Mercy: Second Chance Military Romance

by Abbi Hemp

  As they carried me across the field toward our locker room, the noise and chaos continued in the stands while my own mood settled down. I wanted to get my uniform off, shower, and meet Haley at the King Sports Medical Center. She was waiting there to show me my new office.

  Six years playing for a professional sports team had felt like at least twenty-years, but I wasn’t ready to retire for the rest of my life. Besides raising our children, Haley and I planned to run the most successful sports medicine center ever. It was a big goal, but together we would achieve it.

  Play hard or go home was still my motto.

  * * *

  On the top floor of the twelve-story modern marvel of architecture and technology, I followed Haley to my office. Up to that point in time, I hadn’t seen it, concentrating solely on my football career. Outside the glass windows that took up the entire outer wall, I saw the lights of the skyline in the distance.

  “I think you’ll like it,” she said.

  After nine plus years together, she knew me and I knew her. Together, we sailed through life effortlessly. The best part about switching careers was I had just turned thirty-years-old. Haley, two years younger, had many fine years ahead of her too. The world was ours.

  “Wow,” I said as we came to the corner office opposite hers. “That view.”

  “Right? We have the best views in the whole building.”

  I slid my arm around her waist, still loving the way she felt. We stood side by side, staring out the windows and admiring the view.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I asked.

  “You’re not too tired after the game?”

  “I’m less tired now than I will be when we’re back with the monsters, I mean our kids.”

  She smiled. The moon hung in the distant sky, doing its small part to help illuminate us as we embraced. I would never tire of removing her clothes and seeing her naked body, or feeling her soft, smooth skin press against mine.

  Time had been kind to both of us. Even wrinkled and old, she would be a perfect ten in my book. I looked forward to the many years we would share together, a team of two as one.

  Our lips met in a kiss at least as intense as our very first. We made love with the moon shining bright in the distant sky. She showed me her love, and I showed her mine. I had played hard, but I intended to love even harder.

  Big Jock

  ONE

  Andrea

  The thought of being late made me move faster as I desperately worked my way through the crowd of people. As a woman in the male-dominated sports department at the Denver Post, my days and nights consisted of trying to prove myself worthy. And that meant getting an interview with Tony Carlotti.

  When the news broke about him being suspended from the team for the rest of the season, the sports editor told me to check it out and get an interview because I was at the game already. He and the rest of the guys in my department all hated Tony. I think a lot of it had to do with their jealousy of him.

  I turned the last corner and headed down the concrete hallway to the locker room of the Denver Wings, the hottest football team in Colorado. Okay, they were the only major league football team in Colorado, but still, they were expected to go all the way to the championships, at least with their star Quarterback.

  The roar of the crowd in the stands faded as I walked down the ramp, deeper into the stadium. Tony had been ejected from the game, but no one had word on what punishment he would face for losing his temper and punching another player. If I got lucky, I would be able to interview him alone.

  As I got closer to the locker room, I wondered why other reporters weren’t already gathered around like vultures. Had they not seen what I had on the field? I reached a set of double doors at the bottom of the ramp. Never afraid, I opened one and peered inside the locker room. No one?

  “Hello?” I called out as I leaned in, my press badge dangling down from a lanyard.

  When no one answered, I cautiously went inside. The fact there were no security guards, police officers or anyone else around surprised me. The game was still going on, but Tony Carlotti was big news, especially after what happened on the field just half-an-hour earlier.

  Already known for his temper, Tony had lost it and attacked a teammate and someone on the other team.

  I crept forward, digital voice recorder in my hand. The other players were on the field, but I hoped to catch Tony before he took off for the day.

  I walked to the back of the locker room, the smell of sweat almost overpowering. Undeterred, I opened a wooden door and peeked my head in. My eyes immediately focused on the tall and beefy football hero as he stood underneath a shower and soaped up his body.

  While I should have shut the door and waited for him to come back, I was mesmerized by his naked body so fit and toned. Okay, I’ll be honest. The huge cock dangling between his legs scared and fascinated me at the same time. How can it be so BIG?

  He turned the water off and spun around before I had a chance to shut the door. Our eyes met. A wicked grin came over his face as he stared at me, not attempting to cover himself at all. I glanced down at his dick again. Horrified, I shut the door and took a few steps back.

  Did that just happen? So HUGE! I need to go.

  I rushed across the carpeted locker room, hoping to escape before he came out.

  “Hey,” he called just as I reached the double doors.

  Slowly, I turned around, half-hoping he had covered himself and half-hoping his incredible cock was still out. He had a towel wrapped around his waist, but I noticed a distinct bulge.

  “Can I help you?” he asked. “You’re not supposed to be in here.”

  “I’m with the media,” I said, trying to control my emotions.

  My knees wobbled a bit as he crossed the room, bit I tried to keep my cool.

  “Yeah, but you’re still not supposed to be in here.”

  He stopped about ten feet away from me.

  “I have a press pass,” I said, lifting my badge.

  “I can see that, but you’re still not supposed to be walking into the showers.”

  “I’m sorry. I was just looking for you to get a quote about what happened today.”

  “Who are you with?” he asked.

  “The Denver Post.”

  “A newspaper reporter?”

  He shook his head.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was hoping you were television news or something.”

  “Nope. It’s just me.”

  I cursed myself as my gaze drifted lower on his body again.

  “My eyes are up here,” he said, chuckling.

  “Can you put some clothes on, please?”

  “Why? I’m not ashamed of my body. Don’t you like it?”

  He removed the towel and stood tall with his chest puffed out. I glanced down at that magnificent cock one more time. When I looked back up at his face, he smiled.

  “You like what you see? Do you want to touch it?”

  “No, I don’t want to touch it. Can you answer a few questions for me?”

  He took a deep breath, his face looking like he was considering giving me some answers. As he opened his mouth, the double doors opened. A crowd of players and journalists flowed into the locker room, not even noticing Tony standing there naked.

  People streamed around me as I berated myself in my mind for missing my chance. Tony wrapped the towel around his waist then turned and walked away as a few reporters with microphones and a camera guy behind them approached.

  I knew I wouldn’t be able to get anything with so many other people around, so I left. As I trudged back up the ramp to exit the stadium with everyone else, the image of his long, thick dick played itself over and over in my mind. Why had I been such a spaz?

  No answer came to me by the time I made it to my car outside. With the traffic, it would take me at least an hour or more to get back to the newspaper offices. Scott Harrison, the sports editor, blew up my phone the entire trip,
but I ignored him.

  He would demand an answer, but I wanted to have the discussion in the newsroom where there were witnesses. Every time he called me on the phone, he berated me endlessly, but our encounters in person were a bit tamer. I need all the help I could get.

  TWO

  Andrea

  The hustle and bustle of the newsroom made me feel better when I got back to work. One of the main reasons I’d become a journalist was the energy and excitement. With all my time spent with the diving team in college and all the sports I watched, the sports department had seemed like a perfect fit.

  As I got closer to Scott’s desk in one corner of the sprawling newsroom dedicated to the sports department, I remembered why I’d grown to hate my job so much. I’d only been at the newspaper a year, but it already felt like I’d been working for a decade or more at least.

  I saw Scott leaned back in his expensive leather chair, watching as two reporters tossed a football back and forth. When the pigskin almost hit my head, I stopped and put my hands on my waist.

  “Really?”

  “Hey, Andrea, what’s up?” Scott asked. “You get the quote.”

  “That’s what I want to talk to you about,” I said, stopping beside his desk.

  He put his hands behind his head and leaned back even further, acting like his rail thin body made all the women go wild.

  “You didn’t get the quote, did you?”

  “I tried, but it wasn’t possible.”

  “What did I tell you about trying, Andrea? You need to do or not do. That’s the only options.”

  “I know, but…”

  “No buts about it.”

  He raised his hands just in time to catch the football as it soared over his head.

  “You guys are going to break a monitor or something. I thought we weren’t supposed to be throwing it around in the newsroom.”

  “Are you going to tell on us?” he asked, tossing the ball from one hand to the other.

  “Yeah,” Tommy asked.

  Even the newest reporter without any seniority got more respect than me.

  “I’m not a snitch,” I said.

  “Good. I know you were a diver in college and all, but that wasn’t a real sport. You understand that, right?”

  “Yeah,” I mumbled.

  The one time I’d talked back to him, I got written up for insubordination. The lesson? Don’t make Scott angry or upset. He stared at me with a frown on his face then tossed the football through the air.

  “You don’t see the publisher down here, do you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s right, so if he finds out we’ve been tossing the football, I know it was you who told. Do you catch my drift?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He laughed, drunk with the power of middle-management.

  “You don’t need to go that far. Scott is fine.”

  “Okay, Scott. What I was going to say…”

  “Heads-up!” someone called.

  The football hit me on the side of the head.

  “Ow!” I shouted, rubbing the spot where it had hit.

  Scott laughed again as the football rolled away and someone picked it up.

  “That was an accident. Don’t get your bra all in a bunch.”

  That’s not even how the saying goes! I thought but said nothing.

  “I’m fine.” I shot a dirty look at the other sports reporter then turned my attention back to Scott. “As I was saying, I didn’t get a quote today, but I have a better idea. Everyone is going to talk to him about what happened today. Why don’t we do something different?”

  “Go on,” he said. “I’m listening.”

  “Well, I thought if we didn’t run a negative story today, Tony might give us an exclusive.”

  He nodded his head.

  “Good idea. I like it.”

  “Can I get permission to do it? Might take a while, but I think it will turn out good.”

  “You have my permission,” he said. “I actually thought of the same thing about an hour ago.”

  I had to fight so hard not to roll my eyes.

  “Good. Sounds like we’re on the same page.”

  “Page B1, the sports page!”

  The other reporters goofing off around their desks cheered.

  “Right. I’m going to call him and see if I can set something up. If I tell him we’re doing a profile piece on him, I’ll be able to get close and find out what’s going on in his life.”

  Scott nodded his head.

  “Sounds good.”

  “Can I get a byline this time?”

  “We’ll see how you do,” he replied.

  “I’ve been here a while now, and I thought…”

  “That’s your problem, little lady. You need to let me do the thinking.”

  I nodded my head and bit my tongue.

  “You’re right,” I said, not wanting to get into it with him.

  “Damn straight I’m right. That’s why I’m editor and you’re a reporter chick.”

  The word “chick” made me cringe, but the blowback if I reported him to Human Resources wasn’t worth telling him off for using it.

  “Anything else?”

  “Bring some beer back with you next time,” Tommy said, causing all the men around him to laugh.

  Before it got any worse, I turned and walked across the newsroom toward the cafeteria. While I had a desk in the sports department, I almost never used it for obvious reasons. I still had two other brief sports stories to turn in that night, but I wanted to set something up with Tony.

  ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

  As soon as I sat down on one side of a long, white table in the cafeteria, Kenneth Alderman appeared out of nowhere once again. He started me as I took out my cell phone and prepared to call a list of numbers to get in touch with Tony Carlotti.

  “Hello, Andrea,” he said in the odd formal tone he always used.

  “Oh, hey, Kenneth. How is the IT department going?”

  “Same old, same old,” he said then chuckled nervously.

  I stared up at him as he stood a few feet away.

  “Did you need something?” I asked when he didn’t say anything for a few awkward seconds.

  “No. I mean yes.”

  “Go on,” I said. “I’m about to make a call.”

  “I can wait,” he said.

  “No, go ahead. What’s up?”

  “Is the computer at your desk working okay? I’m not on the clock tonight, but I can come by and make sure all your virus software is up to date and it’s running quickly.”

  “Thanks, Kenneth, but I’m okay.”

  I smiled politely, hoping he would go away. He wasn’t an asshole like Scott or the other guys in the sports department, but he was definitely a geek from the Information Technology Department.

  “Oh, okay. I thought…”

  “Maybe some other time, okay?” I interrupted. “I’ve got a lot going on.”

  “Oh, yeah. Sure. No problem.”

  He lifted a hand to wave then turned and walked away.

  Before I had a chance to make any calls, my phone rang. Unknown Number. Curious as to who it might be, I answered and put the phone to my ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Andrea?” a guy’s voice said.

  “This is me. Who is this?”

  “It’s me, Tony Carlotti.”

  “How did you get this number? And why are you calling me?”

  “As I said, I’m Tony Carlotti. That means I have access to things like your telephone number.”

  “Uh huh,” I said. “I was actually trying to get in touch with you.”

  “Yeah? Why? About earlier?”

  “Yes and no,” I said. “I wanted to talk about your suspension and what’s next.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “It’s not what you think. All the other journalists are up in your shit today about your suspension, but I want to do something different for the Denver Post
.”

  “Go on,” he said. “You’ve got my attention.”

  “Like I said, everyone is beating you up right now because of your temper, but I want to tell the whole story, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ll do it?”

  “No, I meant I know what you’re saying. Even so, I don’t like talking to reporters. No offense, but I don’t trust any of them, especially not ones from the Post.”

  Scott and others had lambasted Tony Carlotti every chance they got.

  “You’ve never worked with me before. This is going to be different.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. And you owe me.”

  He laughed.

  “I do, do I?”

  “Yeah, for flashing me today.”

  “You should be paying me for that.”

  I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me, or perhaps because of that fact.

  “Funny.”

  “I’m serious. You didn’t like what you saw? A lot of ladies…”

  “That’s not what I want to talk about,” I said, cutting him off. “What’s that noise in the background?”

  The last thing I wanted to do was listen to him give details of his sexual conquests while I sat in the cafeteria at work.

  “Just another day at my house. And what else is there to talk about other than fucking and football?”

  “Plenty of things. Like all the good you’ve done in the past. And the stuff you’re going to do in the future.”

  “I don’t know…” he said, his voice trailing off.

  “Are you chicken? A big man like you?”

  “Okay, I’ll do it, but there’s a condition.”

  “Anything,” I said. “What?”

  “Have dinner with me.”

  “A work dinner? That’s fine with me.”

  “Not a work dinner. I mean, you can ask me questions, but I want to be able to find out about you too.”