Chapter 1KipDragging my training top over my head, I tossed it in the direction of the hamper, snorting when it missed. Five months ago, my ex, Missy, would have been yelling at me for making a mess. Now, I just had sweet peace and quiet.
Focusing back in on my body, I groaned at the tense muscles in my legs. Training had been tough today and I needed a shower ASAP, both for smell and muscle relief.
I’d just gotten to the threshold of the bathroom when my neighbors’ security light came on. This wouldn’t normally be an issue, but Hayden was a player for the Seattle Sounders and was playing away from home this weekend.
Pulling my phone out, I used the app to switch the lights off in my bedroom and walked over to the window. With the way our houses were built, I had a clear view of the side of his house and the annex above his garage. And there was someone climbing up the damn trellis that I’d told him to get rid of.
With the amount of light available, if I squinted, I could just make out the small form of the person trying to break in.
Phone still in hand, I ran back down the stairs and out the kitchen door, dialing 911.
The call was answered just as I was crawling through the thinnest area of the tall bushes that divided our gardens.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s climbing up my neighbor’s wall,” I whispered, cursing when my sweats got caught on something. “He’s away on business just now, so I need the police.”
After giving her the address and lying out my ass that I would wait for them to turn up, I hung up on the guy. See, I was tall and had at least one hundred pounds on the person I could see. Hanging around and talking to the dispatcher wasn’t conducive with me stopping someone from breaking into a house and stealing thousands of dollars’ worth of stuff.
Pulling my legs out of the bush and glaring at the hole now in my favorite training sweats, I crouched and moved toward the trellis.
Just as I got there, the burglar screamed and I heard a snap, followed by a, “Shit!”
The next thing I knew, I was taken down by something heavy, ending up on my back, and groaning at the new pain in my legs.
Then, a female voice whispered as the weight pressing down on them lifted, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.”
“If you’ve ended my career, I’ll…” my rant was cut off by the sound of a siren and the screech of tires not far away from where I was lying.
“Police!” a voice yelled.
The burglar stood up with her hands in the air, and with the extra light coming from the car, I finally got to see more of her details. Color me surprised when I saw she was dressed in a smart skirt and shirt, with red heels on her feet that were at least four inches high.
Who breaks into a house in a business outfit and heels?
Skimming my eyes higher up, I frowned when I saw her face. She looked familiar. Not like I’d seen her before, but as in she had features that were familiar. And seriously pretty dark red hair in a huge bun on the top of her head.
“Sir,” the police officer called. “Can you stand up and show me your hands, please.”
Figuring it would be a good idea to do as he asked, I pushed myself up with a loud groan. “I’m the one who called you. My name’s Kip Sutherland, and I live next door.”
Three voices—two males and a female—all said at the same time, “Kip Sutherland?” just as a torch was pointed at my face, almost blinding me.
“Holy shit, I watched you play last season. You guys totally kicked ass!” One of the officers shouted.
Nodding, I shot a cross between a grimace and a smile in the direction the voice had come from and held my hand in front of my face to indicate to him that he was blinding me with the torch.
“Shit, sorry,” he muttered, and the beam moved from my face to the floor. “Had reports of a break in here.”
“There’s no break in,” the woman hissed. “I live here.”
Rolling my eyes, I said exasperatedly, “No, you don’t. Hayden Wilkes lives here and has done for four years.”
“Oh, man,” the other officer breathed. “I’ve been to every Seattle Sounders home game since I was thirteen. Is he home?”
This was the problem with being who we were. Here I was, semi crushed after a burglar landed on me, and these guys were focused on the fact we were players on their teams.
“No, he’s in New York getting ready to play,” I told them drily. “And this woman,” I waved at the woman who was still standing with her hands in the air, “was trying to break into his house.”