Gladiator

by E. L. Todd

  Gladiator

  E. L. Todd

  Chapter One

  I wiped my boots off on the doormat. The background was blood red, and the word WELCOME was in bold, white letters. Snow trailed the pathway to the house, and the sidewalk was icy from the frost.

  I walked inside then pulled the gray beanie off my head. The only thing I liked about winter was the excuse to be lazy. Instead of picking out a summer dress with the right jacket and sandals, I just threw on jeans and a jacket. I didn’t even bother doing my hair.

  Beanies were a godsend.

  I wiped my feet again on the mat on the other side of the door. If I didn’t, Dad would flip. He was a neat freak. If anything was even remotely wrong, it set him off. Everything had a distinct order in our house. Even the fridge was organized by shelf.

  “Dad, I’m home.” I set my satchel on the mahogany dining table then headed to the living room. My stomach growled from not eating all day. I skipped lunch because I had to stay behind and ask my professor about a bad paper I wrote. She accused me of plagiarizing.

  But if I were going to plagiarize, wouldn’t I have plagiarized something good?

  I stayed up until three o’clock last night finishing that stupid paper. I expected to get a crummy grade because I earned it, but I didn’t expect to be accused of cheating.

  “I’m in here, honey.” His voice came from the living room.

  I walked inside and saw two bags on the off-white couches. They were black with no distinguishable markings, just like everything else he owned. On the coffee table next to the couch was an old Christmas card. Dad, Mom, and I were standing in front of the oak tree on the lawn. Snow blanketed the branches and the roots that protruded out of the soil. I remember taking that picture. At the time, I didn’t know it would be my mother’s last Christmas.

  When I turned my gaze on Dad, I noticed his jeans and black jacket. “Going somewhere?”

  “Unfortunately,” he said with a sigh. “I have to fly to London tonight. You know how the business goes…”

  “Yeah. Have a safe trip.” He wasn’t going to London, but I pretended like I believed him. He may have fooled me when I was young, but now I knew better.

  “I won’t be gone too long—a week tops.”

  He always said that but it never worked out that way. “I have a lot of studying to do anyway. I’ll be stuck in a black hole of torture so I probably won’t even notice you’re gone.”

  Dad chuckled, the kind that was fake and purely for my entertainment. For a parent, he was fairly young. Some of my friends said he was good-looking, and of course, it grossed me out. Instead of being a little overweight and watching football on the couch every chance he got, he was fit and active. He ran every morning and hit the gym in the afternoons.

  He made me, a twenty-two-year-old, feel lazy.

  “I know it sucks right now, but your investment will pay off one day.”

  I was starting to believe that less and less. “I’m sure you’re right.” I lived at home with my dad while I went to college because I was broke. I had to take out loans for my education, and I didn’t have much money to spend. Living with him wasn’t bad. He was easy to get along with, as long as I kept everything clean, and I liked knowing he wasn’t alone. Dad wasn’t emotional and he hid his feelings down deep inside himself, but I knew he was upset when my mother passed away. Too afraid to leave him in this large house all by himself, I stayed. He never asked me to leave so I assumed he liked having me around.

  “The pantry is full of food, the emergency contact list is on the refrigerator, and don’t forget to set the alarm.”

  He said this every time he took a ‘business’ trip. “I got it.”

  “You know where the guns are,” he said. “They are all loaded.”

  Like I would need them. “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “And there’s a bat under the couch.”

  We lived on the most boring stretch of the suburbs. Nothing remotely interesting ever happened here—ever. “Got it.”

  “Is there anything you need before I go?” He shouldered both bags and watched me with fatherly affection. It didn’t seem like he wanted to leave. He wanted to stay and have dinner with me, like we usually did when I came home.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “Alright, honey.” He gave me a quick hug and kissed me on the forehead. “I’ll see you when I get back. You can call me if you need anything. And you always have your aunt in town.”

  “I know, Dad.” His front pocket was defined from where his iPhone was tucked, but there was also a phone on the couch. I knew he had two cell phones but I acted like I hadn’t made the connection. “Don’t forget your phone.”

  He turned his gaze on the cushion and spotted it. “Thanks. Almost forgot. What would I have done without this?” He shrugged and shoved it into his bag.

  Just used your other one? “Good thing you have me.”

  “Exactly.” He patted my shoulder before he headed to the garage. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “Bye, Dad.”

  He opened the door and turned to me before he left. “Love you, Unicorn.”

  Unicorn was a nickname he gave me when I was five. I had a stuffed unicorn I couldn’t put down. Anywhere I went, it was stuck to me like glue. Even when I was twelve, I still slept with it. He used the name once in a while, when he was particularly affectionate. “Love you too, Dad.”

  He gave me a quick smile before he shut the door. After the garage opened and closed and his car was gone, I knew he really left. Now it was just me in that large house on the quiet street.

  I was still hungry, and I had a lot of studying to do, so I decided to make one of those cheap microwavable burritos. It was full of salt, cholesterol, and fat but I didn’t care. I never learned how to cook, and unless it was microwaveable, I had no idea how to make it.

  I sat at the kitchen table and got to work on my laptop. My eyes drifted to the drawer beside the refrigerator. Tucked inside was a loaded pistol. I knew how to use a gun. In fact, my shots were always true. Dad taught me everything about weapons when I was twelve. I’d been using them ever since. I could dismantle and put them back together in minutes. I could reload one with a single hand. In addition to that, Dad taught me self-defense and an array of martial arts. He said it was important for a girl to learn how to protect herself.

  But I saw through that lie.

  My dad had been a financial advisor my entire life. He worked with different countries all over the world to give his two cents. But he had unusual hobbies for a financial advisor.

  Over the years, I noticed clues. For one, he had two cell phones. He’s always had two cell phones. Secondly, the house was too clean. I knew that was a weird thing to say, but it was true. The odd necessity for order was just unusual. And lastly, my dad had guns hidden everywhere, not just in the places he told me about. Strange phone calls in the middle of the night and his long disappearances didn’t escape my notice either. For a while, I thought he was seeing someone new and he wasn’t ready to come clean about it. But then I finally figured it out when I found a large bag stashed with nearly a million dollars in his closet.

  My father was a secret agent.

  ***

  I met up with a few friends at the bar downtown from the college. The town was small and quiet, but there were a lot of fun things to do. Several bars lined Main Street, and there was a bowling alley, a book store (the last one in this city), and an arcade. And there were other shops, too.

  The TV in the corner showed the baseball game, and I watched it while I sipped my beer. I liked every kind of alcohol you could think of, and I was in the mood for a frosty brewski.

  Meghan headed to the bathroom but was sidelin
ed by a cute guy who noticed her. They leaned against the wall just outside of the restroom. Her arms were crossed over her chest like she was pretending not to be interested, but she hadn’t stopped smiling for even a second during their conversation.

  I was on my own for the rest of the night.

  “Sandoval is a big, fat traitor.” The deep voice came from behind me. I had no idea what the guy looked like, but he had a voice that could be from an audiobook. It was deep, but it also had a natural charisma to it. Without even looking, I knew he was hot.

  “Is not. He got traded.” I didn’t look over my shoulder as I took another drink of my beer.

  “Exactly,” he said. “That’s what I call a traitor.” He stood at the table beside me, his beer in his hand.

  I still hadn’t turned to get a full look of him. All I could see was his outline and a little bit of his side profile. From what I could tell, he had dark hair. It was brown, but practically black. And he had scruff on his face like he hadn’t had time to shave that morning. “Or a very strategic move.”

  He shook his head slightly. “He couldn’t handle the pressure. We both know it.”

  “Or maybe he wants to be a designated hitter. Less work, more pay.”

  He dropped the conversation, and even though I couldn’t see his face, his chuckle indicated he was amused. “Beautiful and likes sports. Looks like I’ve met the perfect woman.”

  I took a drink of my beer to cover the smile on my face. “Not even close.”

  “You seem to have all the qualities I look for.”

  “There’s one flaw you aren’t noticing.”

  He leaned back and blatantly checked out my ass. He returned to me with a hint of shame. “I have 20/20 vision. Nothing escapes my notice.”

  “Maybe it’s not the kind of flaw you can see.”

  He leaned over the table and faced me head-on. I still hadn’t turned his way, but now I felt his blatant stare. “You’re too smart?”

  I was just accused of plagiarizing. “No.”

  “Hmm…” He rubbed his chin like he was thinking. “Too funny.”

  I was never good at telling jokes. “Nope.”

  “Enlighten me.”

  I finally turned toward him and showed him my entire face. I almost wished I hadn’t done that because I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. His milk chocolate eyes were dark just like his hair. The depth was endless, and even though I didn’t know him, I thought I saw too much. It was almost too intimate just to look at him. Keeping my cool wasn’t exactly easy to do while looking at a man like him.

  Despite the chill outside, he only wore a black t-shirt. His arms were bare, and they were thick and powerful like he threw around tree logs for sport. Black ink marked his skin, and the designs stretched all the way down to his wrists. I didn’t stare hard enough to distinguish what images they were, but I was curious.

  He was substantially taller than me, at least by a foot. The confidence in his gaze was almost unnerving. He didn’t seem intimidated by anyone or anything—just like me. But for someone that good-looking, it wasn’t surprising. Somehow, I managed to keep my indifferent composure even though I wanted to melt right then and there. I wasn’t easily hooked on men, but I was already thinking things I shouldn’t about this one.

  He tilted his head to the side slightly, like he was waiting for something.

  I kept my lips pressed tightly together.

  “Are you going to tell me?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Or are you building up the anticipation?”

  I forgot what we were talking about. Every coherent thought fell out of my head once I got a good look at him. His traditionally handsome face, hard jaw, and powerful physique drove logic away like a charging bull. “I don’t know how to cook.”

  A slow smile crept into his lips. The corners of his mouth slowly rose, and his eyes lightened in interest. He didn’t smile fully, not like most people did. It was only a half-smile, and he somehow made it sexy. “That’s what take out is for.”

  I took a sip of my beer because I was flustered. I was actually nervous around this guy—which said a lot. Gorgeous men like him didn’t hit on me very often. In fact, it was the first time I’d ever seen a guy that made me so hot under the collar. It was like he put a spell on me. But if I had the antidote, I wouldn’t take it. “But that’s not a skill.”

  “Well, you can always learn how to cook. I could teach you.”

  “You know how to cook?” I blurted that out without thinking. It was a very sexist assumption.

  “Better than most. And no, I’m not referring to Top Ramen.”

  “Hey, that stuff is good.”

  “But it’s not good for you.” He drank his beer then set it down.

  I eyed his glass. “And you think that is?”

  “I’m selective with my poison. Beer is simply too good to pass up. Top Ramen…I can do without.”

  “We clearly have different philosophies. I consume whatever the hell I want because what’s the point of life if you don’t enjoy it? So I’ll eat every fried cheese stick, every corn dog, and every bag of Top Ramen I come across.”

  He nodded. “Good philosophy.”

  “Thank you.”

  He subtly came closer to me, the smell of his cologne entering my nose. “How about you come over for dinner? I’ll make you the best frozen cheese sticks, corn dogs, and Top Ramen you’ve ever had—hands down.”

  My lips automatically formed a smile. “Wow…talk about fancy.”

  “And we’ll have Bud Light to top it off.”

  “Yuck.” I cringed. “I don’t do light beer.”

  “How about we do shots instead?”

  “Sorry, do you live in a dive bar?”

  This time he actually laughed, and it was a sexy sound. He showed all of his straight teeth and his eyes became playful. His hand never left his beer, but his fingers loosened around the glass. “Sometimes it feels that way.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, I’m going to pass.” I’d done the bad boy thing before. We had sweaty, yummy sex that left us both equally satisfied and eager for more. I got even less schoolwork done because I was too busy having amazing orgasms. And when he got tired of me and wanted something new, I was already attached to him. They were all the same, all play and no commitment. I was done with no-strings-attached relationships but I always fell for the bad guys. You know, the kind that looked and talked just like this one. He was too good-looking and that raised red flags all over the place. I’d fall for him, and fall for him hard. I’d think about him long after he was gone, and when I pictured him pleasing another woman, I’d be filled with pain. I saw the ending before it even began.

  Judging the surprise in his eyes, he wasn’t used to getting rejected. He covered it up quickly, but it was too late. I’d already seen it. “You’re going to turn down the best mozzarella sticks in the world? Sounds like a bad decision to me.”

  “There are other fish in the sea. Or should I say, there’s other fried cheese in the sea.”

  Amusement was in his eyes, but there was a slight look of disappointment. “Wilder.” He extended his hand to shake mine. “It was a pleasure talking with you.”

  I took his hand, and the second I felt his touch, I noticed the hard skin of his fingertips. They were calloused like he used his hands all the time. Perhaps he was a welder or a construction worker. Feeling that embrace made me want to know more, but I knew if I learned anything else, I wouldn’t have the strength to turn away. I wasn’t scared of anything—except one thing.

  I was afraid of a broken heart.

  “Gray.”

  His palm still gripped mine. “Gray.” He said the name out loud like he was trying to memorize it. I liked the way it rolled off his tongue. It almost seemed like I’d already heard him say it before.

  “It was nice meeting you.”

  “You too.” He dropped his hand and abandoned his beer on the table. He slowly walked ou
t of the bar without looking back. The second he passed, heads turned in his direction. When they turned back to me, I knew what they were thinking.

  Was I the dumbest girl on the planet? Or just a lesbian?

  Chapter Two

  I had an appointment with the dean of the university. The plagiarism issue had turned deadly serious, and now I was defending myself to the man who could dismiss me from the college.

  Shit just got real.

  “Look, I didn’t plagiarize.” I sat in the chair facing his desk. I didn’t take off my beanie because it was too cold inside his office. It was like a refrigerator in there. He was heavyset and wearing a suit probably made him sweat all day long.

  “According to Dr. Phillips, ten percent of it matches another paper in the school system.”

  “Only ten percent?” That was it? She made it sound like I stole the paper from some poor student and slapped my name on it. “You really think it’s impossible for it to be a coincidence? You can only say so much about the civil war.”

  “Ten percent or one percent doesn’t make a difference.” He spoke in a bored voice that matched the suede patches on the elbows of his brown suit. “Cheating is still cheating.”

  “Dude, I didn’t cheat.”

  Both of his eyebrows rose. “Dude?”

  “I mean, Dean. I waited until the last minute to write that paper. I stayed up until three in the morning bullshitting the entire time. If I were going to plagiarize, wouldn’t I have copied something that actually sounded intelligent?”

  His expression didn’t change. His eyes still looked humungous in his glasses. “I’m going to have to document this, Gray. Cheating is a serious thing in this university. You’re lucky I’m not kicking you out.”

  “But I didn’t do it,” I said. “I didn’t.” How many times could I repeat that?

  He made a note with his pen. “If I hear about another incident with plagiarism, you’ll be expelled from the university and all your credits will be revoked.”

  Damn. “Well, we won’t have to worry about that since I didn’t cheat to begin with.”