Game On (A Bad Boy Sports Romance)

by Olivia Lancaster

  “You really gonna play me like this in the morning?” I said in a low tone, and she grinned as she pressed her forehead against mine.

  “That’s what you get for dragging me out into the desert to do something irresponsible like this,” she said back. Then she hesitated, chewing her lip a little. “But...we should do something like this again. Really soon.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at her hesitation, and she slapped me on the chest with a pouting lip, to which I hugged her and lifted her off her feet before we allowed ourselves to finish getting dressed and checking out of the place.

  My jeep was covered in dust from the day before, and Danielle marvelled at it as we walked up.

  “I still can’t believe that really happened yesterday,” she mused, walking around the vehicle with wide eyes. “And I can’t believe we survived. You’re something else when it comes to off-terrain driving.”

  “Hey, growing up in the desert like me,” I said with a laugh, “you’ve gotta do something for fun, and racing through rocks and dirt has never been a bad choice, if you ask me.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she gave a yelp as I swept her off her feet at the passenger’s side and set her inside the car. Blushing, she pulled her seatbelt on as I hopped into the driver’s seat. “Well, I do have work today, so let’s try to avoid tearing through dust devils, alright?”

  “I’ll try, princess,” I said, and her scoff was cut off by my peeling out of the parking lot.

  ***

  After dropping off Danielle at her house, she stood up on her tiptoes to kiss me goodbye before I drove off. It took some assurance to get me to leave her alone for the day, but she told me she was just getting into her car and driving to work, so after a few minutes’ persuasion, I finally relented to letting her off the hook.

  My heart was soaring on the way home. Danielle was an incredible woman, there was no other way to put it. I’d known she was something special when she pulled off that first article about me, but everything since then seemed to be one revelation after the next about what an incredible woman she was.

  She was smart, she was funny, and she was so fucking hot that I wanted to spend all day between those long legs of hers, making her feel every bit as good and relaxed as she made me feel. The strangest part was that she seemed to feel the same way about me. It was such a relieving feeling, not being wanted for my money, and Danielle didn’t even seem to perceive that I had any.

  She was just so...down to earth. I felt like I could tell her anything about myself and feel good about it, and I wanted to keep asking her questions about her life until we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Fuck, I was falling for her. Hard. A smile tugged at my lips. Somehow, that didn’t seem so bad, either.

  As I pulled up at my place and started heading inside, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I looked at the flashing screen. Instantly, I felt my good mood shatter like a glass window. It was an unknown number. Any other time, that might have been just a minor inconvenience, but with everything going on right now, it could mean anything. Bracing myself for whatever was about to come, I swiped the phone and held it to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Kieran.” The calm, even tone in Janet’s voice chilled me to the bone. You’d think I was happy to hear her in some state besides cracked out on drugs and belligerent, but that wasn’t going to be the case with Janet. Not after all this.

  “I was advised not to talk about what we’re going through without a lawyer present, Janet, you know that,” I said, keeping my tone just as even as hers was.

  “I don’t care,” she said simply. There was no hostility, no energy in what she said. She almost sounded tired. It was eerie. “I’m calling because I don’t think my message has been getting through to you.”

  “You’ve been pretty clear, actually,” I said, opening the fridge inside and rummaging around for a beer.

  “I said you would be punished for disobeying us, and you don’t seem to be taking that very seriously. So I’m going to spell this out for you clearly: you will sign the contract we wrote up for you. You will drop this lawsuit. You will not go to the press with anything. And if you keep up this rebellious streak of yours, you’re free to do that, as long as you’re comfortable accepting the consequences.”

  “We’ll talk about those ‘consequences’ in court with our lawyers around, Janet,” I said, sounding bored.

  “Oh, did you think that was the only place we can show you what we mean?” I paused a moment, processing the statement, but by the time I opened my mouth to reply, I heard the dial tone. She had disconnected.

  There was something deeply disconcerting about what Janet said, and it struck home. I took a deep drink of my beer, telling myself not to let it get to me--that was exactly what Janet had wanted, that was her whole point in calling me. Now was not the time to get shaken by threats. I wondered if I could use that threat against them in court, in fact, if they could pull the phone records, but then I remembered that the callback number was disguised. It probably couldn’t even be traced to whatever payphone she’d used.

  Pacing around a moment, I couldn’t keep my mind off Danielle. What had that threat meant? Were they planning something else? Was that creep following Danielle yesterday sent by Janet and Paul? Just how far did their connections in this city go?

  Unable to keep myself from doing so any longer, I picked up the phone and called Danielle’s number. A ring. No response. Second ring. Still nothing. Third, fourth, fifth rings, utter silence, and now my heart was starting to beat faster. At work, Danielle was always at her phone. It was part of her job anyway, right? I heard her voicemail start to play, and I set the phone down, drinking half my beer in one long swig and pacing around for about a minute, waiting for a call back before trying again.

  Nothing.

  Starting to lose my cool, I looked up her office’s number and gave it a call. Maybe her phone died after not getting charged last night. The receptionist picked up, and I didn’t even let her finish her greeting before I started talking.

  “Hey, yeah, this is Kieran Michaels, I’ve been working with Danielle. Is she in? I need to talk to her. Now.”

  “Uh- let me check, sir, just one moment.” There was a pause that made me want to strangle my phone, and my heart perked up for a moment when I heard a voice again. “I’m sorry, sir, this is a little unusual, but she isn’t in right now. She’s usually been in her office for about an hour by now, but she doesn’t seem to have come in. Would you like to leave a message?”

  The words were numbing, and realization dawned on me. Danielle must have never made it to work. “No, thank you,” I said, my words thick, and I hung up the phone without another word.

  This couldn’t be happening. I let her out of my protection for just an hour, and she was gone again, and this time, I had no idea where she was. This was bad. Very bad. Feeling like I was moving through a dream, I finished my beer off and charged out the door, hopping back into my jeep and roaring down the highway to Vegas, wind whipping behind me as I made a beeline for the only place where I knew someone might be able to help.

  ***

  The Fighting Chance was bustling today. People milled in and out of the glass doors, and I hardly even acknowledged Andrei’s greeting as I made my way through and looked around wildly for Jamal.

  I found him in one of the training rooms, overseeing a fight between Marc and Dante. The two fighters seemed to have some kind of beef between them, because Jamal was shouting at them every few seconds to tone it down a few notches, but from the trickle of blood running down Dante’s nose, I could see that neither man was too keen on listening to him.

  As I strode in, distraught, Jamal caught my gaze and furrowed his brow.

  “Alright, take five, you two,” he said to Marc and Dante before striding over to me. “Hey, man, what’s on your mind?”

  “Jamal,” I said, meeting his handshake and lowering my tone. Dante’s mob connections were well-known, and I di
dn’t want to risk anything I didn’t have to. “Can we go for a ride? We really need to talk. It’s about Danielle, and I’m going to need some backup.”

  Jamal raised his eyebrows, but he seemed to recognize the look in my eyes. I wouldn’t ask for something like this unless it were serious. “No problem, Kieran,” he said before turning to the two others. “Hey, you two--sparring’s over for now. Go get some rest, and try not to brain each other while you’re changing, alright?”

  The men grunted and cleared the room, and a moment later, Jamal and I followed, heading out to my car without another moment’s explanation. Five minutes later, we were in my jeep, pulling out onto the road and driving out of town.

  “So you’ve already met with the lawyer about all this, right?” Jamal went on as I briefed him about what all was happening.

  “Yeah, that went about as well as you’d think,” I scoffed. “They showed up high on blow and about ready to start throwing punches right there in the office.”

  Jamal shook his head. “I don’t like the sound of these two in action, Kieran. They’re obviously unstable in a lot of ways.”

  “Yeah, I know that,” I said, restraining my impatience. “That’s not even the worst of it, though. Danielle got tailed yesterday.”

  “What?!” he said, his eyes widening.

  “Black cadillac started following, so we took off in my jeep,” I explained, gesturing to all the dirt on the vehicle. “Had to lead the fucker on a chase around the whole fucking desert before we lost him.”

  “You take this thing off-road?” he said with a laugh. “Man, be glad the two of you are still alive after that ride.”

  “C’mon, Jamal, it’s me,” I said with a smile, but Jamal just raised an eyebrow at me.

  “Exactly.”

  “Well it turned out fine, and we stayed the night at some motel out there,” I said, “one of those tourist trap kinda places. It wasn’t half bad, in the end.”

  “Hold on,” he said, suddenly smiling. “You stayed in a room together? So the two of you are…”

  “Alright, alright,” I said, holding up a hand as Jamal’s grin broadened. “We’ll talk about all that when we have a better idea of where she is. She didn’t show up to work this morning after I dropped her off at her house. I’m so fucking stupid, I should have stayed with her.”

  “Kieran,” he said, serious. “You can’t blame yourself for this. She doesn’t sound like the kind of person who needs a babysitter. We’ll find her, don’t worry about that.”

  I took a deep breath, then nodded. “Right. But you’re not the only one I need some help from. There’s only one other guy I know who can handle this kind of situation under pressure.”

  Jamal raised an eyebrow, and before he could ask more, we pulled up at a quaint little house in Boulder City. I hopped out of the car and passed by the garden outside, complete with a birdbath and petunias. A smile came to me as I regarded the domestic scene on my way to the door. After all these years, there was still something I envied about this lifestyle, for all the shit I gave the guy.

  I knocked on the door and stood back, putting my hands on my hips and glancing back at Jamal, who just stared at me from the jeep, confused.

  Then the door opened, and the man who stood there greeted me with a warm smile, his eyes just as blue and shining as mine. “Hey, Kieran.”

  I nodded back and received his hug as he stepped forward. “Hey there, Carter. Can you talk? We’ve got a situation we need to handle. Together.”

  CHAPTER 13 - DANIELLE

  He was watching cartoons.

  From where I was, sitting bound and gagged in the back bedroom of an eighth floor apartment, I could hear the slapstick sound effects and old-timey music of what had to be a Tom and Jerry episode playing on the television set in the living room. I had no idea what kind of man my captor was, but I had certainly not expected him to be into vintage animated kids’ shows.

  Especially when he carried a big, shiny gun at his hip.

  My heart rate had slowed down, thankfully, from the thumping gallop it was hours earlier when I was first kidnapped. I had been correct in my suspicions about the black Cadillac that followed me yesterday. The man who drove it was the same one who brought me here, who taped my mouth shut and tied my ankles and wrists with cords. I could move, but only slightly. I was lying on a perfectly-made bed, the comforter beneath me patterned with red and green rocket ships. It was the kind of bed a child would have, but it was a king sized bed, in an adult’s bedroom. Between the bedspread and the cartoons, I was having a hard time sizing up my kidnapper.

  He hadn’t said more than maybe five words to me in the hours we’d spent together so far. I wondered if maybe he was slow or something, which might help explain his predilection for childlike interests. Either way, I had no doubt that he was a dangerous man.

  The guy was just shy of six feet tall, with the kind of paunchy but muscular frame that suggested he had probably been an athlete of some kind in his younger years. A boxer, perhaps, judging by his crooked nose that looked to have been broken multiple times. His face, once he removed the ski mask he wore when he first broke into my apartment, was pockmarked and lined from years of stress and sun exposure. He had cropped black hair and heavy five o’clock shadow, with droopy black eyes and a perpetually blank expression. He looked like a caricature of an Italian mafioso, which was only enhanced when I heard him speak and noticed the distinct New York Italian accent in his voice.

  He’d said, “sit tight” and “I’ll be back” so far, and that was it. He was a man of very few words, evidently, which suited me just fine. The less time I had to spend listening to him talk and breathing in his noxious, stale breath, the better.

  Hours ago, I had been in a much different headspace. Last night, after the getaway chase, I had spent the cool desert night time curled up against Kieran’s powerful body, my head resting on his chest. It had felt like we were tailored to fit each other, like we were interlocking puzzle pieces. A key and a lock, only that we were both at the same time, for each other. He unlocked my heart and shooed my insecurities and baggage away. And I shoved past his cocky bravado and tough guy attitude to unlock his true heart, too. Kieran had driven me back home and left me feeling giddy, on top of the world. Just as I was changing into a different outfit before heading out to work, I’d heard a weird clinking sound from the kitchen.

  When I walked out to check, thinking maybe Kieran had forgotten something and come back, I screamed. There was a man in a black ski mask standing in my kitchen, having broken in through the window after scurrying up the fire escape. I had forgotten that the building super hadn’t gotten around to replacing the safety bars on that window yet. And now I was face-to-face with the man from the black Cadillac. I immediately bolted, only half-dressed, toward the front door. But the man was faster, diving after me and tackling me to the floor. I was only in my tank top undershirt and pencil skirt when he caught me in his arms, and I immediately feared the worst: that he would rape me or kill me. Instead, he pulled a rag from his pocket and pressed it to my mouth and nose just as I tried to scream and claw at his face. Almost instantly my arms fell limp on either side of me and the world faded to black.

  When I awoke the first time, I was bound and gagged in the backseat of a car-- the same Caddy that Kieran and I evaded in the desert yesterday. I was lying down, just barely able to make out the tops of buildings whizzing by through the opposite window. As strength slowly returned to my body, I began to squirm and thrash from side to side, making as much noise as I could manage with my mouth taped over. Without even saying a single word, while we were stopped presumably at a red light, the man driving the car reached back and slapped me hard across the face. The blow stung, bringing tears to my eyes. It had the desired effect. I shut the hell up immediately. Clearly this was a man who wasn’t afraid to drug me or hurt me to get what he wanted. I remembered what I’d learned years ago at a self-defense seminar for women back in college: don’t fight yo
ur captor or attacker; give them what they want. Make it as easy and painless as possible for both of you. It’s the best way to ensure your own survival.

  So that’s what I had to do. I became the model captive, staying totally quiet and still, never fighting back. When we reached this apartment, to my horror, the man turned around in his seat and pushed the chloroformed rag back into my face despite my faint whimpers of protest. I still didn’t know how he managed to get me upstairs into this apartment while I was conked out completely. Either he was strong enough to carry me himself while also finding a way past anyone else who might possibly be in the stairwell or elevator, or perhaps he had help from someone else. Either way, I figured that I had to at least be on the eighth floor of this building. I could tell because from my current position on the bed, I could squint through the open blinds of the bedroom window to see another building across the courtyard from this one. I counted up from the ground and saw that the window level with this one was the eighth.