Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  There were serious egos in the NFL. The kind of guy who would work his ass off in a single sport to become the best is also the kind of guy to be a total asshole about starting positions. Kennings, though, he was the rare decent guy.

  Liking him made it harder to be gunning for him, but not that much harder. I was going to earn back my starting spot no matter what, and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop me.

  Tony didn’t contact me again that week, and Raylon just acted like nothing had happened. At least, Raylon didn’t say a word about it. I didn’t hold anything against the guy, because I knew how things worked with the mob, though I did wonder what they had against him.

  Didn’t matter. Sunday rolled around, and I was listed as Kenning’s backup to nobody’s surprise. I had expected it. Hell, I knew it was happening, but I still didn’t like it.

  I stood on the sidelines in my gear and glanced at Taylor as kickoff happened. We were getting the ball first, and for the first time in my career since going to college, I was going from starter to backup.

  Which meant I wasn’t on the field for that first drive. Coach didn’t work me in at all, just let Kennings do his thing.

  And he did okay. Nothing special, but he was hitting the line hard and working his ass off. That was all anybody could ask of him. That drive stalled out around midfield, so the offense punted.

  I got my first touch ten minutes later, after a weak three-and-out from the Bengals. It was an insane handoff from shotgun, and I barely picked up three yards. I was off the field again, and Kennings was worked back in.

  The first half went like that. I was given a touch or two, and I actually caught a pass for a first down on one drive, but otherwise Kennings got the biggest workload.

  I hated standing there and watching. It was bad enough when I was hurt the week before, but knowing that I could be out there making a difference was driving me insane. Kennings was playing fine, not great, but he was getting some yards on every carry. He didn’t look as good as he had the week before, fumble aside.

  Still, we scored on a quick slant toward the end of the half. Kennings did some good work to get the team to that point, and although he didn’t bring it home, it was clear that he had helped out that drive a lot.

  I hated standing aside. I kept giving glances to Taylor, and she just kept nodding at me. I was keeping loose and trying to make the best of every touch, but I just couldn’t get into a rhythm. I didn’t have the time to read the defense.

  Just before halftime, the Bengals scored to tie the game on a huge bomb down the sideline. We went into the locker room, and Coach was clearly pretty pissed.

  His usual speech was all about how we needed to work harder and get better. I wasn’t really listening, though. I was too busy running through each of my touches in my mind, trying to figure out where I could improve and where I had gone wrong.

  “Hey.”

  I looked up. Taylor smiled at me.

  “Hey.”

  “You look good out there.”

  “When I get the ball, at least.”

  “He’s working you in. That’s good.”

  “Is it? I’ve had maybe ten carries at most.”

  “That’s a lot. Kennings could be carrying the whole game.”

  I frowned. “That’s true.”

  “You can’t get anything going, but it’s not your fault. Kennings can’t either.”

  “He looks decent.”

  “I told you before: He can’t hold a candle to you.” She sat down on the bench next to me as the guys started to filter out of the locker room.

  “I should go.”

  “Listen, Owen. No matter what happens, you have me.”

  I cocked my head at her. “I know,” I said, grinning.

  She laughed. I grabbed her and kissed her and then stood. She was blushing red and looking around.

  “Relax. Nobody saw.”

  “You have to be careful.”

  “Fuck being careful.” I turned to leave. “See you out there.”

  I met up with my teammates and we ran back out onto the field together.

  I felt decent as I hit the turf and did my quick warm-up. The Bengals got the ball to start the half, so I could keep myself loose on the sidelines.

  They managed to snag a field goal. I watched as Kennings went out there and was stuffed back twice, leading to a three-and-out.

  It was a close game. The teams went back and forth, and I barely got any touches in the third quarter. Kennings was playing even worse, totally unable to find any traction, while the Bengal’s running back was beginning to break out some big moves. Luckily, their quarterback was playing terribly, so we remained closed.

  The third quarter ended with the game tied, ten to ten. The fourth quarter started, and I got the nod from Coach.

  It was a basic run up the gut. Our QB was under center. He took the snap and I dove forward, pushing my way through the mass of brutal men. I broke a tackle, smashing through the guy’s arms, and suddenly ahead of me I saw open field.

  I ran my fucking ass off. I wasn’t thinking; I was only reacting. As I got maybe twenty yards ahead, I saw the safety coming up from my left. He managed to dive out and just barely clip my feet. I stumbled and stepped out of bounds.

  But the crowd was going fucking insane. It was at least a thirty- or forty-yard run, and now we were well within striking distance. Coach called me off and switched Kennings in, since I was winded from that play, but I could tell the momentum had shifted.

  Kennings got the ball twice but went nowhere. On the third down, they put me back out on the field. Our QB got into trouble and dumped it off to me. I made two guys miss and dove forward for the first down, putting us in the red zone.

  Coach left me in after that. We managed to score another touchdown on a passing play. I had set that touchdown up, though, and I didn’t come out for the remainder of the game.

  I didn’t get a chance to score, but I did break out a second big run after a string of small pushes. We went on to win that game by two touchdowns, the entire momentum of the game having shifted in our favor.

  The locker room was ecstatic. People were cheering and celebrating, and nobody seemed to have believed that we were going to win. Everyone kept congratulating me, including the coaching staff, and I felt so damn good.

  That was what I lived for. Performing to my highest ability and earning my spot on the team was the greatest feeling I could imagine. There was nothing better than busting out onto that field, bursting through strong men trying to take me down, proving that I was stronger and faster.

  But in the middle of all that celebrating was Kennings. He had a smile on his face, but it was strained. I could tell he was angry with himself and probably with me for what had happened.

  I could understand what he was felling. That had been his shot. That game had been his opportunity, and he had missed it. He would probably never get another big starting gig like that again, because he had blown it. As things started to settle down and guys started to filter out, I went over to Kennings and sat down on the bench next to him.

  “Good game,” I said.

  “Yours was better.”

  “I got the luckier runs. You kept us in the game.”

  “Maybe, but I couldn’t win it for us.”

  I sighed, staring at the wall of lockers. “It’s just random chance,” I said. “Random shit happens. I was lucky and got a big run. The momentum shifted, and Coach kept me in. That’s all.”

  “Yeah. That’s all.” He grunted. “That was my shot.”

  “I know.”

  “I’m still gunning for that spot.” He grinned at me.

  “Good. I hope so.”

  We lapsed into silence for a second, and suddenly I had an incredibly strong urge that I couldn’t stop. I knew it was probably stupid, but I had to say something.

  “Kennings,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Listen. One day, someone is going to approach you about
the mafia.”

  “The what?”

  “The mafia. They’re going to try to recruit you. Maybe they have something on you, maybe they don’t. No matter what, don’t listen to them. Don’t get sucked in.”

  He stared at me like I was fucking insane. I couldn’t help but smile a little bit.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I know it sounds crazy, but trust me.” I stood up. “When they come, don’t give in.”

  “Yeah. Okay, man.”

  I nodded and then walked away.

  He thought I had lost my damn mind. I could see it written all over his face, concern mixed with pity. He probably thought I had gotten hit in the head too hard and my concussion was catching up with me.

  I couldn’t blame him. That was an insane thing to say to someone out of the blue. I just couldn’t sit by and not try to help the guy out, though. After all that had happened, he was still a decent man.

  And I wanted to be better. I had to start by doing good things if I wanted to be a better man. I was starting by warning Kennings. Maybe he’d remember that moment in the future when the mob came after him, and maybe he’d actually listen to my warning.

  Or maybe he’d forget all about me. Or maybe any number of other things.

  All that mattered, in the end, was that I had tried.

  All that mattered was that I wanted to be better, and I actually tried.

  As I got back to my bench, I saw Taylor standing there, waiting for me.

  I smiled at her. She smiled back. I knew right then and there that the reason I wanted to be better was her. She made me want to improve, to become a better man. Not just a better ball player, which was what I had only ever thought about before, but a better human being.

  She brought out the best in me.

  31

  Taylor

  Watching Owen earn back his spot made me prouder than I could have imagined. I was part of the reason that he was even up and running. Our therapy sessions had helped him to heal faster, and they kept him healthier.

  But more than that, I hoped that I helped him stay mentally healthy. Because of me being there and trying to keep his spirits up, I hoped that he was able to keep his head in the game.

  Maybe I was giving myself too much credit, but as I walked back toward my apartment from the stadium, a long walk through the city, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander.

  I felt good. I had plans to meet up with Owen later that night. I wanted to just enjoy the nice evening as I walked back through the city. I kept finding my mind running back to Owen and what had happened. I felt his deep, burning pride in my chest, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

  I didn’t know what we were doing. I didn’t know what our relationship meant, or if we even had a relationship. I sure as hell loved being around him, and I loved the way he made my body feel. But I didn’t know if what we had went beyond that, or if either of us even wanted that.

  I didn’t care. What I cared about was enjoying how it felt in the moment and trying not to overthink it. I spent so much time already worrying about my job, worrying about everything. I wasn’t going to worry as much. I was going to accept what I could accept and not worry about the rest.

  It was about a forty-minute walk from the stadium back up to my neighborhood. I was pretty tired by the time I got close, and that was probably why I didn’t notice the person following me.

  I walked on a few more blocks, crossing the street, after I finally noticed him. I couldn’t get a good look at him, because he was behind me, but I knew he was there. He’d been there for a few blocks, and there was no way he wasn’t following me.

  I felt paranoid. I took out my phone and called Owen’s number, letting it ring. I started to walk faster and turned down an alleyway.

  The figure walked faster, too. He was definitely following me. My heart was hammering in my chest as Owen’s phone rang. It rang and rang, and I wanted to scream.

  “Taylor.”

  I stopped. I recognized that voice. I dropped the phone from my ear.

  It was the man from the game, the mafia man. Tony, I thought his name was.

  “What do you want?” I asked him, fear spiking through me.

  He smiled and raised his hands. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’ve come in peace.”

  “You’re that guy.”

  “The mafia man.” He laughed and took another step toward me. “I’m the man who owns Owen Rack, just like I own a lot of guys in the league. The mafia has more pull and power than you know.”

  “Why are you following me?”

  “I want you to get Rack to reconsider,” he said. “He hasn’t done what we asked yet, and it’s making us angry. Tell him to do it.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not involved in his business like that.

  “Sure you are. You’re fucking him, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t respond to that.

  He laughed. “Of course you are. Use that little pussy of yours and get him to listen.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “We’re not to be fucked with,” he hissed, stepping toward me. “I’ll slit your throat myself and toss you in the river. We’ve killed before, and we’ll do it again.”

  “You asshole.”

  “Don’t be upset, little girl. It’ll all be okay if you just get your boyfriend to do what we want.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He smiled and laughed. “Make the right decision, Taylor. I’ll be watching.” He turned and walked away with a wave.

  I watched him go, my heart hammering in my chest.

  What was happening? Why would that man come after me?

  I had to stand there and take deep breaths while I waited for my body to calm down. My mind, meanwhile, was racing at a mile a minute.

  He had followed me, probably from the stadium, but maybe not. He knew where I was, though, and where I lived. He wasn’t above threatening me in my own neighborhood, only a few doors down from where I lived.

  And he was scary. I hated admitting that to myself, but it was the truth. He was a terrifying man, and just him looking at me had set me entire body shivering.

  Finally, I remembered my phone. I lifted it up to my ear just as Owen’s voice mailbox beeped.

  I hadn’t hung up the phone. The whole thing was recorded on Owen’s voice mail. Everything that creep had said to me was on there.

  Slowly, that realization sank in.

  Everything he had said was in that recording, including all the stuff about killing people and owning other guys in the league.

  My heart started beating fast again, but for a different reason. I hurried back to my apartment and practically ran upstairs. I shut the door behind me and slammed the lock in place. I leaned up against the door, breathing fast, and then called Owen again.

  This time, he picked up. “Hey, girl,” he said. “I knew you’d call.”

  “Owen, listen. That guy, that mafia guy, Tony, I was walking down the street—you know, coming home from the game—and there he was, like he was following me, and—”

  “Whoa, Taylor, slow down. Slow down. Did I hear you say something about Tony?”

  I took a deep breath and let it out. “He followed me. He threatened me.”

  “He did what?” Owen sounded cold.

  “He wants me to get you to do what they say. I guess he was sending you a message through me.”

  “That piece of shit,” Owen said softly.

  “But wait. I was calling you when he came up to me. Do you have a voice mail from me?”

  “Hold on.” Brief, muffled sounds. “Yeah, I do.”

  “Owen, I think the whole conversation is in there. I forgot to hang up when he came up to me.”

  “So what?”

  “Owen, he said some things I’m betting they don’t want people to know about.”

  It took him a second. “Oh, shit.”

  “Right? We have to listen to that message.”

  “Stay there. I’ll be o
ver soon.”

  I hung up the phone and sat down on the couch to wait for him, my heart beating fast.

  32

  Owen

  Practice the next day felt right.

  I did my usual therapy with Taylor. We worked hard together, not letting our situation get in the way of what we had to do. Out on the field, I was back in the starting position, with Kennings acting as my backup.

  That was the way things were supposed to be. Still, it didn’t mean I could slack off. Coach could change his mind at any time and shake things up. He was that kind of guy, and I respected that. It meant I had to work hard to keep him happy and to keep earning my spot.

  Practice went well. I did what was asked of me and then some, and I didn’t slack off. Afterward, I hit the showers and then met up with Taylor to do my therapy.

  She looked down at me as she stretched my knee. “Everything set?”

  I nodded. “I’ll call after this.”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be.”

  “What if he overreacts?”

  I shrugged. “I hope he does.”

  “Owen, these guys are dangerous. They kill people.”

  “I know that.”

  “Do you? I mean really, do you get it? They could kill you.”

  “No. I’m too high profile. They can’t just kill me and make me disappear. There would be questions, people wanting to know where I was. The police would get involved.”

  “You said they owned the police.”

  “They do, but now we’re talking murder.” I shook my head. “No. They wouldn’t risk killing me.”

  “I’m still nervous.”

  “That’s fine, but I’ll get us through this.”

  She nodded and we went back to work, not mentioning it again.

  I had a plan. Well, I had a plan only because of her. She had was smart enough to record the conversation, or at least smart enough to realize that she had. It was muffled, but we could definitely hear it. I had called a tech guy I knew, and he had helped us get the file from my phone to my laptop where I turned the volume on the conversation up nice and loud and then made a bunch of copies.