Page 33 of Hard Pass

And I’ve definitely had my fill of them. Some meaningful, some not. And obviously, many were so forgettable I don’t remember names or details or possibly even their faces.

Yet, here I am with “scandal” associated with my name—with my career—and my brain keeps getting stuck on the fact that she might not remember me. Why?

The question lingers. And so does the indecision about what to do about it.

Logic dictates that I keep my head down, work hard, and focus on what matters most—clearing my name. I have a team of people in my corner willing to help me do just that.

But that doesn’t fix my curiosity or wanting to dig more into Dublin Locke.

Pride and ego tell me she’s pretending. If so, there’s a reason she is, and if that’s the case, then maybe I’m supposed to use it to my advantage.

I tip my head back and finish the last of my beer.

Yeah. I’ll figure that out.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Dublin

The media is already at the Lone Star Rebel’s facility when I arrive.

Not just a few reporters out front lingering for sound bites, but a crowd. Reporters. Cameras. Microphones. Questions shouted that blur together into a chaotic hum that suffocates all other sound.

It’s too loud for this early in the morning, more aggressive than it needs to be, and entirely predictable given the story that broke overnight.

So much for the reassurance that the case wouldn’t be leaked until the case is closed, Dublin.

Can’t say I’m not interested in seeing what Cole’s reaction to all this will be though.

And if he’ll blame me for it.

Hence the impromptu meeting the club called, requesting my presence. Damage control. No doubt that’s what they’re after, and I can’t exactly blame them for it.

What I don’t think they predicted was just how my presence would make things worse.

But the second I step out of my car, it’s more than apparent. Eyes shift, cameras angle, and someone says my name loudly enough that it ripples outward like a signal—and a warning.

“Doesn’t she work for Gridiron Integrity Analytics?”

“GIA’s on this?”

“That’s Dublin Locke with GIA. She worked on the Greenfield scandal.”

Just like that, there isn’t just speculation about Cole Valor anymore. My presence is now a confirmation adding legitimacy to what was an “unfounded” story.

Now, there’s validation behind it.

Fuck.

A part of me feels like I should stop and explain this, but GIA’s company policy is not to talk to the media.

And because of that, I don’t break stride or acknowledge any of the questions being shouted my way as security ushers me through the front doors and into the relative quiet of the Rebels facility.

But I know that the damage is already done.

This situation has escalated way beyond what it should be at this point—and beyond what Cole deserves.

But how do you put the genie back in the bottle when you’re not the one who let it out in the first place?