Chapter 6 #2
"Smart choice," the man said, pressing a button that raised the partition between us and the driver. "I have recently developed a keen interest in ice hockey.”
“Good for you,” I replied, sounding bored. "What do you want?"
"Direct. I like that." He poured himself a scotch from the car's bar, not offering me any. "We understand you are friendly with a certain up-and-coming hockey star."
"Not any longer," I muttered bleakly.
His smile was razor-thin. "His father would prefer he focus on his career rather than playing savior to every damaged creature he encounters."
The casual cruelty in his voice made my stomach churn. "So what, you're here to threaten me? Tell me to stay away from him?"
"On the contrary." He sipped his scotch, studying me over the rim. "I said his father believes that. The people I represent, however, think a singular focus would improve his attention, so I'm here to offer you a job."
I laughed, the sound bitter even to my own ears. "A job? Doing what?"
"Exactly what you were already doing. Getting close to Cole. Earning his trust." His eyes glittered with malice. "But with one key difference—you'll be reporting everything back to me."
I stared at him, trying to process what he was suggesting through the fog of pain and exhaustion. "You want me to spy on Cole? For his father?"
"'Spy' is such an unpleasant word, and Cole’s father isn’t my concern. I would call it 'maintaining awareness of his activities.'" He swirled his scotch. "My associates are deeply invested in his career. Cole's judgment can be...compromised at times."
"And what exactly would I be looking for?"
"Anything that might damage his reputation. Drinking. Drugs. Inappropriate relationships." His gaze lingered meaningfully on my face. "Your job would be to alert us before Cole does something foolish."
“But doesn’t that include me?”
“No.”
My stomach churned with disgust. "And if I say no?"
"Then young Mr. Manning loses his job at the Avalon. His girlfriend loses her position at the daycare center. Their apartment becomes suddenly unavailable." His smile never reached his eyes. "And that's just the beginning."
"You'd destroy their lives over this?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
"Cole is a significant investment to the team." He pulled an envelope from his jacket. "Five thousand dollars now. Another five thousand each month you provide useful information."
I stared at the envelope. Five thousand dollars would get me an apartment, food. Ten meant I could help Ricky with his bills. I could stop being hungry all the time.
"What happens to Cole if I do this?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged. "Cole remains the star hockey player with a bright future ahead of him."
I thought about Cole's face when his father had appeared at the celebration. The resignation. The quiet anger. The way he'd seemed to fold in on himself, becoming smaller somehow, despite his physical size. “You’re working for his father,” I said.
“I work for a group of investors who want this team to succeed.” Which wasn’t a no, but it wasn’t a direct answer either.
His voice hardened. "You have quite the interesting history, Phoenix.
Foster care. Petty theft. That unfortunate incident at your last job.
I wonder what Cole would think if he knew everything about you? "
I almost laughed. "Cole already knows the worst of me."
"Does he? Does he know about the fire at your last foster home? The one that nearly killed the family's biological son?"
My blood froze. "That wasn't—"
"I know it wasn't your fault. But would Cole believe that? Would the police, if someone were to anonymously suggest they reopen the case?” The words hit me like a physical blow.
I hadn't heard anyone mention that fire in five years—hadn't let myself think about it in almost as long.
The foster family's son, Gavin, had been in a coma for three weeks.
I'd been blamed initially, cleared later when the real cause was found to be faulty wiring.
But the damage was done. Another foster placement burned to the ground, literally this time.
“You bastard," I whispered.
His smile widened. "I prefer thorough. So, what will it be, Phoenix? A comfortable arrangement that benefits everyone, or shall I make some phone calls?"
I stared at the envelope in his manicured hands, my vision blurring with rage and despair. Five thousand dollars. More money than I'd seen in years. Enough to change everything—for me, for Ricky, for his baby who couldn't breathe properly in that moldy apartment.
All I had to do was destroy the only person who'd looked at me and seen something worth saving.
"I want a better apartment for them."
His lips twitched into almost a smile. "Done."
I sighed. That had been my get-out. "What exactly would you want to know?" The words tasted like ash.
"Who he spends time with. Any changes in behavior, mood, habits.
" He leaned forward slightly. “Particularly anything that might suggest he's developed.
..unsuitable attachments." The implication was clear.
Cole's sexuality was a weapon his father wanted to wield, and I was being recruited as the one to forge it.
"And how exactly am I supposed to get close to him again? I just walked out of his apartment an hour ago."
"I'm sure you'll think of something. You managed to get into his bed once before.
" The casual cruelty in his voice made me want to vomit.
"Young men like Cole are remarkably predictable.
They want to be heroes, to save people. Give him another chance to rescue you.
While he focuses on you, he won't be looking for anyone else.
I'm sure you're aware how closeted the NHL is.
You have a cover story and his agent will cover for you. His next save might not have."
My hands shook as I reached for the envelope. The paper was thick, expensive—like everything else in Edward Armstrong-Wells's world, I didn’t believe for one second Wells had nothing to do with this. Inside, I could see the neat stack of hundreds.
"How do I contact you?" I heard myself ask.
The man handed me a business card with nothing but a phone number printed on it. "Text that number once a week. More often if there's something urgent."
"I don't have a phone."
He huffed but leaned forward and withdrew one from a panel in the door. Who did that? It was like some bad mafia skit. "Pre-paid and loaded with my number."
The limousine slowed to a stop. Through the tinted window, I could see we were back near Cole's building. "This is your stop," he said, pressing a button to unlock the door. "I trust you'll make the right choice, Phoenix. For everyone's sake."
I climbed out of the car, the envelope burning in my jacket pocket like stolen fire.
The limousine pulled away without another word, leaving me standing on the sidewalk with the weight of what I'd just agreed to pressing down on my chest like concrete.I looked up at the gleaming tower where Cole lived, where I'd spent four days feeling safer than I had in years.
Where I'd left a note saying he was right about me.
Looked like he was.