Tank: Kings of Denver (Book 4) Read online

  “Dude,” Cameron, one of the guys says with a scoff. “Where’d you fuck off to?”

  “Lunch,” I reply. “I was here four hours before the rest of you.”

  “Shit,” he grunts, half impressed and half embarrassed for even asking.

  I walk straight past him and dump my shit in the locker room before grabbing my drink bottle and music.

  I head off towards the gym to find Miller right beside me. Apparently my win this morning has pulled his motivation right back where it needs to be.

  Miller was pretty much in the same position as I was come the end of last season. We were both top of the list for taking the position as Captain but since Mia came along, he is more than happy to take a backseat on this one. I know it’s always been a dream of his to be Captain in the professional league but I guess things change when you have kids. Now, he is just happy to go along for the ride. Don’t get me wrong, he still works his ass off for his team and is one of the best players in the whole league.

  But me, I want this like you’ll never believe and I’ll stop at nothing until I’ve succeeded. That doesn’t just count for the title. I want to earn the position and be the best damn Captain the L.A Storm have ever had.

  I’m going to lead this team to victory.

  We did it for the last few years and we’ll be damn sure to do it again this season.

  Chapter 5

  Sophie

  Shit. I feel awful. I should have told him what I was up to. Well, he knows me well enough to know I’m following a new lead, it just feels wrong that I didn’t come right out and say it.

  I guess I was trying to avoid the inevitable fight that would have come with it… maybe fight is the wrong word but he would have gone on and on about how I should be relaxing and how my job is too dangerous, blah, blah, blah. But then I would have jumped his bones and rocked his world until he forgot what we were talking about.

  Though, to be honest, jumping his bones is a little harder now that there’s this bump attached to my stomach but that just means we have to be a little more… creative.

  Dani always whinged that sex during pregnancy was uncomfortable and that Miller hated the idea of invading his unborn child’s space. Me and Tank though, we certainly don’t have those reservations. No matter what the occasion, sex is fun… actually, it’s a hell of a lot more than fun, it’s explosive, especially with a machine like Tank.

  Mind-blowing doesn’t even seem to cover it.

  I was up at the crack of dawn this morning, annihilating my peanut butter toast and fruit smoothie as I worked out my plan for the day.

  Tank had left early for practice and I swear, even though the season hasn’t started yet, his training sessions have been getting longer and longer which leaves no doubt in my mind that he is going to make Captain this year. I’m already so damn proud of him and I can’t wait to see him in action again. I’ve always found watching him dominating the ice one of the sexiest things known to man.

  I finish scoffing down my breakfast and get myself showered and ready for the day, making sure I look professional, yet innocent at the same time.

  I go over the notes I made yesterday about the case of the dead CEO’s and get myself out the door. I pull up at the office of First Choice Constructions and I’m back out the door within the hour. There is no way that old guy did it.

  First off, he’s like a hundred years old and was going on and on about how he is retiring in a few months and secondly, he didn’t give me that weird, gut feeling that screams ‘HE DID IT’.

  I get back in my car and make my way across the city to Baxter Constructions. I double check my notes and take a quick look at the photo attached to his name. The guy would be around mid-thirties and looks like an absolute sleaze-ball. He built his company off the money given to him by mummy and daddy and from the news articles I could find, he is a real loser.

  I touch up my lipstick in my rear-view mirror and get out of my car as I look up at the massive skyscraper before me. I head inside and over to the reception desk. “Hi, I’m Sophie from Daily Star, I’m here for my scheduled appointment with Mr. Baxter,” I lie.

  The receptionist looks at her schedule and gets a nervous look on her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t have you down for an appointment,” she informs me.

  “Oh?” I question. “I spoke with Mr. Baxter himself last Thursday, he ensured I had an appointment scheduled for 11 am. Shall I give him a call?” I ask, pulling out my phone.

  “Oh, no, no. That won’t be necessary,” the girl says, looking deathly pale. “Go on up, he’s at level 38.”

  Geez, worked like a charm. I give her a polite smile and turn on my heel. I press the button for the elevator and wait the thirty seconds for one to arrive. I step into the glass box and press number 38 before turning and watching the view as the elevator skyrockets through the beautiful skyscraper.

  I step out of the elevator and instantly find a glass door with ‘Christian Baxter, CEO’ written across the front.

  I push my way through and find myself faced with yet another receptionist, or maybe it’s his personal assistant. Who knows? But the one thing I do notice about her is that she looks a lot like me which makes me wonder how I can possibly use that to my advantage.

  I step up to the young girl who looks at me with a bright, welcoming smile. “Hi,” she starts. “You must be Sophie, welcome to Baxter Corporation. My name is Aimee.”

  “Thank you, Aimee,” I say, pleasantly surprised that downstairs had actually communicated with upstairs.

  “Forgive me for asking, but can you remind me the nature of your appointment?”

  “Of course,” I smile. “As I mentioned to your reception downstairs, I’m from Daily Starr Magazine and I have an interview with Mr. Baxter.”

  “Oh,” she says with her eyes widening in surprise. “What is the interview in relation to?”

  “Mr. Baxter has been nominated for this year’s sexiest bachelor award, I just need a few comments from him and I’ll be on my way,” I tell her.

  “Right,” she says as her eyebrows crease together. “Wasn’t he awarded that last month?”

  “No,” I say with a slight shake of my head. “That was the ‘Money Makers under forty’ award so now all the ladies are going to know he is not only a bachelor but he’s raking it in, too,” I grin with a playful wink.

  Her face flushes but she agrees to take me in. She leads me down a long hallway and through a maze of glass windowed offices then right to the end. With a swipe of her key card, I’m ushered straight on into Christian Baxter’s office.

  The office is huge and I find Christian instantly, talking on his phone as he stands at the massive room length window. I know he heard my entrance by the sound of my heels clicking on his polished marble flooring, though, being the pompous ass that he is, he ignores me and forces me to wait until he is good and ready.

  I make myself at home as I head on over to his bar. I grab a glass tumbler, fill it up with a few ice cubes and pour myself some water. I gingerly take my time as I shuffle over towards the massive lounge and make myself comfortable. I pull out my notepad and pen which has a list of ridiculous questions and tap my fingernails impatiently on the side of the glass tumbler.

  I do my best to take in his office, working out where he would keep personal files and any kind of information on his competitors because let’s face it, this guy hasn’t said a word yet and I can already tell he plays dirty. Whether or not he did what I think he might have done, there will be some sort of incriminating information within these walls.

  Five minutes later he finally hangs up his call and turns to me with an annoyed scowl. The moment he takes me in his eyes widen in interest and a sleazy grin takes over his face. Ugh, what a loser. He takes a few steps towards me and I raise up off the couch. Christian holds a hand out to me and I do the same. The moment he takes in my wedding rings and protruding baby bump, his face pulls up in disgust and disinterest.

  Score one for me.
r />   “I’m Christian Baxter, how can I help you?” he asks as he drops my hand.

  I give him a polite smile. “Sophie Meyers,” I say. “I’m here with Daily Star Magazine, covering your ‘Sexiest Bachelor of the year’ nomination,” I inform him.

  “Huh?” he grunts. “Did I not do this interview a few weeks ago?”

  “No,” I say with a flirty smile. “That was a separate nomination. Apparently, you’re quite a popular guy.”

  He gives me a cocky grin as he takes a seat opposite to the one I had just vacated. “By all means then,” he says, sweeping his arm out and inviting me to take my seat.

  I go ahead and make myself comfortable but before I can launch into my questions, he holds a hand up. “Hold on,” he says with creased eyebrows. “I’ve heard of you. Aren’t you that investigative journalist who has been putting assholes behind bars?”

  “Guilty,” I say with a proud smile that has his interest returning. Apparently, this guy is willing to look past the baby bump and wedding band.

  “Right, so what are you doing an interview like this for?” he asks very clearly suspiciously.

  I let out a frustrated scoff and pull my acting skills into gear. I rub my baby bump, bringing his attention right to it. “Apparently my boss doesn’t approve of my risky project while I’ve got this little guy growing inside me, though, I’m sure he’s just concerned about the premium of his insurance if something were to happen, so until further notice, I’m stuck doing these fluff pieces even though my usual projects are what brings in the most money for the magazine,” I explain. “That and my husband would have a heart attack if I was doing what I really wanted to do.”

  “Geez,” he says. “Bad luck for you, but I must agree with your boss. From a business perspective, he was right to bench you.”

  “I know,” I agree with a sigh. “Anyway, I should get started. You’re clearly a very busy man and I don’t want to take up too much of your time.”

  He nods his head and I launch into my questions on his sexy good looks and bachelor status. Doing my best at pretending as though I’m actually interested in his clinical, rehearsed replies. I’m wrapping it up when I go ahead and take a risk. “Mr. Baxter, that concludes my questions for the article but may I be so bold to ask for a statement?”

  “A statement for what?” he asks.

  “A colleague of mine is doing a piece on the recent passing of Marco Cincinnati. I’m sure you must have known him quite well,” I state.

  “Recent passing?” he asks with concern.

  Hmm… curious. Either he truly has no idea or the guy is pulling out his own acting skills. But seriously, how could someone in his position not know about Marco’s passing. It was major news and a would have rocked the construction world.

  “Yes, sir. His body was discovered on Saturday morning,” I inform him like the good little girl I am.

  He hangs his head. “That’s truly devastating. I have known Marco for quite some time.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realise you didn’t know, I would have broken the news in a more sensitive way. I apologise.”

  He nods his head. “How did he pass?” he asks.

  Bingo. Just the question I was hoping for. I watch him closely as I go about my description. “His body was discovered in a high-class brothel. He was highly intoxicated and there was evidence of drug use, though they are still waiting for the toxicology results to determine if he was using.”

  He nods his head and I watch as his features remain schooled. No shock, no surprise, no dilation of his pupils. All indicators that this is not news to him and all indicators that there is indeed more to this story. “That’s a shame,” he says putting on an act. “I hadn’t realised he was one for wild partying,” he adds with disapproval.

  Liar. There are plenty of news articles that show the two of them out having crazy, wild drunken nights together. All of which include, alcohol, drugs hookers and DUI’s.

  “Of course, well, I better get out of your hair. I have everything I need.”

  “Indeed,” he says, getting to his feet. He holds his hand out once again and I reluctantly take it. “It was lovely meeting you Sophie,” he says.

  “Likewise,” I nod. “Thank you for your time this morning.”

  With that, I beeline for the door, knowing that without a doubt, I will somehow find my way back into that office. I make my way out to the reception area and find Aimee. “All done?” she asks with her clinical smile.

  “I am,” I smile. “The article is going to be great.”

  “Oh, wonderful,” she beams as I spy her key card left carelessly on her desk. The idea is in action before it has even fully formed.

  “Oh,” I gasp as I double over and clutch onto my stomach in pain.

  Her eyes widen in fear. “Is everything ok?” Aimee asks as she comes around the side of her desk and does what little she can to help me.

  “It will be,” I pant, pretending to concentrate solely on my breathing. “I get a lot of cramping,” I explain. “Could I trouble you for some water?”

  “Of course, of course,” she says before rushing around the office, desperate to help the needy, pregnant woman.

  The moment she turns her back, I make my move and swipe the key card straight off her desk before sliding it into my purse. I make myself comfortable on the lounge opposite her desk and put on a show of rubbing my stomach as I wait for her to return. She comes back just moments later with a glass tumbler filled with frosty water. “Thank you so much,” I say graciously as I take the glass from her and sip the water.

  “No problem at all,” she says gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes, much, thank you,” I say. “It happens at the worst of times.”

  “I can only imagine.”

  I give her a friendly smile before getting back to my feet. “May I ask where the nearest bathroom is? This baby likes to use my bladder as a squeeze toy,” I tell her.

  She gives me a fond, knowing smile and points out the closest bathroom. I thank her once again and get on my way, ready to put this plan into action.

  I walk into the bathroom and go up and down the aisle twice before declaring the coast is clear. I look up at the roof and find the little smoke detector right above the sink.

  Excellent.

  With a grin, I search through my bag and find my trusty lighter. I remember when I had first bought it and Dani had said it would be a waste of money seeing as though I don’t smoke but I was really into having those flaming shots at the time, so I have never once regretted buying this bad boy, especially now.

  I place my handbag down on the counter and do my best to hoist myself up. I latch onto the mirror as best I can, not wanting to fall as I grab some paper towel off the bench and hold it to the lighter. The flames catch instantly and I quickly look back at the door, knowing now would be a really bad time for someone to come in.

  I hold the paper towel up to the smoke detector and let it do its thing.

  I listen out and just as I had hoped, I hear the magical sound of the fire alarm starting up. I quickly drop the flaming paper towel down into the sink and reach down to turn on the tap. The second the fire is out, I scramble off the counter and hide in a stall.

  I hear the people outside the bathroom groaning and fussing about as they jump straight into their evacuation process. I can’t help but grin to myself at my quick thinking. I mean, this is a pretty epic plan.

  I hear Christian Baxter’s voice outside the bathroom. “This is the fourth time this month,” he snaps. “Organise for someone to replace the system.”

  “Yes, sir,” I hear Aimee respond.

  “Grab your things,” he then demands as the jerk I knew he would be out of the public eye. “You’ll have to re-schedule my video conference for the lunch appointment. Who knows how long this waste of time will take.”

  “Yes, sir,” Aimee stutters out, making me feel a little bad for the poor girl. I mean, she is doing
everything for this guy, the least he could be is a little friendly. I know if I was working for him, I would have told him to shove it ages ago.

  The noise coming from outside the bathroom starts to dwindle down but I wait a few extra minutes just in case. I pull my phone out of my bag and find a voicemail message and an unread text message. I read the text first and feel a bit bad when I notice it’s Tank checking in and I didn’t respond. Then I hit listen on the voicemail.

  “Babe, Crazy Jill messaged so it’s on tonight. You better be ready. Call me back when you can.”

  I close my eyes as I listen to his voice. Even after all this time the guy still affects me and makes me feel like a horny teenager. I grin at his message. That Crazy Jill is so annoying, in fact, all the women who are pining for my husband are annoying but she is like an extra special dose of annoying. I mean, get the picture already. He is happily married with a baby on the way. He isn’t interested.

  But then, the little bets we have, have made for some very interesting nights together, one being my favourite ‘Naked cooking night’, which apparently after betting that Crazy Jill would text within four days means that I won this round so I get to watch my extremely well-built husband, strutting around the kitchen like a damn God.

  Fuck yes!

  I quickly type out a text.

  Sophie – Hey handsome. I’m already thinking about the kitchen bench, actually, I’m not sure I’ll make it to the kitchen bench. I’m just finishing up work, I’ll be home within the hour. Love you.

  Tank – I can’t fucking wait. In the gym, I won’t be long.

  With a grin, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my jeans and quietly tiptoe to the door of the bathroom. I stick my head out the door and look up and down the hallway.

  Yes, the coast is clear.

  I slip out of the bathroom, putting my hair up the same way Aimee had hers and steal her jacket off the back of her chair. I pull it on and walk through the office with my head down, making myself look as much like Aimee as possible, just in case there are any cameras or if some rebels decided to stay behind during the evacuation.