***

When Coop awakened the next morning, he was alone and hungover. He dragged his arm across his eyes. For the first time since the club had opened, he’d gotten drunk. It had started a few hours before closing when he’d had a couple of drinks, then a couple more, a few more after that, until he didn’t trust himself to drive home. He’d never been a big drinker, preferring pot in his younger days and, as he’d gotten older, happy with a couple of beers. But last night, as he’d watched Piper moving around the club, things had gotten away from him.

She was everywhere at once-keeping an eye on the guests, the servers, and on him. She’d gotten her way with the bouncers, and one of them was always nearby. It was easier not having to watch his back, but he objected to the principle. Just because he was no longer in the game didn’t mean he couldn’t watch out for himself. He’d growled at Jonah to call off his boys, but the son of a bitch was more afraid of her than of him, and nothing changed.

He wished he could kick her out of this apartment. He needed the place for nights like this. He needed his life back, the way it had been before she’d barged into it.

Something twisted in his gut, the thing he didn’t want to look at. The thing that every day kept pushing closer to the surface. And for no reason. He had everything he wanted. Money. Reputation. He felt physically better than he had in years. As for Spiral… The club had been at capacity since they’d reopened three nights ago. And best of all, Deidre had invited him to her farm next Monday. The playful way she’d delivered the invitation suggested his waiting was about to be over. Everything was going his way.

And yet… He wasn’t happy.

It was because of Piper.

She had a dream-the same way he did. A single-minded focus that got her out of bed every morning and drove her through the day. A passion. So why did he feel as if his life had become a cloudy reflection in the mirror of hers?

She appeared in the doorway wearing jeans and a snarl. Her hair was still damp, so she must have showered, although he hadn’t heard her. She stood there looking at him. “I can’t do this anymore, Coop.”

He pushed himself up from the pillows. “Could you let me wake up first?”

“I don’t sleep with men who don’t respect me.”

That infuriated him. “Who says I don’t respect you?”

“How could you after the way I screwed up?”

“You sure as hell did.” He jumped naked out of bed and stormed into the bathroom, where he threw himself into the shower again. He hated being backed into a corner, and that’s what she was doing.

He hadn’t been able to fire her because he trusted her-not with his ring, that was for sure-but with his life. Somehow, she’d become the juice that made things worthwhile. Maybe that explained why he was so unhappy.

All his clean clothes were in his office, and he came out in a towel. She, of course, was waiting for him.

“I apologize,” she said.

“You should. Sometimes I think you live to give me a hard time.”

“I’m not apologizing for that. I’m apologizing for trying to have a straightforward conversation with you before you’ve had your coffee.” She held out a steaming mug.

As he took it from her, he realized she was staring at something. Him. It was his chest again. She was a sucker for his chest. And he was only wearing a towel. He took a long swig from the mug and let her look.

She dragged her eyes back to his face. “I don’t understand why you haven’t fired me, and I don’t like feeling that maybe you’re keeping me on because I’m putting out.”

She might as well have slapped him. “That’s bullshit! What kind of scum do you think I am?”

“I don’t think you’re scum at all.”

“Then why would you say something like that?”

“Because I can’t think of any other reason.”

“How about this? You’re the best bouncer I have.”

Even as the words came out, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She stared at him with the saddest face he’d ever seen, then she turned and walked away.

He stopped her as she snatched up her messenger bag to leave. “You are, Piper. But that’s not why I didn’t fire you.” Hot coffee splashed on the back of his hand and he sucked it off. “I meant to fire you,” he said, setting down his mug. “You made a big mistake, and I’ve been pissed. But the thing is… You’re the underdog who’s willing to work twice as hard as anybody else. And those have always been the kinds of players I like best on my team.”

Until that moment, he hadn’t been able to articulate it, even to himself, but now that he’d said it, he felt better.

She looked a little starry-eyed, which he liked, and then troubled, which he didn’t like. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But the brutal fact is that I’m no closer to getting to the bottom of this than I was when you hired me. And I have no idea what to do next.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because that’s what you do.”


***

Coop’s faith put a knot in her throat the size of a football. She carried it with her all weekend. She couldn’t fail him. She couldn’t. But then she wondered if her determination to prove herself to Coop was all that different from her never-ending battle to win Duke’s approval. No, it was different. Duke’s misguided fear for her safety had kept him from giving her the opportunity she’d craved-the opportunity he’d raised her to take on. Unlike her father, Coop had given her the chance Duke had withheld, and she couldn’t disappoint him.

Monday morning found her in the main office building at the Stars Complex Headquarters in DuPage County. The team logo of three interlocking gold stars in a sky-blue circle was etched into the glass wall of the PR office-the wall that overlooked the building’s main lobby where lighted niches protected by bulletproof glass displayed the team’s major trophies and where visitors signed in at an impressive, crescent-shaped ivory granite reception desk.

With the football season in full swing, the PR office was humming with activity-phones ringing, computer screens glowing, people hurrying in and out. Coop had finally cleared the way for her to go through the mail that had accumulated for him, and a young publicist with cat’s-eye makeup and an earnest manner showed her to the room’s only empty desk and explained the procedure.

“We take care of most of Coop’s fan mail. We mail out autograph cards, his FAQ, and we have a special package for kids who write him. We work with his agent on appearance requests. Even though he’s retired, he still gets a lot of mail.”

“Any of it hostile?”

“Not much. He got some his first season with the Stars after a couple of bad games. ‘Go back to Miami.’ That kind of thing. The fans didn’t know he was playing with a broken finger.”

“What about women?”

“Thongs, nude photos. We’ve pretty much seen it all. And I do mean all.” She gestured toward the desk. “Go ahead. Take your time and let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks.”

Piper settled behind the pile of paper-both snail mail and e-mail printouts. The majority were requests for autographs and photos. Some of it was really sweet. Kids who idolized him. Fans who’d followed his career from the very beginning. One was from a man who’d lost his son in a car accident and found relief from his grief in remembering how his son had idolized Coop. Piper pulled that one out as something she thought Coop should personally respond to. There were also a number of notes from parents of athletically talented offspring looking for advice.

And the women. Photos accompanied letters that listed the sender’s credentials to be Coop’s next girlfriend: an athletic nature, a modeling career, a college degree in sports management, a super-special expertise in fellatio.

As Piper pondered that, she became aware of a subtle shift in the atmosphere of the room. She looked up.

In the doorway stood Phoebe Somerville Calebow, the owner of the Chicago Stars, the wife of the former head coach and current Stars president Dan Calebow, the mother of four, and the single most powerful woman in the NFL, if not the universe.

Piper jumped to her feet as the Stars owner approached the very desk where Piper was sitting. “Mrs… uh… Mrs. Calebow.”

Phoebe Somerville Calebow took her in. “So you’re Coop’s detective.”

The fact that Phoebe Calebow knew of her existence was so dumbfoundingly dumbfounding that Piper couldn’t muster anything more than a shaky nod.

“My quarterbacks do tend to get involved with unusual women,” she said.

Those involvements had been well publicized, and like everyone else in Chicago, Piper knew the history. Cal Bonner had married a world-renowned physicist. Kevin Tucker was married to a prize-winning children’s book author. An eccentric artist had made an unlikely match with Dean Robillard. And it wasn’t only the quarterbacks. The team’s legendary wide receiver, Bobby Tom Denton, was married to the current mayor of Telarosa, Texas.

Mrs. Calebow gestured Piper back into her chair, then perched on the side of the desk. Middle age hadn’t diminished her curvy, blond beauty, and not even her tortoiseshell smart-girl glasses could dilute her aura of ripe sexuality. “So what are your intentions toward my guy?”

Piper wasn’t used to anyone intimidating her, but being in the presence of Phoebe Calebow was being in the presence of greatness. She swallowed. “I don’t think I have any intentions.”

Mrs. Calebow arched one beautifully shaped and very skeptical eyebrow.

“We’re… That part is over,” Piper said. “It’s all professional now. I have a job to do. And… How did you know about me?”

“I keep track of my men,” Mrs. Calebow said with a wry smile. “Do you read?”

“Read?”

“Books.”

“Of course. Thrillers. Mysteries. Police procedurals. At least I did until the past month, when I started working so late.” She babbled on. “I like biographies and autobiographies, too. But only about women. Which, I know, is sexist, but those are the stories that resonate with me. Oh, and cookbooks. I hate cooking but I like reading about it. And technology.” She forced herself to shut up.

“Interesting.” Mrs. Calebow uncoiled her legs from the desk corner, legs that could still have found a place in the Rockettes chorus line. “Nice meeting you, Ms. Dove.”

She swept from the office, leaving Piper to wonder what had just happened.


***

Piper didn’t leave the Stars headquarters until midafternoon, by which time she’d dug through all Coop’s PR records. On her way to her car, she experienced her familiar frustration. Nothing she’d read had raised a red flag. As she eased onto the two-lane road marked stars drive, she once again tried to figure out what she was missing and once again came up empty.

Instead of heading east toward the city, she took the Reagan Tollway west. She hadn’t seen Coop since their sleepover three nights ago, but she’d called him yesterday morning to make sure he wasn’t planning to throw himself into any big crowds or take off on a solitary hike. “I’m going over to Heath and Annabelle’s to watch the Stars game,” he’d said.

She’d asked Coop why he didn’t go to see the games in person. He’d pointed out how unfair it would be to the Stars’ new quarterback having TV cameras track Coop’s reaction to every play.

“Deidre’s invited us both to an overnight house party at her farm on Monday night,” he’d announced.

“That should make you happy.”

“What will make me happy is getting a financial commitment from her.”

“You’re going ahead with it, then?” she’d said. “Building your empire.”

“Of course I am. Why would you even ask?”

Because running a chain of nightclubs didn’t seem right for Coop, but she’d held her tongue. She also hadn’t mentioned that he could easily get a more personal commitment from Deidre. But he probably already knew that.

“I like Deidre,” she’d said carefully. “Even though she fired me.”

“I like her, too. A lot.”

And why wouldn’t he?

Piper got off at the Farnsworth exit and headed north. She didn’t want to go to Deidre’s overnight house party, but she also didn’t want Coop out of her sight for two days, so she’d agreed to meet him there.

St. Charles was a pretty town on the Fox River about forty miles west of the Loop. The Joss family farm lay to the northwest, its entrance marked by stone pillars and a white rail fence. Burnished leaves from the trees lining the drive drifted over the hood of her car as she made her way to the large, two-story white house. She parked her car between Coop’s Tesla and a red Lexus. This looked like a working farm, with a stable, barn, and paddock. The fields had been cleared for next year’s planting.