Page 87 of Wicked Player

Career ending, dream-crushing bad. I blew out a breath and reached for my purse. “Thanks, but I think I’ll just head home and wallow.”

“Okay. But if you need me, call me. I can always come to you.” She wrapped her arms around me. I barely had the strength to lift mine and return it. “Love you, honey. It’ll be okay.”

I wished.

I said my goodbyes and left the station. Whispers and curious glances followed me. I kept my head down and ignored them all and it wasn’t until I was safely tucked into my car in the parking lot where I dared to look at my phone again.

I wasn’t surprised to have more messages. More from Gage.

PR just got emails,Elizabeth. Call me back.

You okay? I’m sorry, damn it.

Call me.

But two were alsofrom Connor.

This wasn’t me.We need to talk.

Fuck! I can explain. Call me ASAP.

I sent Gage a text back.We’ll talk later.And dropped the phone into my purse. I had no strength to deal with this. Not now.

Not when I knew better and should have handled everything differently.

And as for Connor? He could take a long leap off a short pier because there was no way I was giving him the time of day.

Twenty-Nine

Gage

I stabbed the decline button on my phone for the millionth time since our Public Relations rep rushed into the workout room, a printout of emails in her hand earlier. As soon as I saw the blood drain from her face, quickly followed by a hot pink on her cheeks, I clutched the papers in my hand without looking at them.

She didn’t have to tell me.

Photos had been released. This was an epic fuck-up and it took me twenty seconds to debate who to go after first: Elizabeth or Connor.

Fucking shithead. He was worse than a pesky mosquito you couldn’t kill.

Coach Pomville reamed my ass in the workout room in front of the whole team. Since then, my phone blew up. Karen from the hospital had called, almost screeching her fears into my phone. Which sounded much more shrill coming through my SUV’s Bluetooth speakers when I was listening to voicemails. My agent Patrick wouldn’t stop calling and I’d handle all of it. I’d already texted Patrick. We’d talk, but my career wasn’t my priority.

Elizabeth was.

Lizzie likes kink.Because of course who did this would make it about her, and not me. My hands gripped my steering wheel tighter as I turned into her apartment building. If shit was bad for me, it was worse for her and we knew the risks of this. But how could I have been stupid enough to forget them? I was the one who’d approach her in the public room at Velvet. I was the one who revealed who I was. I was the one who kissed her like she was my next breath outside where any asshole could see.

I should have gone to the Rough Riders’ PR team as soon as I knew Connor had those photos. They could have at least been prepared for this to happen. But I’d trusted him when he said he wouldn’t do anything. The man must not like his balls as much I assumed he did.

Revenge was the only thing keeping me sane, which was fucked up in itself. But for the last three hours, I’d had plenty of time to plan on how to get even with that asshole while Elizabeth continued ignoring every one of my texts after she sent a reply of “we’ll talk later,” that told me nothing.

I called the station, smart enough to remember her friend Amanda’s name and asked for her directly. She’d told me everything she knew. Elizabeth was sent home, suspended indefinitely. Which meant she had to be at home.

But her car wasn’t anywhere in the parking lot as I yanked the Navigator into the visitor spot. I took the stairs to her place three at a time, breathless as I reached her door and pounded on it repeatedly. There was no answer so I yanked out my phone and called her.

“Hello, you’ve reached Elizabeth—”

I hit the End button on my phone and rested my head against the door. She wasn’t home.

Where would she be?

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