Page 14 of Bastard

After our on-field celebration we were escorted up to a private suite where Hazel and Yara were waiting for us. Eve, the Director of Fan Experience, popped in and out, personally making sure Sam was happy. But the only thing making Sam unhappy was Hazel, and the only thing making Hazel unhappy was me.

Okay, it was an oversimplification of the situation, but it was close enough.

For the first four innings we sat in the seats watching the game, rather than socialize in the suite. They had our favorite beer and bourbon, plus all our favorite foods. Sam’s doing I was sure.

I held up my bowl of buffalo chicken dip. “This is the most extravagant gift I’ve ever been given.”

Sam pressed her knee against mine. “What’s the point of being rich if I’m exhausted and stressed out all the time? I figured it was a quiet week, might as well take advantage.” She looked back out at the field, her eyes darting around as the Mantas took the field at the top of the fifth.

She looked the part. Mantas hat and shirt, sexy as fuck jeans that made her ass look fantastic, and comfortable white shoes, but the last time I checked Sam didn’t care about baseball. “Do you have any idea what’s going on?”

Even though she didn’t look at me I knew her eyes were sparkling. I could partially tell by the way they pinched at the corners. “Well, we’re winning. We have three runs and they only have two.”

“Samantha Rossi. You used the right word.” I instantly felt a twinge at using her old name but didn’t dwell on it. I knew she didn’t care. Not really. Besides, she would always be Samantha Rossi to me.

“Yes, because in baseball we use the word runs not points.”

I set the bowl aside and leaned closer like I was whispering in her ear even though what I was really doing was getting closer and touching her leg. “Say more sexy things.”

“Last inning, Wes Allen threw out that guy trying to steal second.”

It was so hot that she knew any of these words, let alone what they might mean. “I guess all that tutoring I did on base running really helped.”

Sam laughed and the sound hit me right in the chest. “Well, I mean, we can continue to work on our bases. I don’t have everything down just yet. Like, what is a shortstop? I kind of get it. I think.”

I gave her leg a light squeeze, wishing we were alone. “You could think of it as dry humping since it’s between second and third, however the shortstop is one of the most valuable members of the infield. A lot of ground balls get hit to them. They also help cover second and third depending on where the play is at. I like to think of the shortstop as the vibrator.” My heart beat a little faster and my dick got a little harder as she blushed and her breath stuttered.

“Well then.” She shook her head and swallowed hard. “I don’t believe we’ve ever discussed how the outfielders fit into this scenario.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you,” Eve stood politely behind us, looking away, “but I need to steal you for a minute, Samantha.”

Sam gave me a wink and a squeeze. “Meet me inside in a few minutes?”

Code: come kiss me away from prying eyes after I’m done being important. “I’ll be there.”

The minute she was gone, Hazel took her place. “Hey asshole.”

At least she was speaking to me. “How are you, Hazel?”

“I have never been more confused in my entire life.”

“It seems to be going around.” Hell, did any of us have our feet on the ground anymore?

She came to me, which meant she was here to say something. Whatever it was, I was ready. So I waited for her to decide how and when to say it while we stared at the routine inning playing out below us. Three up, three down. One strikeout, two soft ground balls for outs at first. The Mantas ran off the field and Boston replaced them to warm up.

“Do you believe in right and wrong?”

It was such a basic question. And the answer should be simple, but it wasn’t. “Yes.”

She twisted to face me. “Then why do you do bad things?” A fire ignited in her eyes. I knew that look. She was here to fight, except with words instead of the fists I was more used to.

“Because right and wrong are not the same as good and bad.”

She blinked, narrowed her eyes. “Explain.”

It was the philosophy I lived my life by. I had to. It was the only thing that made the world make sense enough that I didn’t lose my mind. “Every situation is different. Every situation has a dozen things that led to it and a dozen more that will come from it. Doing the rightest thing hopefully leads to the least bad consequences. Doing the goodest thing might not.” Her eyes kept narrowing, but she followed along, so I kept going. “If I’m cornered by a group of very bad men, the good thing would be to let them kill me, right? Because if I hurt them, that’s bad. If I kill them, that’s bad. So being good means I have to die. And bad men get to walk around doing more bad things. The right thing, however, would be to fight back. Whatever it takes to not just survive but to stop them from hurting someone else.”

“And you’re the judge, jury, and executioner?”

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