Page 13 of Renegade Ruin

I blink. Once. Twice. Three times, trying to make sense of what he just said.

“I take it by the look on your face you didn’t know. He changed his will a year ago, after the gala you held on New Year’s. Something about you coming into your own. He believed you would be the best person to grow the Renegades ifsomething were to happen to him. I didn’t know he’d changed the will until the news broke after the crash. Otherwise, I would have tried to change his mind.”

“He…” I struggle to find my voice. “No one told me.”

Vaughn scoffs, his lips twisted in disgust. “Why would they?”

“I just…I’m sorry, Vaughn. I didn’t know.” The last thing I should be doing is apologizing to this man. He’s been a pain in my ass since the moment I took over, but that doesn’t negate that he lost something he held dear. If there’s anyone who understands losing the future you planned, it’s me.

“Are you—” A sardonic laugh fills the space between us, undermining my sincerity. “You’re sorry. Geez, Willow, you’re even softer than your father. You don’t need to apologize to me. You need to figure out how to not suffer from the same delusional affliction as your father and stop acting like the pampered princess he raised you to be. If you don't, there won’t be a team left to run.”

My jaw clenches as rage floods my veins. “It’s not a weakness to help people.”

“No, but at what expense? As it is, you've already tethered us to a manager who will have to do everything to prove he’s not cheating our way to the top. Now there’s this shit with Lawson.”

Grinding my molars, I try my best to keep calm. “Graham was acquitted of all charges.”

“But his name has never been the same since. He’ll always be associated with throwing a World Series game.”

I hate that he’s right. My godfather didn’t participate in the sign stealing, but he knew about it and said nothing. Still, hiring him is something I will defend till my dying breath. It’s what my father would have done. He would always say this team is more than rumors and statistics—it’s the fire inside each player. Another sentiment I’m sure Vaughn hates. Graham might not have a clean record in the MLB, but in his coaching career atmany of the nation’s top colleges he’s shown he has the ability to inspire his players. Which was backed up when I called each of them, along with his previous teammates, in order to vet him.

My gut, along with their glowing reviews, tells me we need him. It also doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. At least off the diamond. Once he steps through the doors of the clubhouse, he’s ruthless. Which is also something this team will need.

Just like we need Bishop. He’s the heart of the Renegades—he always has been—even if he doesn’t want to be just yet.

“I can see you wanting to deny it. If only you had that passion for the things that actually mattered.” Vaughn shakes his head and runs his stubby fingers through his thin gray hair. “As I said. One more fuck up and he’s gone.”

Vaughn tips back his glass and downs the rest of its contents before walking over and setting the dirty glass on the center of my father’s desk.

My desk.

“I’ll keep Bishop in line,” I vow.

Vaughn's laugh shreds my promise. “It’s no sweat off my back if you don’t.”

He turns around and makes a swift exit, leaving me with a weight on my chest. My heart thunders against my rib cage, sharp pricks burning my eyes as I blink back the tears that always seem to pool, but I never allow to fall. Not since that day at the courthouse.

This isn’t how I imagined my life.

I should be running my foundation, making a difference in the lives of children who have lost one or both parents, not grieving the loss of my own. I should be gearing up for spring classes at the new center in the Bronx and planning my trip to spring training to spend my birthday with Dad at the beach house. Summer would come and I’d split my time between thecity and Camp Renegade Hearts upstate, because even though I’m the president and CEO of the foundation, I live to see the smiles on the faces of our campers. It’s the only time I get to spend with my best friends, Indie and Leigh, completely uninterrupted.

Instead, I’m standing here, the epitome of fake it till you make it, wondering how the hell I’m not only going to eat, sleep, and breathe baseball for the next ten months, but also keep Bishop from ruining what he has left of his career. Especially with Vaughn breathing down both our necks.

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts and Graham pokes his head in.

“You got a minute?”

I swallow hard and nod. Picking up a pen from my desk, I twirl it absentmindedly in an attempt to convince both Graham and myself I’m not dangling on the edge of a cliff.

“You doing okay? I saw Vaughn as I was walking up the hallway.He looked a little too smug for my liking.”

“I’m hanging in there.” I offer him a weak smile, to which Graham rewards with a pointed look as he crosses my office and plops down in one of the winged back chairs my father favored.

Nothing gets by him.

“He’s out for blood over Bishop.”

My godfather cocks a brow, and his lips twist into a mischievous smile. “Do I want to know why you are going to these lengths for Lawson? He might be the best damn catcher in this league, but we both know this is more than any other owner would do.”

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