Page 1 of When He Plays

Chapter One

“Who in the hell is the woman?” An angry snarl. “You were supposed to come alone, Logan. As in, by your freaking self. You know better than this. You don’t bring the current lady you’re screwing to a death match.”

Logan Sterling let out a very long and very annoyed sigh. “Someone is certainly being overly dramatic.” He barely glanced toward the giant cage that waited about fifteen feet away in the center of the theater. “At most, it’s a cage match. Not a death match. Also, call me crazy, but I believe the match is scheduled for tomorrow night, not tonight.” A pause. “Though, hate to break it to you, but that match will be canceled.”

“No damn way.” The jerk in front of Logan glared harder. “No cancellation. None. I never cancel my bouts. Your player is gonna be fighting. I told you before, I’m not giving him up. You shouldn’t have brought the woman for this chat. Now send her out. Your current screw is just going to have to wait outside while we⁠—”

“Nope. That is unacceptable to me.” Logan lifted one hand. “You’ll talk about her with respect or you just won’t talk about her at all.”

The glare turned into a gape.

Logan nodded. “So much better.” Then, with the hand still lifted in the air, he waved back toward the woman standing a few feet behind him. “This is Charlotte.” Charlotte Webb. Like that name didn’t make him want to smile. Except, yeah, not really a smiling situation. More like a I-hope-I-don’t-have-to-kill-someone situation. “She’s my new personal assistant.” She was not. Such a lie. Charlotte was actually an undercover operative. A real-life CIA spy. One who had forced her way into his life, and now…

She was his twenty-four, seven shadow. A gorgeous, sexy shadow who had appeared at his Vegas casino-slash-hotel earlier that day and informed him that she would be following his every move. Incredibly poor timing on her part. And his.

Dammit. Sometimes, his luck was really shit.

This is one of those times.

If he had to kill the man in front of him, just how would the CIA operative respond? Probably not well. He was sure murdering a man was not approved behavior. Logan hoped she would not interfere.

“You brought your personal assistant here? Knowing what’s to come?” Morris Hart grunted out a laugh. “You really are one demented prick. You want the lady to see you get the hell beaten out of you?”

Logan glanced at his wrist, pretending to study the watch that he wasn’t wearing. “Oh, look at that. You’re wasting my valuable time.”

No more laughing. “You’re such an asshole,” Morris snarled at him.

“Shockingly, I have been told that before. On numerous occasions. So many, in fact, that I’ve lost count.” His gaze swept around the area. Once upon a time, the place had been a thriving theater in one of the higher end casinos. Emphasis on…once upon a time. The casino had failed. The performances had ended. The original owner had filed for bankruptcy. Since then, the location had changed hands dozens of times, often through shady real estate transactions so that the paper trail for the place was exceedingly hard to find.

And now…bam. It was the pit of hell. Basically, anyway. A late-night spot for brutal cage matches. The matches didn’t stop, not until one of the fighters was bloody on the floor. There was never any giving up. No surrender. There was just…

Agony. Destruction.

Broken bones that might never heal. Injuries that would wipe a man out for months. Or years. Or forever.

“I don’t like this place,” Logan mused as his gaze lingered on the cage that had been erected. A very tall cage. His nose wrinkled. “It smells like blood and bleach in here, and seriously, that is not the aroma that will attract high-end clientele, know what I mean?”

Morris fisted his hands. “You want the pretty lady to watch you get your ass kicked?”

“Not particularly, I don’t desire that. To be honest with you, I didn’t want the pretty lady here at all.” True story. He’d told her to stay behind. Asked ever-so-politely for her to remain in the limo he had parked outside.

Charlotte had refused. She’d insisted on accompanying him. So, there they were. All in the pit of hell. Logan sighed again. “I wanted her to wait for me somewhere else, but, hey, what are you gonna do? Handcuff her to a chair?” Like that option didn’t hold promise.

“Ahem.”

Ah. That was Charlotte. Clearing her throat. Stepping closer.

He turned his head to frown at her. “I know you’re new,” Logan began. “But there are rules involved when it comes to being my personal assistant.” Or, there should be rules. He’d have to invent some, and he could do that. Right then and there. “Rule one, stay behind me in dangerous situations.”

Charlotte blinked her gorgeous, deep golden eyes. Seriously, golden. Not some weak gold but one that was vivid and strong. Her head tilted to the right as she studied him with that focused stare of hers, and for a moment, Logan might have almost forgotten to breathe.

“Why are we in this dangerous situation?” Charlotte asked him in an exceedingly polite tone of voice. “You didn’t exactly explain this visit to me.” Her hair skimmed over her jaw. He liked her hair. Dark and silky. Maybe with just a few red highlights hidden deep inside. Hard to tell for certain, but he thought they were there.

Her full lips were currently a little tight as she stared at him, but he’d already decided that Charlotte had a delectable lower lip. It was just a little bit fuller than the top, and he could easily imagine giving that lower lip a little bite.

If, say, she wasn’t a CIA operative who’d blackmailed her way into his life and was now forcing him to cooperate with the authorities. Ugh. Talk about a pain in the ass.

Cooperation was not something he did. Ever. Especially when that cooperation involved the authorities. In this particular case, he had to deal with arrogant, we-know-best, international spy-type authorities. He was so not in the mood for their drama.