Keeper (Alpha Athletes #2)

C
opyright
© 2016 by Violet Paige

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or events are entirely the work of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is entirely coincidental.

A
ll rights reserved
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Cover Design: Jacqueline Sweet

I
pulled
a pair of sunglasses over my eyes. I didn’t want anyone to know I was still fighting a bloody hangover. Fuck, it probably didn’t matter. The opinions were out there. The judgements about me had already been made. I stumbled through the revolving door and threw a hand toward the sky to block the glare from the sun.

Shit. Rio was a fucking sauna.

“Bloody hell,” I grumbled.

The bus gushed with a puff of diesel exhaust. I coughed and tossed my bags onto the different piles. One set was going to the stadium with us for practice, while the other would be delivered to our rooms in the Olympic village.

Since when did South American winters include a massive heat wave?

“Lach, nice of you to show.” I heard the wanker’s voice before I saw his smug face.

I scowled at Alex Conley. “What the fuck do you care?” I spit.

“Didn’t say I did.”

He was dressed in a full three-piece suit. His hair was slicked back and his face was clean shaven. I could smell the cologne rolling off of him. Did he think we were headed to a photo shoot?
Prick.
He turned his back to me and climbed on the bus. Even his shoes were shiny. I looked down at my trainers.

Ever since the team picked up that arrogant asshole, he and I had fought as if we were still rivals, not teammates. It was hard to put aside our differences for the games. “For the good of the country” didn’t apply when I had to share colors with that arse. There would always be bad blood between us.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it from the back pocket of my jeans and wiped the screen clean with my T-shirt to read the first alert that popped up.
Fuck.
My name was plastered everywhere. I scrolled through the posts before shoving the cell in my pocket again.

I was the last one on the bus and took a seat in the back as the driver closed the doors and the wheels jerked forward. I kept my head down. I’d already heard the guys muttering about my epic night out. The fucking press had followed me everywhere I went.

And then there were the pictures.

Let’s just say they involved drinks and certain body parts.

My head throbbed every time the driver took a sharp turn.
Fuck.
I couldn’t remember how many pints I had last night. Enough to give me one hell of a headache.

There had been at least three bars, and I closed down the club inside the hotel. I leaned my head against the tufted headrest. There was enough photo evidence on social media to prove it.

Rio de Janeiro was one big party. That was my plan. Party through the next three weeks. Enjoy the booze. Blow off steam. Fuck around. It was all the same to me.

I wasn’t here because I wanted to be. I didn’t give a shit about the Olympics. But my agent, Rick, convinced me my brand depended on me being here. He wanted me to care that I had a brand to protect. I had sponsorships. And if Lachlan Kenzie wasn’t at the summer games, I could kiss several of those contracts good-bye. England’s rock star keeper had to be seen on the world’s football stage, or my sponsors would be pissed. Rick pressured me into agreeing to this damn media circus.

So I flew to Rio. I stayed at the team hotel for a few nights. And I got on the bus.

By the time we pulled up to the stadium, my stomach growled. I skipped breakfast, coffee, and sleep. But the girl had been worth it. I didn’t know her name. I only knew she could fuck like a wild banshee. I left her sleeping while I grabbed my bag and headed to meet the team.

There was no reason to see her again. Practices started today. We moved into the village this afternoon. There would be more girls. I didn’t need to get tangled up with only one. I never did.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed women. Correction—I fucking loved women. My first year in the league, I learned just how much women loved me. After that, I didn’t see the point in getting tied down. Why choose one when I could have a hundred? Why limit myself? I never had to sleep alone. And I never dealt with the shit my mates did. No one nagged me. No one begged for phone calls. I didn’t get an ear bashing if I forgot her birthday. No—I had the perfect fucking scenario.

The bus lurched to a sudden stop. My head whipped forward.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.

I looked outside the window at the stadium. It was enormous. The oblong building spanned several blocks. It was going to hold 78,000 screaming fans once the games began. These weren’t any kind of fans. They weren’t the same people who showed up at track, or the wanderers waiting on rowing and sailing results. These were football fans. Rabid, obsessed people who traveled around the world to cheer for their teams.

The guys in front of me stood up, ducking their heads as they exited the bus.

I trailed behind, hopping to the ground from the last step. The flags from around the world fluttered overhead. I knew this moment was supposed to resonate with me. The blokes around me seemed to take a minute to soak it in. I could see their eyes mist. I saw them take deep breaths when they spotted the British flag. I huffed. I wasn’t into the sentimental shit. I played football. Just give me my damn kit and boots and let me out there.

The equipment crew quickly sorted our bags and hauled them to the dressing rooms. I didn’t know how long we were going to stand outside and watch flags flap in the wind. I was ready to get on the pitch. I wanted to smell the grass. See the seats. Get a feel for the stadium. Standing out here didn’t get us ready to play Germany.

“Saw things got wild for you last night.” Taylor Dirks stood next to me.

I shrugged with a grin. “You should have joined me for a few pints.” I wasn’t going to let the paps dictate my life here. I’d almost forgotten about the headlines.

He shook his head. “I don’t think my wife would like that too much.”

“Is she here?” I looked around his shoulder, pretending she would pop up behind him.

“Yeah, she’s staying with my entire family in town. We decided to make it a family trip.”

“That’s too bad. The girls in Brazil are naughty.” I adjusted my sunglasses.

“Have you slept at all since you’ve been here?” he asked.

I liked Taylor. He was one of the older footballers on the team, but I respected him. He didn’t get in my shit and he played like hell once the whistle blew. He was seasoned and everyone knew he was a family man. It made sense he was the team captain.

“No. I’m trying to enjoy
all
parts of the Olympic experience. Haven’t had much need for sleep.”

“Just take it easy, okay? We need you out there. I’d hate for something to interfere with you on the pitch, Lach.”

I felt the tightness in my neck. Was he getting ready to cross a line I didn’t let other players cross? I hated fucking lectures. I hated rules. I hated the condescending looks I got from the guys.

I gritted my teeth. I didn’t want to turn on him. “Looks like we’re headed in.” I pointed to the assembly in front of us.

I walked away before I said something I couldn’t take back.

I followed the crew through the tunnel entrance that led to the dressing rooms. It was dark and cool inside. Some of the most famous world tournaments had been played in this stadium. There were huge painted canvases of the teams who had won matches here.

It was unspoken, but we wanted to end up on this wall. And fuck it, we should. We had the best footballers in the world. As much as I hated Alex Conley, it was no mistake he was on this team. Between him and Taylor, we had the top scorers in the world. The Football Association had hand-picked these athletes to represent the United Kingdom. They were the best of the best. We shouldn’t leave Brazil without a gold medal, but we’d never won one before. Hell, we couldn’t close out any top matches in world competition. We didn’t win in London when the world stage was in our own fucking backyard. It didn’t make any damn sense. All this talent. All this skill. Millions in paychecks and endorsements. The most famous players and we’d never clinched the big ones.

I strutted into the dressing room. I needed a bottle of water and a few aspirins to nurse the end of the hangover. I doubted I could get a pint delivered before practice started. I licked my lips, thinking how that would taste in the heat.

My T-shirt was stuck to the front of my chest. I pulled it away from my skin as I looked for my locker.

We shared these lockers with teams from the other countries in our assigned group. I didn’t expect to see my name engraved over the bench, but I expected more than what I had. I was an international name. I had my own cologne. My own sports clothing line. I had sponsorships for beverages and watches, and I had recently signed a contract for my own football video game with a US company. It was going to be the full Lachlan Kenzie experience. They were developing the smart phone app for the game as well. I had more corporate star power than anyone else in this room.

I stared at the empty locker. Where were my damn boots? Where was the practice kit? There wasn’t even water in this fucking place.

The rest of the guys started hollering at the equipment handlers. I wasn’t the only one who complained about this cock up.

I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. This was shit. Nothing but total shit.

“What the fuck?” I roared.

My temple throbbed with sharp pain. My fingers tingled. I drew back and knocked the side of the box where my equipment should be.

“Lach, calm the fuck down.”

I shook out my palm. Blood trickled from my knuckles. I had split the skin in a jagged line.

I stormed past the other players.

“Where are you going?” Conley tried to jump in front of me, but I shoved him out of the way. I’d had enough of his bullshit for the day.

“Lach, come on!”

I didn’t answer. I kept walking. I emerged through the tunnel onto the pitch. It was being lined on one side with white chalk. They weren’t ready for us. I grabbed a ball from the rack and kicked it halfway across the stadium. It curved in mid-air. I didn’t bother to see where it landed or if it hit anyone as it rocketed off my foot.

I strutted over the grass, leaving the stadium behind.