PENALTY

by Jacob Chance

  “I remember dad mentioning how good you’d be doing if something happened to him.” I shake my head. “I never thought he’d be gone, though.”

  “Good thing your father had a sizeable insurance policy. I certainly earned it,” she says, her lips pressed tightly together.

  I inhale sharply and my eyes open wide. “Why would you say that, Cindy? You didn’t love my father?”

  She places her manicured hand on her chest and shakes her head. “What? Of course, I did. Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “That was an odd choice of words you used.” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “You always did have an overactive imagination. Maybe you should be pursuing a career in writing instead of psychology.” She slips her purse over the crook of her arm and jingles her keys in her hand. “I should get going. I’m glad you’re doing so well. Brady’s lucky that you’re so forgiving and trusting.” She opens her mouth to continue and I cut her off.

  “Don’t, Cindy.” I throw my hands up in the air. “I’m all done talking with you.” Stomping to the door, I open it for her.

  Her high heels echo against the wood floors with each deliberate step she takes. She passes by me uttering a quick, “take care, Harlow.”

  “Oh, Cindy,” I say, waiting for her to turn around. Our eyes meet and I allow myself to verbalize the words that are clawing their way out. “Do you ever worry?”

  “About what?” she asks.

  “About the horrible karma coming your way? I see a large plate of misery being served to you very soon.” I take a step closer and lean toward her. “In fact, I think you’ve already started choking it down.”

  She doesn’t answer me. She takes a step backward and spins around, quickly moving toward the front door of the building.

  Leaning against the doorjamb, my arms crossed over my chest, I watch her until she leaves. Blowing out a large sigh, I run a hand over my forehead and down my cheek. I’m not sure what to make of the conversation we just had. What a cruel and manipulative bitch. Not only does she try to remind me of her and Brady at every turn, but she stooped low enough to make me question whether she loved my dad at all.

  I have a feeling this is the last I’ll be seeing of Cindy.

  Epilogue

  “Why am I so nervous this time?” she asks, running a hand over her ponytail.

  “I don’t know. You shouldn’t be. No doubt she’s going to love you.” I smile her way and take her hand as we approach the front door of the house I grew up in. My mother had been traveling around Europe for the past six months with two of her best friends. This is the first opportunity I’ve had to introduce Harlow to her.

  Letting us in with the key on my ring, I immediately call out for my mom to let her know we’ve arrived.

  She comes bustling from another room with a large smile on her face. As much as I look like my father, I’ve always heard how I get my smile from my mom.

  She holds her arms outstretched. “Honey, I’m so happy to see you.”

  Folding her into my arms, I kiss her cheek. “Hi, mom. It’s good to see you. I brought someone I want you to meet.” Pulling away from her, I grasp Harlow’s hand and slide her in front of me. “This is my girlfriend, Harlow. Harlow, this is my mother.”

  “Mrs. Lincoln, it’s so nice to meet you.”

  She dismissively waves her hand. “Call me Marie and give me a hug.” She wraps her arms around Harlow. “I need to be on a first name basis with the girl who makes my son so happy.”

  Dinner conversation was full of Brady stories that had me cringing and thinking, so this is what it’s like to bring a girl home to your mother. Listening to Harlow’s laughter made all the embarrassing things my mom revealed worthwhile. After coming so close to losing her for good, I appreciate her more than ever. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure she’s happy.

  After dessert, we help my mother clear the table and load up the dishwasher.

  When Harlow slips away to use the bathroom, I take the opportunity to find out what my mother thinks of her.

  “How do you like Harlow?”

  “I love her already. She’s perfect for you,” my mom says, with a twinkle in her eye.

  “What do you mean she’s perfect for me? I know she is, but I want to know why you’re saying it.”

  “You guys just fit. She’s not attention seeking and you are.”

  “Hey,” I say, pretending outrage.

  My mom raises her eyebrows as if to say, ‘see.’ “You’re outgoing, she’s more reserved. You guys complement each other perfectly. It’s the old saying that opposites attract. They really do.”

  Smiling at my mom, I lean down and pull her in for a hug. “Thanks mom. I’m glad you like her because I plan on marrying her someday.”

  “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Harlow says as she enters the kitchen.

  “You’re not interrupting.” Glancing at my mom, I say, “I’m going to take Harlow for a walk. We’ll be back soon.”

  “We’re going for a walk?” Harlow questions, an eyebrow raised. “It’s like twenty degrees outside.”

  I tug her against my chest, wrapping my arms around her waist. “Are you doubting my ability to keep you warm?” I run my nose up and then down the side of hers and brush my lips across her mouth.

  She shakes her head then sighs when I nuzzle my lips against her neck. “Come on, I want to show you something,” I say, leading her to the entryway.

  “That’s not the first time I’ve heard those words,” she replies dryly.

  Grinning, I hold her coat up for her while she slips her arms in each sleeve, then spin her around so I can zip the front closed. I wink at her. “It won’t be the last time either.” Tugging on my jacket and a cap, while Harlow pulls on the black knit hat I gave her months ago, securing it over her ears. She adds gloves and a scarf and we’re good to go.

  The air is crisp and bites into every inch of exposed skin. “Damn, it’s fucking cold,” I say and grimace.

  “Is it?” she sarcastically asks.

  I wrap an arm around her. “Don’t worry, kitten, I’ll keep you warm.” I kiss the top of her head as we continue to walk down the sidewalk of the same neighborhood I used to race around on my red BMX bike.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, snuggling into my side.

  “You’ll see.” I don’t want to give her any hints.

  We walk for another five minutes, before we come to a narrow path leading into the woods. Following the worn ground, I keep her next to me.

  “Are you taking me deep inside the woods to murder me?” she jokingly asks.

  “Damn, you got me. Now what am I going to do with you?” I say. Leaning down, I growl and gently bite her neck eliciting a melodic giggle.

  We reach a clearing and now it’s evident we’re in a small park. We pass by swings and slides and keep progressing forward until we come to a football field. The lights around the perimeter are bright and light the entire area for us. I don’t stop until we’re standing in the middle of the field.

  I turn to face her, still holding her hand. “This is where I discovered my love for football. I played on this field as a kid and now this is one of my favorite places. I like to come here when I need to think or clear my head.” I run the back of my fingers down her cheek. “I never gave you one of the birthday gifts I purchased for you.” A smile teases at the corners of her lips. “I wanted to wait until I could share this place with you. I know it’s just a field to most, but this place feels magical to me. It’s where dreams were born - my dream of playing football - and my dream of falling in love with you.” Cupping her face in both my hands, I stare down into her alluring gray eyes. “I can’t count the times I’ve sat alone on this field and imagined what it would be like to meet a girl who was perfect for me. Someone who’d see me for who I am, and not my last name. Now that I have, I’m never going to stop showing you how much I love you.”

  Her bottom lip wobbles with emotion and
I steady it with my thumb. I trace over the plump shape and then reaching inside my pocket, I pull out a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper. “This is for you.” Holding my hand out in front of her, the gift rests on my palm.

  She tentatively takes it from me and then quickly tears off the paper while I watch, chuckling at her eagerness. She shoves the tattered wrapping in her pocket and gazes up at me before her focus moves back down to the little black box. She opens the lid and her mouth drops open when she sees what’s inside.

  “I wanted to get you something meaningful. The football can represent time you spent with your dad and how we came together. The letters are self-explanatory.”

  “Brady, it’s beautiful.” She stares in awe at the white gold football charm suspended from a fragile chain with a capital H and B made from diamonds. “Will you put it on me?” She holds it out, pinched between her glove covered fingers.

  Taking it from her, I undo the clasp, drape it around her neck and then fasten it. She turns around, a full smile on her lips as she stares down where it rests on her chest. “I love it almost as much as I love you.” She steps forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and tipping her face up to meet my lowering lips.

  “I love you,” I whisper before sliding my cold lips from one side of her mouth to the other, kissing each corner. She presses on the back of my neck letting me know she wants more and my tongue moves inside to rub against hers. I drink her in, losing myself in the heat of our kiss. One hand grips her ponytail, tugging her head back while the fingertips of the other one gently trace over the curve of her cheek. I never want this moment to end. Kissing her for a lifetime won’t be enough, but I plan on doing just that. No matter what flags life will throw in our path, and I know there will be plenty, I’ll do whatever it takes to get us through and come out with a win. I want it all with Harlow and nothing will stand in my way.

  THE END

  About the Author

  Jacob Chance grew up in New England and still lives there today. He’s a martial artist, a football fan, a practical joker and junk food lover.

  Jacob’s Books on Amazon:

  QUAKE | QUIVER | DELVE | TIED | DELUDE

  Aces & Eights Series by Logan Chance and Jacob Chance

  RANSOM

  Jacob’s links:

  Amazon | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads | BookBub | Spoiled by Chance Reader's Group | Jacob's Newsletter | Website

  PUNCHED

  PUNCHED Copyright © 2017 Jacob Chance

  Releasing June 15, 2017

  This is an unedited excerpt and subject to change.

  Chapter One

  NOAH

  “One-two-three-four,” Jimmy my trainer calls out. I respond immediately with a jab-cross-hook-uppercut combination. The sound of my punches on the leather echoes off the walls in the back corner of the gym, as we work my standup on the focus mitts. He quickly fires each of the mitts back at me as if throwing punches of his own. I bob my head up and down and side to side, then slide back beyond his reach in a practiced rhythm.

  We’ve been at it for six minutes and still have four to go as he picks up the pace, calling out random number combinations. “One-two, one-two, two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three, two-three, three-four, three-four, three-four,” he shouts over the sound of the other fighters training in the gym. “C’mon move faster, hit harder, let’s go.”

  My response is automatic, jab-cross, jab-cross, cross-hook, jab-cross-hook, jab-cross-hook, cross -hook, hook-uppercut, hook-uppercut, hook-uppercut.

  After so many years and so much training it’s become instinct. I even find myself silently repeating the corresponding punches in everyday conversations anytime someone speaks these numbers.

  Every muscle in my body is taut and I’m covered in sweat from head to toe as if I’ve been swimming. Picking up the pace, I throw my punches harder, sliding back and forth, in and out of range quicker. I lose myself in the flow as the adrenaline pumps through my veins. My heart beats faster. I’m like a tiger on the hunt, as I think to myself I am iron. I cannot be broken. I will not be defeated.

  By the time the buzzer sounds at ten minutes my lungs are burning. My chest heaves as each breath enters and exits. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it may explode through my chest, but I won’t stop. I can’t.

  Swallowing back a couple small sips of water, I try to slow my breathing.

  One minute passes and Jimmy’s barking again. “C’mon No-No, this is where we separate the men from the boys. This is where champions are made.” He’s right.

  I spit out my third sip of water, toss the bottle on the floor and pick up the twenty-five-pound medicine ball. I spend the next ten minutes switching between up-downs and medicine ball slams at a blistering pace. By the time I make it to my last station on the elliptical machine I’m nearly staggering with exhaustion. Again, I push the pain and weakness away, reminding myself this is where champions are made.

  It’s hard to believe I’m only four weeks away from a title fight. I’ve been working toward this opportunity for a long time.

  Growing up in Boston wasn’t easy, especially in Southie. What used to be an Irish enclave where crime had a foothold, but residents still looked out for each other has become a bleak and hopeless place. A place where people barely acknowledge their own and heroin now has a stranglehold with no end in sight.

  My mother left when I was too young to remember and she never looked back. My father wasn’t exactly the nurturing type, but did the best he knew how. Unfortunately, his best usually consisted of saving his blackout drinking rallies for the weekend. This left mostly misery and fits of anger for the rest of the week and with me being the only child, I was often the target of his rage. He was the first person to ever call me No-No, telling me it was because I had No chance and No future. He would then start in with a sermon on how I should, “never start a fight but always finish it.” This was usually followed by a story or two of how he broke some guy’s nose who challenged him, or knocked a guy out defending some damsel who’d been disrespected.

  Ever the hero, eventually he’d catch me rolling my eyes or not paying close enough attention and things would escalate fast. I learned young how to take a punch the hard way and before long, I learned how to deliver one as well.

  I watched my father drink himself to death, penniless and miserable before I turned eighteen and decided that would never be me. I let the nickname stick as well, to remind me of what I’d never become. Without any discernible skills that could result in earning a decent living I turned to the only thing I’d known all my life, fighting. Since then, Mixed Martial Arts has become my passion, my obsession, my salvation and someday it will be my redemption. I will not let anything stand in my way.

  I step off the elliptical machine and dry my face off before hitting the showers when Jimmy, my trainer and also the owner of the gym, makes an announcement. “Guys I’ve got some great news…” His words fade away as I see her. Oh shit.

  Chapter Two

  REAGAN

  “Guys, I’ve got some great news. I’ve been looking for someone to bring in here to take over the business end of things for me and I’ve found the perfect person,” my father says glancing around the gym. He’s not yelling but immediately has the full attention of the rough looking men now standing around pouring sweat all over the black mats. He’s well respected by them all, as he should be. He’s known for making champions and fighters come from all over the country to work with him.

  “From day one all I’ve wanted to do is build great fighters and I’ve never been able to devote as much time as I wanted to doing that. But now,” he places his arm around my shoulders and glances down at me, his light blue eyes sparkling with pride, “my youngest daughter Reagan is going to step in as the general manager. She just graduated from college with a degree in business and I’m sure she’ll have this place running tip-top in no time.”

  Smiling up at my dad, I hear the guys clapping. My eyes bounce ar
ound the motley crew of half-naked sweaty male bodies before locking on one in particular – Noah Nolan.

  Crap. I knew he still trained here and I’d have to see him at some point. I was just hoping it would be later – a lot later.

  He was one of my dad’s young up and coming fighters when we dated during my senior year of high school. We were a couple for six months and I thought the sun rose and set on him. I was convinced we were the real deal, sickeningly writing Mrs. Nolan over and over in my notebook at school. Just thinking about it now is enough to make me roll my eyes.

  He broke my heart and everyone around me saw it coming; everyone except me. I gave him my virginity on prom night and he gave our relationship the axe the next morning when he dropped me off at my house. He callously mentioned I was a distraction he couldn’t afford. He needed to focus all his energy on his training. Fighting was his future; not me – blah, blah, blah.

  I can still remember our last words as if it all happened yesterday. He flashed a quick smile and a wink when he opened my door. “I’m sorry. Thanks for being so understanding.”

  I didn’t say a single word. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and my heart was in my throat. He knocked the wind right out of me. He might as well have punched me.

  Focusing on taking my next breath impeded my ability to think of a witty comeback when he kissed me one last time. He got back in his car and was gone in the blink of an eye.

  To this day, I wish I’d handled that situation better. I wish I’d acted as though it didn’t bother me, but I’m not that good of an actress.