Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Dallas

"How is the knee?"

"A little stiff."

I stopped out of sight of the doorway leading into the infirmary. I shouldn't listen in on another player's medical appointment, but I recognised both of those voices. Doctor Otis Skinner and Ramsey. Why would Ramsey see Skinner if he could see Chelsea?

I frowned, and went on listening.

"Have you been doing the exercises I instructed you to do?" Skinner asked. "They should help to ease the stiffness."

I grimaced. I wished they'd stop using that word. I'd come to see Chelsea because of a stiffness problem of my own. One that was rapidly deflating.

"Yeah, but it's still stiff," Ramsey said. "I've been putting extra time in, but I was thinking I could do more pool work. If it doesn't start to loosen up, it could put my season at risk."

Skinner clicked his tongue. "Wouldn't want that."

"Definitely not." Ramsey seemed unimpressed by his response.

Feeling like the mafia spy we joked about, I took a step forward and peered around the doorway.

Both men stood with their backs to the door. Otis Skinner's body was as tense as ever, but Ramsey looked relaxed. Like this man posed no threat to him in any way. Either he was a great actor, or he was up to something.

I couldn't rule out the possibility I was getting paranoid after everything I learned in the last couple of months. My gut told me otherwise. Something was up and I needed to stick around and listen, and not be seen.

I ducked back into the corridor and leaned against the wall. Silently, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started to record the conversation.

"We can certainly have you do more exercises," Skinner said. "I've run through the ones your physical therapist recommended. I can add to that. And book you in for more time in the pool. You do significant aqua therapy in the off-season, correct?"

"Yeah, Never feels like enough," Ramsey said. "I could stay there all day."

"There is such a thing as over exercising," Skinner warned. "If you put too much strain on your body, or lose too much weight, it will have an adverse affect on you and your playing."

Now he mentioned it, I had noticed Ramsey working out more than the rest of us. Which was saying something, since we spent a shit load of time exercising.

Over exercising was something we all had to watch out for. Obsessing over food, weight and body image in general was dangerous for anyone, and a trap too easy for people like us to fall into. It could become an unhealthy obsession without us realising it.

"I'm aware," Ramsey said. "I still need my knee right."

"Yes, the long-term impacts could be adverse if we don't address them now," Skinner said. "Not to mention it might interfere with other plans."

"Not going to interfere," Ramsey argued.

"If you're sidelined, or sent to another team, it might," Skinner said. "Timing is everything. As I'm sure you're well aware."

"Yep," Ramsey said. That one simple word conveyed a great deal of irritation. Like he didn't appreciate the doctor telling him what to do, even if it was a professional opinion.

Meanwhile, I wondered what the hell they were talking about. Did this have anything to do with Dominic King? Was it possible Ramsey was working for him and not with us? If he was, a stiff knee would be the least of his problems.

I leaned closer as one of them stepped further away, holding my phone out so I wouldn't miss anything. I had my eyes on the screen, so if anyone walked past they'd just think I stopped to doom scroll. I wouldn't be the first person distracted by social media in the middle of a corridor.

"Is everything in place?" Skinner asked.

"Almost," Ramsey replied. "Couple of things to sort out."

Skinner clicked his tongue. "There's always something. Or someone."

Footsteps clicked on the floor, closer to the doorway.

I pressed on a random social media and engrossed myself in the latest Booktok trend. It was about time they noticed rugby players’ thighs.

The footsteps moved away, deeper into the room again.

"What's left?" Skinner asked.

"Nothing major," Ramsey said.

"Care to elaborate?" Skinner sounded increasingly irritated. Either with plans not going the way he wanted, or with Ramsey's short responses.

"Not in the loop enough?" Ramsey asked, his tone goading.

"I should be the loop," Skinner snapped.

Ramsey snorted derisively. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You're just part of the loop."

"For now," Skinner said. "After this, that will change. They'll sit up and take notice."

"Won't be able to," Ramsey said.

Skinner barked a short laugh. "That's true. They'll be dealt with and we'll be in a better position than we already were."

I pictured him rubbing his hands together like a cartoon villain. Did he have a fluffy white cat and a lair?

Once, I would have thought that was just stuff that only happened in the movies. Now I wasn't so sure. I'd seen a lot of strange things recently. Things I wouldn't have ever expected to see. Things that were both exciting and terrifying at the same time. Much more terrifying than a cat and a cave.

Depending on the cat.

Speaking of positions, where was Chelsea? I assumed she wasn't in the infirmary, or they wouldn't be talking like this. The things they said, you didn't say in front of witnesses. If they knew they had any. Was it possible they knew I was out here? I didn't think so. If they did, they'd be more careful.

"If it works," Ramsey said. "Don't assume."

"I'd never assume," Skinner said. "I don't need to. We know what needs to be done and how to execute it. Everything will happen flawlessly."

I winced at his choice of words. Did they mean it literally? Who was the 'they,' Ramsey and Skinner were talking about? Was it us? Me and Chelsea's other boyfriends?

Was Ramsey plotting against us? This was a damning conversation if he was. It sounded to me like he was planning to double cross all of us. Whoever decided we were supposed to take orders from him must have badly misjudged his loyalty.

I stared at my phone screen without seeing anything. I didn't want to think Ramsey was working against us. If he was, I'd misjudged him too. I thought he was a decent guy. One I would have shared Chelsea with.

If they were saying what they seemed to be saying, then I wouldn't let him anywhere near her. How was I supposed to do that? I didn't know, but if he was planning against us, then I'd do whatever I had to do.

"It better," Ramsey said. "I've put everything in this. If this doesn't work, I'm screwed."

Skinner responded with a nasty sounding chuckle. "You won't be the only one screwed. Although, screwed will be the least of our problems. Dead is more likely."

"I'm not easy to kill," Ramsey declared.

"They all say that until they're proven wrong," Skinner said. "We all have weaknesses. Even myself."

"Yeah?" Ramsey asked. It didn't sound as though he expected an answer, but he couldn't resist asking anyway. Maybe he'd get one.

Just in case, I listened carefully. Anything we could learn about Otis Skinner could be valuable information in the future. Potentially, not even the distant future.

Skinner snorted. "I don't trust you enough to give you that information, Ferris."

They were on first name terms now? I didn't know anyone who referred to Ramsey by his first name. It was always Ramsey, Ram, or Goat. What did it mean that Skinner called him Ferris?

"You should trust me," Ramsey said. "I'm the one putting shit in place. I mess up, you're fucked."

"Don't mess up," Skinner warned. "You won't like the consequences if you screw up and we don't, somehow, end up dead."

"Don't threaten me," Ramsey said. "I might fuck up on purpose."

I couldn't see his eyes, but I imagined them narrowing with irritation. Violence burning just under the surface. Ready to lash out without notice.

"It'll be the last thing you do," Skinner said.

"I said, don't threaten me," Ramsey growled. "It'll be the last thing you do."

They definitely weren't best friends. Presumably they didn't need to be, to pull off whatever it was they planned.

If I didn't know better, I'd think they didn't like each other. Like Storm and Atlas, they were thrown together. If that was the case, who did the throwing? Was it Dominic King? If it wasn't him, then who? I'd bet a season's earnings they weren't working for the Brantley family.

At least, Otis Skinner wasn't. There was no doubt in my mind of that. The doctor gave me the creeps. I always got the impression he knew exactly what was going on right under the first layer of my skin. Not in a medical way, but in a way that saw into me, peeling those layers back and worming into places he shouldn't be.

I didn't trust him as far as I could spit. Even before Atlas said he wasn't to be trusted, I didn't.

Ramsey— I still didn't want to believe he was working against us. If he was, they could go on threatening each other as much as they wanted to. If they were the enemy and they took each other out, that would save us all a lot of hassle.

Okay, I was new to this mafia shit, but I knew it wouldn't be that easy. We couldn't just sit back and wait for the trash to take itself out. Nope, I'd have to tell Chelsea, and the other guys about this and see what we'd be ordered to do.

Was there any chance we'd be told to kill Ramsey? I shook my head and scrolled past another video. If it came to that, I'd do what was necessary, but I wouldn't like it. He was my teammate. I thought he was my friend.

Fuck. Conflict swirled around in my brain.

"Just get things in place," Skinner snapped. "We're running out of time to do this. If we don't act soon, it'll be too late. Then both our heads will be on the chopping block. Possibly literally. I'm fucked if I'm going to let that happen."

"Stop being twitchy," Ramsey told him. "They said you always keep calm."

Who were they? I screwed up my face, hoping he'd elaborate, but he didn't.

"I do," Skinner said coldly. "I'm not being twitchy, I'm being cautious. Something I've come to expect from all of the people I work with. If you can't do that, I'll ask for someone else."

Ramsey laugh-grunted. "They won't give you someone else. You have the best. Be calm."

"I'm perfectly calm," Skinner said. "If a touch impatient." He sounded like Storm, ready to talk off body parts and use them as blunt instruments.

I couldn't imagine him doing that. He seemed more contained. More likely to slide a quiet blade between someone's ribs, or something like that. Not hands-on and messy.

Footsteps moved closer to the door again.

I took a few back, eyes still on my phone screen. I hadn't really watched the last four or five videos, but the couple of people who walked past me didn't give me a second glance. None stopped to wonder what was going on inside the infirmary. They didn't so much as hesitate.

The footsteps stopped right inside the doorway.

I glanced up as Ramsey looked out, right at me.

He didn't look surprised to see me. He raised an eyebrow. "Heard enough?"

Shit.