Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (46 page)

“I’ll always love you,” she said, her voice
catching on a sob. “See you at ten, Wyatt.”

• • •

She wasn’t sure what would be worse. Seeing
him in the lobby? Arriving at Murf’s door ahead of him, then trying
to bluff while they waited? Or having Wyatt get to Murf first.

God only knew what he’d say then. Or maybe
he wouldn’t say anything. Men were good at that, weren’t they?
Segregating business from romance? Compartmentalizing their
emotions?

Still, when she came through the lobby doors
and saw him approaching the elevator, it felt right. They needed to
do this. To agree to be tough. Or at least to make it through the
next few hours unscathed.

He looked so handsome. A bit subdued, which
tore at her heart given the pride and excitement he should be
feeling. But still, he was the Surgeon. Tall and dark, his granite
jaw firmly in place, his lean muscles rippling. No business suit
this time, which made sense. He was a client now, meeting with his
agent away from prying eyes. And so he wore dark gray pants and a
white polo along with dark sunglasses and a Red Sox cap to disguise
himself from eager fans or media folk.

She hadn’t worn a suit either, choosing
black slacks, low heels and a prim, long-sleeved blouse. Perfect
for a business meeting among friends.

She was about to call his name when he
turned, seemingly by instinct, and flashed a joyous smile, as if
seeing her were truly the best thing that had ever happened to
him.

Hurrying over, she insisted, “I was hoping
we’d get a chance to say hello.”

“You look amazing.” He touched her sleeve
with the fingertips of one hand while holding the elevator with the
other. “Do we have five minutes to talk? Clear the air?”

“I don’t think so. Let’s just go up.” She
tried for a light smile. “Murf must be dying to tell us the big
story.”

“Yeah.” He ushered her into the elevator,
and as soon as the doors closed, he stepped into her, towering but
not overpowering as he insisted hoarsely, “I’m sorry, Darcie. Give
me a chance to make it right.”

Her eyes welled with tears. “Please, Wyatt,
not here. I don’t want Murf to know.”

“Right.” He patted her arm. “I can’t wait
five days, though.
We
can’t wait. You know that, don’t
you?”

“Friday then.” She forced herself to stare
into his eyes. “Just let Murf get through the meeting with the
Rustlers tomorrow.”

“How does it affect
him?”
he
complained. Then he winced and added quickly, “Whatever you
want.”

“Thank you.” She knew she should give him a
light kiss. A touch on the shoulder.
Some
thing. But if she
did that, she’d break down, and luckily, the elevator had opened,
so she scooted out into the hall and over to the doors of the
suite, where she knocked loudly.

Murf greeted them with a playful grin. “Hey,
kids.”

“Our hero!” Darcie gushed, giving him an
exuberant hug.

“That’s quite a reception,” he began, then
he seemed to notice her bloodshot eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, thanks. I just didn’t sleep
well.”

Skeptical, he turned to Wyatt and offered
his hand. “Congratulations, you’re officially a man without a
team.”

“Thanks to you,” Wyatt joked, accepting the
handshake. “I can’t believe you pulled it off.”

Murf studied him for a moment, then turned
back to Darcie and said bluntly, “Talk to me.”

“We had a fight. But we already made up.
Mostly because we didn’t want to miss
this
. So dazzle us,
please?”

“Hey.” He cupped her chin in his hand. “If
you need a few hours—”

“All I need is coffee. And I’ll bet Wyatt
does too.”

“Sounds good,” Wyatt agreed. Then he told
Murf, “I screwed up, but I’ll fix it. She’s the most important
person in the world to me.”

Murf grimaced. “Is it
that
bad?”

“Hey!” Darcie glared in frustration. “Is
this a brag session or a wake? Come on,” she added, taking her boss
by the arm and pinching him to show she needed his cooperation.
“Let’s get started.”

• • •

Murf did his best to cheer them up, and
within minutes his performance and the coffee smoothed over the
awkward mood. He even had them laughing when they weren’t groaning
over the roller-coaster ride the poor Jets had endured.

According to Murf’s account, it had been
heart-wrenching to watch their faces as the truth finally dawned on
them—they had somehow lost the Surgeon.

“We went through all the major stages,” he
joked. “Denial, bargaining, anger, depression, acceptance. Although
I’m pretty sure the owner will
never
really accept it, poor
bastard.”

“He was good to me,” Wyatt said quietly.
“And yeah, he’s stubborn. So it’ll take a while.”

Murf arched a fond eyebrow. “Even during the
worst of it, he never badmouthed you. Always sang your praises. Now
me,
on the other hand? Every name in the book.”

“What about Coach Morgan? He was pissed,
right?”

“Oh, yeah, he was hot. But again, not at
you. They’re upset but not ungrateful, Wyatt. They know they
wouldn’t have made it to the conference championship without you.
And Morgan’s man enough to admit it.”

Relieved by the football talk, Darcie sat
back and listened as the two experts traded notes. According to
Murf, once the Jets finally accepted reality, they were savvy
enough to switch gears. Start horse trading.

“They’re greedy, but who can blame them?”
Murf reported. “They’ll get some hot draft picks, and they like the
Joey Johnston angle too. Oh, and they love the prospect of scoring
Renner. That was a brilliant suggestion, Wyatt.”

“Will the Eagles go for it?”

“The cap is killing them, so if the Jets
give them the picks they want, yeah. It’s not a done deal but it’s
looking good. And the great news is, it’s happening outside the
main negotiations, so the Eagles don’t know you’re in play. Now
it’s up to the Rustlers. We’re asking a lot of them, but they get
the Surgeon, so they’ve gotta pay the freight.”

“If it’s a question of money—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll work for free.
Luckily I won’t.”

Wyatt chuckled. “I never said free. And
frankly, if you think the Rustlers can afford it—”

“Are you kidding? They’ll mortgage their
grandmas if they have to. But they will
definitely
cry me a
river, so we need to hang tough.”

“And you can’t wait to shake them down?”
Darcie teased, managing her first real smile of the day. “I love
all this, Murf.”

“Good.” He smiled proudly, then told them
both, “Here’s the agenda. I’ll tell you my detailed strategy for
the Rustlers, which now includes demands by the Jets, reasonable
and otherwise. You’ll give me input. Then I need to role-play. I’ll
be me, you two will be Aaron Spurling and the GM. Hit me with
everything you’ve got. When we’re done, I need to be golden on
this.”

Darcie sighed, knowing Murf was just trying
to make her feel better. She barely understood the overarching
trades, much less the fine details, but still, it would be fun to
listen, especially because Wyatt’s knowledge and quick mind were
just what Murf needed.

“Sounds good,” Wyatt said, and while he
sounded positive, she could tell he was still feeling guilty—and
concerned—about their fight.

Murf noticed too and said, “We can take a
break if you guys need it. And don’t be shy. Because we’ve got a
lot of work ahead of us and I need you to focus.”

“We’re good,” Darcie said quickly. “Right,
Wyatt?”

He nodded. “Yeah, I can focus. But before we
get into the detail, there’s something I’d like to say.”

“No, Wyatt,” she murmured. “Please don’t.”
Too late, she caught the sharp look from Murf and amended her words
quickly. “I shouldn’t have said that, and I’m so sorry. Say
anything you want, obviously. I’m just tired.”

“It’s not about us,” he said, his iron gaze
reassuring her. “Or at least not directly.”

“’You can say whatever you want,” Murf
reiterated. “Nothing’s off-limits. That was my pledge to you,
remember?”

“I do remember,” Wyatt said with a nod.
“Specifically about the skeletons in the closet. I told you about
Hannah, but there are a couple more. I had a lot of time to think
last night,” he said ruefully. “About a lot of things. And I
realized how bad it would be if these particular secrets ever went
public. It’s been years, and only a handful of people know, so I
think we’re safe. But it would hurt the people I care about.
Devastate them actually. So if you’re still up for it—”

“Bring it on,” Murf encouraged him. “I
promise it stays in this room. I should have said this Monday, but
we don’t make a written record of these—well, skeletons. I carry
them in my head. But it’s not a PMA-wide thing. Just me. And in
this case, Darcie.”

His words broke her heart. Of
course
she shouldn’t be hearing this. Murf had invited her into these
meetings as a courtesy, not because she brought the deal to him but
because of her unique bond with the client.

But skeletons?

“If you guys don’t mind, I’ll step out,” she
announced, reaching for her briefcase.

“I want you here,” Wyatt protested.

Murf nodded. “Whatever you want, Wyatt.
Right, Darcie?”

She stared at them. First Murf—her supposed
friend. Then Wyatt, who had promised to behave. Still, she couldn’t
blame him. He was so upset.
They
were so upset. Raw, really.
And apparently the past had come back to haunt him during the
night, all because the seventeen-year-old boy trapped inside a
thirty-year-old man’s body had said something tragically
stupid.

So she did what a professional rookie agent
should do under the circumstances and said, “Thank you for
including me. I’ll keep it confidential as well.”

“Yeah, I know.” Wyatt flashed a smile,
reminding her how much he really did enjoy their interaction.
And
reminding her how easy it would be to fall for him
again.

Then to her surprise he turned his full
attention back to Murf. “When this news about the Rustlers comes
out, we’ll see the same stories we
always
see about me. Not
just awards and trophies, but how my dad was a quarterback in
college. So the game’s in my DNA. The press loves that angle,
right?”

“Absolutely,” Murf agreed. “The college star
who taught his son everything he knew, then went off to war and
gave his life for his country. It’s media gold, but even better,
it’s inspiring as hell. He was a real hero, Wyatt. And yeah,
they’ll tell it a million times over the next few weeks. As well
they should.”

Wyatt exhaled sharply, then said, “The
problem is, it isn’t true.”

“
What?”
Darcie whispered.

Murf seemed equally shocked but more poised
about it. “Are you saying he wasn’t a hero? Because of some
technicality? He was killed by friendly fire or whatever? That
changes
nothing,
Wyatt. He went over there, sacrificed
everything, and gave his life. Fuck anyone who says he’s not a
hero.”

“I appreciate that,” Wyatt assured him. “And
trust me, Matt Bourne was a hero in every sense of the word. The
skeleton is: he isn’t my biological father. So all those stories
about the qualities I inherited from him? How being a hero is in my
DNA, too? I’ve made my peace with that nonsense, but if the truth
got out? It would
crush
my uncle. My aunts. The entire
Bourne family.
I’ve
known since I was seventeen, so I’m over
it. But they’re so proud that I’m Matt’s
son . . .”

“Oh, my God, Wyatt,” Darcie said unhappily.
“I’m so sorry. It’s just too cruel for words.”

She wanted to go to him. Embrace him. But
his mood was eerily calm, so she waited.

Because as awful as
this
was, he had
said there were “a couple more” skeletons. Didn’t that mean there
was a final one? And from the sadness in his eyes, she couldn’t
even imagine what it could be.

Murf didn’t miss a beat. “That’s a tough
one, buddy. But once again, it doesn’t change a damned thing. He
raised you. Walked the floor with you when you were crying. Taught
you right from wrong. Taught you to play ball. And loved you till
the day he died. A dad in every sense that matters, right?”

Darcie bit back a sob. “He’s right, Wyatt.
Matt Bourne was your dad. No one can take that away from you.
Or
from him.”

Wyatt’s gaze locked with hers for just an
instant, then he told Murf, “Darcie met my aunts and uncle, so she
can tell you how much they loved Matt. Which makes sense because he
was an amazing guy. If they even
suspected
how my mom broke
his heart. Not just by cheating on him while they were married, but
by doing it while they were dating, and then telling him he was the
father when she turned up pregnant—” Wyatt’s voice broke. “I didn’t
find out until I was seventeen, but Matt learned the truth when I
was four years old. Mom swears she wasn’t going to tell him—not
ever—but things went bad between them, and he talked about getting
custody. Taking me back to California. So she told him the truth
and obviously, it hit him hard. Not just that I wasn’t his
kid—because I’m not sure he believed it back then—but that she had
tricked him into marrying her. Conned him, right? So anyway, he
divorced her but stuck around to raise me.” He paused to exhale,
then continued. “He was a great dad. I never suspected a thing.
Then when I was nine, he sat me down, told me he was proud of me,
and said he wanted to serve his country. After that, I never saw
him again.”

“Wyatt,” Darcie said, sobbing, ready to run
to him.

But he held up his hand to stop her. “I’m
fine. And there’s more.”

“Oh, God . . .” Overcome with
misery and love, she spun her chair away and covered her face with
her hands. How could there be more? How could he bear it?