The Player's Club: Scott (21 page)

She didn’t think he heard her, but his hold on her tightened.

PEOPLE DO GET KILLED DOING this, you know.

It was seven-thirty in the morning. Scott tried hard to ignore his pounding headache and the knot of fear tightening in his stomach. He was standing in the crowd of lunatics, who were apparently singing some traditional running song. Next to him was an old stone building that had statues on top with what looked like angels wielding clubs. The air was almost sticky with excitement and fear.

Scott was wearing the traditional white shirt, white pants and red handkerchief around his neck. He also had his good running shoes on.

He felt like an idiot. A possibly soon-to-be-dead idiot.

“Whooo! Right
on!
” Finn yelled, bouncing like a six-year-old on a sugar rush. “Are you excited? Are you
pumped?
”

“Are you hungover?” Lincoln asked, at a more normal volume. Finn was surrounded by a bunch of Players, all wearing the white clothes…well, except for Finn, who wasn’t wearing a shirt. Finn was self-admittedly “clothing challenged.”

“I’m a little hungover,” Scott said.

“It’ll be fine. It’s the people who are still roaring drunk that usually get hurt in this thing,” Lincoln said casually, as if he were standing in a drawing room instead of on a cobblestone street in Spain, waiting for some pissed-off, really large bovines to start tearing after him.

“After this, I’m in, right?” Scott said, through gritted teeth. Finn was leading a bunch of the guys in some song in very broken Spanish. From the sound of the crowd, it had a bawdy edge to it.

“You’re in like…well, like Finn,” Lincoln said with a grin. “Sure you still want it?”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?”

Lincoln shrugged. “I think you’ll be a good addition, Scott. As long as you’re joining for the right reasons.”

“What are the—”

Before he could complete the question, there was a shout, and suddenly the crowd went quiet. Tension and anticipation were palpable.

Oh, crap.
Scott felt adrenaline flood through his system, making him hyperaware. He felt as if his skin was crawling.

“Good luck,” a female voice said next to him, and he jumped, startled.

Amanda.

He quickly moved her through the crowd, glancing over his shoulder at the guys. “You didn’t… I didn’t think you were going to run.”

“I came all the way to Pamplona,” she said, and her voice was filled with that determination that he was starting to realize he totally loved. “I won’t just be a spectator. I’d kick myself for the rest of my life.”

His mouth went dry as he suddenly got the implication. It was one thing to think of himself possibly dying. But Amanda…

“You’ve got to get out of here,” he said sharply. “Now.”

She stared at him, incredulous. “Um,
no.
”

“People get killed doing this,” he growled.

“Yeah, like you,” she said. “So let’s just focus and get through this, okay? It’ll be a hell of a story.”

Anger quickly replaced any nerves he might’ve had. “Amand…”

Suddenly, a rocket exploded and people started yelling.
“Corre! CORRE!”

Scott didn’t even need the translation. The crowd started moving, white-clad sprinters headed down the uneven streets as the crowd cheered. They’d let out the damned bull.

He started running, jostled by the crowd as they lurched as one headlong down the hill on the uneven street. He wondered if this was what lemmings felt like, just before they found out there was a cliff ahead. He saw Amanda, moving like a gazelle. He felt better being able to see her, and made sure he was close behind. The pace picked up, people yelling. Somebody tripped, almost dragging Amanda with him. Scott caught her and they both jumped over the guy’s body, just before he crawled out of the way.

“Oh, my God!” Amanda shouted breathlessly. The crowd was thinning.

“Bull’s comin’!” a deep Texas drawl bellowed out, and people pushed to the sides. Scott jumped into one of those little alcoves, grabbing Amanda and pulling her flush against him…just before the biggest frickin’ bull he’d ever seen in his life rushed past, like a lumbering freight train that snorted.

“Holy crap!”

Amanda looked at him, fear and exhilaration bright in her eyes. “Oh, my God,” she repeated.

“Run!”
He nudged her, and they started sprinting down the street, amidst the crowd.

The rest of the run was a blur. The ground was uneven and rocky under his feet—it was a miracle he didn’t twist an ankle. Thankfully, he’d done some internet research beforehand, had memorized where the turns were. He herded Amanda on the right path. She was graceful, and damned fast.

The bull run was mercifully short, and he saw the end at the Plaza del Toros, a stadium where the bulls would be fighting later that evening. Scott felt a burst of relief when the stadium was in sight. Pouring on one last desperate push of speed, they went through the darkened tunnel and broke out into light.

Scott was in the middle of the stadium, right in the heart of the bullfighting arena. The stands, he noticed, were fully crowded, everyone cheering like mad. He slowed down, walking around the dirt-packed floor of the stadium, stunned by the surreal feeling. This must be what it felt like to go into the World Series, he thought inanely.

“I can’t believe that!” Amanda said, as more and more bodies milled around inside the arena floor. It was like a big party—and the spectators were cheering them on like returning, victorious heroes.

He kissed Amanda, holding her against him. “That…was…
incredible.
”

She smiled, holding him fiercely. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

He smiled back. “I am going to make love to you all night. And most of tomorrow.”

“And then we’re…”

“Move it, man!” Finn said as he bolted past them. Then he skidded to a stop. “Who’s this?”

“This is Amanda,” Scott said, then remembered she was not supposed to know about them, and they probably shouldn’t know about her. “She’s—”

“Over the wall, Amanda!” Finn said, tugging her arm.

“What?” she asked blankly.

“They’re letting ’em in!
Move it!
”

“Letting
who
in?” Scott asked, feeling dumb. Then he glanced back at the tunnel.

The
bulls.
They were letting the bulls in with them!

He didn’t know where the energy came from, but suddenly, Scott was chasing Amanda and Finn toward the nearest stadium wall. “What the
hell?
” he shouted, just before boosting Amanda up over the wall. A bull was heading right toward them. Finn skinned up the side of the wall like a squirrel. Scott couldn’t get a good hold, and wound up running a little. The bull was distracted for a quick moment.

Move it!
Scott took a running leap at the wall, felt his fingers connect and clasp around the top. By sheer willpower, he hauled himself up and over, practically feeling the beast’s breath against his butt as he did so.

The gathering crowd helped him up, and Amanda was at his side in seconds. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates.

“Congrats!” Finn called, crowing like Peter Pan. “You’re
in,
baby! You’re
in!
”

“I’m in,” he chanted, then looked at Amanda. She was thrilled—it shone on her face. Her confidence and belief in him, her admiration, lit her up like a beacon.

He had everything he wanted. And he was suddenly incredibly glad that she was the one sharing it with him.

“What are you going to do now?” Finn asked, punching him on the shoulder. “We have to celebrate….”

Scott wrapped an arm around Amanda.

“Back to the hotel,” he said.

Screw it. He wanted to be a Player—but right now, he wanted Amanda more.

12

AMANDA HEARD THE KNOCK on the door first. She rolled over lazily, nudging Scott’s nude body. “Room service,” she prompted.

He groaned, putting his head in the pillow. “I don’t think I can move,” his muffled voice replied.

She laughed. “Well, I’m not moving,” she answered, yawning and stretching, feeling delicious aches in her well-used muscles. “And I’m hungry.”

He turned back to see her, then leaned over, nibbling at her rib cage. “I can take care of that.”

“For
food,
” she said, laughing, and nudged him a little harder…although, God help her, her body perked up at the low-lidded look of desire in his eyes. “If we keep feeding the other hunger, I’m not going to be able to walk onto the plane to go to Paris.”

“So we’ll stay here for a few more days.” He dipped his head down, pressing a kiss on the top of her breast, then looked up at her like a begging puppy. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

She was tempted. Tempted to actually pass up a trip to Paris.
I must be in love.
“Food,” she finally forced herself to say, although her voice was breathless.

He smiled at her, shrugging. “Fine. You need to keep your strength up, anyway,” he warned, hopping out of bed. “We’ve still got hours yet before we go to the airport.”

She felt like crowing. She was happy. Totally, crazily, unbelievably happy.

He slipped into one of the terry robes, and she tucked herself under the blanket, hoping he got rid of the waiter in a hurry. He opened the door.

“Finn? Lincoln?” Scott said, his tone startled. Then, with an angry undertone, he added, “And
George?
What the hell is this?”

She froze.

“We need to talk to you,” George blustered, pushing his way into the room. He caught sight of Amanda, and leered.

“About what?” Scott said, stepping between George and the bed.

“About
her.
”

Lincoln sighed, rubbing his face. “This is stupid, George.”

“Yeah, George,” Finn said sharply. “It’s obvious you’ve got an ax to grind with him, but this is low, even for you.”

“What do you mean, ‘even for me’? What’s that supposed to mean?” George blustered.

“What are you doing here?” Scott repeated, his voice firm enough to stop the bickering.

George crossed his arms. “We’ve got
rules,
” he said, with a slight mocking emphasis. “And the first one is you don’t tell.
Anybody.
”

He gestured to Amanda, and she tightened her grip on the blanket, keeping it clutched over her body.

“And you told her.”

Amanda blanched. Scott’s gaze met hers. Then she stared at George, and at the other men—the one called Lincoln, and the guy she’d met on the run with the bulls, Finn.

“These guys?” she said quietly. “These are your friends?”

“Oh, come off it,” George snapped. “You know exactly who the hell we are. You know he’s been in The Player’s Club.”

Her eyes popped wide-open.
Please, please let me be convincing.

“You’re in The
Player’s Club?
” she said, and sat up…letting the blanket dip a little before catching it.