Loyal Subjects Read online

  Loyal Subjects

  Mark and Emmie’s story

  Eva Charles

  Quarry Road Publishing

  Copyright

  Loyal Subjects

  First edition

  Copyright © 2018 by Quarry Road Publishing

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form whatsoever without express written permission from the author or publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embedded in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. All other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Trademark names appear throughout this book. In lieu of a trademark symbol with each occurrence of a trademark name, names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  Cover by Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations

  Faith Williams, The Atwater Group, Editor

  Virginia Tesi Carey, Proofreader

  For more information contact [email protected]

  Created with Vellum

  To my mother, I hope you are cloaked in eternal love, and that you’ve found peace and happiness among the angels.

  My family is my strength and my weakness.

  Aishwarya Rai

  Contents

  Family Tree

  1. Emmie

  2. Mark

  3. Mark

  4. Emmie

  5. Emmie

  6. Mark

  7. Emmie

  8. Mark

  9. Mark

  10. Mark

  11. Mark

  12. Mark

  13. Mark

  14. Mark

  15. Mark

  16. Mark

  17. Mark

  18. Emmie

  19. Mark

  20. Emmie

  21. Emmie

  22. Emmie

  23. Emmie

  24. Emmie

  25. Emmie

  26. Emmie

  27. Mark

  28. Emmie

  29. Mark

  30. Emmie

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Eva Charles

  Family Tree

  Angelina DaSilva married Guilherme Sousa (d) and they had two daughters:

  Maria Liliana (Mary) (d)

  Margarida (Margaret, Maggie) (d)

  Mary married Samuel Clayton (d) and together they had five daughters:

  Maria Sophia (Sophie) + Max Parker = Liliana Clayton Parker (Sheltered Heart)

  Maria Natalia (Talia)

  Maria Isabella (Ella)

  Maria Helena (Lainey) + Gabriel Innocenti = Beatrice (d) (Unforgettable)

  Maria Juliana (Ana)

  Maggie married Nicholas Harrington (d) and together they had six sons:

  Cole + Alexa Petersen (Noble Pursuit)

  William (Will)

  Mark

  Andrew (Drew) + Cassia Anteros (Cassie) (Double Play)

  Jacob (Jake)

  Luke

  1

  Emmie

  We stopped just outside the elevator so Jake could take a selfie with an overzealous female admirer. My eyes nearly rolled out of their sockets when the not-so-young woman clung to him, her fingers lingering brazenly on his stomach, low enough to toy with the belt buckle.

  He took it all in stride, and eased away carefully, laughing it off as if it were an everyday occurrence. And it was. For Jake Harrington, starting quarterback for the Hawks, rabid fans were the price of fame.

  Grown men wore his jersey proudly on game day, and women went so far as to press their panties and phone numbers into his hand, or stuff them into his clothing like dollar bills into a stripper’s G-string.

  With the endless fawning, I expected him to be a diva, or at the very least, an arrogant, overly indulged man-child. But since starting my job with the Hawks’ front office six months ago, he’d been nothing but the perfect gentleman and consummate professional. And much to my relief, he found the whole panty routine to be as disgusting as I did.

  Jake and I developed an easy friendship right from the start, perhaps because there wasn’t an ounce of chemistry between us. Not a thimbleful. He was like the little brother I…I…

  I shoved the memory back down into the recesses of my heart, where it lived alongside so many others. Some wonderful, but mostly bittersweet, and yes, horrifying memories that belonged to a different era, and shaped Emmie Landon in a way my DNA could have never accomplished.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Jake said, “before anyone else wants a picture.”

  “Are you sure your brother won’t mind me crashing lunch?”

  “Nah, he’ll love it. With Mark, the more the merrier.”

  Jake’s brother, Mark, was a partner at Brown and Dunlap, a firm that represented the many needs of professional athletes. Contract negotiations, criminal matters, civil matters, wipe their noses, stroke their egos—it was one-stop shopping. Although, to be fair, they had a stellar reputation, and didn’t represent the league’s biggest troublemakers.

  We checked in with the receptionist, who managed to stop flirting with Jake long enough to tell us Mark was expecting him. I followed through the glass doors, past several conference rooms and offices, to the rear corner of the building.

  “You could get lost in this place.”

  “There are only a handful of partners, but they employ an army. Professional athletes are high maintenance.”

  “So I’m learning.”

  With a couple sharp raps on Mark’s door, Jake turned the knob and barged in, announcing, “It’s me,” almost after the fact.

  “Whoa! I can’t see two feet in front of me! Get my sunglasses!” Jake made a big show of shielding his eyes. “You should have warned me the moon would be so bright in here.”

  “Stuff it!” barked the man leaning over a sleek desk, with his charcoal-gray trousers pulled down below his thighs. Unlike Jake, I had no trouble seeing clear across the room. And although I didn’t have a good view of his backside, I imagined the thick thigh muscle running all the way up.

  He swiveled to face us, and the color instantly drained from his cheeks. “Dammit, Jake,” he shouted, yanking up his trousers and turning his back in one quick, fluid motion, with all the experience of a man who’d been caught with his pants down before.

  The buttermilk blonde, kneeling on the rug directly behind him, sat back on her heels, grinning. She wore a sleeveless floral dress, and opaque latex gloves, the kind dental hygienists and medical personnel wear.

  Given that she’d been caught mere inches from his…bare ass, I assumed the gloves weren’t just a fashion trend. No, her latex accessory was more startling than anything that had ever graced the runway, and not at all in good taste.

  What on earth did we walk in on?

  Undeterred by any of it, Jake strode across the room, smirking. “Katina, it’s nice to see you again.” He bent over and placed a small kiss on her upturned face. “Did you find his brain anywhere down there?”

  She chuckled. “No. I’m afraid his brain is someplace I hadn’t stuck my finger into yet.”

  “You two are hysterical,” Mark muttered. “You should take your show on the road. Right now might be a good time to go.”

  After adjusting his clothing, he turned around, stepped forward and held out his hand. “I’m Mark Harrington, and the woman auditioning for Saturday Night Live is Katina Sprague, my dermatologist.”

  Mark Harrington was easy on the eyes,
and I wouldn’t be at all surprised to learn women slipped their panties and phone numbers into his pockets, too. His pressed, white shirt was rolled to the elbows, paired with what looked to be a silk tie from a high-end men’s store. A bold splash of color in the tie played nicely with his eyes, and the crisp, white fabric against his well-developed, bronze forearms made my heart skip a full beat.

  His hand was suspended midair, less than two feet away from me, and although I hated to be rude, there was no way I was touching it. I had no idea what he and the blonde were up to when we walked in, but a dermatologist who makes office calls didn’t pass the laugh test. I wouldn’t be shaking her hand, either. There wasn’t enough Purell in Boston for that. When I hesitated, Mark pulled back his hand, and buried it in his pocket.

  “I didn’t realize Jake was bringing someone with him. Otherwise…” He stopped mid-sentence, glaring over his shoulder at his brother.

  “I’m Emily Landon,” I said, hoping to smooth things over. “I work with Jake.”

  A slow, easy smile spread across Mark’s face. “What position do you play?”

  “She’s the Hawks’ representative on the SRT. You know, the Social Responsibility Team mandated by the league to monitor men behaving badly.” Jake was clearly enjoying himself. “Thought I’d introduce you since you’ll probably run into each other from time to time. But I didn’t expect you’d get so intimately acquainted today.”

  The color evaporated from Mark’s face, again. Katina trembled, her hand pressed to her mouth to squelch the bubbling laughter. I nibbled on the inside of my cheek in an effort to contain my own amusement.

  “She’s my dermatologist.” He hooked a thumb in Katina’s direction. “This wasn’t… It’s not how it looks.” Given how relaxed Jake and Katina were, I was beginning to believe she might actually be his dermatologist.

  “Well, this has been fun, people, but I’ve got to get back to the office.” Doctor Katina dropped the gloves into a wastebasket near the desk, and kissed Mark on the cheek. “As always, this has been a great pleasure.”

  He drew her into a friendly hug, brushing his mouth over the top of her head. “Thanks for coming by, sweetheart.”

  Mark and Jake were about the same height and looked a lot alike. Broad shoulders, dark hair, bright blue eyes, and a tiny cleft in the center of the chin, the kind that make women’s ovaries explode. But Mark was clearly the older brother who had long settled into his good looks. There was something young and vulnerable about Jake. There was nothing vulnerable about Mark. At least nothing I could see. Even after being caught with his pants down, he still held a commanding presence.

  Katina breezed around the room, collecting her belongings, and slid a leather satchel onto her shoulder, before she wagged an index finger at Mark. “House call in exchange for Hawks tickets for my dad. Good seats. Don’t forget. There’s no charge for the comedy routine.”

  “He’ll have the tickets by the end of next week. Tell him I said hello.”

  She squeezed Jake’s arm on her way out. “If you could arrange a win that day, I’d be forever grateful. Might even throw in a house call for you.”

  “I’m on it. But I’ll take a pass on the house call. You never know who might walk through the door.”

  “Emily, it was lovely meeting you. And don’t let him tell you it’s a cute little birthmark he’s got back there.” She leaned closer to me. “It’s a butt-ugly mole. But the good news is that it’s not getting any bigger or any uglier.” She winked, and was gone.

  “It’s a birthmark. Cute and heart-shaped,” Mark muttered.

  “You’re an idiot.” Jake shook his head. “Let’s get going. I’m starving, and even your soft white ass didn’t kill my appetite. You ready, or is your proctologist coming by next?”

  “Yeah. I’m ready.” He glanced wearily at me. “Let me wash my hands. I’ll only be a minute.”

  2

  Mark

  We took the back elevator down to the sandwich shop on the ground floor, and grabbed a booth at the rear of the restaurant. Jake sat next to Emily, with his back facing the door, away from probing eyes. I sat across from them.

  Emily was cute. Actually, she was too tall and had too much hair to be cute. More like pretty, with fair skin and thick, wavy brown hair that fell below her shoulders. A few faded freckles spattered across her cheeks reminded me of the girls I hung out with in college, before they grew into women obsessed with eradicating every skin imperfection that made them human.

  Maybe it was Jake’s celebrity, but Emily seemed hyperaware of everyone and everything around her. It wasn’t quite a nervous twitch, but she didn’t seem to miss a thing. And I didn’t miss the shiny gold band on her left hand. Not showy, but substantial. I always looked. It was one of my better habits.

  “How many Hawks players do you represent?” she asked after thanking the waitress for bringing water.

  “A dozen, give or take. It fluctuates from year to year. But we have clients from across the AFL, and in all of professional sports.” I took a sip of my drink. “When did you start with the Hawks?”

  “About six months ago.”

  “Surprised we haven’t run into each other before now. Although, I work primarily on contract negotiations and I’ve been tied up with baseball and basketball contracts recently, and haven’t had any reason to be over at the stadium. I leave the babysitting to others with a more suitable temperament, and patience for knuckleheads.”

  “Your clients are knuckleheads?” A small smile played on her lips.

  Jake grimaced, probably already regretting bringing Emily to meet me. He knew I was privy to team secrets that she didn’t need to know, or was better off not knowing. But my little brother needed to relax. Although I didn’t have many of my own, I would go to the grave with secrets others shared with me. And Jake knew it.

  “My clients are hormone-fueled kids with a lot of spare change in their pockets. The public worships them like heroes, and not everyone is well-equipped to be on a big stage. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

  “It’s funny you say that. What strikes me most about the players is how much like big kids they are.”

  Jake cleared his throat and elbowed her.

  “Not you.” She gifted him a wide, sweet smile. “I don’t mean to be insulting. In many ways, it’s actually quite endearing. But think about some of those guys on the team.”

  I nodded. “Kids in men’s bodies, and their brains haven’t caught up. They’re vulnerable in lots of ways, and don’t always make the best decisions. That’s why I negotiate contracts. I get them the best deal possible, sometimes get involved in enforcing a contract provision, but that’s it. Someone else babysits and cleans up the messes.”

  “He might not look like much, but he’s damn good at what he does. Doesn’t let guys trade safety protections for a few additional bucks,” Jake added between mouthfuls, probably hoping to steer me away from knuckleheads and messes. I wondered how much she knew about the organization and the players, and how much they shielded from her.

  “Are teams allowed to negotiate safety provisions in exchange for money?”

  I shrugged. “Almost everything that isn’t part of the larger collective bargaining agreement is negotiable.”

  “A lot of agents allow guys to give up protections upfront in exchange for big money, because they get a percentage of the final number, but it’s a bad way to do business and many young players don’t realize the risk until something happens.” Jake lifted his chin in my direction. “He doesn’t play fast and loose with players’ lives.”

  My brothers and I, the six of us, gave each other tons of grief, but we were also one another’s biggest supporters. It had always been that way, and I suspected it always would be.

  “And it’s a good thing he’s on the contract end of the business, because he’s a terrible babysitter.” Jake, clearly intent on busting my balls today, pretended to shudder. “Trust me. I have personal experience.”

  “I
would have been a better babysitter if you weren’t such a bratty kid.” I swatted away Jake’s comment, and turned my attention back to Emily, who was far more interesting than my brother. “I know why you were hired, but what exactly do you do? Do you have a long whip you crack, or a Taser gun to keep those guys in line?”

  She smiled, and her eyes sparkled. They were the color of the sky where it meets the ocean on a clear summer day. A mesmerizing blue that obscures the horizon, and keeps swimmers off-balance. Before they know it, they’ve gone out too far, and the risk of drowning is substantial. Even for an experienced swimmer.

  “Nothing that exciting—not yet anyway,” she added. “So far, I’ve either been holed up in my office trying to learn more about the team, or in meetings with the community trying to get the lay of the land and understand the culture. Not to mention trying to reassure players and personnel that while I will enforce the rules, I’m not there to stir up unnecessary trouble.”

  She tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “It’s taken some time to build trust, with the community and the players. But I’m making headway. My door’s always open to anyone who has questions or concerns, especially the players.”

  “They treating you okay? The players. When the mandate came down, there was a lot of grumbling about the SRT police in the house.”

  “Thanks, Mark. I’m sure that little piece of news will go a long way to easing Emmie’s mind.”

  Emmie. “Hey, it’s the truth. Not only in the Hawks organization but around the league. Every organization is loaded with people who protect the players and the brand. This is about inviting someone into the house to protect outsiders. It’s a big culture change.”

  “I didn’t take the job in a vacuum. I know all about the concerns players raised, and I understand where they’re coming from. But the bottom line is that the teams, and even the league, covered up a lot of bad behavior, and can’t be trusted to keep their own house clean. So now they’re stuck with people, like me, in their business.”

  A waitress brought over the sandwiches and freshened our drinks. Emily ordered a grilled cheese and tomato on 12-grain bread, and substituted fruit salad for the French fries. Comfort food, with a dose of healthy, and a side of fun—everything in moderation. Probably her mantra—definitely not mine. Although I was always down for a side of fun.