12. TATE
TATE
I’m not into this practice at all. Thank fuck for assistant coaches and McKinnon—they can do my job for me.
It’s the least they can do. McKinnon and his little friend were acting up over the weekend, drama I had to deal with, and my assistant coaches missed the games because of the flu. A break for Tate is warranted.
I need to stop thinking about Ryan, but I can’t stop thinking about Ryan.
I put two and two together. He’s afraid of his father, and he won’t tell me why.
I don’t need to know. I’m fine to torture it out of his father instead.
Torture’s my number one choice, but murdering Henry Savage isn’t off the table if it becomes necessary.
Not sure how Ryan would feel about that, but if I can’t come up with a better solution, he’ll be worm food.
Although I have to admit, killing a guy like Henry would be a waste.
Finding the right leverage would be optimal.
Then he can be controlled, and I can open a door to the elite that was inaccessible before. It’s what Uncle Jasper would have done.
Anyway—options!
I was distracted by that and weeks of careful planning to come up with what I did to either get Ryan—and his brother—to Shadowridge with me or get me into North Point.
If only he’d marry me, things would be so much easier.
The commissioner loved my ideas. I could see the thoughts of nominating me as the next commissioner in his sapphire blue eyes.
But all of that was soured by fundraising for Shadowridge.
After I fucked Ryan into oblivion, I caught up with James for a few words.
He asked about our money-raising efforts, and lying wasn’t an option.
I sugarcoated things as much as I could, but the fundraising … it needs work. James didn’t like that.
I blow the whistle several times, signaling the end of practice. I spend the morning working in my office, get a workout in, and Luke drops by my office.
“Update me on the Ryan situation,” he said.
I never should have mentioned Ryan, but that was back when he was a solution to a problem I was sure about. I can hear Uncle Jasper’s voice, chastising me, taunting me for arrogance—the fucking hypocrite. But in this case, he’d be right.
“Ryan wants to switch schools,” I told him, “his father won’t let him. It was all a waste, no funding,” I added.
Lies that are a mix of the truth and complete fiction. The best way to tell a believable lie. They roll off my tongue like liquid silk. It’s part of what I’ve had to do, and I always do what I have to do to protect him from the truth, no regrets.
“Maybe it wouldn’t be a waste. Maybe there are other reasons you want him here.”
“There are no other reasons,” I snapped too quickly.
You can tell as many lies as you want, Tate, but they’re useless if your body language gives you away. Uncle Jasper’s voice again. I’m hearing way too fucking much of that old corpse. But, again, correct. Luke definitely suspects I’m at least more into Ryan than I am.
I mean, the wiping the tears away thing was fucked up.
And, well, I guess I overreact a bit when people get near him. Me fucking him after that boardroom meeting wasn’t just because I wanted him. Everyone was around him, near him, shaking his hand. God, it drove me fucking insane. I wanted to break something. Bones. All their bones.
I laugh thinking about it. They would have deserved it. But I settled for marking Ryan with my cum like a civilized human.
Thankfully, Luke was easily distracted with talk of his precious McKinnon, and in true younger brother fashion, I pissed him off. It had to be done. It was a verbal bite—don’t bring up Ryan. But he’s my protective older brother, so that will only keep him at bay for so long.
I was glad to be in my shitty little car, driving my way off campus.
It’s my “college coach” car. The one I use so people don’t know how much money I have.
I make a pit stop at my condo to grab my Lamborghini, and then I blast that Taylor Swift song—you know the one, that Elizabeth Taylor song?
—total bop—all the way to the brewery. There isn’t a game tonight, but now that the college season’s on, I can’t attend most of them, relying on Ethan and my other staff to make sure everything runs smoothly.
The parking lot’s nearly empty, so I park on an angle and head inside. I only have heavy security around for game nights, so there’s no one there to greet me. It’s not until I reach the main part of the lounge area, where we sometimes serve drinks, that I hear anything.
“Oh, yeah. Right there. Right. Fucking. There,” Ethan’s voice rings out from somewhere in the back.
He’s getting fucked by my only security guard manning the place, isn’t he? Yep. It’s the same one who took Ethan to his room a few weeks back. Jane is gonna bust the guard’s balls. Ethan’s a power bottom. Such a big man, doing everything Ethan says.
“Oh, hey, boss,” Ethan moans. He’s bent over a table, his pants only low enough to expose his ass and his hard dick hanging under the table.
“Meet me in my office.” I keep walking, expecting my orders to be obeyed.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in five.” There are slapping sounds. “Don’t you dare fucking stop. Finish me off, Jones. Hand on my cock, now.”
When Ethan joins me, his suit is put back to rights, his demure attitude settled onto his face. Only his hair gives away his earlier activities.
“Apologies. We weren’t expecting you,” Ethan says, taking a seat, leaning back.
“Clearly. Is this what you do between running numbers and designing brochures with the fancy software you bought yourself with my money?”
“Yes,” he says, unapologetic. “Why are you here on a Wednesday afternoon? If it’s because of that hockey hottie, I’ll scream.”
“I’m not here because of Ryan.”
“You’re not not here because of Ryan.”
“Okay, fine. It’s because of Ryan.” I don’t feel as powerful at Shadowridge as I do behind this desk. “I need your help arranging my schedule so I can be at North Point as often as possible.”
I’ll have to run personal audits at other colleges to make it seem like I’m not biased, but I’m biased. Sue me.
“I knew that was coming based on our conversations. I took the liberty of doing a mock-up schedule for you. Now, can I go back to fucking that stallion?”
“In a minute. Your schedule will be changing as well.”
“Tate,” he groans.
“I pay you to do what I tell you to do—no complaining.”
“I don’t recall signing anything that says no complaining. I wouldn’t do that.”
We spend the next hour sorting through both our schedules. It’s easy for me to travel to most of the Pacific Conference colleges, except for a couple. Ethan will conduct my audits in those schools.
“Now, can I go?” he half demands. “I haven’t eaten, Tate. If you won’t let me fuck, let me eat.”
Well, now I just want to fuck with him. “You know, I could go for some good—”
My phone goes off with a text. It’s the tone I have set for Ryan.
“Oh, brother. You have it bad, Tate. It’s disgusting.”
“Just for that, you get to stay right here until I release you.” I delight in his whines as I read the text from my man—no, my boyfriend. What would Ryan say if I called him that? I’d probably get that beautiful look of fury.
It’s nothing but a location. My blood freezes, prickling with darkness. Is he in trouble? Who would fucking dare?
“Tate? You’re growling.”
“I need Pearl and a few other items.”
He squints. “What are you—”
“Now.”
Worry creases his brow. Ethan pushes away from the leather couch, his dress shoes slapping over the brewery floor.
It’s dark, shadows moving through the trees between the scant bits of moonlight.
I drag and then stuff my heavy cargo into the back seat.
Mulch and moss squelch under my boots. I toss Pearl, my exquisite Sig Sauer with the opal handle, onto the passenger seat and put my car in gear, pulling out of obscurity.
When I make it onto the highway, I make a call.
Ryan picks up after the first ring. I put him on speakerphone. “What are you doing calling me?” he whisper yells.
“Are you okay?” There’s a pause—way too fucking long of a pause if you ask me. “Don’t even think about lying to me, dollface. I’ll come get you. They’ll never fucking find us.”
He breathes, heavy. “Okay. Okay. Would you just … fuck.” Whatever he’s about to tell me, he really doesn’t want to tell me. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on myself, but Father took me for dinner at the location I sent you. Home of Gregory Kline—someone my father went to North Point with.”
I glance into the rearview, checking on my cargo. It lolls to the right and then left on the verge of unconsciousness.
“Father set up a whole marriage situation. A family merger. Me to Kline.”
“Not fucking happening.”
“Not if I can help it,” he says.
“I promise you, baby. It’s not happening.”
“Ugh, don’t call me …” He huffs a sigh. “Anyway, look, I didn’t want to. I told him no. Wait, is that … Taylor Swift?”
“This song is a bop, tell me it’s not.”
“Anyway, he thinks I’m helping him father a hockey team roster and taking on the role of stepdad to his current Kline spawn.”
My hand slips on the wheel. The car swerves. A muffled cry screams from the backseat.
“What did he do to you?”
“He kissed me. Look, he made me, Tate. His guards had guns.”
Not anymore, they don’t. I smile.
“I was afraid he wasn’t gonna let me leave.” I can hear the lip wobble. Ryan was scared. That’s unforgivable.
“So, you messaged me to get you. That’s good, dollface. It was the right thing to do.”
“A lot of fucking good that did. You left me on read for hours, asshole.”
“This was my first opportunity to call you.” I wasn’t sure what I was walking into.
I didn’t want to chance calling him on the way in case that got him into trouble.
For a few miles, there’s silence as my stomach churns.
Huh, stomach churning, not a feeling I’m used to.
I work with cold precision. Any gut feelings I have are akin to those of a wild animal on a hunt.
Not worry.
What else might Kline have done to my pretty doll if he’d had the chance?
“A-Are you mad at me? For letting him kiss me?” There’s an odd kind of terror in his voice, making it come out as a husky tremor.
I’m mad enough to rip Kline’s lips off. “Not at you,” I settle on. There’s a creak as my hands clench around the steering wheel. Blood drips into my eyes from the seeping gash on my skull. I wipe it away.
“Where are you now?”
“At North Point. Tate, you don’t sound … is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine. No one’s gonna touch you like that ever again.”
“I told him I had a boyfriend—that really pissed him off.”
Wow. I think my heart just skipped a beat. So that’s what that feels like. I thought people were making that shit up. “I told the dean I had a boyfriend when I decided you were mine, dollface.”
My tongue darts out, licking my lips, and a copper tang washes over my taste buds.
Ryan laughs, and it’s like warm light. “Of course you did, you fucking psychopath.”
“We’re boyfriends now. No taksies backsies.” I imagine him blushing on the other end.
“And what if I try?” he murmurs, voice dropping just enough to be intentional. Like he already knows I won’t let him.
Is he flirting with me? I think he’s flirting with me. And my heart’s aflutter. That’s a first. Look at all these firsts. I can’t believe I missed out on all of this as a teenager. But I see the appeal. So long as it’s contained, I could really get into this romance stuff.
I laugh like the devil I am. “Hunting you down would be fun, dollface. You’re mine now; there is no leaving me.”
His breath shudders. This is turning him on.
“Marry me,” I demand.
“Over the phone, really?”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed—I know shit about romance, baby. But the next time I see you, I’ll make sure you can see Heaven from the peak of your orgasm.”
Muffled words groan from the backseat. I pick up Pearl, crank my arm into the backseat, and use the butt. There’s a crack and then a half-choked, half-strangled noise.
“Why? Tell me why you need to get married.”
“That wasn’t the deal.” I’m not opposed to telling him about the will, but it opens the whole Uncle Jasper can of worms that will fly wildly out of control. That can’t happen. Once the control is gone … well, let’s not go there.
“Then no. I want to know, or you can fuck off, VanCourt.”
“You little fucking brat.” Something like laughter rises from the backseat as I pull off the highway. I go still, taking a measured breath and then another. My jaw tightens. How long would it take to drive to North Point just to put my future husband in his place?
“I want to know who I’d be spending the rest of my life with. That’s a normal request.”
I’m far from normal, and it’s exactly what I don’t want—a spouse knowing every fucking thing about me. Because that’s what he’s really asking for.
“Who you will be spending the rest of your life with, baby.”
“Not your baby, Tate.”
“Debatable. Anyway, dollface, I’ll be tied up for the next little bit. You’d better fucking behave yourself and make a decision. I’m tired of waiting.”
“Fine, you need a decision? It’s no. I’m not fucking marrying you. I don’t need you. Stay away from me, asshole.”
He hangs up. Was it something I said? There’s more constrained laughter from the backseat as I pull into the brewery. As soon as I’m parked, I grab Pearl again. Now he’s sorry, begging me like the coward he is through the gag.
“Stop.” Crack. “Running.” Crack. “Your annoying fucking mouth.” Crack.
More blood weeps from his forehead. His head slumps, and now I’m annoyed because I wanted to talk to him, but he’s out cold.
“Maybe Ryan does need a little romance,” I say to him anyway.
“Any ideas? No?” He doesn’t respond, but he’s still breathing.
Maybe not for long, though. Haven’t decided.
But back to more important problems. Uncle Jasper wasn’t the romantic type.
Luke might be able to come up with something, but I’d rather involve Luke in my Ryan business as little as possible.
Our father—mine and Luke’s—he was romantic. What would he have done?
I pick up my phone and dial Ethan. “Tell whoever’s fucking you to get his dick out of your ass. I brought you a present.”