Power Play (Nashville Assassins Next Generation 2)

Pretty sure from her tone, I don’t need to be ready. She has no intention of playing me at all. What in the ever-loving fuck happened in the last hour?

I will not lose my cool.

I narrow my eyes as Wes leans in and whispers, “Um, I thought you said you two hooked up?”

“We did.”

“Did you forget how to do it?

“Fuck off,” I grumble as I lean back, and when I look toward her again, Jakob is saying something in her ear.

She nods, and he smiles. Oh, so he’s on her side too? How in the fuck did I get played? “So, that’s the plan for now, but things can change on the fly. Let’s stick close to the playbook, boys. Enjoy your break.”

She unplugs her tablet as Coach stands up and starts to speak once more. She doesn’t look back as she leaves the room with Jakob close by. I want to get up and chase her, but I know I can’t. One, we have to stay in meetings, and two, I’m too angry to face her right now. When the meeting is over, I walk out of the room, heading straight for her office, despite Aiden and Wes telling me it’s a bad idea. I turn the corner and run almost directly into the boss lady.

Elli Adler.

“Boon, where’s the fire?” she jokes before she hugs me tightly. Elli Adler isn’t one of those distant owners. She loves us. Treats us like her kids and makes sure we know she appreciates our hard work. She’s the best owner I’ve ever met.

And also the mom of the woman who has me in knots.

“You all right, honey?”

“Yeah, I was on my way to talk to Coach Adler.”

She shakes her head. “She just headed out. Wanted to get a nap in. I think Jakob is still here, though. Everything okay?”

Just then, Jakob comes out of his office. “Did you say my name?” When he sees me, he brings up his palms in a slow-down motion. “Now, Hoenes—”

“What the fuck? What did I do wrong?”

Elli’s eyes widen. “What happened?”

“Coach Adler sat me.”

“She did?” Elli looks back at Jakob, utterly surprised, and he nods.

I get the feeling he wasn’t on board with this. “Yes, but once she explained her reasoning, I understood. This PK is tough. We need to be smart here, and it’s just for this game. It could be for nothing since we might not even go on the power play. It’s really not a big deal. You’ll still have your minutes on the 5-on-5.”

I feel like I could scream. “Five seconds before, she told me she was giving me until next Friday before she decided.”

“I know,” he says calmly. “But she was looking over tapes and decided differently. We’ll see how it works out. I told her she can have final say in this game. We’re only trying it out. Just be patient.”

Be. Patient.

The fuck?

“This is bullshit. I’m working my ass off.”

“We know that, Boon. We do. But the way Posey’s mind works, she sees the play before it happens. She goes through every scenario. I’m sure this was a hard choice for her. You’re a fantastic player.”

Was it a hard choice?

I fucking doubt it.

Shit, does she have it out for me? I don’t know what she has against my play, or me as a person, but how can she fuck me and then sit me? That takes some real balls. I don’t know what happened from the moment she was beneath me until that meeting, but she’s got me questioning if I was good to her. Damn it, I know I was. I could have eaten her, I could have lasted a little longer, but not only could I not handle that sweet pussy of hers, I didn’t want us to get caught. I didn’t want to hurt her career. Getting caught being banged by one of the players wouldn’t look good, but apparently she doesn’t give a shit about my career.

To be honest, I am fucking flabbergasted.

* * *

How I took a nap after all that is beyond me.

I was so riled up and so fucking pissed that when we got home, I fell face first onto my bed after plugging in my dead phone. My usual alarm is what woke me, and as I look up at the ceiling, I wonder if what happened really happened. I’m aware it did. But surely that second part didn’t. I roll out of bed, reaching for my phone. I open Instagram and go to Posey’s messages. If I had her number, I’d call, but hopefully she sent me a message. She didn’t.

Me: Hey.

Me: Can you call me?

I type my number, and I wait.

Nothing.

It doesn’t say she’s active, so I lay down my phone and take a shower. I go over what could have happened again and again, but I’ve got nothing. Absolutely nothing. The passion was there, and I felt it bone-deep. It’s killing me not knowing what she is thinking. After I’m fresh and clean and nicely trimmed, I check my phone once more, even though I never heard a notification. As I assumed, there is no message from her. I drop the phone onto my bed and get dressed in my favorite black suit. It has my mom’s name sewn into the pocket, and when I wear it, I usually have a good night. After today, I need it.