by B. B. Hamel
She’d figure that out sooner or later.
Didn’t matter, though. I had my own shit to deal with. I poured myself a nice, heavy scotch and sat down in my favorite chair, my legs kicked up on the ottoman.
I kept thinking about that girl’s nice, round ass. There’d been plenty of women in my apartment that night, but I didn’t fuck with hookers. I didn’t pay for pussy, never had and never would. I never needed to, not with my fucking reputation at least.
Women tended to throw themselves at me. I was the fucking Bull, one of the most violent men in all of football. I was big, I was badass, and I was hung like my namesake. All in all, it made getting pussy pretty fucking simple.
But for some reason, that girl Charley kept coming back to me. Normally I wouldn’t give a girl like her a second thought, but she was in my head. There was just something about her that I found so fucking exciting.
Maybe it was the way she had looked at me, like she fucking hated me but wanted to hate fuck me into oblivion. I’d be down for that, be a little rough with the girl, pull her hair, slap her ass, make her fucking beg for it, let her ride my cock until she tipped her head back and screamed my fucking name.
Yeah, it was probably that. I sipped my drink and chuckled to myself, already fucking hard just from thinking about her.
As I finished my drink and got up to get another one, the light on the elevator lit up, indicating that someone wanted to come inside. I went over to the panel and hit the intercom button.
“Yeah?”
“It’s me,” the man grunted.
“Come on then.” I hit the button and the doors dinged open.
Rafa stepped out and nodded to me. “Bull.”
“Rafa.”
“Shame I have to come here under such circumstances.”
“The girl definitely dead?”
“Afraid so.”
“Fuck,” I said, frowning.
I had tried to save the stupid girl’s life. I wasn’t just going to stand around and watch some girl OD right in front of me like all the other fucking cowards were. I got Mikey to call the mob doctor, but it was way too late at that point. I knew she was dead when the doc showed up, and Rafa just confirmed it.
He sighed. “You got a drink?”
“Help yourself.”
We walked to the bar together. I got another whisky, and he poured himself a nice, heavy-handed vodka.
We clinked glasses and drank.
“About the girl,” Rafa said. “My boss is unhappy. Apparently he liked her.”
“That’s a shame.”
“You’re going to need to pay.”
I barked out a short laugh. “It’s always fucking money with you people. That was a girl’s life, you know.”
“I’m aware of that. It was some junky whore nobody fucking cared about. Shit, she didn’t even care about herself.”
I sighed, shaking my head. I understood what he was saying, but I had a hard time putting a price tag on a woman’s fucking life. I could be callous, violent, and terrifying, but I wasn’t fucking heartless.
Close though.
“How much?” I asked.
“Another five grand.”
“Fine.” I poured two more drinks for the both of us. “To paying off the mob.”
“To a wonderful friendship.”
We clinked glasses and drank again.
“Okay then,” Rafa said. “It’s fucking late and I’m going home. You need any more cleanup?”
“Nah,” I said. “It was a small party. Close friends only.”
“You sure? No new faces?”
“One girl,” I said, not thinking. “Charley something or other. Cute as fuck. Ryan brought her.”
“The kicker? That rapist?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You let her go home with him?”
“He’s a fucking prick, but he won’t actually force her to do anything.”
Rafa laughed. “Okay. Are you worried about her?”
“What?” I asked, realizing what I had done. “Shit, no. Not at all. Forget the girl. I’m drunk.”
“I trust you, Bull. You’ve been good to us for a long time.”
“Yeah,” I grunted.
Rafa put his glass down. “I’ll see you some other time. Drop the money at the usual spot.”
“Got it.”
Rafa went to the elevator, got in, and disappeared.
I hated fucking paying the mob to clean up my messes. I hated fucking paying the mob period, but I didn’t have too many choices anymore. And now I’d said that poor fucking girl’s name to Rafa, because I was a fucking stupid shithead.
I grunted and went back into my room. The staff was gone, the guest rooms were empty, and the apartment was quiet. I felt like I was finally able to relax for once.
I got into bed and tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d fucked up, and I needed to fix my mistake.
I was going to have to get in touch with that girl tomorrow, at least just to make sure she was safe. It was the least I could do, considering she saw some hooker die at my own damn party.
What a shitty fucking night.
3
Charlotte
I had a strange sense of dread as I slowly climbed out of bed.
It was around ten in the morning on a lazy Sunday. I had nothing to do all day, and I was already beginning to look forward to getting back into the office on Monday. It was nice having a job that I actually liked.
Except the memory of the night before kept coming back to haunt me. I kept seeing that girl on the ground as Bull pushed his way through the crowd only to drop down next to her. He tried to save her life as everyone else ran away from the situation.
He stayed and tried to help. That was way more than I could say for myself. And there I was trying not to blow it with Ryan, when it turned out that he was a total asshole.
Bull, he was different than I had expected and exactly the same. I never for a second thought he’d give me a personal tour of his apartment, but he did strike me as the kind of man that had hookers at his parties. I would have guessed that he would run away from a dying girl like everyone else, but he did the exact opposite and charged ahead to help.
He was crude and he was cocky, but he was also handsome as hell and charming. Even Ryan had said that Bull wasn’t what he seemed to be, though I wasn’t sure I could take that asshole’s word for it.
I slowly got out of bed and went through my morning routine. I just kept thinking about the way Bull had stood close to me, about his cocky grin, about the way he had spoken to me.
It was so infuriating, but worse, it was so exciting. I had felt something just standing next to Bull that I’d never felt before.
I slowly wandered into the kitchen, made some coffee, poured a mug, and then parked myself in front of my laptop with my little lipstick camera. I took a USB cable and connected the camera to the laptop and let the files upload.
My heart was hammering the whole time. I had pictures of Bull’s party on this thing. I had pictures of all the people at the party, and some of the hookers, too. But best of all, I had pictures of Bull next to a girl who was clearly overdosing.
Once the files were uploaded, I began to scroll through them. Most of the crowd shots were blurry and tough to see, though I clearly spotted a few familiar faces right away. But then I got to the good stuff, and I felt my stomach sink.
The pictures were perfect. They showed Bull crouching down next to the girl, and she was clearly having problems. People look upset all around him, and all eyes were on Bull. I got a few pictures like that, all of them perfect for what I needed.
I was itching to show them to my editor. With these pictures, I knew he’d let me write this article, and he might even give me some resources to do it right. I’d be able to bring down that asshole Bull once and for all and really start my journalism career.
But something was stopping me. I sipped my coffee and frowned, staring at the last picture. There was
something in Bull’s face, something I hadn’t noticed at first.
It was serious concern.
Bull was trying to save the girl. The pictures made it look like something more devious, but I knew the truth. Bull had charged in there to save her life, and I was thinking about using that against him.
If I did that, would I be any better than the man himself?
I stood up and walked away from my computer, completely conflicted. This man was an asshole and a menace, and I was sure he dealt out much more pain than he ever received. Maybe this hooker thing wasn’t exactly his fault and he didn’t deserve anything from it, but there were plenty of things I was sure he’d gotten away with that other people wouldn’t have. It would balance out in the end.
But still, Bull had been trying to save her. I couldn’t stop thinking about how he hadn’t hesitated to run in there and help while everyone else was running away.
Plus, I couldn’t write the article with just pictures. Maybe I could write about the one party I saw, but that wouldn’t be enough. I needed something bigger, something that could really bring him tumbling down.
The pictures were a start, a really, really good start, but I needed more. I sat down on my couch, sipping my coffee, and felt resolved.
But now I had another problem. Ryan had been my ticket into Bull’s inner circle, but now that he’d turned out to be a fucking piece of shit, it was a little difficult to use him again. Plus, I didn’t want to call him and end up in some horrible situation because he was a total creep.
As I contemplated how I was going to get in with Bull again, I heard my phone ringing in my bedroom. I sighed and got up, running into the room. I nearly missed the call, and I answered it without looking at the number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Charley.”
I knew that voice. I cocked my head to the side. It was deep and masculine, a rumble of thunder on the other end, but I couldn’t remember how I knew it.
“Who is this?” I asked.
“You forgot me already? That’s a fucking shame.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t you apologize, girl,” he said, and I could hear the laughter in his voice. “It’s Bull.”
I paused, my eyes wide.
Holy shit. How did he know I was just thinking about him?
Better yet, how did he have my number?
“Uh, hi, Bull,” I managed to say.
“You sound excited to hear from me. Were you thinking about last night?”
“A little bit,” I admitted.
“Were you thinking about how you wanted me to fuck you rough up on that pool table? Or maybe you wanted it in the kitchen.”
“What?” I asked. “No. I mean I was thinking about that girl.”
“Ah,” he said. “Sorry you had to see that.”
“Is she okay?”
There was a pause. “How about we meet up and talk about that.”
I was taken aback. “Uh,” I stammered, “sure. I guess.”
“Good. Ryan said the two of you were finished. I figured this way I’m not stealing someone’s girl.”
“What a gentleman,” I said.
“That’s what I’m known for. I’ll have a car get you around seven tonight.”
“Okay,” I said, totally shocked.
“See you later, Charley girl. Wear something sexy.”
He hung up before I could answer.
I stared at my phone and then dropped it like it was a poisonous snake.
I had just agreed to go out with Bull Dixon. I had just agreed to go out with the enemy. It wasn’t like I could say no without looking shady, and plus, I needed an excuse to get close to him again.
But why the hell was he calling me? He had barely seemed interested at the party, aside from a few dirty comments. I just assumed that was how he talked to every girl he was ever around.
Maybe I was wrong, though. Maybe Bull Dixon was interested in me. I had no clue why, but I couldn’t help but feel paranoid.
Someone could have seen me taking those pictures. Maybe even Ryan noticed, though I really doubted it. Ryan didn’t notice anything but his own egotistical self.
That didn’t matter now though. What mattered was whether or not I was walking into a trap.
I went back out into the living room and sat down in front of my computer. I looked at the pictures again, scrolling through them slowly. I felt my anger growing again, and my hatred for Bull began to ignite.
Maybe this was a trap. Maybe Bull was going to force me to give him the photos back, or maybe he was going to do something worse.
I didn’t care. I had to take this chance, otherwise I wasn’t going to get the story I needed.
I was going undercover with Bull, and I was going to find out his secrets if it was the last thing I did.
4
Bull
The car pulled up outside a modest apartment building.
“I’ll be back,” I said to the driver, and then I got out.
I was betting not a lot of pro ball players went and picked up their dates themselves. I liked to go to the door, though. I was just a gentleman like that.
I rang Charley’s bell and waited. “Just a second,” she said. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
“Take your time. Make sure you’re nice and pretty for me,” I said, grinning.
I leaned up against the wall and crossed my arms.
I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing here. When I woke up in the morning, I just kept thinking about the girl. I couldn’t get her pretty fucking body out of my head, even though she was Ryan’s. Plus, I stupidly mentioned her to that fucking mobster, which meant they might come sniffing around her. I should never have gotten her mixed up with that.
I was checking up on her, or at least that was what I was telling myself. Ryan, for his part, didn’t seem to give a shit either way if I took her out. Apparently she was a “stuck up bitch,” which meant she likely said no when he tried to force her to suck him off or some shit like that.
Tactless douchebag. I kept Ryan around mostly because I didn’t like any drama in the locker room. As soon as he got traded, that shit heel was dead to me.
Not long later, Charley pushed open the front door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. I stared at her, not trying to pretend like I wasn’t checking her body out. She smiled, a little shy, and that shyness made me fucking hard.
Her body looked incredible in a tight black dress. I went up to her and kissed her on the cheek.
“Ready?” I asked her.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “Unless you have a curfew tonight.”
“No curfew,” she said.
“Good, because I might keep you out late.”
She suppressed a smile, or at least tried to. “We’ll see about that.”
“Come on.” I steered her toward the car, my hand on the small of her back. My palm was large against her small back, and I wondered what I could do with this small, tight body.
Fuck, I was getting a little hard already, and I hadn’t even gotten the girl out yet. I hustled her into the car and shut the door, getting in behind her. The driver started going as soon as we were in.
“So, uh, where are you from?” she asked.
I smirked at her. “Are you nervous?”
“A little,” she admitted.
“I’m from Indiana,” I said. “Small town with nothing to do but drink and play football.”
“Does your family still live there?”
“Mom still does. Dad died years back.”
She frowned. “Sorry to hear it.”
“That’s okay. My dad was a mean bastard and a fucking criminal. Nobody misses him.”
“That must have been hard.”
I cocked my head at her. “Are you trying to be my therapist right now?”
She laughed. “No. I was just asking.”
“Tell me about your family then.”
“Pretty standard stuff. I have a nice family, nice parents. They’re both still alive.”
“Lucky you. Not all of us had that.”
“Is that why you’re so mean on the field?”
I laughed, a little surprised. Charley didn’t strike me as a fan. “I take it you watch.”
“I do,” she said.
“Well then,” I said, leaning toward her. I loved the look on her face. “I’m mean on the field because it feels good to crush men. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“No,” she said softly.
“Sure it is. That excites you. I’m the kind of man that crushes other men because I fucking can. I can tell you like that about me.”
She looked away. “Some people call you savage. Some people think you try to hurt other players.”
“No,” I said, laughing. “I don’t try to hurt anyone. But I can’t help it if they’re so fucking weak that a little tackle breaks a bone.”
“I don’t think there’s anything little about you.”
I threw my head back and laughed, loving that. “Damn right, girl. Nothing small about me.”
The car pulled out front of the club just a few minutes later. There was already a line stretching down the block as we got out.
“I’ve never seen this place before,” she said as we approached the doorman.
“It’s new,” I said. “Jeff,” I called out. The bouncer nodded at me.
“What up, Bull?”
“Got room for two?”
“Always got room for you.” He opened the rope and we stepped inside. I shook my head and then we disappeared into the club.
Booming bass hit me in the face. One of the hostesses motioned for me to follow and took us back into the VIP section. We stepped up and took a seat on a low, comfortable couch.
“It’s nice in here,” Charley said, “but really loud.”
“I can have them turn down the music if you want.”
She laughed. “Okay, please.”
“I’m not joking. I’ll make it happen.”
She laughed again and shook her head. “That’s okay.”
I motioned for a waitress. “Champagne and whisky.” She nodded and left.
