Quarterback Keeper (Fall Lake Ballers #1)

Chapter Two

CHAPTER TWO

GIA

I slammed into the side of the wall, instantly awake. Someone’s onboard. A second passed, then two, while I oriented myself, gauging the immediate danger. The boat no longer felt tethered to the dock. The cabin tilted at an angle as the Catalina charged through Lake Michigan’s waves. I’d rolled from the center of the bed at the abrupt motion, probably when the sails were hoisted. An uneasy tingling rushed through me and settled uncomfortably in my fingertips. I was well and truly screwed.

My heart thudded loudly in my ears as my body screamed from the potential danger. I’d become good at staying on high alert over the past year, and I wouldn’t ignore even the slightest warning—and yet, I had. The luxury cruising sailboat was moving and fast. I’d slept like the dead as the boat had motored out of the harbor and into open waters.

A nap had seemed like a good idea after I’d gone for a run. It hadn’t been. I’d lived aboard the forty-three-foot Catalina 425, or the Quarterback Keeper , as it was named, for the past week and a half without anyone visiting, and I’d begun to feel safe. Big fucking mistake.

I held still, cataloging and dismissing sounds. The door to the cabin was open, and I heard the snap of sails. Did I leave it open? Did my ex find me? Is he onboard? A whimper escaped my lips, and I had to fight through the paralysis of fear before it overcame my ability to do whatever I needed to in the next few moments.

A thump sounded overhead then another. Footfalls. I scooted out of bed, dove for the too-small-for-me closet, shoved the clothes aside, and pulled the door shut with a soft click.

I huddled with my knees to my chest, and my mind raced. Are we far from the docks? Could I jump over the side and swim for shore? I wasn’t a strong swimmer, but I would have a better chance if we were close to land. And it wasn’t as though Lake Michigan had sharks.

My brain raced as I plotted my escape. I could get away. I hadn’t been discovered. It wasn’t him. He never would have let me sleep, not with that giant ego—he would have made sure I knew he’d found me.

If the boat docked, I might be able to slip out unnoticed. New city. New me. I would start again, stay hidden, and keep moving where Dayton wouldn’t find me.

I pushed air out of my mouth, slowly and quietly, before dropping my forehead to my raised knees. It’d been so nice living on the boat. I’d felt safe. I couldn’t use credit cards, since those could be traced. So, I was left to run and struggle to find a place to sleep every night where I didn’t feel like I would be attacked. It was exhausting—which was why I’d lingered on the boat for longer than I should have.

I closed my eyes briefly, surrounded by the scents of laundry detergent and cedar, willing my heart rate to slow. It wasn’t the end of the world. I was free, safe, and undiscovered—for the time being.

I shifted then rested my head against the back of the tiny closet and prepared to wait. I couldn’t even check my prepaid burner phone to figure out how far we were from the Chicago coast, assuming we were sailing away from and not alongside it. I’d left my phone under the pillow—if it was still there after how the cabin had listed and I’d rolled.

I did some mental calculations and guessed about an hour had passed since I’d gotten back from my run then crashed. Could we have just left the dock?

Time passed while I planned how quickly I could grab my meager belongings, shove them into a backpack, and escape without being noticed. I hadn’t left things around the boat. They were all in the bedroom, within easy reach of where I’d been squatting.

I’d kept things mostly packed because I knew I might have to dash. But my running shoes and clothes were on the floor. And I’d left a wet towel in the bathroom. If I was lucky, no one would venture down. It would take a miracle for them not to notice my stuff if they did.

The cadence changed. It felt as if we slowed. The cabin seemed to level out, no longer at the angle it had been. Did we fall off the breeze? A whirling sound followed, and I imagined the sails automatically rolling down, stowed away as I’d routinely seen them. I jumped at what might be the clink of a chain. We’d dropped anchor. It was quiet except for the slap of water against the boat, which should have been relaxing. To me it wasn’t.

I barely breathed, gnawing my lower lip as we drifted within the tether’s confines. It would be so much better if whoever was above had only wanted to take the boat out for a short sail and was leaving again. My ears strained to hear the slightest movement. When I wanted to spring from the closet, I forced myself to wait some more. The thought of my ex standing in the primary bedroom, just waiting for me, helped me remain where I was longer.

But it can’t be him. I knew it in my heart. Dayton was predictable in some ways. Letting me sleep in peace? That wouldn’t have happened—not even to get me alone in open water.

A sliver of relief came on the heels of that thought. And when no other sounds came, I wondered if I’d been wrong. Maybe what I’d thought was the anchor had been something else. Possibly the rope scraping against the dock’s metal as it was secured. I waited for what seemed like forever before cracking open the closet door. That could be my chance to escape and find a new place to live rent free and undetected.

I threw up a quick prayer to whatever deity was listening, opened the door wide, then tripped over my feet. I landed on my knees just as the bathroom door opened. A naked guy stepped into the bedroom, and I froze against the unmade bed.

The bathroom was in clear sight of where I crouched, pinching my eyes shut. How could this happen to me? As he cleared his throat, a deep, masculine rumble echoed through the too-quiet cabin. Slowly, I opened my eyes and followed the trail of naked man from his feet to— ahh! I sucked in air like a baby bird waiting for a worm. Um, not the right reference. That was no worm. And he was not Dayton.

The dripping-wet man stood with a towel clutched in his hand, frozen as he’d been scrubbing the water from his short, dark hair. I had a bird’s-eye view of his impressive package. Or I guess it would be a snake’s-eye view.

“See something interesting?” His eyebrow rose.

My throat tightened. Not a sound left me.

“Care to share your thoughts?”

Nope, hard pass on that. He growled. My gaze traveled from his snake—not a worm—to his muscular chest then his bulging biceps. All the while, I worked hard to avoid another peek at his dangly parts. I got tangled in the view of his body. I wasn’t afraid of it. I could appreciate the view. What bothered me was being trapped in a small space with someone whose intentions I knew nothing about.

“No.” I cleared my throat to bring my voice down from its dog-whistle level to normal. “Nothing to share.” I stood on shaky legs, hoping he missed the way my hands trembled. How can I turn this horrifying situation to my favor? I scowled, sick of how pretty packages like him had the potential to hide pure ugliness. The fact was, I was trespassing. If I couldn’t bluff my way out of my presence there, I might not fare well with whatever he decided to do.

All muscle and a face that would make any girl’s head turn—except mine—only drove home how much trouble I was in. A guy with a similar physique and golden-blond good looks had duped me once. I was no fool—not anymore.

“But if I had some clothes, I would definitely offer you some.”

He stood there for another minute before grabbing a pair of joggers and pulling them up his long, muscular legs. Of fucking course, they were gray sweats that did nothing to hide the outline of what he was packing. God save me from beautiful men. They weren’t worth it—ever.

His face mirrored the scowl I wore. “Who are you, and what are you doing on my boat?”

I mimicked his earlier eyebrow raise and adapted a false bravado. “Your boat? I don’t think so. This is my friend’s boat. And aren’t you a little young to afford something like this?”

He was probably my age, but I tried a guise of confidence and took a chance. It was the sweatpants that made me think he could work for the owner. Lord knew Dayton had people at his beck and call. If the guy only worked on the boat, he could be doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe we could come to an arrangement because staying there had allowed me the first good night’s sleep since I’d put on my running shoes and gotten the hell out of dodge. I had nowhere to go, no money to get there, and no one to call for help. Dayton had made sure of that.

“What?” The guy’s head knocked back, confusion pulling at the corners of his mouth. “Stop fucking around.” A mean glint hardened his deep blue eyes. “Are you a reporter?”

“Ah, no.” Weird. Why would he think that? I was in a T-shirt, sans bra, and a pair of sleep shorts that barely covered my ass. My hair had to look like a squirrel was nesting in it, since I’d crashed after showering and hadn’t brushed it out. I gestured to all of me. “Do I look like a reporter?”

I felt how he looked me up and down, a flush spreading over my neck to settle in my cheeks. Asshole. I crossed my arms over my chest, hoping to hide the way my nipples saluted him.

“This is private property.”

Despite his growly voice, he didn’t physically move toward me, luckily, because I couldn’t take on his over six feet of height and shoulders like that. But I was so going to jail for trespassing.

A wave of dizziness rolled through me. I blinked, sucked in air, then hardened myself against the flight response that demanded action. “Yeah, I know it’s private property, and I’m supposed to be here. What are you doing here? This isn’t your boat,” I bluffed. That was all the game I had. “And why’d you move it? Are you trying to kidnap me?”

“Listen, lady. I’m losing patience. It’s my boat, and I can sail it wherever I want. Which begs the question of who you are.” Silence hung expectantly in the air. As the seconds ticked by, he seemed to come to a decision and pulled a phone from his pocket. “I’m calling the cops.”

“No.” I thrust my hand between us as if I could stop him. The shaking was impossible to hide.

I didn’t care. If he called the cops, Dayton would know where I was. He had connections, a friend on the force back in California who probably had my name flagged if it rolled across any police log in the US. He was that kind of connected. There would be no escaping him then. He would make them hold me until he could get to me, and I would never be able to leave again. “Please. No cops.”

“Who the fuck let you on my boat?” Though his tone remained commanding, he eased back, lifting his eyes from his phone.

I lowered my arm. The only things between us were the frantic puffs of air leaving my parted lips to crash against his chest.

“It was my dad, wasn’t it? Did he set you up here so I would conveniently find you? What’s his game now?”

“Your dad?” What is he talking about? I dropped onto the bed, my mind whirling with how much trouble I was in. McHottie was probably a spoiled rich kid who snapped his fingers and got whatever he wanted. I snuck a glance at him from under my lashes. I knew people like that—my ex, to be specific. I wasn’t liking the comparisons. But something, a strength in the way this guy held himself, didn’t telegraph the nastier side of rich and spoiled that I was familiar with.

“Tell me who the fuck you are.” His voice cracked through the small space like a whip, authority dripping from each syllable.

My gaze jerked to his at the command, and I responded automatically. “Gia.” How the hell will I get myself out of this mess? I couldn’t try to play him, soften him up. I’d fallen for Mr. Nice on the Eyes before, which was why I was hiding on McHottie’s boat. I couldn’t do it again.

He grabbed a discarded shirt and pulled it on. Fall Lake University stretched across his impressive chest, and who he was clicked into place.

But how did a college hottie —yeah, I recognized him, because everyone in the football-loving world knew Kylian Wilder was a god— get a boat as sweet as this one?

“Did the college buy you the boat?” He was a D1 athlete, and considering how talked about he was, I could see it happening.

A muscle twitched on the side of his chiseled jaw. “My dad did.”

Oh shit. My brain finally put two and two together.

His dad was Danbury Wilder, Illinois senatorial candidate. I needed to think fast to make it work in my favor. With his lips still curled back in answer to my question, hatred spilled from Kylian’s narrowed gaze.

And isn’t that interesting?