Victor

by Brenda Rothert

Now that I’ve talked to Lindy about my past, I don’t feel quite as sick with nerves about telling Jonah. I trust him; he’s like family. But he’s also my peer and teammate, and I don’t like the thought of him knowing—I’m up against a wall, though.

  “Bottom line, I guess, is that I’m being blackmailed,” I start. “I know you’re brother’s a detective for the Chicago PD and I’m wondering if he might be able to help.”

  Jonah leans forward, looking at me with concern. “Blackmailed over what?”

  I take a deep breath. “Photos.”

  “Dick pics?” He grins. “Say no more, brother.”

  “No.” I wring my hands in my lap, my tone somber. “I mean photos from when I was a kid.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Fuck, this is hard. I wish Lindy was sitting next to me right now.

  “My mom was a deadbeat loser who needed money for drugs,” I say flatly. “She let men…”

  “Oh, Christ.” Jonah runs a hand through his hair, which has grown out a lot since Lily’s death. He does it a second time. “Vic…I…I’m sorry, man.”

  “The last thing in the world I wanted was for anyone to know.” My voice shakes as I speak. “But this guy, who has photos…he’s threatening to release them if I don’t pay him, and the payments just keep getting higher and more frequent.”

  “I hope you know this is all on him.” Jonah levels a serious look at me. “You were a victim, of both him and your mom. He deserves to have his nuts removed with pliers. You know that, right?”

  I nod. “In my head, I do. I’m working on it. Please keep this between us. Anton and Luca don’t know. No one knows, except Lindy.”

  “One hundred percent, it won’t leave this room,” Jonah promises.

  “Thanks.”

  “Logan works in the sex crimes unit. If you’re willing to go after this guy, I know he’ll help.”

  I scrub a hand down my face. “I want to, but I’m so worried about it getting out.”

  “Man, you were a kid. You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Yeah, but you know hockey players. I don’t want to hear trash talk about it or have people look at me like I’m a fucking freak show.”

  Jonah shifts in his seat, agitated. “I’m telling you right now, anyone who talked trash about this would feel my fucking wrath. I know you feel like you’re all alone, but lots of people have gone through this or know someone who has. You don’t realize how many people are fighting their own demons that you know nothing about.”

  I nod. “I get that, and I want to be strong enough to stand up to this guy publicly, but—”

  Jonah interrupts. “Lily was pregnant.”

  I’m stunned silent.

  “Just a few weeks along. We tried hard for so long. And I wouldn’t tell you this if I didn’t know it would be completely okay with her, but one of the reasons the doctors weren’t sure if we could get pregnant was because Lily was molested as a kid. Bad stuff. It left her scarred inside. Like physically, she suffered permanent damage.”

  “My God. Lily?”

  Jonah nods. “It was a long road for her, dealing with all of it. And the pregnancy was a big deal too, not just because we wanted kids so bad, but because she felt like she had defied that asshole who hurt her. She wouldn’t let him take what meant so much to her, and that was the chance to be a mother.” He chokes up.

  “I’m so sorry, Jonah. I had no idea.”

  “Exactly what I’m saying. You’ve got to go to Logan and get this guy behind bars, man. You don’t know who else he could be doing this to. You don’t know who will look at you and say, ‘man, if he can do it—if he can survive that and keep going, I can, too.’”

  I sit back, dumbfounded by his perspective.

  “I never thought of it that way.”

  “Look, man. No one who judges you over this is worth a shit as a human being. You’re better off without them. But I don’t think you know how many people will respect and admire you for coming forward.”

  “Even after all this time?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I nod. “I think you’re right. I want to talk it over with Lindy, but…I think you’re right.”

  “Will you stay and hang out? Watch a movie or something?”

  “Sure man, I’d love to stay.”

  I text Lindy and we make plans for later. I’m still floored after my talk with Jonah, but I’m also…hopeful. I’ve never felt a shred of hope when it comes to Bryan—until right now.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Lindy

  * * *

  Dad peeks out the front curtains and gives me a thumbs-up.

  “Looks like even those peckerhead photographers spend Turkey Day with their families,” he says.

  I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s truly a holiday, then. A break from everything. For the past three weeks, I haven’t been able to leave my house without being photographed.

  Victor’s in the same situation, only it’s not so foreign to him. If I go to his place, photographers follow me the entire way, and within minutes of me going inside, local sports blogs show photos of me walking inside for a “romantic rendezvous.”

  They also know when I leave, because they’re still waiting outside. One blog documented my “walk of shame,” at 4:00 a.m., which was really just me leaving a lot later than planned because we both fell asleep watching a movie.

  Victor thinks it’s funny. He got used to the spotlight shining brightly on him when he dated Kristen Moore. I’m now more comfortable with it than I was when it first started. The best part about it is that Jonah said the photographers aren’t following him anymore. If we can spare him that one thing as he grieves for Lily, it’s worth it.

  As I take our turkey out of the oven and baste it, I think about Jonah. It’s his first Thanksgiving without her. He’s spending it with his family, and I know it’ll be a hard day for him.

  Most of us don’t know which Thanksgiving will be our last. Victor’s coming over to spend the day with me and my dad, and I’m excited we all get to be together. Dad and I have always made a full Thanksgiving meal, even though it was just the two of us.

  “That bird’s looking fantastic,” Dad says as he passes through the kitchen.

  “Thanks. I hope it’s not dry.”

  “If it is, we can just dump extra gravy on it.”

  There’s a knock on the front door and Dad answers it as I put the turkey back in the oven.

  I poke my head out of the kitchen to see Victor and my dad do the customary male greeting—a loud hello accompanied by back clapping hugs, and then Victor and I meet up in the living room as he’s making his way back to the kitchen, a big paper bag in one arm. He gives me a warm smile.

  “Happy Thanksgiving, babe,” he says, kissing me.

  It’s short and sweet—the only kind of kiss he’s willing to give me in front of my dad.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, still unable to believe he’s actually here in my house, and he’s all mine.

  We all walk back into the kitchen and Victor sets his bag on our small, round kitchen table. He pulls a bouquet of yellow, orange and red flowers out and passes it to me.

  “Thank you.”

  He unloads more—a giant summer sausage, a cheese tray, a container of potato salad from the deli, two bottles of wine and…

  “Oh my God.” I flush the darkest shade of red when he unpacks a giant bottle of lube.

  My dad’s eyes widen and I swear I see Victor’s murder plotted in them from start to finish in a matter of two seconds.

  Victor puts his hands up in surrender. “There were photographers following me. I figured I’d give ‘em something juicy since they’re working on a holiday.”

  Dad bursts out laughing. “Hell yeah. Let ‘em put pictures of that on the Internet.”

  They share a good laugh over it. I still want to die. Men have the weirdest sense of humor.

  “Between the lube and the summer sausage, I’ll never hea
r the end of this from my neighbors,” I grumble.

  Victor gets another good laugh out of that. “I swear I only bought the sausage for us to eat.”

  “I told you not to bring food. I’m making tons.”

  “I couldn’t show up empty-handed.”

  “Eh, it’ll all get eaten,” Dad says. “Victor, can I get you a beer?”

  “Absolutely, thanks.”

  Victor gives me an apologetic smile, putting his hands on my waist. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

  I roll my eyes, unable to keep myself from smiling. “I like how you phrased that to make it sound like I couldn’t possibly be unhappy you were just photographed buying an economy-sized bottle of lube and bringing it to my house.”

  He pulls me a little closer, his eyes bright with amusement. “Come on babe, it’s funny.”

  “It’s a little bit funny,” I concede. “But I’ll still be getting teased over it in the neighborhood when I’m an old lady.”

  “And I’ll still be getting fist bumped over it, so we’re good?”

  I reach for my turkey baster, which is sitting on the counter. “Don’t make me use this on you.”

  Dad passes Victor a beer. “Want to go catch some football while we wait?”

  Victor takes the beer and thanks him, then gives me an uncertain look. “Do you need any help in here?”

  I’ve been cooking this meal by myself for almost fifteen years now. This is our tradition. And while I’m wiped out by the time we sit down to eat, I like it.

  “I’m good,” I say, waving a hand. “Go watch football.”

  He kisses me again and goes into the living room, beer in hand.

  The past few weeks have been crazy but things have been going well—I accepted the job with Lorraine and started last week. So far, I love it. Victor is still playing great and our relationship is solid. Life is great. The one dark spot at the forefront of my mind though is Bryan. I know Victor is concerned about him too.

  Victor turned his cell phone over to the Chicago PD, and we’ve been waiting to see what will happen. A detective will respond to Bryan’s messages, posing as Victor, and they’ll use the information they gather as evidence against him. They’re playing it slow, though, because they don’t know where Bryan is right now, and they can’t arrest him if he’s not in the US or if he’s sending other people to collect the money when Victor drops it off at a specified location.

  The waiting is hard for me, so I can’t imagine what it must be like for Victor. And since only the two of us and Jonah know what’s going on, he has to pretend everything’s normal.

  Well, normal for us, anyway. We’re not your usual couple, what with the photographers documenting our every move. But they don’t have access to the current scoop on us—not even Victor’s getting a bulletin on this one.

  Little does he know he may actually need that lube tonight. I’m ready to give myself to Victor. He’s been traveling a lot for away games, so we haven’t had a long, uninterrupted night together in a while.

  I’m nervously anticipating my first time as I cook dinner and listen to my dad and Victor talking football in the living room. It warms my heart to see the two of them side by side on our couch, like our family increased by one

  When we finally sit down to eat, my dad starts carving the turkey and I look around the kitchen counter, noting each dish to make sure I put everything out.

  “It’s good to have you here with us today, Victor,” my dad says.

  “I’m glad to be here.” He gives me a warm look.

  “Funny how life works.” Dad chuckles. “My daughter used to have this poster in her bedroom--”

  “Dad! The turkey! Focus!” I cry, anxiously hoping he doesn’t mention what I think he’s about to.

  “What poster?” Victor gives me a playful look.

  “Nothing! Do you want sweet potatoes?”

  He lets me change the subject—thank God—and we eat in relative peace. My dad gets a little unruly while talking about what a “piece of shit pussy” a certain quarterback is and Victor wisely agrees.

  We watch more football after eating, and Chuck arrives with a cooler in hand shortly after. Victor and I head over to his place then.

  “I went to grab that lube and put it in my purse, but it was gone,” I tell him during our drive. “Did you bring it?”

  “No, I never touched it.”

  I laugh and shrug. “Guess my dad’s not taking any chances.”

  “I would’ve gotten my ass beat into next week if he’d seen you grabbing it anyway.” He shakes his head. “You tryin’ to get me killed?”

  “No, I just thought…”

  “What?”

  “I thought we might need it later.”

  He turns to look at me, his gaze hungry. “Yeah? You want me to give you a fingering you’ll never forget?”

  “I had something else in mind, actually.”

  “Oh, did you?”

  He turns to glance out the windshield, notices he’s about to run a red light, and slams on the brakes. As we jolt to a stop, he throws his arm out in front of me, even though I’m wearing a seat belt.

  “You really are trying to get me killed, aren’t you?” He runs a hand through his hair.

  “If you don’t want to, we can—”

  “I want to! It’s all I can do not to pull over in a parking lot and do it right now.” He gives me a panicked look. “Shit, condoms.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “Really? So we can…oh, fuck.”

  When the light turns green, he hits the gas and we get to his place in record time. Even though he usually parks it himself, he leaves the car with the doorman this time and leads me into his building by the hand.

  We’re alone in the elevator, and Victor moves to stand in front of me, putting his hands on my hips and squeezing them possessively. His touch sends a shiver trickling down my spine.

  “What if it’s not good?” I whisper.

  “It will be, because we’re good.”

  His gaze darkens as he lowers his mouth to mine, his kiss turning deep and passionate just as the elevator doors slide open. We tumble out together, him fumbling in his pocket for his apartment key while still trying to kiss me.

  Somehow, we make it inside. As soon as he closes the door, we shrug off our coats, letting them fall to the floor. I drop my handbag, gasping as he grips my ass cheeks and pulls me against him.

  Victor makes me feel desired and I forget my insecurities as he picks me up and carries me into the bedroom, my legs unconsciously wrapping themselves around his waist. He’s hard where I’m soft, leading as I follow.

  When we reach his bedroom, he lays me on the bed and hovers above me. He slowly moves my shirt up as he plants kisses on my bare stomach until I’m writhing beneath him and whimpering for more. He unbuttons my jeans and I moan in satisfaction, certain things are about to move along, but he just kisses that one spot until I beg for more.

  He slides down the zipper and lavishes the same agonizingly slow attention on the bare skin there, before moving his tongue beneath the waistband of my panties. I arch my back up off the bed, practically panting.

  He pauses, and I realize he’s figured out my surprise for him. Grabbing the waistband of my jeans, he pulls them all the way off, then moves the crotch of my white lacy panties to the side.

  Completely bare. I waxed down there to prepare for this occasion, on Ari’s advice. It hurt like hell, but from the look on his face, it was worth it.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, running a finger over my slit. “So fucking hot, babe.”

  I want him to get naked. My body is humming with arousal, desperate to have him inside me. But he teases some more, licking me through the fabric of my panties until I’m moaning his name again.

  He backs off for a moment to remove my shirt and bra, his lips and tongue worshipping my breasts with the same torturous treatment. I’m trying to undo his pants, but he slides his hands down the length of my ar
ms and pins them above my head.

  “Let me enjoy you,” he says, his breath warm on my lips. “We’ve got all night.”

  I moan with frustration as he lowers his lips to my neck and lightly kisses me there, the brush of his stubble igniting a wave of goosebumps over my skin.

  Every touch, every kiss, every lick feels like almost enough to send me over the edge. He keeps me so close to the edge, and I’m about to go mad with wanting more when he finally, finally takes off his own clothes.

  I run my hands up and down his arms and back, starved for the feel of his bare skin. The tip of his cock brushes against me and I rock my hips forward, trying to get closer.

  “I think you’re ready,” he says against my neck.

  “Yes.” My response comes out as a pant, and I widen my legs even further in invitation.

  Victor pauses above me, supporting himself on his elbows and knees as he brushes some hair away from my face.

  “I’m in love with you, Lindy. You’re my whole world.”

  Tears burn in my eyes. “I’m in love with you, too.”

  “Tell me if I need to stop, ok. I promise I will.”

  He eases just the tip inside, and I love the feeling of him inside me.

  I tilt my hips, encouraging him to go further. When he does, I gasp, my body stretching to accommodate him. It does hurt. I knew it would, but I had hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much.

  He kisses between my jawline and neck, back and forth, his soft lips on my skin making me momentarily forget the pain.

  “More?” he asks.

  I close my eyes. “Just do it. Do it all.”

  “It’ll hurt too much, babe.”

  He slides in just a little further and I grit my teeth together, groaning.

  “How much is that?” I ask him.

  “About half.”

  Of course, he had to be enormous. From what Ari’s told me about dick size, Victor is a couple inches above average.

  “Just do it,” I say. “Get it over with.”

  He does, and I dig my nails into his back and whimper against his chest. It hurt, but I don’t want him to know just how much.

  “I’m okay,” I say, kissing his lips, as he stills completely. “Keep going.”