Sin & War (San Diego Rays #1)

Prologue

Will - Fucking San Diego

Eighty-eight. Eighty-nine. Ninety.

My phone rings incessantly off to the side of my mat where I’m finishing the hundred pushups I complete every morning.

Ninety-seven. Ninety-eight.

The ringing starts again, and I grind through the final two pushups before standing up and swiping to accept my agent’s phone call.

“Jerry, this better be good; you know I don’t like to begin my day on the phone,” I tell him, slightly breathless from the exertion.

“Good morning to you too, William. I would think after nine calls, you’d realize it’s important.”

“I was finishing my workout. What’s up?” I ask as I turn the TV on mute and swipe my sports drink off my kitchen island.

“There’s no easy way to say this, Will, but you’ve been traded.”

Sputtering and coughing, I nearly choke mid-sip. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Afraid not.”

My chest squeezes in panic. “Why the fuck are you the one telling me?”

“Front office thought it’d come better from me.”

More like my father couldn’t nut up and call me himself. But why would the almighty Jameson Sinclair call his oldest son to inform him he’d traded him to a different team?

“To which team?” I growl out the question.

“San Diego,” he informs me, and my stomach drops.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? It sounded like you said San Diego, which can’t be right because they’re one of the worst teams in the league, and I’m one of the best fucking starting pitchers in the game right now.”

Jerry sighs on the other end of the line. “Will, be that as it may, you’re nearing retirement, and you of all people should know how this works.”

“Considering I’ve been with St. Louis for the past eight seasons after signing a ten-year deal, I’m not sure why I’d know how this works.

I’ve never been traded. I signed with Philly out of college and then signed with St. Louis after my rookie contract was up.

Seeing as you’re my agent, I didn’t think I needed to remind you of that,” I say like a complete asshole.

“You didn’t have a no-trade clause in your contract—”

I cut him off, shouting, “Because I didn’t think I’d fucking have to considering I signed with my own family’s team!”

“I’m sorry, Will, but what’s done is done.

” He breathes out a sigh of frustration.

“You’re to report to San Diego in two days for your first practice.

I’ve booked you a short-term rental until you find a place to get settled.

Pack what you can today, and I’ll get the movers to your place first thing in the morning. ”

“Is that all?” I ask, not waiting for him to answer before hanging up.

Slamming my phone on the counter, I run my fingers through my hair and shut my eyes.

In the back of my mind, I always knew this day would come. For whatever reason, I just thought I could finish my career playing in a city I love for a team I’ve spent nearly the past decade playing for.

Instead, I’ll be reporting to play for the San Diego Rays in two days.

Needing to clear my mind, I pick up my phone and open Instagram, only to be enraged once again. The Rays’ profile is filled with reels of the team jacking around. They won’t have a shot at making the playoffs if they don’t start taking things seriously.

Gritting my teeth, I curse my father for trading me to this godforsaken group of degenerates.