Page 3 of Renegade Rift

My thoughts halt, and I realize I’m doing it again.

Letting myself spiral.

I shake my head and take another sip of my drink.

“Look at you go,” Paige croons, playfully. “Pulling yourself out of that spiral all on your own.”

The pulse hammering in my throat lessens as surprise warms my chest.

She’s right. I did.

Maybe I can do this.

Forcing myself to press forward, I offer her a weak smile. “Do you really think the guys on the Renegades won’t know who I am?”

The last thing I need is someone recognizing me and trying to get involved. I wouldn’t wish Manhattan’s seediest underground upon my worst enemies. As it is, I hate Paige knows anything about the situation and live in constant fear they are going to rope her in if I fail.

My best friend reaches out and takes my hand, giving me strength. “I think you’re going to walk into that building and blow them away with your good looks and sparkling personality. It won’t matter if they recognize you, because you aren’t that woman anymore.”

I give her hand a squeeze in silent thanks. This wasn’t the pep talk I expected, but it’s what I needed. One of Paige’s many gifts.

“And given that you’re cleaning four apartments outside of normal business hours,” she continues, “you’ll be three thousand dollars closer to paying off Slimy Saul.”

“Ugh.” I grunt, my nose crinkling at the mention of the bookie who has a choke hold on my life. How Tyler ever got into bed with him, I’ll never know, but I’ll be happy when I no longer have to deal with him or his henchmen. “But you’re right. It’s a new team and no one there knows who I am. This is just another job, and I shouldn’t treat it any different.”

Plus, if I’m honest, there’s a small part of me that enjoys the work. Having a clean space makes people happy and as a perpetual people pleaser, that makes me happy too. Sure, I’d rather clean with my clothes on, but even though there are parts of me that believe I’m wrong for it, I can’t deny there’s something empowering about doing mundane tasks half naked while someone watches—curiously, longingly, maybe even appreciatively.

God knows my husband—ex-husband—didn’t look at me that way. Maybe once upon a time, but definitely not after he made it into the big leagues. He had women in every city to bestow that honor upon.

And yet you still loved me. You still stayed with me because you knew you couldn’t find anything better.

The words echo in my mind, and despite the smile on my face, I feel like I’m drowning in piles of self-loathing and regret.

“That’s the spirit.” Paige pulls her hand back and jumps to her feet. Before I can say another word, she’s at the clothing rack in the corner that holds all my frilly little work outfits. “Now, let’s decide what you’re going to wear.”

She fingers through the silk and lace like they’re from a high-end boutique and not hand-me-downs from other girls at Bare Necessities.

She stops at a classic, high-waisted French maid skirt. It’s over the top with a frilly petticoat underskirt and a matching garter set. “I’m thinking since they said it’s supposed to be a playful joke for the messy guy on the team, you should definitely go with this one. It compliments your skin and makes your boobs look amazing.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. We both know what I wear isn’t for them. It’s for me.The epitome of fake it till you make it.

Never in a million years did I expect I’d be heading back to the first place I called home in New York. The place I attribute to the downfall of my marriage.

Yet somehow it feels poetic. Almost like it’s the closure I didn’t know I needed. One more middle finger to the life I desperately want to leave behind.

Tyler was always so worried I’d do or say the wrong thing in front of his teammates.

It really is karmic justice, that in order to fix his mess, I’ll be getting naked for them.

CHAPTER TWO

FORD

There’s no reason to be this excited at five in the fucking morning.

But standing at my door are my teammates, Carson, Smitty and Espinoza, wide-eyed like kids on Christmas morning, waiting for their parents to tell them it’s okay to go downstairs and rip into their presents.

Except it’s a random Thursday in May.

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