Page 44 of Dream Chaser (The New York Knights Players Club #4)

The Big Show

Griffon

I wake to an empty bed that smells like her—citrus and sunshine—but there’s no head on my chest, silky hair blanketing me, no thick, hot thigh draped over mine. Not cool.

I feel a little bit of panic set in. Like fucking Groundhog Day is gonna happen—not the holiday, that damn movie—like I’m gonna have to start over again.

I mean, I would if I had to, but I really liked it when Iz said, We just go with what feels right , not as much as hearing her tell me she loves me. She loves me …

I swing my legs over the side of my bed because this … this doesn’t feel right.

I turn off my thoughts when I hear her talking softly from somewhere and follow the sound of her voice into the bathroom.

Now I don’t wanna be that guy who eavesdrops, but I’m pretty damn sure she’s talking to herself, and since I’m doing the same damn thing—just inside—I decide that doesn’t feel right either.

I open the door and step in, seeing her shaking in laughter, lying on the damn floor. Her ass is peeking out under one of my hoodies, and I bend down to give it a nibble as she pushes up on her elbows.

And then, shit goes sideways.

My eyesight is twenty-twenty, so when I see she’s on a call with Sarah, Tessa, Jade, Phoebe, Ava, Harper, Lo, Riley, Syd, and London all right there on her screen, no doubt getting an eyeful, I drop faster than I did when my college coach yelled, “Hit!”

Then they all start laughing.

“What are you doing?” Izzy … screeches? Yells? Whatever that sound is, it’s not pleasant.

Neither is the situation I find myself in. Morning wood meeting tile? That shit doesn’t feel good—not at all.

I open my mouth to talk, and all that comes out is a painful groan.

The ladies start laughing even harder, and then Iz does, too.

“Morning Izzy, ladies,” I manage to say without squeaking, into the damn floor.

“Oh my God, that did not just happen,” Iz says, sounding mortified.

I roll my head to the side to see if she has ended the call. She hasn’t.

“You mind grabbing me a towel?” I ask quietly.

“Might wanna get a bath sheet,” One of them says—Jade, I think—and they all start laughing again, even Iz.

“Is this part of the cult Jake was talking about?” I ask.

Izzy just stares at me, like this is somehow my fault.

“Jake told!” Tessa yells.

“To be fair”—Sarah laughs—“we already knew it was happening.”

They go back and forth about Jake, and I realize I just screwed the pooch as far as being in his favor goes.

I decide to army crawl my ass back to the bedroom, but Iz quickly says, “Chat later,” and ends the call. She drops the phone and covers her face with both hands, shoulders shaking in silent sobs, and it fucking wrecks me.

“Iz, no, no, no.” I scramble over to her, shove my hand under her head, and sit her up, pulling her against me. “Please, don’t cry. Please, please, please, don’t do that.”

She starts to pull away. “Oh my?—”

“I’ll fix it. I’m not sure how, but I will, Iz. Swear it.”

A snort comes out of her. “I’m not crying, you fool.” She sits back, and I see she is, in fact, not crying, although tears are involved—she’s laughing.

“I’m not sure whether to be relieved or … Maybe you should let me know how I should feel since I just flashed the entire BV MILF club, little Griff.”

“First, Griff-zilla is not little and?—”

I chuckle. “Well, I see you’ve settled on a name.”

She elbows me. “MILF club?”

“Fuck, I mean, I don’t wanna lay down with any of them ’cause I got my girl, but as I told your parents the other day, you come from great genes. So, offense should not be taken.”

“It’s not,” comes from the … fucking phone.

“Izzy Ross,” I groan, shaking my head. “You trying to get me killed?”

Each time is better.

That’s the thought running wild through my head as she arches beneath me, mouth parted, hands gripping the edge of my shoulders like she’s anchoring herself to this plane of existence. Last night was good—no, last night was unforgettable—but this morning?

This morning, she shattered, and when she did, she took me with her.

Nothing between us but sweat and the kind of sounds that will live in my soul forever.

When I told her I wanted all of it, I meant all —even the quiet mornings where her legs are tangled with mine, our breathing synced, and I don’t even have to open my eyes to know she’s watching me like she’s trying to memorize every freckle on my chest.

Eventually, we had to get up—it’s game day, regardless of how we’re all feeling about it.

Still, she insisted on being dropped at the brewery. I offered to stay and help out, but she just leaned up on her toes, kissed me once—slow and lingering—and said, “Go hang with your boys. I’ll see you later.”

She needs this, and I need her to be here, the girl I will forever be falling for.

So, I hit up the group chat, and within twenty minutes, we’re all at Hart’s place, controllers in hand, yelling over rounds of Mortal Kombat like we’re in college again and life hasn’t gone and made us men.

Hart and Grimes are already shit-talking over the only game we’ll be playing today. But the version of it required when we have a flower among our stank, so to speak.

“You love my aunt Iz?” Boone’s girl, Lily, asks from where she’s petting her pup, Bossy, a sibling to Hudson and Riley’s Major.

“I do,” I answer, sliding off the couch to join her on the floor.

“She loves you, too?”

“She does.”

“You gonna get married like Daddy and Syd?” The way she cocks her head to the side, freaking adorable.

“You think she’d say yes?” I ask.

She looks me over like she’s really pondering it, and the amount of time she takes has me a little freaking nervous. Then she nods. “Yep.”

I lean in. “Do you think she’ll want a little Lily with me?”

She shakes her head. “There’s only one me.” She looks up at Boone. “Only one Lily, right, Daddy?”

“Prettiest flower in the field.” He winks at her.

Lyndsey, Lily’s mom, comes to pick her up, and Lily has a whole conversation for the pups, saying their goodbyes for them and promising another playdate in three sleeps.

My chest tightens, and memories that were once fuzzy resurface: Angela and those tea parties with her stuffed animals.

Once Lily, Lyndsey, and Bossy have left, all eyes are on me and the shit talk starts about this morning. I let them have their moment.

I’m about ready to give them shit right back when there’s a knock on the door.

Hart looks at an iPad, taps a button, and says, “Come in.”

“Security system?” I ask.

“Mom’s boyfriend hooked me up even before shit went down and the boys came back into town.”

“They’re a fucking treat, right?” I chuckle.

Hart smirks and nods. “Good guys.”

“When they’re not being menaces. Gave Iz so much shit a few weeks ago, I thought I was going to have to deal with it.”

“Oh yeah?” Hart asks.

“Didn’t have to. Iz …” I stop shit-talking when Remington Ross and CJ and Matthew Abraham walk into the room. The looks on their faces tell me they heard.

“Iz what?” Remington asks, flopping down on the sectional beside me.

“Held her own.” I shrug.

“Damn fool, not even trying to cover his ass.” CJ flops down on the other side, in an obvious attempt to intimidate.

“Matthew, sorry I can’t offer you a seat any closer, but my lap is free if you want to get close to me like these two.”

He shakes his head and leans against the doorjamb.

“Who’s with the girls?” Boone asks.

“They’re good,” Remington says, moving over a bit so we’re not rubbing thighs. “Luke and Jackson are at the brewery.”

“They’d be fine either way.” CJ moves, as well.

“You three stop by for some game time?” Grimes asks.

“Stopped in to tell you four what they’re learning now,” Matthew says, holding out his phone. “This is Shelton Mercer.”

“Just gonna jump right into it?” CJ asks. “No warning of busted kneecaps or bodies that will never be found for these four?”

“Boone took a bullet for Syd, Hart’s planted roots and a seed, Grimes put a ring on it and is solid,” Matthew answers. He nods in my direction. “Iz trusts this one with one of her favorite possessions and?—”

“Gonna take a guess that’s either the dog or my dick that?—”

“What the fuck, man?” Remington pulls his hat down, covering his eyes.

Boone, Hart, and Grimes look at me like I’ve got two heads. I mean, I do, but … not the point.

“I’m talking about this morning’s um … unexpected video call in the bathroom.”

“Oh.” They all nod knowingly.

News travels fast in Blue Valley, even without a paper.

“You’re wearing her bracelets.” He points to my wrist. “We hid them once, and she flipped the fuck out. No one touches them.”

CJ nods. “They’re her touchstone, her connection to our father. Syd and Iz were real close with him. Took his death almost as hard as Harper, Matthew, and I.”

“Guessing they all did,” Hart states.

“Different, though,” Remington states. “They grew up next-door to Lucas and his first wife. Their brother, Luke, isn’t Ryan’s biological son, but he raised and loves him no different.

Tommy was Lucas’s best friend. When Tommy died, Ryan and Jade got married before he was born.

Lucas was around them as much, if not more than, Mom and Dad.

Iz was always with us, more like a baby sister than a cousin.

Syd and her folks moved back here from the Southern Tier not too long ago.

So yeah, Syd and Iz didn’t have as much interaction with Lucas until Mom and he got married, aside from holidays and shit when we all got together on occasion. ”

Matthew chuckles. “Remember when she said she was going to marry Dad and cried when we told her she couldn’t?”

“Sure do. We got our asses chewed.” CJ smiles then clears his throat. “All right, enough of a trip down memory lane.”

“None of this goes beyond these walls.” Matthew straightens.

“Shelton Mercer. His uncle is on the executive committee of the league. Mercer is a real piece of shit. Likes to do blow and host parties where he provides drugs and women to his guests. We dug deep and found that he has a criminal past, which his family has covered up with their money. Drugs, small-time prostitution, a handful of assault charges. Shit everyone seems to skate on now.”

Remington takes over. “People like that don’t know how to take a second chance and turn it around. His connection to the league makes it possible for him to have rubbed elbows and partied with more people than you can count. Players, officials, coaches, owners, and GMs.”

“We found out he’s also pretty big into sports gambling, and not the legal kind.

From what we’re seeing, he uses information he collects to make sure games go in his favor.

We’re pretty sure this goes back to Trucker Cohen’s days with the Knights before we bought them out.

We assume they know we’d look into it. Vegas was a power play, a warning.

Philly was much the same and where we were able to connect the dots, get hard evidence.

” CJ leans forward, elbows on his knees.

“The president of the league is aware. We provided them with what we know. They want to make it go away for obvious reasons, and they now want to work with us… again, for obvious reasons. They need this to go away.”

I raise my hand like a schoolboy. “Are we about to find out one of ours is involved?”

“This doesn’t go anywhere,” Remington states gruffly.

“They’ve got shit on Nicks.” CJ leans back and crosses his arms.

“Doesn’t fucking surprise me,” Hart snarls. “He cheats on his wife; why the hell would he be loyal to this team?”

“Got a couple more we’re looking into, as well,” Matthew says. “So not a word.”

Remington continues, “Any team trips you guys have planned for the off-season, we suggest you avoid. When this blows, because it will, you don’t want your names involved, and we sure as fuck don’t want our family linked to men who fuck around with drugs and young women.”

“How young?” Boone asks through his teeth.

“Young enough that a good man would question it. We’re not dealing with good men,” Matthew answers.

“We have a, well, an old associate on the inside, working on figuring that out,” Remington tells us.

“Old associate? Meaning he’s worked with you before?” I ask.

“She, and no.” Matthew pushes off the doorjamb.

CJ stands. “Draft’s coming up; trades won’t raise any flags, but you four want to be part of this family, you get a heads-up.”

Matthew calls from the other room, “We gotta roll.”

Remington stands. “Catch you around, wee one .”

I let him have that one.

“Hey,” I call after them, and Remington looks back. “Guessing Philly’s going to win tonight?”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.” He chuckles.

After they leave, we finish the game, none of us really focused. None of this is cool.

“A year ago, I would be livid about what we just learned.”

“Would be?” Hart huffs as he runs a hand through his hair.

I stand up. “If we never ended up at Costello’s hotel, Iz and I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to finally make fucking magic happen. Fuck the ring—I got the girl. We all got the girl.”

“Best season ever,” we all say at the same damn time.

I hit up Grand once on the road from Skaneateles to the brewery.

She answers with, “Tell me you got the girl.”

“I got the girl.”

“He got the girl!” she announces, and I hear all her ladies hoot and holler like they’re watching a game and their favorite team is winning.

“Did you doubt me?” I laugh.

“Never have, never would,” Grand states like it’s fact, and it is, then asks, “Tell me you’ve made plans for a very special Valentine’s Day.”

“About that …”