Chapter 1: High Risk Rookie: Chapter 1

MY DRIVER NAVIGATED the town car through the grounds of the Mexican resort before pulling up in front of a beautiful hotel. My phone rang as he walked around the car to open the door.

It was Charlie.

“Hey.”

“Is this a bad time?”

“Just pulling up to my hotel.” I mouthed a thank-you to my driver as he set down my suitcase. “Any word from Terrance, our PI?”

“He’s already there in Mexico. He dug up a bit more on Levi Ziegler, but not much. I’ve emailed you the file.”

“Thank you. I’ll take a look tonight.” I walked across the lobby and nodded at the concierge.

“If you sign this rookie, do you think it will get you on the list?”

Charlie knew about my obsession with making the Forbes list of the fifty most powerful sports agents. My entire body went tense as I thought about how close I was to reaching my goal, and I almost didn’t say the words out loud for fear of jinxing myself. “I think this rookie could get me on the list.” If I could get him a multimillion-dollar contract.

Charlie went silent, which meant she was thinking. “What’s your game plan with him?”

My game plan was not to leave Mexico until he signed with me. He would be the stepping-stone that would put me in a position where I had more power than most of the men I worked with. I didn’t just crave that; I needed it like the air I breathed. “When I find him tomorrow, I’ll convince him to sign with me, and then I’ll catch the red-eye home.”

Charlie mocked me lightly. “That sounds efficient.”

I walked towards the reservation desk. “Tell me about Terrance’s report.”

“His investigation indicates that Levi was a registered hockey player on an elite league in Germany, but, for confidential reasons, he was released from his contract eight months ago.”

“Was he injured?”

“There was no report of that.”

“Did he have an agent in Germany?”

“Not that he could find.”

“Does anyone know what happened?”

“Not at this point.”

“Anything in the report about his American agents?”

“Still working on that.”

“Why is this rookie such an enigma? No one seems to know anything about him. He’s like a ghost, and there’s so much conflicting information on him.” I made a mental note to email Terrance tonight. “I appreciate your help, Charlie. I know you’re on mat leave—”

“Krista.” Charlie stopped me. “I miss this. I’m grateful when I get to do adult stuff.”

“I appreciate you and how you’re covering for me. I’m just about to check in, but you can call me if you hit any snags.”

I checked in and then made my way to my room. I unpacked my bag and lay down on the bed. I stared at the ornate ceiling. It had been a long time since I needed to hustle this hard, and I felt insufficiently prepared for this trip. I knew nothing about this player beyond a paper-thin report that barely covered the basics. I didn’t know who Levi Ziegler was, how he operated, or what his family situation was. I had no idea why someone of his caliber had been unable to sign on for a professional hockey career in America. Was I walking into a land mine?

But worry did me no good. I reviewed my game plan. It was simple and to the point. Find the rookie, and don’t leave Mexico without him. No matter what.

I WOKE up to my phone ringing. It was Terrance, which meant only one thing.

He knew where my rookie was.

He launched into his news without bothering to say hello. “You said I should call if I found out anything definite about your client’s whereabouts.”

“I’m listening.”

“Some big DJ is headlining at a hotel. Two peeps confirmed that he’ll be there tonight.”

I looked at my watch. It was just after 9:00 p.m.

“Can you text me the address?”

“Already done.”

“I appreciate it.”

“I also found your client’s last three agents and their whereabouts. I emailed you their details.”

“Did you talk to any of them?”

“I haven’t had time to take a piss or grab a coffee in the last thirty-six hours. Your client doesn’t sleep, and I lost him twice—once for sixteen hours.”

I tried not to laugh. “What was he doing?”

“Crazy hikes, cliff diving, surfing… you name it. I honestly couldn’t keep up. I’ll be going off the clock for the next twenty-four. I need to sleep.”

“Thanks for helping out on such short notice.”

He hesitated and then spoke. “Watch your six. He’ll keep you on your toes.”

For Terrance, this was about as big a warning as he would give me. “The last time you said those words to me, I ended up in jail.”

“If you get arrested, don’t call me until my twenty-four hours are up.”

“In twenty-four hours, I’ll be on a flight back to Vancouver.”

He paused, and a noise came out of him that resembled a laugh. “Good luck with that.”

I STUDIED my reflection in the mirror. My sleeveless, blood-red jumpsuit did a good job of accentuating my best asset: my breasts. I wore a necklace that dangled just at the top of my cleavage. Playing up that part of my body usually kept eyes off my ass, which lately had seen far too much wine and not enough yoga. My sky-high heels added inches to the short frame I had inherited from my dad’s side. I brushed out my auburn hair into big waves that cascaded over my shoulders, and as a finishing touch, I applied my signature red lipstick.

Winners always show up, no matter what. Years ago, when I was a rookie myself, I had been bitching hard about some inconvenience. I will never forget when Mark Ashford looked over at me and said in a scathing tone, “Winners always show up, no matter what.”

That was the first time he had ever spoken to me directly, and his annoyance at my attitude had both shamed and motivated me. I think that was the moment I started to take my life seriously.

I picked up my clutch purse and looked myself over with approval. Perhaps that would be a good anecdote to repeat when they interviewed me for the Forbes list.

THE CAB DRIVER dropped me off at a mid-sized hotel that overlooked the water. I walked through the near-empty lobby and stopped at the entrance to the courtyard pool area. The bass of the music throbbed, and the place was packed with people. I stood and contemplated the packed courtyard.

Locating my rookie would take a lot of hustle. I moved through the crowd. I asked every person who made eye contact with me if they knew Levi Ziegler. No one had seen him at the party yet, but I was surprised how many people actually knew him.

“Jump, jump, jump.”

I glanced around at the crowd. Everyone’s faces were tilted up towards the sky.

High above us on the roof of the hotel, silhouetted against the black of the sky, stood a man. The light from the party illuminated his indifferent expression. He had a shaved head, and he casually stood on the edge of the building, staring down at us like a god looking down on mortals.

“Jump, jump, jump.”

It took me a moment to process that the crowd was encouraging him to jump off the roof. I didn’t know if I was scared for him or turned on by him, but I was unable to tear my gaze away. His dark, brooding eyes and no-fucks attitude mesmerized me.

“He’s not going to jump, is he?” I asked the woman beside me. “That’s way too dangerous.”

He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing his muscular, bronzed torso. The crowd responded with heightened fervor. I tried to remember the last time I had felt this much lust rush over me for a man I’d never met, but besides the first time I’d seen the movie Thor, I couldn’t.

“Oh, he’ll jump. Levi loves to do anything dangerous.”

My entire body froze as I turned towards her. “Did you just say his name was Levi? Levi Ziegler?”

She grinned at me. “The one and only.”

My gaze swung back to him. Oh shit. This was my rookie? I’m attracted to my rookie. And he was currently about to risk his life. This was the kind of scenario that we contractually forbade players to engage in because shit got messy when they died—or worse, got injured. My mind worked through every possible way this stunt could go wrong. I should have been thinking about how I would handle any potential emergency, but it was almost too horrible to contemplate.

Without warning, he leaped into nothing.

I screamed, a pitiful squeak, while he gracefully fell three stories before crashing into the water. Everyone went silent.

I pushed my way through the crowd until I had a front-row view of the pool. I got there just in time to see him pop up above the water with a huge smile on his face.

The place went berserk.

I let out a harsh breath as I tried to quell the hammering of my heart.

He swam to the edge of the pool, and two of his buddies helped pull him out of the water. Water streamed off his body like slow-motion porn. He laughed with his friends, looking impossibly sexy. A war raged in my mind between the hot guy I wanted to fuck and the rookie I wanted to kill.

The rookie won, and I let my white-hot anger sink into me. These bullshit antics not only took years off my life, but they also felt like a personal attack on my own dreams and goals.

I stalked behind them, watching as they disappeared into the men’s change room.

I pushed open the door and walked towards the sound of voices.

“You want to stay here or go someplace else?” a male voice asked.

I walked past sinks and mirrors and turned the corner. The two friends were leaning against wooden lockers, heads tucked over their phones.

“Let’s have a couple here and then move on.”

“That works.”

My rookie was nowhere to be found. Ignoring them both, I started towards the back, determined to find him.

“Whoa, lady. I think you’re in the wrong area. This is the men’s change room.” One of the guys tried to step in front of me.

“Out of my way,” I ordered him.

He lifted his hands and stepped back.

I walked to the back and moved around the corner. Levi Ziegler, also known as my rookie, straightened up to his full height. He was stupidly tall. He stood in the middle of the room wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, but he made no move to cover himself up.

He stared at me without expression, reminding me of that aloof, sun-kissed, sculpted god from the roof.

He was also a complete idiot.

Why were the people who’d been given the most in this life so determined to throw it away? Every inch of advancement I’d made in my career had been the result of relentless focus, work, and grit. The fact that he was also blessed with a face of beauty annoyed me beyond measure.

“What kind of bullshit was that stunt?” I planted my hand on my hip and glared at him.

He didn’t seem shocked or taken aback by my vitriol. He looked amused. “What’s it to you?”

His voice was low and smooth, a typical Canadian accent with a hint of something European, almost too faint to identify. His enjoyment of my emotion only fired me up further.

“What’s it to me?” I repeated. “Do you know how many assholes have been spending their valuable time and resources looking for you?”

Something shifted in him. He jerked his head at his friends, who crowded at the door. They disappeared. He didn’t speak as he continued to get dressed.

Watching him pull on his jeans was like witnessing a commercial for… damn near anything. The sponsors would be climbing over themselves to get near him.

He bent over his bag. “Who do you work for in the hockey world?”

“I’m going to ignore your assumption that I need to work for someone.”

He lifted his face towards me. “Still don’t know who you are.”

“Krista Taylor. I’m a sports agent.”

Even that didn’t get a response out of him.

I took a step closer. “You’ve been given an insane amount of talent. You have the kind of gift that only a few are blessed with, and instead of cherishing that, you’re pissing away your opportunity.”

He pulled a faded green T-shirt over his head. I couldn’t seem to glance away when he pulled the fabric down over his hard, muscular core. “And you care because…”

“Because I watched your demo tape, and it would be a shame if someone with your level of talent didn’t play professional hockey this year.”

He lifted his head. “Where did you see it?”

“A friend gave it to me. What’s going on with your agents?”

He shrugged as he shoved his belongings into his bag. “My current agent is a complete dick.”

“Have you been invited to any training camps this fall?”

I had his complete attention. “Nope.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s because your agent is either incompetent or indifferent.”

“Or he’s just a dick.”

There was no love lost in that relationship. It would be interesting to see what his current agent said about this situation. “Do you want to play hockey or not?”

His eyes didn’t leave my face. “Yes.”

“Do you have an agent in Germany?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re trying to further your career in North America?”

He tilted his head at me. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“I’m a sports agent, and my agency is interested in potentially representing you. I’d like to talk.”

He studied me for a long moment. “You want to go get a drink somewhere?”

FORTY MINUTES LATER, we were in a small tequila bar up the road. His friends were standing around the pool table in the corner, but he had secured two chairs for us at the bar. I ordered a vodka soda, and he ordered a beer.

He was even better-looking closeup, which unnerved me. Now that I wasn’t angry, I was noticing all the little things, like how big his hands were and how thick his neck was.

“Ask me a question,” I demanded.

His face broke out into a smile full of straight teeth. “What is your official job?”

“I negotiate and secure your legal player contract with the team and the league, as well as the contracts for any other endorsement sponsorship.” I took a sip of my drink and glanced at him. “And I do a lot of fucking babysitting.”

He laughed. “Do people put up with that attitude?”

“They love it,” I shot back.

Our eyes met, and I watched as heat flickered around the edges of his gaze. “I bet they do.”

I was used to receiving male attention, but rarely had I felt this much temptation roll through me in response. Which was ridiculous, because I wasn’t attracted to professional athletes. Especially not hockey players. And definitely not fucking rookies. “My commission is four percent of your contract and twenty-five percent for sponsorships.”

His eyes dropped to my mouth.

I wasn’t clueless to his interest. The chemistry crackled between us. I needed to redirect us towards a professional relationship. “I don’t sleep with my clients, before or after I sign them.”

His gaze lifted to mine. “Not ever?”

“Trust me: once I’m your agent, your balls will shrivel when you see me coming.”

He laughed again and studied me for a long moment. “I don’t know. My balls seem to like your attitude just fine.”

My stomach fluttered. He was the epitome of everything this sultry night invited, but I would never step over that line. We needed to acknowledge the attraction between us and build a boundary. “If you weren’t someone I wanted to sign, I would be doing my damnedest to seduce you right now.”

“Trust me—it wouldn’t take any effort on your part.”

I was charmed by his flirtations. “I need us to develop a strictly professional relationship. That’s the only way this will work.”

The bartender interrupted by placing two shooters in front of us. “Mike bought these.”

His eyes challenged mine. “We could drink these.”

“I’ve hung out with my share of hockey players. I’m not afraid of a shooter.”

“Okay. Here you go.” He put one shooter in front of me and then lifted his own into the air.

I clicked glasses with him and tossed it back. I needed to learn as much about him as I could. “What is going on with your current agent?”

He leaned back in his chair. “Nothing.”

“He says he can’t find you.”

“That’s a lie. We’ve exchanged texts.”

“What’s his issue?”

He looked around the bar, avoiding my question.

“Tell me,” I pressed.

“We had a disagreement.”

“About what?”

“His girlfriend.”

Why didn’t that surprise me? “What happened?”

“I don’t want to get into it.”

“Did you sleep with her?”

His head reared back. “No. It was nothing like that, but things got ugly after our disagreement.”

I made a mental note to track that story down. “Why not fire him?”

He pressed his lips together. “That’s where it gets complicated.”

“Yo, dude,” Levi’s friend interrupted from beside me.

The bartender showed up on the other side of the bar and barked at Levi. “Where are the shooters?”

Levi shrugged. “We drank them.”

His friend appeared shocked. “You drank them?”

“Yeah, we each had one.” He looked between his friend and the bartender. “What’s the big deal?”

The bartender shook his head. “What the fuck?”

I watched carefully, unsure what was unfolding here.

His friend leaned closer towards Levi. “I need to talk to you alone.”

Levi shook his head. “Not now, okay?”

He slapped Levi’s shoulder. “Yes, right now.”

Levi stood up. “Let me get rid of my can’t-take-a-hint friend. I’ll be right back.”

The bartender shook his head in disgust and walked away.

A moment later, Levi reappeared with a serious expression on his face. He sat back down beside me. “So… there is no easy way to ask you this.” Beside us, his friend hovered.

“Ask me what?”

“Do you have any underlying medical conditions?”

I turned to face him. “What’s going on?”

He seemed concerned. “The bartender does special shooters for people under the table. My friends bought two of them, but we drank them.”

That didn’t sound good.

“What’s a ‘special shooter’?”

He winced. “The kind of shooter that costs one hundred bucks.”

My mind raced. “Are we talking drugs?”

In response, his lips twisted in regret.

“What kind of drugs?”

His friend spoke up beside us. “Kind of a cocktail.”

I turned towards him. “Who are you?”

“Mike.”

Levi glared at his friend, and his nostril flared. “I don’t do this kind of shit. You know that.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have drunk my shooters,” Mike shot back.

I stared at Levi as I contemplated the fact that I had just been drugged. I needed to get back to the safety of my hotel room. “This is exactly the kind of bullshit I won’t accept as your agent.”

“I know.”

I dug through my purse, searching for one of my cards. “I’m going back to my hotel. Call me in the morning.”

Mike crowded in closer. “We actually can’t let you do that. We need to babysit you.”

“Babysit me?” I paused. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” He peered at Levi and then back at me. “To keep you from choking or dying. That kind of thing.”

“Are you shitting me?” I looked back at Levi for confirmation.

He was pissed. I, on the other hand, had moved past anger right into fear and anxiety.

We all sat there in silence as I tried to process what was happening to me. I had been drugged in Mexico. I could choke and die, and I was with two men I had just met. Finally, I managed to ask, “What will happen?”

Mike shoved his hands in his pocket. “You’ll feel a sense of euphoria and deep relaxation. The world will feel beautiful, and then you will want to sleep. You may or may not remember your evening.”

I looked back at Levi. “I want to go back to my room. Now.”

He grabbed my hand and stared at me in concern. “We’re good guys. Nothing is going to happen to you. Mike and Andrew are going to stay sober, and they are going to take good care of us, okay?”

I swallowed and drowned in his gaze. I wanted to believe him, but I couldn’t bear the idea of being drugged in front of other people. “I want to be alone.”

He squeezed my hand. “Once the guys know you’re not having a reaction, they are going to get you safely back to your hotel room, okay? I promise you that.”

I yanked my hand from Levi’s and snapped at Mike. “I’m staying at the Blue Peacock Resort. I’m in room 312. My room key is in my purse. I’d better wake up alone, in my room, with all the contents of my purse intact, or I will personally come for you. And trust me, whatever you think you can lift from me will be nothing in comparison to what I will do to you in return.”

He looked scared. “I’m not going to rob you.”

I glared at him. “Room 312. Don’t forget it.”

“I won’t.”

Levi sat at the bar, his hand over his mouth. He glanced at me. “Are you okay?”

“Do I seem okay?”

“How pissed are you?”

“Beyond pissed.”

“Do you still want to work with me?”

There was no way I would give up on my own dream, but he didn’t need to know that. I lifted my chin towards him. “You’re on damn thin ice.”

Mike interrupted. “Zig, you should give me your phone.”

“You don’t need my phone.”

“Last time you got drunk, you texted everyone in your contact list.”

Avoiding my gaze, Levi handed him his phone.

Something caught my eye. I stared up at the ceiling. The lights had become a shimmering, moving green-gold. “That’s pretty. How do they do that with the lights?”

Mike sighed. “Here we go. I’m going to grab Andrew. I think we should get out of here.”

Levi grabbed his arm. “One of you needs to take her back to her room and make sure she’s okay.”

“I will. I promise.”

“You guard her with your life.”

“I swear, Levi. I’ll take care of you both.”