Read Online Protecting His Assets by Cari Quinn - Free Book Online Page B

other than going to the occasional AA meeting. Once in a while—not often enough lately—he even went inside rather than returning to his truck. He hadn’t found the right group in the city yet, that was all. Then there were the oh-so-thrilling doctors’ visits and PT and lots of hours spent doing research on his condition online. He didn’t want to have surgery, but more and more it looked like he’d have no choice.
    There were no guarantees. Yes, the Tommy John operation could fix him up and get him back on the field, assuming some team would be willing to take him on after months of rehabilitation. His already damaged reputation didn’t make him a prime candidate in many teams’ eyes, and despite how en vogue the Tommy John surgery was in some circles nowadays, the fact was he’d be different afterward. Better, probably? Yes. But the surgery could also leave him unable to ever pitch again. The odds of that were extremely low, but it could happen. It had happened to a guy he knew. And then what? He’d live off his money for a while, abstaining from everything that made life fun until he finally keeled over from sheer boredom?
    Hell no. He needed to do something else while he considered his options. Which led him right back to Summer.
    She needed a bodyguard. He had the muscle and the street smarts to protect her. He’d been circling around the idea of an agency for long enough that he knew he couldn’t do it on his own. At first, sure. But he didn’t have a head for numbers and he wasn’t some admin-type. He needed a partner, someone who could take on clients with him and might even know something about running a business.
    Someone like Jax Wilder.
    He hadn’t seen Jax in years. They’d run into each other at the occasional press junket but never spoke. In the early days after they’d both been drafted, Chase had gone out of his way to avoid his former best friend. Jealousy was a bitter brew—though back then, he’d refused to see his hot, relentless fury towards Jax as envy—and it had taken him a long time to put down the bottle. Now that he was out of the MLB himself, maybe for good, he’d decided to stop dredging up the past.
    Plus he needed the guy, though he’d never tell Jax that.
    Chase sat back in his booth at Slocum’s Diner and stared at the mustard-splattered menu in front of him. His stomach growled, sick of waiting for him to make up his mind. He’d been thinking way too much lately and it was starting to piss him off. He wanted a drink. He wanted a woman underneath him. Or over, he wasn’t fussy.
    God, he wanted his old life back.
    The bell over the door chimed and he jerked up his head, tearing his gaze from the meatloaf special to lock eyes with his former nemesis. Jax had also been the closest friend he’d ever had. Would ever have.
    Jax strode over to the booth and tugged off his scarf, tossing it on the cracked red pleather seat. Then he did the same with his bomber jacket before extending his fist to Chase for a knuckle bump. He didn’t speak, but his terse expression said it all. Despite Chase having been the one to call him, Jax expected his old buddy to shut him down.
    Not happening. Not this time.
    Chase rose halfway out of the seat, fist extended, only to be hauled into a bear hug that nearly launched him over the table. They were evenly matched in height and weight, but Jax had taken Chase completely off-guard. He couldn’t help laughing as he thumped his old friend on the back. “Hey, man,” Chase said, his throat surprisingly tight.
    “Dude, it’s so good to see you. Here, of all places.” Jax stepped back and gestured. Black tattoos covered his knuckles on his right hand. His fingers looked like a slot machine that didn’t have a hope of coming up with a matching row. “Same ol’ booths. Same ol’ pictures on the walls.” Both men glanced around at the ancient framed pictures of Elvis and Jack Kennedy and Martin Luther King, Jr. that covered the yellowed