Maverick Millionaires: Trapped with the Maverick Millionaire / Pregnant by the Maverick Millionaire / Married to the Maverick Millionaire

“Who is the devil and who is the sidekick?” Rory asked.

“Depends on the occasion. We all have our moments.”

Now that she could believe. Rory jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and rocked on her heels. “I’ll run downstairs to get those painkillers and one of your sidekicks can come back up and help you dress.”

“Aw, they aren’t as pretty as you. Nor do they smell as good.”

“I’m not so sure...they are both very pretty and they do smell good,” she teased.

Mac sent her a narrow-eyed look. “Do not flirt with my friends.”

He sounded jealous. But that was probably just her imagination running off again.

“Why on earth not?” Rory asked, deliberately ignoring the heat building between her legs and the thump-thump of her heartbeat.

“I wouldn’t like it,” Mac growled.

Rory forced herself to do a massive eye roll as she edged her way to the door. “I think you are confusing me with someone who might actually give a damn.”

“Rory?”

When she turned, Mac did a slow perusal of her body. She felt like he’d plugged her into the electricity grid. “Seriously, no flirting.”

“Seriously, you’re an idiot.” Rory made a big production of her sigh. “They really should invent a vaccine to prevent that.”

* * *

The next morning Mac, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, walked into his kitchen and, ignoring his two friends sitting at his table, headed straight for the coffeepot. Filling a cup to the brim, he gulped a sip, shuddered, swallowed another mouthful and prayed the caffeine would hit his system in the next thirty seconds. He felt like death warmed over. His arm was on fire, his head was pounding and he wanted to climb back into bed and sleep for a week. He supposed being out last night and pretending he was fine contributed to his less than stellar mood.

As did the drugs and the anesthetic, he realized. It always took time for drugs to work their way out of his system. He felt like a wet blanket was draped over his head. He’d work through it, as he always did.

He jerked his head at his friends and looked around the kitchen. “Where’s Rory?”

“She went home,” Quinn replied, taking a donut from the box on the table and biting into it.

“But...” Mac frowned, looking toward the front door. “I thought she was here earlier. She wrapped that mat thing around my arm.”

“She was. Now she’s gone,” Quinn replied, stretching out his long legs. “Need anything? I can make eggs.”

Mac shook his head, smiling internally. Quinn, their resident badass, was a nurturer at heart, intent on making the world around him better and brighter for the people he loved. There weren’t many people he showed his softer side to. To the world he was an adrenaline-addicted bad boy, speed-freak player, but his family and close friends knew he would move heaven and earth for the people he loved.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Kade pushed back his chair and pulled back the cuff of his shirt to look at his watch. It was new, Mac realized, and damn expensive. “I’ve got to get moving, my morning is crazy.”

“Can you give me fifteen minutes?” Mac asked, picking up his coffee. “We need to talk.”

He didn’t want to do this. Frankly he was considering abdicating all his rights to adulthood at this point and going back to bed, but he leaned against the counter and held his cup in his good hand.

“What’s up?” Quinn asked.

“This situation is a classic cluster...” Mac allowed his words to trail away and rubbed the back of his neck. He needed air. This kitchen was far too small for three six-foot-plus men.

“Let’s go outside.” Mac placed his cup on the table and grabbed a donut. Maybe a sugar rush would make him feel better. He took one bite, grimaced and tossed the donut back into the box.

Kade and Quinn exchanged a long, worried look, which made Mac grind his back teeth. He was about to knock some heads together—okay, he couldn’t beat up a worm at the moment but the thought was there—when Kade stood up and walked over to the open doors that led to the small patio. Mac followed him out into the sunshine and Quinn lumbered to his feet to do the same.

They looked over the houses below them, across False Creek and toward the Lions Gate Bridge and the mountains beyond. God, he loved this city and its endless, changing views. He couldn’t think of living anywhere else; this was home. He’d had offers from teams all over the continent but he’d never been willing to be traded, and Vernon had kept him, and Kade and Quinn. Unless they managed to buy the Mavericks, that would all change. Mac didn’t mind change, as long it was the change he wanted.

“I’m really worried about the press finding out about my injury,” Mac quietly stated.

Kade rested his forearms on the railing and cocked his head to look at Mac. “We put out a press release stating you have a minor injury and that you should be fine soon.”

Not good enough, Mac decided. “There’s too much at stake.”

Quinn frowned. “But only the three of us and Rory know the truth. The doctors and nurses are bound by patient confidentiality. I think we’ll be okay.”

Mac rubbed his chin. “Until the press realizes I am spending an enormous amount of time with my ex-girlfriend’s sister.”

It took a minute for the implications of that scenario to register with his friends. When it did, they both looked uneasy. Kade rubbed his chin. “That was the incident that started their obsession with what we do, who we date.”

Mac felt a spurt of guilt. “Yeah. And if they find out about Rory, how will we explain why we are spending time together?” He frowned. “I will not tell them we are seeing each other, in any capacity. God, that would open up a nasty can of worms, not only for Rory but for Shay, as well.”

“And even if you told them she was your physio, that statement would raise questions as to why we aren’t using our resident physios, why we need her to treat you,” Kade said. “Especially since your injury is supposed to be a minor one.”

“Bingo.”

Quinn swore. “What’s that saying about lies and tangles we weave?”

“Shut up, Shakespeare.” Kade stood up, looking worried. So was Mac. He’d spent most of the night thinking about how they could avoid this very wide, imminent pitfall.

Quinn leaned his hip against the railing and narrowed his eyes. “We’ve painted ourselves into a corner. We’ve downplayed your injury and said you’ll be fine in a couple of weeks. When you are not fine in a week or two, how are we going to explain that?”

“I have a solution,” Mac said. “I don’t like it—in fact, I hate it. I need to be here, working with you on the deal to purchase the team. But it’s all I can think of...”

“Well?” Quinn demanded, impatient.

“I need to get out of the city.”

Kade tapped his finger against his chin. “Yeah, but any fool can see you are more badly injured than we say you are. We got away with lying once, only because the injury was brand-new, but we can’t keep shoveling that story. Your eyes are dull, you can tell you are on hectic painkillers.”

“I’ll stop the drugs,” Mac insisted.

“Now who is being stupid?” Quinn demanded.

“Last night you hadn’t taken the proper pain meds and you looked like a walking corpse,” Kade said. “The point is that people will notice and that will lead to complications. I think your instinct is right. It’s best for you to leave. We can tell Myra, the press, anyone who cares that you are taking an extended vacation.”

Mac swore. “I have no idea where to go. There’s nowhere I want to go.”