Escorting the Player (The Escort Collection 3)

Pax shrugged and threw his locker open. He started to change, and I noticed that he looked bigger than last year. "I'm not starting shit," Pax said, feigning innocence. "But you two are both getting old. And football's no country for old men."

"Will you shut up, for once?" I asked, throwing my practice jersey on over my pads. "If I had a dime for every time you talked shit...then I probably could retire."

Reggie laughed, but Pax's face was tight. Most of the guys on the team, if not all, were easy to be around. We had a good sense of camaraderie and I worked hard to keep it up. But since Pax had joined us last season after Pittsburgh didn't renew his contract, he'd been a pain in our team's collective ass.

I had a feeling I knew why his last contract hadn't been renewed. It was because he was a divisive prick. He was a good player, though. Management wasn't done with him yet, so I just had to deal—we all did.

"I'm sure you can afford to retire, Your Highness," he said.

There was an undercurrent to his voice that I didn't like. "Watch it, dude."

He turned to look at me, his shirt still off and his chest puffed out. "I'm not your dude, dude."

I considered him. I was in a foul enough mood that punching him in the face seemed like a good idea right now. A really good idea.

"Woah," Reggie said to Pax. He stepped up beside me. "You need to watch your mouth. Chase's still got a good five inches on you. Dude."

Pax smiled at that. "I'm not afraid of His Highness." He bobbed his chin at Reggie. "You either, Old Man."

"Why's that? Because you only have half a damn brain?" Reggie smiled and cracked his knuckles. Reggie was old, but he was also crazy. If he did indeed have half a brain, Pax would shut his mouth quick.

"'Cause you two have lost your bite." Pax looked at us both in a challenge.

"Did you sprinkle your cereal with PCP this morning?" I asked. "'Cause I'm not really sure why you're starting this shit with your own teammates."

Reggie crossed his arms, his enormous biceps bulging, waiting to hear the cornerback's response.

"Are you gonna run off and tell Coach?" Pax asked, mocking me. "Because that wouldn't surprise me one bit."

"What the fuck?" I asked him, my voice rising. "What's your problem?"

"You're my problem. Dude. Maybe not everybody's thrilled that this is the Chase Layne show twenty-four-seven."

"So go somewhere else—that is, if anybody'll take you," I said. I balled my hand into a fist, but a taunt was as far as I was willing to go. He isn't worth it.

A smug grin spread over Pax's face, making me feel sick to my stomach. What the fuck was up with this guy?

"Oh, I got somebody to take me all right." He motioned to his chest and down the rest of his body. "All of me."

Reggie turned to

me. "Maybe it was LSD he sprinkled on his cereal. Dude's trippin'."

"Seriously. What the fuck are you talking about, Pax?" I asked.

"Jessica says 'hi'." He grinned at me again.

"Jessica? As in Jessica, my wife?" I looked at him, but all I could think about was my mother. "Of course there's somebody else."

No. No fucking way. Not my cornerback. She wouldn't.

Pax chuckled and beamed at me in triumph. "The very same."

That was the last thing I heard before I went after him and everything went black. And Reggie screaming for the other guys to come. Quick.

* * *

"You can't suspend me for two weeks, sir." I looked at Wes, my coach, desperately. "He's sleeping with my wife. He taunted me about it in the locker room. He's lucky he's not in the hospital." Pax had been treated and released by our team physician. He had a broken nose and some other nasty cuts and bruises.