He’d run a background check. “At age twelve, I broke my ankle twice in one year learning to Rollerblade. I’ve read Wuthering Heights ten times. I’m allergic to eggplant.” She looked down at her black tank dress and mauve shrug. “I dress conservatively. I have a dental appointment tomorrow at—”
“Six.” A final lip twitch. “I know.”
Cat held the door for Rand and watched as he hobbled onto the sidewalk. The sunrise cast gold onto his stretch limousine—a lot of vehicle for one man. The driver stood by the curb and was quick to reach his boss. The passenger door opened and closed without a sound.
Catherine leaned against the outside wall and watched the limo pull away. The license plate read RG-1.
A most interesting morning.
She returned to her office and set Foxie free. The schipperke scampered beneath the desk once again. Cat relaxed on her chair and mentally rewound her time with Rand. Their meeting had been short and to the point. The man was a time manager; obviously, he made every second of each day count. They’d made a connection, and she believed him a good man.
Her heart sank at the prospect of the Richmond Rogues facing bankruptcy, but due to the floundering economy, large corporations were failing all over the country. It was a buyers’ market for those who could afford the bailouts. Rand looked like a man with a very large vault.
He also had a strong forehead, sharp brown eyes, and scars. The scars could mean nothing or they could mean a great deal. Surely he couldn’t be ...
Cat reached across her desk and lifted his business card. The cream-colored vellum was high quality, the lettering in bold black script. The three lines stopped her heart.
RANDALL BURTON LAWLESS
PRESIDENT & CEO OF GRACE HOTELS WORLDWIDE
804-555-1111
Her stomach clenched. She’d just done business with James Lawless’s grandfather. A man whose financiers had financiers. And he’d said he trusted her. She’d hit high finance, but confidentiality forbade her from telling a soul.
James Lawless and Bouncer swung by James River Stadium on their way to Driscoll Financial. He’d hoped to meet with his grandfather that morning, but Randall’s secretary had been quick to inform Law that his employer had left the hotel on personal business. Law would have to catch up with him later in the day.
He’d spent a restless night, his bedsheets twisted around him like a lover. He now had two hours to kill before he met with Catherine May. The previous evening hadn’t gone well. Their talk had been all business until Clone Man forced open a window to his past. Cat had caught him at his lowest. That bothered him most. Life after loss sucked. Grief was best left buried. He didn’t need her sympathy.
Law parked in the players’ lot and lifted Bouncer from the backseat of the black Mercedes GL, one of the hotel’s sport utility vehicles. He attached a short lead to the boxer’s collar. Dogs weren’t allowed at the park, but his teammates snuck in their pets on their days off when they came to work out. Psycho McMillan’s Newfoundlands often greeted the Rogues at the door. The dogs were as big as ponies, woolly and drooling.
Law had no plans to lift weights or hit the batting cages. He came for the fraternity. There were times his penthouse felt too large for one person, so he scaled down his day at the stadium. All the players had home gyms, yet no matter the hour, there was always at least one Rogue pumping iron or watching game footage in preparation for his next time at bat.
Law found shortstop Brody Jones, center fielder Risk Kincaid, and first baseman Rhaden Dunn in their workout gear, slumped on benches, all pumped and sweaty. Towels wrapped their necks and water bottles were sucked dry as they took a break, shooting the breeze.
“Bouncer,” the men called to the boxer. The big dog nearly wriggled out of his fur in his excitement. Law unclipped his lead and the dog made the rounds, lapping up the attention.
Brody eyed Law. “Scary face, man.” The bruising on Law’s forehead had spread, now circling both his eyes and inching down his nose. “You wouldn’t need a mask for Haunt. You could go as a prizefighter.”
Hitting the nightclub was not on Law’s agenda. Finding Wonder Woman was, however, and he hoped by the end of the day that Walter would discover her identity. He wanted to meet the real woman.
“Team updates?” Law asked, once Bouncer had returned to his side. The workout room belonged solely to the players. It was a place where truth and fact squelched rumors and speculation within the organization. The coaches and trainers never entered without knocking. Team owner Guy Powers came to the lower level only following a World Series win. He’d been to the locker room four times in the last twelve years.
Risk cut Rhaden a look. “Tell him,” he said.
Rhaden appeared uneasy. He was married to Powers’s niece, Revelle Sullivan-Dunn, who operated Games’ On, the player promotions network. Rhaden was able to inform the team of any major administrative changes long before the memo filtered down from the top.
The first baseman wiped his face and neck with his towel and set his jaw. “Revelle had lunch with one of the comptrollers. Word has leaked out that Powers is late paying his corporate note. Revelle was stunned. According to insider reports, the Rogues were forced to borrow twenty-five million from Major League Baseball two years ago because of a cash shortfall, a loan that MLB tried to keep secret. That came after the club had already exhausted a line of credit with MLB for tens of millions of dollars.”
“Powers borrowed heavily to keep the Rogues afloat as well as to buy real estate,” Risk said. “Those loans have all come due.”
Law was aware of Powers’s investments. The team owner had purchased ten blocks of surrounding properties near the stadium. Last summer, Law had bid against Powers for a family grocery store and lost. The store would have been perfect for one of his business students. Instead, the grocery had been leveled and replaced by a high-rise.
“What about his ex-wife?” Law asked. Corbin Lily owned the Louisville Colonels. Corbin and Guy had a history. They were National League rivals, but still respected each other. Corbin had bailed out Guy on more than one occasion.
“Corbin’s stretched thin, too,” Rhaden relayed. “She’s renovated her stadium and hit salary cap, only to have her revenues drop.”
A sinking feeling gripped Law. “What are Powers’s options?”
Rhaden didn’t look happy. “Speculation only, but come midseason trades in July, he could clear house of all free agents.”