Be Mine (Jackson Boys 2)

Chip pales a little under his tan. “I thought I might have a business opportunity to share with her.”

Sure you did, asshole. “Next time you have some film for me to look at, I’ll watch it here,” I inform him.

“Why?” His eyes narrow. “Did someone say something?”

“Nope. I just like keeping my private life separate from the locker room.”

A nasty smile spreads across his face. “That’s good to hear.”

I dismiss it and return to the locker room where everything is in order. My locker is still in the corner. There are a number of my teammates milling around. I make the rounds, complimenting each player on their play today. I chat up the rookies, listen to the ribbing of the veterans, and then discuss the timing issue with my receivers. Since everything seems back to normal, I chalk all of it up to a miscommunication and shove it in the back of my head.

There are only two things I need to concentrate on—my game and the figuring out the next time Lainey and I are going to make love.

Chapter Twenty-One

Lainey

I spread my fingers across the tickets that Nick sent for the upcoming game. I want to go but sitting in these seats without Charlie would be a statement. I’ve been kicking the Chip issue down the road, thinking that because I haven’t heard from him, I’m safe. But I know that’s not it. He’s a snake in the weeds.

I need to contact him and find out exactly what he wants from me. The door to Stacks opens and a trainer from the Mustangs comes in.

“Elaina Valdez, right?” The man asks.

“That’s me.” I reach for the envelope. I already have the tickets so I wonder what this is? A parking pass? I tear open one end and shake out a folded piece of paper.

You got a thing for quarterbacks, don’t you? Nice show last night.

I’m so glad I’m standing next to the bar because my knees buckle. The text comes only seconds later as if Chip’s watching me.

Meet me in thirty minutes or your new man will get the shock of his life.

I rip off my apron and shove it at the delivery man. “I have an errand to run.” Turning to the bartender, I say, “If anyone calls for me, I’m unavailable for the rest of the day.”

The bar Chip selected is so dirty and so ramshackle I’m surprised the city of Dallas allows it to have a liquor license. There are four people inside. Two are sitting at the bar and one is serving drinks. Chip is the fourth and he sits in the corner, his cowboy hat pulled low. He’s the only Texan I know who looks awkward in a cowboy hat. Even city boys look like they were born in them.

I hitch my purse more securely to my side and make my way to Chip’s table. As I approach, he kicks a chair out for me.

I ignore it and remain standing. “What do you want?”

“No, ‘Hello Chip, how you doing?’ I’m so hurt, but then expecting someone like you to have manners would be like waiting for a dog to eat with a fork.”

He throws a small rectangular piece of paper onto the table and gestures for me to pick it up.

Peter Tanner, Esq.

“What’s this?”

“Turn it over,” he says.

Numbly, I do as he says. The back reads “Specializing in family law.”

I set the card down carefully and slide it over in front of him.

“So?” I arch my eyebrow, trying to appear unaffected, but it’s all a lie. I’m terrified. My stomach is in full revolt and my heart is pounding so fast and so hard, it might burst.

“I just wanted to see what a professional thought of my chance of winning a custodial battle.” He pulls out his phone and lays it next to the card. “I recorded him. You want to hear?”

Of course not. I don’t want to hear anything a lawyer has to say—especially one who specializes in family law. “Go ahead,” I say stiffly, hoping it’s a bluff.

When he presses play, I realize it’s all too real.

“The mother’s past can be important if you can prove she is continuing her negative behavior.”

“What kind of negative behavior?” asks Chip’s smooth voice.

The lawyer’s voice sounds old and moneyed and knowledgeable. I hide my hands under the table and grip them together, fingernails digging into tender skin.

“If you found evidence that she is using drugs or that she has a drinking problem or that she is exposing her daughter to an unhealthy lifestyle, those are all things that could go toward proving she is unfit.”

“What if she’s sleeping around?”

“Is she leaving the child alone? Or is she bringing unsavory people near the child?”

“It could be all of those things,” Chip suggests.

“My recommendation is that you hire a private investigator. Have the investigator follow her for a period of time and see what he produces.”