Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
The bright light of the noon sun illuminates the exit doors ahead and I can see two charter buses idling at the curb, ready to take us to our hotel. Rafferty and I step outside together and we’re immediately mobbed by a crowd of reporters.
At first, I think nothing of it. Probably a gaggle of local sports journalists wanting twenty seconds of airtime for tonight’s six o’clock news, but then I hear someone yell, “What about the allegations, Rafferty? Are you using performance-enhancing drugs?”
My head whips to the left, staring at Rafferty in shock. His expression turns white, eyes wide with confusion. “What? No!”
We’re surrounded by people, questions coming from all directions and recorders being stuck right in Rafferty’s face.
“What the fuck?” I growl, pushing in protectively to stand at his side. I glare at the reporters.
“Rafferty.” A man wearing a heavy black jacket to ward against the cold steps forward and holds up a photograph, but I can’t quite tell what it is. “What do you say about the photos showing you buying PEDs?”
Another question rings out from the back of the crowd. “And what about the lab reports showing positive results of drugs in your system?”
Rafferty looks thunderstruck and my hand goes to his shoulder where I squeeze in reassurance.
Then Callum Derringer, the team’s general manager, is there. He looks calm but I can see the underlying anger as he addresses the nearest microphone. “We have no idea what you’re talking about, but these accusations are false. The Titans stand firmly behind Rafferty Abrams. We’ll have a more detailed statement soon.”
With Callum on one side and me on the other, we move briskly to the bus where Rafferty practically catapults inside, Callum on his heels.
“What the hell was that?” Atlas asks, coming to stand beside me as my teammates file onto the bus.
“No fucking clue but there’s no way Rafferty’s doping.”
Atlas and I exchange a look and we both know who’s behind this without even trying hard to get to the right answer. “Fucking bitch,” I mutter.
His stalker is now playing a dangerous game, and it’s clear she’s unhinged. No doubt she’s behind this.
When we board the bus, I see Rafferty slumped in one of the front seats and Atlas and I take the ones opposite him.
He no longer looks shocked but instead looks pissed.
“It’s got to be Tansy,” Atlas says.
Rafferty nods, his lips pressed into a flat line. “I know. But there are photos, medical documentation.”
“It’s clearly been faked,” I say hotly. “Tansy’s in marketing, for fuck’s sake. She can manipulate anything she wants. The truth will come out.”
“Yeah, but not before my reputation is ruined,” Rafferty snarls, his hands opening and closing into tight fists. I can feel the fury rolling off him and I’m bottled up with rage on his behalf.
The bus pulls away from the curb and Rafferty looks out the window, clearly not wanting to talk about it. I shoot Atlas a glance and he lifts one shoulder as if to say, What the fuck do we do?
I shake my head, not having a damn clue.
The entire ride to the hotel is silent and tense. Everyone on the team heard what happened and the last thing Callum said to Rafferty, after promising to help him figure things out, was that he’d be suspended from the team until then.
When the bus stops at our hotel, I wait until everyone leaves, including Atlas. Rafferty stays rooted in his seat, staring out the window.
“What can I do, man?” I ask gently.
His head swivels slowly my way and he sighs. “Nothing.” He starts to rise and then says, “Wait, can you call Farren and let her know what’s going on? This will hit the news any moment.”
“Of course, man,” I say, following him out onto the sidewalk. “What about Tempe?”
“I’ll call her.” He sounds utterly defeated and I don’t know how to help him.
“I got you covered” is all I can think to say.
“Thanks,” he murmurs and then heads over to Callum standing a few feet away.
The team loiters in the hotel lobby while one of the service staff gets our room keys to hand out. We’re all hypothesizing about what’s going to happen but when Callum comes in moments later, I don’t hesitate to find out for myself.
I intercept him quickly. “What will happen to Rafferty?”
“I don’t know,” he grouses, raking his fingers through his hair. “I just sent him off to get a drug test and—”
“He’s clean,” I growl.
“I believe you, and him,” he says in a censuring tone. “It’s to help build his defense. But until we can talk to the attorneys, he can’t play tonight.”
“That’s bullshit.” Anger flushes through me. “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”
“This isn’t a court of law,” Callum retorts and then takes a calming breath. “Look, I get you’re worried about him, but we’ll handle this in Rafferty’s best interests. I promise.”