How to Prevent a Fumble (Baltimore Cobras #2)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

LEO

I ’ve learned over the last couple of months that when you think you’ve hit rock bottom, it can always get worse.

“How often are people fired by their publicists?” Owen asks, frowning at his phone.

“Often enough, I’m sure. I’m definitely not the first.”

Emmett glances at me from the corner of his eye before going back to the game in front of him. Every once in awhile he gets a babysitter so he can come over and play games on my couch. Something about not wanting these types of games around his kid. Reasonable. But while he’s here to relax, Owen is here to chew me out.

“Tell the truth. How bad is it?” Owen pushes.

I sigh, throwing myself back against the couch with a grunt. It’s not that bad, right? I’m just left without a publicist. I’m Leo Warner. I just won a Super Bowl last season. I have five brand deals coming up. I can get another one in three seconds flat.

If you pay enough money, anyone will do anything.

“Doesn’t sound promising,” my best friend cringes. Owen has been my guy since we started on the team together. The best wide receiver in the league after last year, we’re the dream team.

But there’s the slight inconvenience that is him fucking my sister.

I’m slowly getting over it.

I swear I am.

“It’ll be fine.”

I’m not so sure about that.

“You were seen leaving a hotel room with strippers, Leo.”

I hold up a finger. “I was not leaving a hotel room with strippers, I was leaving it separately. I had nothing to do with why the strippers were there.”

Owen rolls his eyes, tossing his phone on the soft material next to him and grabbing his pizza—that he brought himself—from the coffee table in front of us. I get my pizza from a place down the road, and for whatever reason none of my friends like it, especially not Owen.

Athletes are allowed to eat pizza, but we should probably start thinking about how much it’ll hurt in training camp.

“I think you need to figure your shit out, man. I love you, you know that, but this isn’t looking good.”

And it’s not. I know that. The Cobras have strict rules, and if any of us step out of line it could mean some serious shit.

Let’s be honest, I’m not made for serious shit.

“I told you. I think it’ll be fine. I guess I just don’t understand why it matters who I was with and why.” Most of the men on the team have made questionable decisions. As long as no one was hurt, it’s usually okay. On the rare occasion that one of the men steps out of line with a woman, I’m quick to put them in their place.

But here’s my two best friends putting me in my place.

All I did was go to a party.

…and left with strippers.

But in my defense, I showed them to their cars. That was all. Honest .

“What did they tell you when they said they’re no longer working with you?” Emmett asks.

I roll my eyes. “They said I’m really sorry Leo, but there’s a point where we cannot continue with clients, and this was that breaking point for us.”

Owen smirks. “You realize that it has to be bad for them to drop you, right? Like I’m pretty sure there've been some murderers who had their PR firms stand by them through trial.”

I scowl at him, stretching my legs out in front of me, trying to ease the burn. I had run a little too far the other day out of frustration and forgot that meant I had to run back. My trainer was not pleased with me when I called to let him know.

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” I mumble, sinking into my seat. “You guys want to go to the bar?”

Owen and Emmett share a look I can’t quite place, and Owen picks up his phone. It reminds me that we have to talk about official figures soon. He’s decided he wants to buy my sister’s place next door from me. Although I’ve been on my best behavior when it comes to not storming in on them, he thinks that it’ll be good for them. But I think he just doesn’t want to owe me rent.

I may charge my sister barely anything, but I know what that asshole makes.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Owen says, typing out a text.

“Why?”

“Leo you’ve gotten in trouble every single time you’ve gone out since the Super Bowl. I don’t understand how you don’t think something is wrong.”

Fine.

Feeling particularly bitchy, I get up with a groan, collecting our plates before heading to the kitchen .

A knock at the door has me looking at the guys, trying to figure out who we’re expecting.

“I think Isla was going to stop by on her way home from her showing,” Owen says, turning toward me from his place on the couch.

Emmett pauses his game, curious as well. He’s a man of little words. I should learn a thing or two from him.

“Come in!” I yell. If it’s my sister, she has a key.

But it’s not my sister.

And I should have known.

“Leo. Warner. Why the fuck am I getting a call from your PR agency telling me they need you to sign some paperwork?”

The second her voice thunders through my place, I know I’m fucked.

Owen’s entire body freezes, his shoulders back as his head lifts slowly, his eyes narrowed.

“Are you going to answer me?” she asks, finally entering the room.

The small blonde has her hand on her hip, her phone in her other hand waving around in my face.

“Uhh,” I say sheepishly, wincing as my gaze flickers to Owen.

Briar Crosby freezes. Her eyes wide, her head turns to meet her brother’s.

Her brother, my best friend.

Her brother, who had no idea I had hired her as my assistant.

Her brother, who’s looking at me like he wants to pummel me into the ground.

I think he needs to get in line.