Go Hard: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  “We are,” Hartley said, “but not because we want to be. We’re just trying to win.”

  “I hear it,” Markus said. “Still, not good people to get down with.”

  “Hartley is in trouble, Markus. Whatever we’re doing is meant to keep her alive.”

  “All right then. So you want the girl alive. Why are you here?”

  “I want you to stay alive, too,” I said. “Listen, I don’t know exactly how this is all going to play out, but they might want to hurt me at some point. Which means you’re in danger.”

  Markus sighed. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  “This is different.”

  “Is it? Three years ago when they tried to squash my moonshine business, was that different? Had a gun to my skull, you know. I’m still here.”

  “This is bigger than bootlegging.”

  “Maybe it is, but I’m a survivor.” Markus sighed. “Your momma and your daddy were survivors too.”

  “They’re dead,” I said. “They didn’t do a great job at surviving.”

  “They survived this damn place for a long time. So they had vices; we all fucking do. But your parents, they gutted it out for as long as they could.”

  “This is bigger than all that,” I said.

  “No it ain’t, and you know it. You were born and raised here. You’re a native son. You know we don’t run away.”

  “Except for all the other cousins,” I said. “They ran away.”

  “Cowards,” Markus said, waving a hand. “Your parents died, but they didn’t run.”

  “They should have. Ray should have gotten out, too. I was the only one with enough brains to see it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But look at you now, stuck in the middle of a Knoxville gang war, all these years later. Run as far as you want, boy, but you can’t ever escape from who you are.”

  I knocked back my drink, anger rising up inside me. Markus didn’t know me, not anymore. Maybe he knew the kid I was a long time ago, that dumb asshole redneck idiot, but I wasn’t that person anymore, not by a long shot.

  I stood up. “We just came to warn you, Markus. Get out of town and stay out for a while, until this all blows over.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, looking away.

  “Come on, Hartley.”

  She stood. “It was nice seeing you again,” she said to Markus.

  “Always a pleasure.”

  I turned and left, Hartley close behind.

  Damn Markus was as stubborn as they came. That man was going to get killed, or he was going to get everyone else killed. If they came at him, I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t make a dumb move just to try to save his life.

  Angry and not ready to leave, I cut across the yard and headed toward the woods. Hartley caught up with me and walked by my side but didn’t say a word.

  I liked that about her. She knew when she should push and when she should walk along and let things play out. She was damn smart like that, able to read a room or a person. It was an impressive quality.

  We passed into the woods and I began to follow a familiar path, barely more than a single track in the dirt. It was much more overgrown than I remembered, probably since Markus had stopped walking it a long time ago. But the path was still there, and my memory held firm.

  Soon enough, I could hear it just ahead. We crossed through some bushes and there ahead of us was a small stream running over the rocks.

  “This is where I learned to fish,” I said.

  “Doesn’t seem like many fish live here,” Hartley observed.

  I laughed. “Back then it seemed huge.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Seven maybe? Probably younger. It’s hard to say.”

  “Markus taught you?”

  “He sure did. My father didn’t teach me shit about the world.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “Believe me, it is.”

  Hartley stood next to me, close and almost touching. “We have something like this back on my farm.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Sure. A little stream. A bit deeper and bigger, but a lot like this. My dad taught me and my brothers how to fish in that stream, too.” She smiled to herself. “We used to compete to see who could catch the biggest fish. Dad always won.”

  I couldn’t help but smile while picturing little Hartley trying to beat her brothers in a fishing competition.

  “Markus used to tell me stories,” I recalled. “Mostly bullshit, I’m sure, but it was good to getting treated normal for a little while.”

  “I understand that. I liked being treated like one of the boys back then. My momma always tried to get me in the kitchen, but I wasn’t interested.”

  “Not a surprise there,” I said, smirking at her.

  “Hey now. I haven’t cooked for you. I think you’d be pleasantly surprised.”

  “I just think I’d be surprised period.” I looked back out over the stream. “Good memories are here, though. I used to want to be just like my old man, except for when I was here.”

  “What did you want when you were here?”

  “Never to leave.”

  We lapsed into a short silence then. I bent over and found a smooth stone and skipped it over the water. Hartley did the same, and we skipped stones for a bit together.

  “I used to climb trees,” Hartley said finally. “My parents hated it. I used to climb to the tops of the trees on the farm, and my brothers would try to follow, but they were always too scared.”

  “I like that,” I said. “I can see you doing that.”

  “They used to whine. ‘Hartley, come back down, you’re too high.’ As if I were breaking some kind of rule by being a better climber than they were.”

  I laughed and skipped a stone deep across the stream. “For a boy, getting beat by a girl is like some kind of big deal.”

  “It’s stupid. I don’t know where that comes from.”

  I shrugged. “Who fucking knows. Culture, I guess.”

  “I never let it bother me much, though. I just kept climbing, higher and higher, until I couldn’t hear their whining anymore.”

  I skipped one last stone and then sighed, watching the ripples spread out across the water. Soon the ripples disappeared into the water, swallowed by the relentless and unstoppable march of water.

  “My brother used to kick my ass,” I said. “He used to beat my ass for any old reason. I hated him, hated his fucking guts.” I stretched and looked at her. “Once, in middle school, there was this big fella, Justin Thoreaux. His family was a bunch of rednecks, like all of us, but they were worse.

  “Anyway, he picked on me one day after school, stole my backpack from me and was just dumping it on the ground while he laughed at me. I got so mad I punched that kid square in the jaw, but he was twice my size and two years older, so it didn’t do much. Only pissed him off.

  “He started whooping my ass. I mean, shit, I might have died if Ray hadn’t stepped in. But Ray did step in, and he threw that kid to the ground. He punched and kicked that boy Justin until he was crying and bloody, and when he was done he stood over him, just breathing real hard. He said to him, ‘Nobody beats on my brother but me.’ Then he just walked away.”

  Hartley shook her head. “Did you guys become close after that?”

  “Nah,” I said, “but I hated him less and less. We didn’t fight as much. He didn’t try beating on me as much, and I didn’t try to one-up him in everything like little brothers do sometimes.”

  “I understand that,” she said, nodding.

  “Anyway, it’s all history now. Ray is just a memory. I guess we have more important things to worry about.”

  Hartley bit her lip and stepped toward me. “What are you going to do after all this is over?”

  I shrugged. “Who knows? I’m not thinking that far ahead.”

  “I want you to visit my farm. Travis, it’s beautiful. Long rows of peach trees, hedgerows, the chickens and the goats. I can show you the stream and
we can skip stones just like these.”

  I smiled. “Okay. I can do that. So long as you can make me a peach pie.”

  She laughed. “I can do that, believe it or not.”

  “Of course you can. You’re a good southern girl.” I turned away from the stream. “Come on. Let’s head back.”

  She nodded and we started walking. We didn’t walk fast, and we walked close side by side. We weren’t holding hands, but our fingers brushed each other. I listened to the woods and to the stream receding into the distance as we moved away from it.

  We were getting closer and closer to something else, and neither of us wanted to name it. Maybe it was like a magic spell, where if you spoke the name, the thing disappeared.

  I didn’t much need to speak about it, though. I was content walking through the woods with Hartley, the best tree climber on her farm. Beautiful fucking Hartley, her long blond hair swaying slightly in the breeze.

  19

  Hartley

  I’d never seen him so open before. Standing next to that stream, skipping stones, I could almost imagine that we were both back in high school together. I wondered if we would have known each other. He was a few years older than me, of course, so in my fantasy we were the same age. But even then, I couldn’t see us knowing each other. Maybe we’d pass each other in the halls, maybe I’d smile or he’d nod, but that would be it.

  In that other world, we could be normal people. Maybe Travis’s parents didn’t die, his brother survived the accident, he went on living in Knoxville. Maybe my daddy never took that loan, never put us in the pocket of gangsters.

  But we were who we were, and the world shook out the way it did. Still, by that stream, the stream he grew up near, I had suddenly felt deafeningly homesick. I had wanted to see my mom, laugh with my brothers, sit and watch a ball game with my dad. I wanted some sense of normalcy.

  Instead, we still had a bunch of people to kill and a lot more danger ahead of us.

  Markus wasn’t in sight when we got back to the car. Travis wasn’t interested in going back inside, so we just pulled out and headed back to my apartment. I kept wondering if Markus would get sucked into all of this, but I actually believed him when he said that he was a survivor. You had to be if you were going to live in Knoxville and sell moonshine on the side. Markus would be okay, even if we weren’t. For some reason, I believed that.

  We pulled up out front of the dry cleaners as usual and parked the car. Travis went first, like always, and like always he seemed extra watchful, extra careful. We paused outside my apartment door then he burst in ahead of me, his hand on his gun.

  I stepped in behind him. Travis paused, his body tense. Sitting in the same spot as before was Culver, smiling calmly, his hands raised in the air.

  “Did I surprise you this time?” he asked.

  “Maybe you did,” Travis said. “Maybe not, though.”

  “Sure. If that’s how you want to play this.” He smiled. “Can I lower my hands?”

  “Slow.”

  He did so, slowly. He laid his palms flat on the top of the table. “Come, join me again. You can keep your weapon out if you want. But I’ll just remind you that if I get injured, the mafia will not be happy.”

  I followed Travis’s lead and sat down at the table. He leaned back in his chair and placed his gun on the table in front of him, the barrel pointing at Culver.

  “Good. Very good. So, let’s talk.” Culver just kept smiling his calm and creepy smile.

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “The money we gave you. Have you spent it?”

  “Not yet,” Travis said. “Still looking for guys.”

  “Good. Be careful. But not too careful. You’re on a timeline, remember.”

  “I remember.”

  “Very good.” He turned to me. “And how are you doing, Miss Hartley?”

  “Fine,” I said, feeling nervous, but not as nervous as before.

  “You look calm. Do you feel calm?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Good. I don’t want to make you nervous. Last time we met, you seemed very uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not used to being in bars with criminals.”

  He laughed. “I suppose that’s probably true.”

  “Leave the girl alone,” Travis said.

  “Well now, okay, Travis. I’m just being polite.”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re here to intimidate us, to make sure we’re staying on track.”

  “I can do both.”

  “Listen: I’m looking for guys, old squad mates, guys that I trust and that will work well together. Then I’m going to rent a truck. Then we’ll fucking steal the shit.”

  “Sounds like a plan. And how long do you think this is going to take?”

  “A few more days to get the guys. A few more days past that to plan it all out. I need at least a week, maybe a week and a half.”

  “Okay, Travis. You can have one week. If we don’t see results by then, we’re going to have a problem.”

  “We won’t have a problem.”

  Culver stood and smiled down at me. “One last thing. Hartley, I just want you to know that your family is lovely and your farm is incredible. I really don’t want anything bad to happen to them.” I could tell Travis had tightened up as soon as Culver had started speaking. Culver began to walk toward the door, and I had ice in my veins.

  “So do make sure Travis stays on track. Otherwise, I’ll have the boys I left down there cut every throat they find and burn down the whole fucking farm.” He smiled sadistically. “Good luck, you two.” He opened the door and was gone.

  “Son of a bitch,” Travis growled.

  “Did you hear what he said?”

  “I heard the bastard.”

  “Travis.” I stared at him in horror. “He said he has guys at my farm. My family is in danger.”

  “Damn that fucking bastard.”

  I sat there in total shock. I knew that my family was likely not safe, but they seemed so far away. The farm was only three hours away by car, at most, but it felt like it was across the country.

  I had never imagined the mafia would actually go straight for them. I’d thought I was enough. The whole reason I came here was so that I could help my family, not make things worse for them. But every move I made seemed to put them in more and more danger.

  “He’s bluffing,” Travis said, staring at me. “Listen to me, Hartley. He’s bluffing.”

  “What if he’s not?”

  “He is. The mafia doesn’t care about this enough to put that much manpower into this.”

  As he spoke, though, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was lying to me. This had already gone further than I ever thought possible, further than I ever imagined. I was so damn angry with myself for letting it get this far.

  Travis stood up and stalked across the room. I watched him go.

  “What are we going to do?” I asked him. “He wants results soon.”

  “I’ll figure something out.”

  I stood up. “Travis, my family. We have to go help them.”

  “No.” He walked back toward me. “The best thing we can do for them right now is to follow through with the plan. We have to win, Hartley. We’re going to win.”

  “How can you say that? It’s just the two of us. Janey and them, they don’t care about us. It’s just us versus the whole mafia.”

  “I’m not just some asshole,” Travis said. “I’ve gotten us this far. I’ll take us all the way.”

  “I can’t,” I said softly. “I can’t, knowing they’re not safe.”

  He came close to me and reached out, but I turned away.

  His voice was flat. “If you want to keep them safe, we have to win.”

  “Yeah,” I said softly. “Yeah. I guess so.” I walked toward my bedroom. “I need some time to calm down.”

  “You do that. This shit, it’s going to be okay.”

  I gave him a look. He seemed haunted, gaunt and angry. I
opened my bedroom door, stepped inside, and shut it softly behind me.

  20

  Travis

  Culver was getting to her. I couldn’t blame her, since that man was creepy as fuck, but his threat was just so heavy-handed and obvious. Still, she fell for it with absolutely no effort.

  Culver tossing around threats seemed pretty desperate, though. So far, he’d basically ignored Hartley or treated her like window dressing. He hadn’t bothered to try intimidating her, since he knew he probably could no matter what.

  What did it mean now that he was pressing Hartley and trying to rush us? I guessed that the mafia was getting impatient and wanted their shipment back. Possibly there were some internal issues too, but I couldn’t exactly know that up front.

  That could be good, though. The more disorganized and desperate they were, the more likely they were to make mistakes. I didn’t need mistakes, though. All I needed was for them to trust me and let me do my thing, and I knew I could trap them.

  Hartley was strong. She was afraid and worried for her family, but she was strong as hell. I knew she wouldn’t do something rash just because that Culver piece of shit intimidated her. She had to be past that. She had to trust me.

  Either way, I was going to need to get some backup, even if it was just for show. Fortunately, I had a whole squad of talented and loyal men that I could call on at any given moment. And I happened to know for a fact that they were all fucking free.

  I got out my phone and dialed the first number. Gage answered on the second ring.

  “Hey, boss,” he said.

  I cringed at that. “Not the boss,” I said.

  “Whatever. What do you need?”

  “Are you busy?”

  “Not exactly. I planned on drinking too much and bringing some piece of ass back to my place, but I can be persuaded to postpone that.”

  I laughed. That was typical Gage. Tall and broad, he was our hand-to-hand combat expert, and he was damn good with stealth maneuvers. He loved to drink and fuck, like most of the SEALs I knew.