Saints and Sinners: The Complete Series Page 33

  “Then I’ll see you in the morning.” He was about to hang up when he heard Gia call his name. “You get three strikes with me. Don’t use up anymore.”

  “G…” she exhaled and Kai amended his words. “Miss Jilani, I’ll get myself together.”

  “Good,” she told him. “I’m a good friend to have if you don’t piss me off.”

  “What…happens if I do?”

  She laughed, but the humor didn’t sound amused. “Take my advice, Mr. Pukui and never risk finding out.”

  3.

  KAI

  THE SEA, sand, and ocean breeze seemed to be written into Kai’s DNA. When he was home, something about all three came over him, wrapped around him like an embrace. That place, Oahu, had been where he’d settled, where he and Nalani had found the roots that sprouted wings.

  Kai hated leaving.

  But on the lush green field, in a city that had a spirit he felt the second he stepped onto her streets, Kai realized those roots could be replanted. He liked to think how he felt about New Orleans had a lot to do with his teammates—those brothers who lifted him up, who laughed with him like no others ever had before. They didn’t want a thing from him but for Kai to do the same hard work they’d committed to. And, for him to play wingman when and if he was needed. But, he rarely was. They were good men. They were solid, but they were also opportunistic.

  Like that asshole Anthony Pérez, who seemed incapable of not thinking with his dick. Like he was when Kai stepped out of the stadium building and onto the field to find the tight end leaning against the railings as he watched their new placekicker, Reese Noble, run drills with Coach Ricks.

  “Don’t even think about it, buggah,” he told the man, flicking Pérez’s ear when he came up behind him.

  “Coño, you bastard. You’re back.” His friend greeted him, grabbing Kai’s hand for a half shake, half hug that Kai happily accepted.

  Kai nodded toward the field, watching Noble move through a line of balls, with Wilkens trailing behind her. She was faster than the punter and her kicks were more solid. “Hell of a leg on her.”

  “And a perfect fucking ass.”

  “You say that about Baker too?” Kai heard, turning to see Kenya Wilson approach. The look he gave Pérez cut deep, the muscles fierce and Kai knew why. Of all of them, Wilson hated when players were shit starters. Having a woman on their team meant they’d catch shit from every other asshole in the league who wanted to mess with all of them. Wilson could see a disaster before it came.

  Pérez flirting with Noble would be a Titanic-sized disaster.

  “Calm your balls, pendejo. I’m only looking, si?”

  “That’s the problem,” Wilson continued, greeting Kai with a slap of his hand to Kai’s. “You looking at females tend to get their attention.” The three men stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their focus out on that field, watching as Ricks talked to Noble. “And she might be a baller as kicker, but she’s still a woman.”

  “You mean she’ll be unable to resist me?” Pérez’s laugh was loud, obnoxious. Kai had missed hearing it.

  “I’m saying, motherfucker, lay off and let her do her job.”

  “Dang, she’s hot…” another voice said, and all three men turned. Kai grinned at Miles Baker, giving the offensive lineman a fist bump before the man stood at his side.

  “Here goes another one,” Wilson complained. “The hell is wrong with y’all?”

  “I’m just appreciating,” Baker said, forgetting Noble for a second to move his chin at Kai. “You have a good visit with your girl?

  “I did. She’s getting big.”

  “They do that,” Wilson offered, moving his head up to get Noble’s attention when she turned toward them. “One minute they can’t keep their heads up to feed themselves. The next you’re chasing some little fucker out of your sister’s house with a bat for trying to stick his—”

  “Can you not?” Kai stopped him, rubbing his hands into his eyes, not remotely ready for the visual that popped into his head.

  “Noble,” Wilson greeted, standing with his feet apart, as she approached. “You giving Wilkens the blues with how far you’re moving that ball through the uprights.”

  “Oh?” she said, her smile wide. She turned back catching Wilkens as he followed Ricks off the field, the Coach’s hand on his back and Noble’s smile lowered. “Well, maybe he was tired or something.”

  “Nah,” Kai said. “That asshole is getting old.”

  The kicker turned to face him, moving her head up. “You’re Kai Pukui? I heard you were back in Hawaii.”

  “Good to meet you,” he said, offering her his hand to shake. “I was. Had some family business to handle.” He pointed to his teammates. “These bastards take you to Lucy’s yet? Or, hell, Huck Finn’s? They have the best roast beef po’boys.”

  She looked at Wilson, head shaking. “Roast beef po’boys? You’ve been holding out on me.”

  “Nah. I told you where the good margaritas were.”

  “Fuck the margaritas,” Kai said, closing his eyes, just imagining the taste of that gravy floating around that po’boy. “Huck Finn’s…”

  “You’re always thinking with your gut…” Pérez said, laughing at Kai with his attention trained on Noble. “Now, if you want a real meal and drinks not made from water downed tequila, you should let me cook for you.”

  “You…wanna cook for me?” she asked, pushing her hair behind her ear.

  Kai caught Wilson’s eye and both men shook their heads. “Don’t do it, Noble,” Kenya said. “That motherfucker uses too many beans and Wilkens is already pissed that you’re showing him up. Give the man a break and don’t fill up on food that’s gonna make you fucking fart like a—”

  “Like a what, Mr. Wilson?” Gia said, walking up the sidelines.

  The players all went still, their smiles lowering as the woman moved closer. Kai swallowed, his throat closing. He hadn’t seen her since that night at Summerland’s. He’d spoken to her, had flirted with her mercilessly, but the last time he’d been more than a hundred feet from her, she’d been twisting that glorious round ass away from him with his mouth still swollen from how hard she’d kissed him.

  Fuck me, he thought, his attention immediately shooting to her body and the gray skirt and jacket she wore. That suit had to be tailored for how perfectly it formed to her body. The black open-toe heals had to be four inches high, making her calves flex when she moved, but all Kai could focus on was the perfect shape of her feet and the shine on her manicured toenails.

  He was in his gear, fresh from the gym and the exhausting laps his conditioning coaches had set him on. He was starving, mildly cranky after having to swallow his pride and ask Keeana to spot him for the ticket back to New Orleans, but all that shit seemed to fly out of his head when Gia stood across from him, her smile warm, but her expression holding a hell of a lot of attitude.

  “Is someone…gassy?”

  “Not…yet, Miss J,” Wilson said, clearing his throat. His attention went behind Gia and Kai laughed to himself, knowing that asshole was looking for the pretty assistant who was never too far behind the GM. He was out of luck today. “Just warning Noble to stay away from Pérez’s spicy cooking.”

  “Not bad advice,” she said, nodding to Wilson, taking her time to look at each player before she focused on Reese. “If you have a second, I need a word.” Then, Gia glanced at Kai, keeping her composure, her stare lingering just a fraction longer on his face than it had on anyone else’s before she nodded and moved away. Stepping a few feet from them to wait for Noble.

  “Good to meet you,” the kicker told Kai, shooting him a smile that he found genuine.

  “Next time you get a chance,” he told her, “come with us to dinner. My treat. There’s no excuse for missing a good meal.”

  “I will.” She glanced up at the bleachers then nodded back to them, turning to Gia.

  Kai knew he should have kept his mouth shut. He knew that maintaining professionalism was more im
portant than anything else, but hell, he found he couldn’t keep himself from saying something just to get Gia’s attention, even if his boys were around him.

  He used the guise of their attention on her, on how each of them kept themselves distracted by how the two women moved, side by side, their round, perfect asses swaying when they began across the sidelines.

  “Fucking perfect,” Pérez said, and Kai knew he was talking about Noble.

  “Both of them,” Baker added.

  Kai took his chance.

  “So damn nice seeing you…Miss Gia. Have a nice night.”

  “Dude…” Wilson said, jabbing him in the elbow. “You got a death wish?”

  “Maybe,” Kai said, dropping the grin that had started on his face when he noticed Gia stopping, her back going rigid before she turned.

  There was a twitch pulsing against her top lip, followed by the slight curl of her top lip before Gia touched Nobel’s arm, taking two steps away from the kicker, folding her arms as she approached.

  “And you have a lovely evening as well, Mr. Pukui,” she said, bringing back the attitude that had made his teammates go silent when she interrupted them. “I do hope you enjoyed your extended trip and that you got plenty of time with your family.” She took another step, and Kai would have sworn her eyebrows disappeared behind her bangs when she arched them. “By the way, please make sure your representatives contact me as soon as possible. Mr. McAddams was quite adamant that the penalty applied for missing the beginning of spring training be settled before negotiations are complete.”

  Kai dropped his mouth open, meaning to say something like “what the fuck?” possibly, “you can’t be serious” but he couldn’t make any sound leave his throat.

  “Hmm, you know,” she started, her voice so low Kai was sure only he could hear her, “I do believe that’s the first time since I met you that you’ve been rendered without a single pointless clapback. Amazing.”

  Gia grinned, taking two steps back before she turned to join Noble on the sidelines, throwing a loud, “every infraction has a consequence, Mr. Pukui. Pay your fine,” before she left.

  Behind him, Kai heard his teammates howling with laughter, unaware what a problem this penalty issue would be for him. Wilson approached, slapping Kai on his shoulder as both men watched Gia and Noble leave the field. “Don’t worry, man,” he said, seeming barely able to contain his laughter, “I’ll buy you dinner. Sounds like you could use the free meal.”

  As beautiful as she was, as much as he’d loved the way she’d tasted, Kai decided right then that watching Gia walking away from him wasn’t his favorite hobby anymore.

  4.

  GIA

  JOE KUPA HAD the second most beautiful naked body Gia had ever seen. She’d seen it every week for five months when she lived in New York. That body had wrapped around her, had climbed inside her. It had loved her and warmed her. It had teased her and tempted her. If Gia could have kept the body and all the wonderful things it did to her and leave the man, or at least, the emotions that were tied up with the man, she might still have that glorious body in her bed.

  But Gia had long-since abandoned the ideas of tying herself to someone for more than what they could give her body. She wasn’t interested in what they would offer her heart. That was a cold and dark and empty thing by now. There’d be no reviving it.

  Joe couldn’t do it.

  So why did he seem eager to try?

  The question had taken root in Gia’s head the first time Cat mentioned Joe calling her office to speak to her. That he would call nearly six months after they’d spoken their goodbyes made her nervous. It left her a little more than anxious.

  “Take a message,” she’d directed her assistant, not elaborating when the woman had given her a look before muttering a small white lie about Gia being in a meeting.

  “He said it was important.”

  “Nothing Joe has to say to me is important.” Gia had packed up her bag and started out of her office, almost deciding to log on to her cell provider’s site to change her number when she spotted the 212-area code and knew it must be him calling ten minutes after he’d dialed her office number. “Relentless.” But changing her number would be a hassle, even more so than taking his call, though she hadn’t been ready for that either.

  “I’ll work from home this afternoon,” she told Cat, and headed to the elevator, ready for a bite at the small makeshift deli one of the vendors set up in the French Market just a few blocks from her building. Joe gave her a break for two hours after that, relieving Gia, easing her worry. He’d never been an anxious sort. Joe wasn’t the type to call over and over again or shoot a bunch of texts her way when he couldn’t get in touch with her. He was easy, calm.

  Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe he’d just missed her, and something had gotten into his head the moment he called and wouldn’t let him loose. But by the time Gia changed into her yoga pants and floppy UCLA oversized sweatshirt, her cell rang again, and that same 212 number moved across her screen.

  The cell vibrated against her desk as she let it ring. The curved surface knocked against the edge of her laptop, sliding nearly off the white marble surface until she stopped it. After the sixth ring, the voicemail engaged, and Gia waited, gaze narrowing on the screen until it flashed with a small, blinking envelope.

  She debated listening to the message. What good would it do? There’d been no promises between them when he left her place that cold February morning. There’d only been the sweet ache in her muscles from how he’d touched her and the prediction he’d made that someone, somewhere would one day leave her in a mess she’d never want to be out of.

  Joe was dramatic. A sweet, romantic good time who told her he wanted to settle but knew that wasn’t in her game plan. So why was he pestering her now?

  “Oh, hell,” she told the empty room, selecting the message button, then the speaker option. When she heard his voice, something flipped in her stomach—some old, wild sensation that started with a great swell of excitement but almost immediately died as soon as it began.

  “Kia Ora, Gia, I know you’re busy, but I’m going to need a bit of time. There’s something…ah…bugger. Just…can you phone me? I hate leaving messages…especially for something like…well, it’s important, eh? Phone me, as soon as you’re able. Great. Chur, love.”

  “Damn, Joe.” There were scenarios running through Gia’s head. Millions did anytime she thought she sensed drama looming. Sometimes, the men she found didn’t like to walk away. Sometimes, they lingered. Gia thought she was one of a growing, but still small group of women her age that wasn’t looking for someone who wanted to stick around.

  But she didn’t. She’d had that once. At least, she’d had the potential of that and losing it had nearly destroyed her.

  Luka had loved her like no one.

  Luka had held her.

  Touched her.

  Promised her that what they had was a forever love.

  But Gia knew that kind of love is a promise spoken with no power. It’s the whisper in the dark with no hope of ever seeing the light.

  She glanced down at her phone, at Joe’s number staring back at her like a threat and promise all in one, and decided she wanted neither. Deleting the message and blocking the number, she moved from her office, tugging off her lounging garb and shuffling into her running gear, needing the reprieve that came to her from the open river breeze and the exertion she earned with every pounding slap of her running feet against the trail that ran along the Mississippi behind her building.

  Out there, there were no promises, no threats, no reminders of what would never be hers again.

  HER BODY SOAKED to the bone, her sleeveless top drenched, Gia walked through the lobby, nodding to the security guard who opened the door that led to the elevators and stopped herself from tugging out the earbuds she’d used to keep the city and the stream of constant tourists from distracting her as she concentrated on her run.

  Lydia and Lionel, o
r Dr. and Mrs. Becknell from 5D, the floor above her, were moving into the car just ahead of Gia, both their attention on her, but she assumed for different reasons.

  Lydia, like every other time Gia had exchanged glances with her, glared at Gia, the woman’s examining gaze penetrating, judgmental as she seemed to take in everything from the way Gia wore her hair pinned back in a high ponytail, to the minimal make-up and tight workout gear she sported. She was used to this kind of appraisal. Women, particularly those entangled with players or owners, coaches and fellow managers in every organization she’d ever worked in, had served Gia with this particular brand of suspicious scrutiny. It had not changed in twenty years. Gia doubted it ever would.

  Lydia, however, was a particularly nasty sort, muttering, low, catty comments anytime she and Gia found themselves at the mailboxes at the same time or when the elevators were empty save for these two very different women. Mrs. Becknell was a society wife, of some eleven years, so Gia had heard, not yet worried about her place at her husband’s side, but still old enough to be suspicious when he took great interest in their fourth floor new neighbor who happened to be the new general manager of the New Orleans Steamers.

  She was young enough to still hold an active shape, her face not too taut with the typical overdone plastic surgery perfections most older women in her circle tended to favor, but those boobs weren’t hers, and there was no way she’d gotten that ass or those thighs from the same European ancestors that left her the pale skin, freckles and gray-blue eyes.

  Someone, Gia figured, had been visiting Dr. Delaney, a local plastic surgeon who specialized in Kim K. enhancements.

  “Well, Miss Jilani, how are you?” Dr. Becknell asked, making Gia tense when he gave her a smile that bordered on too friendly, too wide. The man was the opposite side of the coin to his wife; the exaggerated court jester to her crying demon. The pair of them got on Gia’s nerves. “How’s our boys looking? You know, my buddy Matt Thomas, he’s with the Orleans Parish D.A.’s office, went and had a look at the boys during spring training.” He gave Gia a nod, which she politely returned, but didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Well, guess I can’t say ‘boys’ now can I? We got that gal kicking, don’t we? That lil’ Nobel girl…”