Law swore beneath his breath. “That sucks.”
Rhaden’s jaw worked. “There’s also the possibility he could trade the Bat Pack for cash and future considerations.”
Law tensed. Psycho, Romeo, and Chaser anchored the Rogues. They were part of the Core Four, which included Risk Kincaid. They’d played fifteen years together and made up the cornerstones of the franchise. It would kill team morale if the power hitters were released. The ticket holders would rise up in protest. The fans would picket the park.
“If Powers sells the team, I’m leaning toward retirement,” Risk stated. “I have two good years left, but I won’t leave Richmond.”
The other players agreed.
“What’s the time frame on all this?” asked Law. “Any prospects on new ownership?”
Rhaden shrugged. “Revelle’s not certain. Powers was granted an extension. The full banknote is due August first. But Guy wants to act sooner. If he doesn’t make the deadline, shit will hit the fan. It’s rumored he wants out now.”
Rhaden scruffed his knuckles along his jaw. “Investors Gerald Addison and Blaine Sutter have approached Powers over the years, offering on the franchise.”
“They own Techno-Air Dynamics,” Law said. The CEOs had held their yearly conference at the Dallas Grace over the Christmas holidays. His grandfather had flown down to oversee the event. It had been all wine, dine, and wealth. And major New Year bonuses. “Dynamics builds both commercial and military planes.”
“Baseball would be a hobby for them, then,” Rhaden said with disgust. “Powers at least played minor league ball. An owner who’s never bled the sport can’t really comprehend the game.”
“How many players are aware of the situation?” Law hoped the problems within the franchise hadn’t been aired. He’d have Zen Driscoll work behind the scenes and research outside interest.
“Only us, for now,” Rhaden told him. “We play two series out of town next week. There’s no need to rile Psycho until we have a few more facts.”
Risk agreed. “Psycho would tell Powers where to stick a bat. We don’t need the drama just yet.”
Law glanced at his watch. “I’ve got an appointment. I’m gone.”
“Where are you headed?” asked Risk.
“I’ve got a business meeting with Catherine May.”
Risk grinned. “Zen struck gold when he hired her. Cat thinks like a man.”
Law believed Catherine could play in the big leagues. He hadn’t, however, fully separated his personal and professional feelings for the woman. She had him swinging like a pendulum.
Her compassion was genuine and a little too comforting. He didn’t want her understanding. Her sympathy unmanned him.
Life was best lived through sports and sex.
He refused emotional intimacy.
Driscoll Financial. Nine forty-five, and Catherine May was leaning against the counter in the break room. She polished off a cranberry-cinnamon muffin from a breakfast tray delivered from Jacy’s Java, the gourmet coffee shop on the corner. Jacy was one fine baker.
The abrupt slam of the front door drew Cat’s attention down the hallway, where she caught sight of James Lawless and Bouncer. The boxer trailed Law and was obviously well trained. Although Bouncer sniffed every corner, he never lifted his leg to mark his territory.
She wished Foxie So Fine were equally well mannered. Cat had cleaned up twice after the puppy. Fortunately, the accidents hadn’t left a stain. Foxie was presently in her office, chewing on a pink Nylabone.
One look at Law, and Cat’s insides warmed. He stood at the receptionist’s desk and Cat took a moment to admire him. She liked to look at the man from a distance. Up close, the image of Wonder Woman dry humping Captain America came into play. That affected her greatly.
There’d be no repeat of that performance, ever.
Law made clothes look good. His broad shoulders filled out a lavender button-down shirt, and charcoal gray slacks showcased his athletic ass and long legs. A plum-and-gold-checked tie hung loosely about his neck; the Windsor knot rode the third button. She guessed his burgundy loafers to be a size twelve, maybe larger.
Law’s stance was stiff, his expression aggressive. His black hair was brushed off his forehead, his profile shaded with bruises. There was a darkness to his mood, as if life didn’t sit well.
“You’re early,” Cat heard Zen Driscoll say from his office doorway. The boxer bounced at seeing Zen, and Zen scratched the dog’s ears. “Your boy’s put on a few pounds since I last saw him. Bouncer’s looking solid.”
“He eats well at the hotel.”
“Catherine’s here, but she has several phone calls to clear before you head out,” Zen informed Law.
“Got a minute, yourself?” Law asked Zen.
“Fifteen to be exact, before my first appointment. Come in, have a seat.” Zen stepped back, allowing Law and Bouncer to pass ahead of him. He then pulled the door shut, but the lock didn’t fully click.
Cat tucked a stack of file folders under her arm and left the break room. Eavesdropping wasn’t her style, but she had to walk past Zen’s office to reach her own. Her boss had just arrived and she hadn’t yet mentioned Randall Lawless. Rand was still her secret.
From behind the door, the men’s conversation was muffled and broken. What she was able to hear left Cat numb.
“... check this out for me?” from Law.
“I can or Catherine ...” Zen said.
“... you or another man, starting today,” Law insisted.
“Cat’s perfectly capable ...”
“Old boys’ club ... my choice.”
Cat’s ears burned. For whatever reason, Law preferred to work with a man. She hadn’t a clue why he’d made this decision. She’d done a tremendous job with Haunt, then gone on to line up a small investment tour.
Somewhere between meeting her family and the crack of dawn, he’d suddenly found her lacking.
Old boys’ club, indeed. Chauvinist. A woman could research facts as fast as any man. Law hadn’t given her a chance. She could outperform any financier in the office, even Zen, on a good day. Randall Burton Lawless trusted her. His grandson, however, didn’t.
Defeat smacked hard, and hurt followed. Her hands began to shake. She nearly dropped her file folders. She moved blindly down the hallway, self-pity in each step.