by B. B. Hamel
He still had it, but he also looked more human. He wore a tight, black button-down shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly, and he smiled like he was completely at ease with all eyes on him. He was even more handsome than I had realized, with tattoos that snaked up his arms and cut muscles he wasn’t afraid to show off.
I felt suddenly afraid. What if he saw through my tight little dress and realized what I was? There were other rumors about Bull, rumors about his beating the hell out of teammates for failing to live up to his standards. There were rumors of his violent and terrifying temper.
Would Bull Dixon hurt me if he knew that I was trying to write about him?
His eyes swept the room, and suddenly they settled on me. I went completely still as our eyes met, and I felt like I was getting sucked into his deep green eyes. A small grin slowly spread across his face, and he cocked his head at me.
Oh shit. I wanted to run away. I wanted to get back in that elevator and get the hell out of there as fast as I could. I was way out of my depth, and Bull Dixon was staring at me.
Ryan said something, but I didn’t hear it. He repeated it, and I was forced to looked away from Bull and back at Ryan.
“Everything okay?” he asked. “I know this is a lot.”
“No. It’s great,” I said, unnerved.
“I was saying, did you see the hang time on the third kickoff of the second game last season? It was unnatural.”
I nodded my head, but I had no clue what he was talking about. Nobody cared about the kickoff’s hang time.
“Is this guy boring you?”
I nearly jumped. Ryan turned and laughed. “Hey, Bull,” he said.
Bull grinned down at me. Up close, he was incredibly imposing. I tried my best to smile, but I felt like I wanted to scream.
“Who’s your friend?” Bull asked Ryan.
“This is Charley,” he said. “Charley, meet Bull.”
“Hello,” I said softly. “You have a nice apartment.”
He laughed, this loud and roaring thing. “Thanks,” he said. “You look like you want to run away.”
“Sorry,” I said.
“Don’t run away. I’d have to chase you. It’s an instinct, you know. I want to chase and destroy anything that tries to run around me.”
Ryan laughed. “That’s why they call you Bull. You can’t help yourself.”
“That’s not why they call me Bull,” he said, still staring at me. “Do you want to know why, Charley?”
“Sure,” I said.
“It’s because I’m fucking hung like one.”
I gaped at him as he roared his laugh again. What an incredibly crude man. I tried to laugh along with him, but he was just so cocky.
“How about a tour of the whole place?” Bull asked me.
My heart nearly skipped a beat. I glanced at Ryan, and he shrugged. “Fine with me, if you want to.”
“She’s not your girl, is she?” Bull asked Ryan. “No, she’s not. No fucking way you could pull a cute fucking girl like this.”
“A tour would be great,” I said quickly.
“All right then, Charley,” he said. “Right this way.” Bull took me by the hand and pulled me away from Ryan. I saw him smile and nod at me as Bull dragged me off.
“Right this way,” he said. “This is the living room. I don’t really use it.”
“Why not?”
He shrugged. “Too fucking big. You can get lost in this fucking room.” We moved through the party, toward the hallway I’d seen a man disappear through.
“A few bedrooms,” Bull said, gesturing at some closed doors. I could have sworn I heard a moan, but we kept moving.
“You don’t have to show me around,” I said to him, “if you’re too busy entertaining.”
He laughed at me, smirking this knee-shaking smile. “Why would I be too busy for you?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You’re new. I like to give the new people a tour, get to know them. Especially the pretty fucking girls.” He kept walking and then stopped. “Kitchen,” he said, pointing through an archway.
The kitchen was huge. There were staff members working in there, cooking up finger foods and pouring drinks. “You actually live here?” I asked him, laughing.
“I do,” he said. “And guess how often I use that room?”
“Never,” I said.
“Never,” he agreed. “Well, maybe once. I boiled some water.”
“Impressive.”
“I’m full of surprises.” He kept moving. “How do you know Ryan anyway?”
I choked up. I couldn’t tell him the truth, or else he might suspect something. “At a bar,” I said lamely. Oh god, that was the stupidest excuse ever.
But Bull didn’t seem to notice. “Ryan is a good guy,” he said. “Bit of a fucking wuss, though. All those kickers are pussies, except for David Akers. That guy was a fucking champion.”
“Ryan isn’t a pussy,” I said.
“Sure he’s not.” Bull smirked at me. “You ever see Ryan throw a fucking tackle?”
“No,” I admitted.
“There you go. Akers, he fucking tackled people. And there’s no better feeling in the world than when your body collides with another man’s body and you fucking win.” Bull laughed and then paused in front of an open door. “Game room.”
I poked my head inside. A pool table took up the center space with some old pinball machines on the edges. “Nice. Pinball?”
“Greatest game ever.”
“I thought football was the greatest.”
“Football is a sport, princess. Come on.”
I hustled to follow him down the hall. He pointed out a few more rooms before finally opening a pair of double doors at the end of the hall.
“And here is where the magic happens,” he said. “The master bedroom.”
“Nice,” I said.
His room was large, with a big couch in the middle, a television on the nightstand, and a little sitting table to the side. It was neatly decorated and very, very clean, which surprised me.
“That’s it,” he said. “Everything is good to go, except for my room. The extra bedrooms are fair game, but first come first serve. Stay over if you want; I don’t give a fuck. The staff will feed you.”
“Thanks,” I said stupidly.
“Come on. Let’s find your date before he thinks I’m fucking you mindless.”
“Is that something you do?”
“Fuck women mindless? You know the answer to that already.”
I frowned. “No. I mean steal girls.”
“No,” he said, “it’s not, but people think things about me. Can’t help that.”
I followed him back down the long hallway and couldn’t help but feel a thrill run down between my legs. Bull was big and strong, and he easily dominated the conversation. But more than that, he was charming in a really crude way. I realized that I was already wet thinking about him stealing me away from Ryan and showing me if his nickname was for real or not.
Instead, we got back to the living room and he flagged down Ryan.
“Nice meeting you, Charley,” he said, giving me a look.
“Same to you, Bull.”
“Enjoy the party, and be good to Ryan, the fucking pussy.”
Ryan appeared at my side and Bull nodded to him. But as soon as Bull turned to walk away, there was a commotion on the other side of the room.
“What’s that?” Ryan asked me. I strained to see.
“Holy shit! She’s dying!” someone screamed.
Bull instantly waded over into the mess of people. “Move!” he bellowed, pushing people out of the way.
I glanced at Ryan and then quickly followed Bull, my heart hammering. This was the sort of thing I wanted to see, something dark and bad, something to prove that Bull was the asshole that everyone knew he was.
There was a group of people I didn’t recognize all standing around a young woman, clearly one of the hookers. Bull pushed his way i
nto the group of people.
“What happened?” he called out.
“Drugs, man,” someone said. “I think she OD’d.”
“Oh fuck,” someone murmured next to me. People started to slowly filter back toward the doors.
I glanced at Ryan. He looked horrified. The girl was young, maybe in her early twenties, and had thick blond hair and fake breasts. She was pretty, and she was lying on the ground, not moving.
I slowly got my lipstick camera from my purse.
“Move,” Bull said, shoving someone aside and away from her. “You, call the fucking doctor.” He pointed at a random guy who nodded and got out his phone.
I started taking pictures. Bull reached down to the girl and listened to her breathing, felt her pulse, and then started to do CPR.
I stopped taking pictures. Bull was trying to save the girl’s life, I realized with a shock.
More people were leaving, jamming themselves into the elevator. There was a stairwell next to that, and a lot of the players were skipping the elevator to take the stairs.
Ryan took my elbow. “Come on,” he said softly. “We need to go.”
“What? She needs help.”
“Bull and his people can handle this. You don’t want to be here.”
“Why not? We can’t leave her.”
He sighed. “Come on, Charley, we have to go.”
I glanced back at Bull and the girl, but I let Ryan lead me away. I didn’t know why, but based on the way all of the guests were getting out of there, I had a feeling that something strange was about to happen.
And Bull hadn’t asked for an ambulance. He’d asked for “the” doctor, I realized.
Something was strange about this situation. I snapped a few more pictures before dropping the lipstick into my purse. Ryan opted for the stairs, and I followed him, holding on to his arm to keep from falling in my heels.
Something strange had just happened. It wasn’t just the girl having an overdose, which was horrible in itself, but it was the way Bull reacted and the way everyone decided to get out of there as fast as they could.
Bull was trying to save her life, but everyone was acting like they were suddenly in danger.
It made no sense to me. “Why is everyone so upset?” I asked Ryan when we were halfway down.
He looked nervous. “I can’t say.”
“Please?” I asked him. “I’m scared.”
He sighed. “These girls are all mob hookers. Most of the people here know that if a mob girl goes down, it’s not a good thing.”
I stared at him, shocked. “Bull is involved with the mafia?”
“Yeah,” he said, “but you didn’t hear it from me.”
I shook my head, surprised as hell.
I knew Bull was a bad guy. I knew he was cocky and violent and an asshole. But involved with the mafia?
That was something I never would have guessed.
As we finally got down to the bottom floor, Ryan walked with me outside. He walked me to the corner and we paused there. I was slightly out of breath from all that walking, and my feet were killing me.
“So,” he said, “come back to my place?”
I stifled a laugh. We just saw a girl nearly die, or maybe she did die, and this guy was inviting me to his place.
“Sorry,” I said, getting out my phone to call an Uber. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Well, for one, we just saw a girl nearly die, so I’m not really in the mood to go home with you.”
‘Are you kidding me?” he asked. “I just brought you to one of Bull’s private parties. That shit is worth at least a blowjob.”
I couldn’t believe he had just said that. I quickly summoned the Uber and then gave him a stern look. “I don’t think so, Ryan,” I said. “Thanks for bringing me.”
“You bitch,” he said, turning nasty so fast that it shocked me.
“Okay,” I said. “Good night, Ryan.”
I quickly began to walk away.
“Good. Run the fuck away, you bitch!” he called after me.
I couldn’t believe how fast Ryan had turned nasty, but I was happy it had happened right away at least. Maybe I could have tried to play him a little more, but I wasn’t going to whore myself out for a story.
Besides, he’d already given me plenty. That asshole was clearly a real prick, pussy or not, and I didn’t feel bad about using him one bit. He was clearly trying to use me, too.
As I got into the back of the Uber, I kept thinking about the way Bull had looked at me, his huge body filling the hallway, his cocky smile. I kept seeing him run to the girl and start CPR like he really wanted her to live.
And I kept thinking about his ties to the mafia. I didn’t know how or why, but that was a huge deal.
There was clearly a story there, an even bigger story than I could have guessed.
And I was going to crack it, somehow.
2
Bull
It was never a good party when one of the hookers fucking died.
I had no clue who gave her the heroin, and it probably didn’t matter, but I wanted to bash his fucking skull in anyway. That was such a waste of life, that poor girl. She didn’t deserve to die just because she wanted to do some fucking heroin.
My apartment was empty. It was no surprise that the place had cleared out pretty quick. Most of the people there knew that when one of the girls got hurt or someone got mouthy, the mob was going to get involved. Nobody wanted that.
A bunch of fucking pussies. I handled the mob, like I always fucking did. They were just men like anyone else, and any man could be swayed with the right motivation.
When it came to the mob, the right motivation was money.
I splashed some water on my face and rinsed my mouth out with mouthwash. I could still taste the girl’s lipstick on my tongue, and I wanted that taste gone.
I wished I had gotten a taste of Ryan’s date instead. I told her I wasn’t the type to steal girls, and that was somewhat true. If they came to me, well, I wasn’t the type to turn them away.
Some girls just needed to ride the Bull.
And that Charley girl, she was definitely one of those girls. Sexy fucking hips, beautiful fucking ass, and lips that made my cock hard. I had no clue how Ryan got her, but that little rapist pig shit didn’t deserve her one bit.
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?”
