Double Play Read online

  “Is eating celery and carrots all damn day long considered strength building?”

  “Okay,” she said, nodding. “But smoking opium is dangerous, isn’t it? Because that’s a plant, too, Ty. A natural ingredient. It doesn’t make it right.”

  “Look, I’m not saying I’m taking anything, but you should know, I don’t see a problem with it. I think the rules are too strict.”

  “Can I quote you?”

  He stared at her a long beat. “I guess I don’t see a problem with that.”

  “Thank you for your time.” She went home and called the other players on the roster, one by one, asking each of them their stance on undetectable and banned substances. She got a variety of answers, but the bottom line was the same. Unlike Ty, each of the rest of them viewed a banned substance as unacceptable, in whatever form it took.

  She stared at her blank computer screen, then started typing. She wrote the article she wanted to write. Well, not quite the way she wanted to write it, but close enough. She started with how the MLB and the commissioner’s office had forever changed the way athletes viewed banned substances by putting in mandatory testing, which was great, except that testing wasn’t always accurate, and there were athletes still managing to use. There would probably always be certain athletes who managed to use.

  She went on to explain that so much was expected of athletes in this day and age, the pressure not only to beat long-standing records but also to shatter them, and to do that, the athletes needed to constantly increase their strength. With conventional steroids and enhancers closed off to them, some were turning to less tried-and-true methods. Herbal and natural remedies, for one. But just because a drug was made from a plant extract didn’t make it any safer than the manufactured ones had been.

  Or any more accepted.

  The bottom line, she wrote, was that the players had to take responsibility for themselves, their own actions, and the consequences, and that while most were doing exactly that, there were always going to be the ones who didn’t. That even on a young, talented team like the Heat, this was the case. And it wasn’t necessarily just the players to be blamed for turning a blind eye, but management as well. She quoted the guys themselves, each of them, including the fact that Ty was the only one who thought the rules were too strict.

  Just as she finished the rough draft, Tommy called. “What,” he said, irritated. “You don’t return calls or e-mails anymore? Makes a guy nervous, doll. Especially a guy with a deadline. What have you got for me? Tell me you have something.”

  She e-mailed him her article and waited.

  “My God,” he whispered a few minutes later when he’d called her back after devouring her words. “So how does Ty get the stuff?”

  “I didn’t say he’s using.”

  “Oh, he’s using.” He paused. “I’m going to guess there’s a whole story here you haven’t yet told.”

  She’d left Tucker and Red out of the equation, not for their sakes but for Pace’s—her own concession to what he meant to her.

  “No worries,” Tommy said. “You’ve taken it far enough for now. The commissioner can deal with the fallout. You’re brilliant, doll. Did I tell you that? I’ll run it tonight.”

  “No, I need a day.” She couldn’t let Pace read this without warning. She had to find a way to tell him what she’d done. “Promise me.”

  “I have to admit,” he said instead. “I thought you might be losing your touch. Crushing on one of your subjects, taking your sweet-ass time getting to the meat . . . Can’t blame me, though; it’s been weeks and weeks. I figured you’d gone soft.”

  “I mean it, Tommy. A day.”

  “Fine. But this new you? The kinder, gentler version of my hard-assed, hard-nosed Holly Hutchins? I don’t know her. And I don’t like her either. Let’s meet next week and talk about what’s up next. See you in LA, doll.”

  When she hung up, she stared at her computer screen. Tommy was right. She had changed. She was no longer a reporter who cared only about her story. She cared about the people she was writing about, deeply. She cared about the fact that someone was going to get hurt. Ty. The Heat.

  Pace.

  She’d been the catalyst for that, though not the cause, and she couldn’t save him from the hurt.

  But she’d be there for him. If he could forgive, that is. She just hoped like hell he could.

  The next morning, Pace woke up and actually felt halfway human. It was either the orgasm, or the fact that the Heat had won last night with Ty pitching. Yep, things were looking up. Or they would be, if the media wasn’t still crucifying him for testing positive for drugs.

  Red and Wade stopped by as they had every day they hadn’t been on the road, and brought McDonald’s.

  “Your damn woman put me in the hospital,” Red said.

  “But not the fifty years of smoking?” Pace asked. “It was the damn woman?”

  “That’s right.”

  “You know it’s your lifestyle,” Wade said.

  “Bullshit.” Red munched defiantly on a hash brown patty. “She’s nosy.”

  “It’s her job,” Pace reminded him. “And you know you’re not supposed to eat those.”

  Red popped the rest into his mouth with defiance. “You defending her?”

  “I’m just reminding you that we all have our jobs to do and she’s doing hers. If someone on the team is up to something that they shouldn’t be—”

  “Like what?” Red pushed back from the table. “You got something to say, say it.”

  “Actually, I have plenty to say—”

  “Okay, whoa,” Wade said easily. “Don’t make me put the two of you in separate corners.”

  “She’s just doing her job,” Pace repeated to Red, as stubborn as the old man. “And the rest of us should remember that. If someone needs more strength and endurance, they need to try the gym instead of whatever new trick Tucker has for sale. And if someone, even a coach, has a fucking disease that’s threatening his life, he needs to fucking stop smoking and retire before he fucking dies and pisses me off.”

  Red set down his food and crossed his bulldog arms. “I don’t like where this is going.”

  “Yeah? Well, neither do I. And I sure as hell don’t like wondering how the hell I got tainted with a stimulant.”

  Red stared at him for a long moment, then slowly stood. “I’d do anything for you,” he said. “Anything.”

  Pace’s chest tightened hard. “You don’t think I know that? But I didn’t want this.”

  “Are you blaming me?”

  “Should I be?”

  Red jerked as if he’d been sucker punched, and Pace immediately opened his mouth to apologize, but with a shake of his head, Red slammed his way out the door.

  Pace felt the wave of helplessness and frustration roll over him, and picked up the McDonald’s bag to chuck it across the room.

  “Wait.” Wade rescued the last Egg McMuffin before handing the empty bag back to Pace. “Okay, go ahead.”

  “Goddammit.”

  Wade stayed for the day, probably to keep him sane. He fielded the phone calls from pushy reporters and the one from Pace’s father calling to ask how Pace could have been so stupid as to get involved in a drug scandal. That was fun. They had to ring the cops twice to chase away the paps hanging around outside. When Pace’s physical therapist came by, Wade worked out while Pace got tortured, a process which left him a shaky, sweaty wreck. Wade stayed and watched TV with him, and they ate some more. It was early evening when the doorbell rang. Wade got the door, raising a brow at the gorgeous, elegant, sophisticated creature wearing a satiny royal blue evening gown cut up to her thigh. “Pace,” Wade said slowly, staring at Samantha as if stunned. “Did you call for a stripper?”

  “Funny.” Pissy, Sam breezed in past him, carrying a garment bag.

  Pace felt as stunned as Wade looked. “Holy cow, Sam. You look amazing.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She turned to Wade. “Okay, strip down, big boy. Yo