking hard. “Yeah, okay, I guess I could come.”