4. Matt

"You seem edgy, babe." Anna flips her long blonde hair over her shoulder and snakes an arm around my waist. She slowly rubs her hand up and down my chest, pressing her tits against my back.

"I'm fine." Lies. I haven't been fine since…fuck. I don't want to think about how long it's been.

"What happened to you tonight? I barely saw you."

I shrug, keeping my hands stuffed into my pockets while we wait for the valet to pull up with my car. "Sorry about that. I was talking to a bunch of the guys. Lots of change coming, you know? I found out the team has a new owner and he's…" I swallow hard. "Got his own way of doing things."

"Yeah, but none of that should impact you." She snuggles tight against me and rests her face against me. "You're a superstar. He must know that if he knows anything about football."

Ironic that she said that. One of the great things about Anna is that she loves being seen with an NFL star but has no clue about the game itself. If she did, she'd know I'm not exactly the superstar she thinks I am, and that my fame comes more from perception than reality.

"Everyone is expendable." I clench and unclench my fingers.

"I don't know. I think you bring a lot to the table…and the bedroom." She giggles softly. "Not like he'd ever know about that, though."

A sudden coughing fit assaults me. "Yeah, well, I guess I need to find another way to convince him," I rasp, pounding on my chest with my fist.

I crane my neck. Where the fuck did the valet park my damn car? China? Anna drops her hands from my waist. I can hear her talking to someone behind me. Stepping toward the curb, I pull out my phone to see two more missed calls from Dad.

What the fuck could be so desperate? I rub the back of my neck, my mind flooded with worst-case scenarios. With my father, anything is possible. He's a big part of the reason why I'm in this situation right now, and why I will never do anything to jeopardize my future.

A sharp nudge from behind makes me lurch forward. My phone slips from my hand and clatters onto the sidewalk, narrowly escaping a puddle. I bend down to grab it and then whip my head around to see who the fuck knocked into me in the first place.

Zak looks at me like I'm a bug crawling over his fucking Prada shoes, the ice in his hard stare matching whatever the hell runs through his veins. He doesn't bother to say a word.

No "excuse me."

No "sorry I cracked your fucking phone screen."

He just lances me with a glare like the rich, pretentious prick he is.

Fuck my life.

Why do I still want to taste those lips again, after all this time?

Why do I want to feel his body plastered against mine and his demanding hands rubbing, tugging, and stroking me?

Why does my fucking skin tingle with desire when he stares at me, even though his eyes spew disgust and disdain?

Shit, that's definitely one to unpack with a therapist.

Zak Kacey was the first guy who ever caught my attention.

The only one, really.

You'd think that I'd have caught feelings for another guy at some point, especially with my career choice. And yeah, I've seen hot guys before. Showered with plenty of them because, you know, occupational hazard. But I learned my lesson a long time ago. I opened my heart to the possibility, and then all hell broke loose when I slammed it shut.

Truth is, he didn't know it, but I gave Zak Kacey a piece of my heart back in college. And I never did get it back. I guess that's why I don't do relationships now. Too much risk.

I took a risk with Zak. He did the same with me. But as careful as we were, it wasn't enough.

I saw what happened to Zak when the guys on our college football team found out he was gay.

I let it happen. Never spoke up for him. Never admitted it was me with him that night.

Those assholes took everything from him, including his self-respect.

I may as well been waving my own torch.

So, his reaction to me now isn't really a shocker. No wonder he hates me.

I know I hate myself for what happened.

But once I found out their plan, I tried to stop it…stop them. Not that he'd ever believe me. Those guys destroyed him, and even though I wasn't involved, I'm just as much to blame.

So did I really expect an apology?

Fuck no.

I'm not completely delusional.

I straighten up with a sigh. Zak pushes past me to head toward his car. He pulls his keys from his pocket and stalks down the street in the opposite direction of the valet stand.

Weird.

Why would he park his own car? It's not the greatest neighborhood, and he's rich as fuck, which means the car has to be expensive. I can't tell from here, but I'd guess it's a pompous ass car with a hefty price tag.

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a crowd of people round the corner and head in his direction. My eyes narrow at the men and women carrying white posters with bright red lettering. Their voices get louder, their hateful rants much clearer.

Fucking protesters. And all of the security is still inside the building since there are so few of us outside.

"We don't need your kind representing our city," one of the men yells. "You're ruining football. Ruining all sports!"

I stare at Zak's retreating back. He doesn't acknowledge them, but a few of the people waiting for their cars turn their heads to stare. They creep backward, away from the hell that's damn close to breaking loose. I push Anna behind me and she grabs onto my arm.

"Stay here," I mutter before taking a few steps toward the group.

"Matt, don't," Anna hisses. "You don't know if they have any weapons. What the hell are you going to do?"

She tugs at my suit jacket, but I shrug off her grip.

It's a goddamn witch hunt, and I won't sit by this time and let it happen.

I won't let them hurt him again.

"How many more gays are you gonna draft, Kacey?" One of the women yells. "How much longer until you ruin the whole fucking organization? Nobody wants you. You're weak. You can't compete. How can you lead this team?"

The mob closes in on what I can see now is a Bugatti. They slam their hands on the metal, pounding it with their fists.

Glass shatters when a bat swings against the passenger side window.

I pick up the pace, breaking into a jog to do what, I have no fucking clue.

I just know I need to get him away from there.

But he doesn't show any signs of ducking away from the mob. He's walking right into the fucking middle of it.

Just as I reach him, tires squeal to a stop next to me. The horn of my blacked-out Ford Raptor blares out.

The passenger door swings open.

"Get in," Anna yells at me.

I pull Zak away from the car, and the protesters and shove him toward the door.

"Don't fucking touch me," he grunts. "I don't need you. And I'm not letting those ignorant assholes bully me. I won't ever let anyone bully me again."

He shrugs off my hand, his jaw set, dark eyes steely. Then, he pushes me to the side and stalks to the driver's side door of his car. "Get the hell away from my car," he growls.

"Or what, little rich bitch?" One of the guys snarls. He circles around the car, dressed in dirty, ripped jeans and a plaid shirt with the sleeves cut off. Tattoos cover his beefy arms and creep up the sides of his neck. I may outweigh him in muscle, but he definitely outweighs both of us in pure rage. "You think some has-been is gonna stop us? We won't stop until you get the fuck out of the league."

Zak, the fucking crazy ass idiot that he is, turns and inches toward the menacing prick so they're toe to toe. "I'm not going anywhere. The Crusaders belong to me. So, you can get used to it or find another team to support."

"They only belong to you as long as you're alive." A click follows, the tip of a knife glinting in the light shining from the street lamp above. My breath hitches, but Zak still doesn't stand down.

The guy raises the blade. Zak doesn't even flinch.

He may have a death wish, but it won't be granted on my watch.

I pull him backward by his arm, ignoring his murderous stare. "If you don't get into the goddamn truck, it won't just be your window that gets shattered," I growl. "Get the fuck in now."

He tries to get away from me again, but this time I'm not letting it happen. Someone else in the mob pushes through with a baseball bat. I don't have time to think or react. I just shove him into the truck, pushing him up with my chest. I jump into the passenger seat once he's inside and slam the door closed.

Police cars tear around the corner, surrounding Zak's car and the angry mob. I watch them scatter like the fucking cockroaches they are.

"I told you I didn't need your help," Zak bellows.

"The guy had a knife, for fuck's sake." I turn, shaking my head at him. "Did you want to get stabbed to death?"

"Fuck those bullying assholes. You made me walk away. I wanted to fight!"

"You're a goddamn idiot. What the hell were you trying to prove? That you're the dumbest person to ever get an MBA from Wharton?"

Anna presses her foot on the gas. The truck lurches forward before speeding down the street. "Sorry, it's not easy to drive in these shoes."

I give her arm a squeeze and look back at Zak. His eyes are glued to my hand, mouth twisted into a grimace.

"Where should I go?" Anna gives me a quick look and slows at a red traffic light.

"Drive to your place." I nod my head toward Zak. "I'll take care of this."

Zak lets out a snort. "I don't need a babysitter, Harrison. Let me out. I can get my own ride."

"You know, you're pretty confrontational for someone who just had their ass saved from a bunch of psychopaths out for blood," Anna snaps.

I bite back a smile when I see Zak's shocked expression. People always underestimate Anna. They think she's a dumb blonde who does nothing but smile and nod and pose for pictures in her underwear. But she's smart and tough as nails. She had it rough, too, and isn't afraid to speak her mind. It's another reason why I keep her around. Anna's a reminder of the kind of person I wish I could be.

The one still cowering in the closet.

"It hasn't even been announced, but somehow they all know," Zak grumbles, slumping against the backseat. "The fucking haters always know."

"Why didn't you let the valets take your car? It's like you were begging them to go after you."

He lets out a breath. "I don't need protection from them or anyone else. I'm not going to hide."

"It was kind of stupid in this neighborhood." Anna takes a left. "Why take the risk? Just to prove a point?"

Zak leans forward, his glare now on Anna. "I don't believe we've met. Hi, I'm Mr. None Of Your Goddamn Business. I didn't catch your name. Would it happen to be Miss Stick My Nose Were It Doesn't Fucking Belong?"

A snort of laughter catches in my throat, and now the glare is back on me. I shake my head, coughing. "Dude, that's so fucking lame. So, what, you pay all that money for an MBA and they serve a side of lame-ass comebacks with your degree?"

"Fuck you both." He sits back and folds his arms over his chest.

Anna looks back at him in the rearview mirror. "This isn't the most tolerant place on the planet. If you wanted to buy a football team, why here in Ohio, of all places?"

"Do you need me to repeat my name?" Zak bites out.

Anna flashes her famous toothy smile at his reflection and pulls to a stop next to the curb. Then, she flips around to face him. "If you're going to be managing people, you might want to learn how to speak to them. You can attract more bees with honey than with vinegar. And the stuff you're spewing is more like toxic waste."

Ouch.

She gets out of the truck before Zak can shake off the shock of her scalding words and walks around the front of the truck, swinging her hips, no doubt, for my benefit. I push open the door and jump out.

I take her hand and walk her into her building. "You're really something else, you know what?"

"So I've been told." She nods her head toward the glass windows behind us. "Now, fix whatever the heck is broken between you two because that team is going to need you more than ever right now. And your new leader has some serious issues."

Christ, if she only knew the truth about why he has these issues… and who's really to blame for them.

She reaches for my tie and pulls me close, her lips grazing mine in a kiss full of promises.

Things she wants to do to me.

Not necessarily things I want to have done by her.

Because the only thing that made my cock stir in those few fleeting seconds was an image of Zak's head bobbing up and down on it.

And when his heated gaze practically sears the glass as I walk back toward my truck, the realization pops like a gunshot in my brain.

He wants that, too.