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CHAPTER FOUR

FORD

She’s alive.

Catch.

She’s in New York.

Throw.

She’s safe.

Catch.

I think she’s safe. The jury is still out on that one.

Throw.

She’s a topless maid.

The ball goes whizzing by my head as I fail to make the catch, distracted by the thought of a very topless Juliet in my apartment.

Yup. Still going to hell for that one.

Sure, I could blame it on the fact she’s a gorgeous woman, and I’d be insane not to notice. But I’d only be lying to myself. She’s my stepsister-in-law and absolutely not mine to consider that way. She never was. Even if I did see her first.

The image of her in high school chemistry floats through my mind as I jog onto the warning track and grab the ball, but by the time I look to throw it to Smitty, he’s already on his way over.

He stops a few feet away and tucks his glove against his side. “That’s the third ball today you’ve missed.”

I lower my chin to my chest, focusing my eyes on where my cleats dig into the dirt. “I know.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” I glance up to find Smitty with his shoulders dropped and a don’t play stupid with me expression written on his face.

Fuck. How is it possible this rookie already has that stare down when we’ve only been playing together for a little over two months? What’s worse is it’s actually working.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” I scoff and shake my head.“I found her. She’s safe.”

“And…” he presses.

But I’ve got nothing. Juliet made it clear she doesn’t want me in her life, let alone asking questions. It doesn’t matter that I’m dying inside trying to let it go.

When I don’t respond, he keeps going. “Dude, she was in your apartment cleaning topless. How do you go from being the wife of a major league ballplayer to that?”

Isn’t that the million-dollar question? The same question I’ve been asking myself for the last five hours since she left the Row.

It’s a miracle I even made it to the field for morning work. If it wasn’t for Smitty banging down my door and demanding I come to the field early with him to work on quickening up his reaction throws to third, I probably would have resorted to scouring the city for her.

As it is, I feel like fucking prince charming searching for Cinderella. All I have to go on is the name of the maid service. And they were zero help. Don’t get me wrong, I admire their commitment to keeping their women safe, but it’s not like I’m a crazy customer or an ex-boyfriend.

Okay, maybe I technically fall into the first one. But I just need to know she’s okay. Because Smitty is right. None of it adds up.

“I don’t know,” I finally concede. “But as I told you and the other two topless cohorts this morning, let’s keep it to ourselves until I’m able to find out more.” Bare Necessities might not have been forthcoming, but I have an arsenal of private investigators that now have something to go off of. Hopefully, they’ll be able to give me at least a hint of what Julietta—Etta—is up to.

God, I hate that name. It sounds like an old grandma who is looking to share her Werther’s Originals. It doesn’t suit the stunning woman she is.

Smitty nods and bumps his glove against my shoulder. “Whatever you need, we’re here to help.”

He means it. As do the other guys on the team.

I might have come to the Renegades searching for absolution, but I lucked into a family of guys who unconditionally have my back.

“Thanks.” I jerk my head toward home plate in a silent offer to continue our workout.

He nods, and heads to take his position.

In the time he takes to get set, I squat down along the third baseline and stare at the line where chalk meets dirt. Usually, I’d wait to set an intention before the actual game. And maybe I still will later, but right now there’s one word turning over in my head.

Family.

It’s not pretty. My chicken scratch is barely legible. But I know it’s there. And for the first time in months, my intention isn’t depressing.

* * *

Smitty and I fall into a rhythm. He pops up at the plate and careens the ball down the baseline to my waiting glove. I focus on the motions, giving him a target and dropping for the tag. Muscle memory takes over and I’m able to relax and let baseball heal me in the way it always has.

For most, it’s just a game. Something you play as a kid, maybe through high school and college if you’re lucky and dedicated, but for me—and I’d venture to say most guys at the professional level—baseball becomes a part of you. A living entity that can’t be ignored. From the moment my dad put a glove on my hand and threw me a ball at the ripe age of six, I knew this was what I was meant to do. Playing with him, listening to coaches, learning the ways I could push my body to be better, faster, it gave me an indescribable high. Which was welcomed when everything else in life always felt cluttered and messy.

This field is my church. The game a form of worship.

“You’ve got the right idea, but you need to shorten your step just a smidge.”

Smitty and I both swivel our heads to where Bishop Lawson, the Renegades lead catcher and other unofficial co-captain, sidesteps around the dugout barrier and onto the warning track.

Smitty lowers himself to a squat and practices another pop up, shortening the step he takes toward third.

“Yeah, that’s better. Now drill it into your brain until it becomes instant.”

The rookie does it again, leaving Bishop to turn to me. “I’ll take over with him. Willow wants to see you in her office.”

In any other situation, being called to the owner’s office would leave me with nothing but dread, but with Willow York, it’s different. She was thrust into the position after her father died in the same crash that took the lives of his team, and ever since she’s caused nothing but chaos in the league. She’s done the unimaginable: firing the majority of her board, uncovering a cheating scandal, and then topping it all off by dating Bishop. Willow is unlike any owner I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing for, and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about her.

She’s also been the biggest supporter in my quest to find Juliet.

I step forward and pop the ball into Bishop’s waiting glove. “Any idea what it’s about?”

He shrugs and takes my position at third. “She mentioned needing your help with something for Mercer’s reinstatement.”

Shit. I forgot the hearing for that was coming up.

“Got it,” I toss over my shoulder as I head for the dugout.

“Oh, and McCoy?” His coy tone gives the impression I’ve just been caught doing something I shouldn’t.

I stop mid-stride and glance over my shoulder.“Yeah?”

Bishop’s lips twitch into a lopsided grin. “I’m glad you found her.”

My mouth falls, but I quickly shake the shock from my face. “How did you?—”

Bishop raises a knowing brow as if to say, do you really have to ask ?

“Fucking Carson,” I huff.

“Don’t be too mad at him. He doesn’t keep anything from his co-captain.” Bishop chuckles sarcastically. “And believe me, there is plenty I would kill not to know.”

Tugging my hat from my head, I run a frustrated hand through the longer strands on top. “Just…let’s keep it quiet for now.”

“Understood.” He nods. “But you should know I don’t keep things from Willow.”

“Noted.” And I completely understand after all they’ve been through. That doesn’t mean I’m thrilled about the growing number of people that know Juliet is moonlighting as a topless maid, and I’m no closer to figuring out why.

The hot shower didn’t do a damn thing to release any of thetension from this morning.If anything, it only gave me more time to spiral into all the possibilities. Why did Juliet feel the need to disappear? What drove her to be a topless maid when I know damn well she had big dreams and even bigger ambition? Why did she look at me like I was the root of all fucking evil?

That one I can piece together, but I’m choosing not to think about it since I’m fairly positive she doesn’t have the whole story. Only what Tyler shared with her, which no doubt is laced with half-truths, that make him look like the knight in shining armor.

By the time I make the trek to the executive concourse and knock on Willow’s door, I’ve come up with every scenario possible to make sense of Juliet’s disappearance. All of which only spikes my anxiety further.

Willow looks up from her desk, and my eyes immediately lock on the tired circles beneath her eyes.

“Ah, Ford.” She smiles and gestures to one of the two giant armchairs in front of her desk. “Just the person I wanted to see. Take a seat.”

It doesn’t matter that I admire the shit out Willow for everything she’s done for this team and the organization. Being summoned to the owner’s office will always feel like a trip to the principal’s office.

Every step is stiff as I pad across her office and lower myself into the surprisingly comfortable leather.

“Relax.” She chuckles, clearly feeling my apprehension.“Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m not wearing the god-awful heels I’m supposed to?” She leans back and lifts a foot, showing off her signature black Chuck Taylors.

“It helps.” I nod, a half-smile tipping my lips. “Bishop said you wanted to talk to me about Mercer’s reinstatement.”

Her brow furrows, and I get the impression this isn’t going to be a happy update.

“Among other things, yes. I need your help with gathering a few testimonials. The new board wants a comprehensive picture of Mercer both as a person and teammate for their files.”

Mercer Cohen was a teammate of mine in Chicago. Though, teammate is putting it mildly. He was one of my closest friends on the team. Almost two years ago, he was accused of sexually assaulting and raping a woman at a sex club. The long and short of it is he was innocent, and the woman fabricated the whole thing for money and clout. But the damage had been done. Mercer was stripped of his right to play in the league, and the court of public opinion is still split on if he’s guilty of more than enjoying kinky sex.

From the jump, Willow has wanted him back in the league. More specifically, she wants him playing for the Renegades. Yet another reason to respect the hell out of her. But getting Mercer here has been one hurdle after another.

I wish I could say I’ve done my part.I knew damn well he was innocent. Mercer isn’t the kind of man to treat a woman that way. Sure, he’s a bit of a dick, but that’s just a front. Once you get to know him, he more than proves he’s one of the good guys.But when the Blues asked the team to cut all ties or risk our own contracts being terminated, I followed suit. At least publicly. I couldn’t risk not being able to pay my mother’s hospital bills. Within the walls of our apartment complex, we were still close. Mercer didn’t blame me.

Me, on the other hand? I’m pretty sure I failed him as a friend. I should have done more. Tried harder to get more of the guys to stand up to the league.

It’s why I feel the need to do my part now. He deserves to be a part of the Renegades and not only because he’s a damn good first baseman, but because he’d be the perfect addition to our team.

“So, you want me to reach out to some of the guys and see if they’d be willing to help?”

Willow takes a sip from her giant water bottle and nods. “Personally, I think it’s a bit much considering the commissioner is already on board and Mercer was found not guilty in a court of law, but for the board, it’s a cover-their-own-ass sort of situation.” She winces, tilting her head to the side. “And considering all the feathers I’ve rustled, I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person within the league. Which is why I was thinking it might be better if you approached some of your former teammates.”

“Of course. I’m happy to.” It’s the absolute least I can do. “Though, I’d be lying if I said it will be a simple task. We all know Mercer’s innocent, but the Blues didn’t exactly make it easy on us to support him. I’m not sure they’ll be willing to go on the record if the gag order is still in place.”

Willow presses her lips together, considering. “Maybe start with those who have been traded in the last year. Or anyone who played with him before he was traded to the Blues.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” I promise, a list of potential players to reach out to forming in my mind. Included in that list is the player himself. I haven’t heard from Mercer in months. Not since I volunteered to come to New York.

“Thank you.” She leans back in her chair and laces her fingers on top of the desk. “Now, you want to tell me about what happened this morning?”

Frustration simmers beneath the surface as I dip my head and bring my hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose.“Fucking Carson.”

Willow’s shoulders shake with laughter. “You should know this team is worse than a gaggle of teenage girls.”

She’s not wrong. If anyone knows how fast gossip flies through the ranks of the Renegades, it’s Willow. I’m still not sure how she and Bishop kept their relationship a secret for as long as they did.

“There isn’t much to tell,”I say, but the way Willow raises her brow lets me know she believes otherwise.

“Fine. The guys thought it would be hilarious to hire a topless maid to clean my apartment?—”

“Not their finest moment.” Willow rolls her eyes.

“No. Especially when that maid turned out to be Ju—Etta.”

Fuck, that’s going to take some getting used to. Especially when it feels like I’m referring to my grandma, not a gorgeous twenty-seven-year-old woman.

“Etta?”

“That’s what she wants to be called now.”

“Etta then. So, you found her…” A tick of a smile lifts Willow’s lips but drops just as quickly when I don’t continue. “Did you two talk?”

I pop my shoulders, my gaze narrowing on the wood grain of her desk as Imentally catalog my conversation with Juliet for the thousandth time.“If by talk you mean she told me it’s none of my damn business and stormed out, then yeah, we talked.”

“And is that good enough for you?”

My eyes snap up. It feels like a trick question. Like Willow is testing to see what I’m made of and while I know every single one of my intentions is pure, I’m not sure I like it coming from the owner of my team.

“No,” I answer with my full chest. “It’s not.”

She waits ten torturous seconds before a smile stretches across her lips, and she nods. “Good answer. I’m all for a woman’s right to have her secrets and to do whatever it is she wants with her body and life, but something about this whole situation isn’t sitting right with me.”

“I agree.” Glad that yet another person sees what I do. “Something isn’t right.”

“My offer stands to help in any way I can. Will you keep me posted on what you find out? Whether she wants our help or not, Etta is a part of this family, and as you know, Renegades protect what’s ours.”

Somehow, I don’t think protecting her is going to be that simple, but for the sake of this meeting, I incline my head in agreement. “If it’s all the same to you, though, I’d like to keep her whereabouts to ourselves until we know more.”

“Absolutely.”

“Thank you.” It’s not lost on me how lucky I am to be a part of a team that gives a shit like this one does. Even more so that it stems all the way from the top down.

Willow nods, and I get the distinct feeling this meeting is over.

I stand. “I’ll give you an update on the testimonials as soon as I hear back from the guys.”

“Sounds good.” Willow reaches for her keyboard and starts clicking away. But before I reach the door, she stops me. “Oh, and Ford?”

“Yeah?” I glance over my shoulder.

“I get the impression you and Tyler had a rough relationship, but he’d be happy to know you are taking care of her.”

My lips pull tight, and I fight back a grimace, offering Willow a half smile and slipping from her office before I say something I might regret.

Mostly, that I wish she was right. But knowing Tyler, this would probably only serve as another reason to hate me. It’s a good thing I’m not only doing this for him. I made a promise to make things right, and come hell or high water, I’m going to.