The Quarterback's Love Child (A Secret Baby Sports Romance Book 1)

by Stephanie Brother

  Snot mixed with my tears and dripped into my mouth. I tried to wipe away the snot, but just smeared around the blood. He’d split my lower lip and it throbbed with pain as blood continued to gush out of it.

  The man suddenly laughed, a shrill insane sound that made my blood run cold. Terror gripped me like a vice, and I couldn’t move a muscle.

  “Either way you look at it sweetheart,” he giggled, enjoying the mirth of the situation, “I’m going to fuck you. Dead, alive, doesn’t matter to me.” I felt bile rise in my throat.

  “But,” he said, as his tone became more serious, “If staying alive matters to you, then don’t make a sound, and don’t struggle. Do you understand, whore?”

  I forced myself to nod.

  “Answer me!” he barked and my whole body jerked. “Do you understand me?”

  “Yes,” I croaked out, as tears flooded out of me.

  I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want to get raped, either, but better raped then dead.

  “Good,” he grunted and then he was moving towards me, hands reaching for my tits. It took an extreme act of will to stay put, to not back away from him. I could smell his sweat, and his vile breath, and the stench of his power of me. I hated him. I girded myself. In a moment, he’d be inside of me, forcing himself on me, hurting me, violating me, ruining my life.

  No, no, I’d survive this. I told myself. I had to. I prayed to a God I barely understood to let the nightmare end quickly, to not hurt too much, to not let him kill me.

  I heard the snap of his trousers and the sound of his zipper coming down. I heard myself whimper.

  “I told you to shut up!” he roared. I squeezed my eyes shut and threw my hands up to protect my face from another strike.

  But, instead of feeling the impact of his rough hand against my face, I heard a surprised grunt and opened my eyes in time to see a dark figure slamming against my assailant. The two men went flying to the ground, then started pounding on each other. I couldn’t see who was who, but one of the men got heaved into the dumpster, and crumpled to the floor.

  “Run!" Bellowed the man who was still standing. I knew that voice. Giles!

  “Get up, Cherise, get out of here!” Giles shouted again.

  I knew I should get up and run, but I was still too afraid. I was still frozen to my spot on the ground. Still afraid to move. Still afraid to die.

  In the dim light, I could see Giles moving towards me. He wanted to help me to my feet, help me get away. His back was turned on the man at the dumpster, so he couldn’t see the dark shadow getting up, he couldn’t the glint of steel.

  But, I did.

  Suddenly, I was on my feet, racing towards the man sneaking up on my stepbrother. “No!” I screamed as I flew through the air towards the man with the knife, hurtling my body like a soccer goalie, determined to keep the other side from scoring.

  I only had one coherent thought. No one hurts the man I love, no one!

  Giles realized what was happening and tried to get to the guy first, but it was too late. I screamed as I felt the sharp blade tearing into my flesh and I crumpled to the ground. If the knife was in my body, then that meant it missed Giles, and that was all that mattered. With a shaking hand I found the hilt of the knife, lodged into my shoulder. With another gasp of pain, I pulled the blade free. I was in agony, but I was satisfied. I hadn’t allowed my stepbrother to get stabbed in the back.

  “You bastard!” I heard Giles roar as he realized what had happened. We’d moved out of the shadows and I could make out more details. I looked up in time to see Giles spin his body and deliver a brutal kick hard against the bastard’s face. There was a gratifying crack of bones cracking, as Giles’ foot broke his nose. The wimp cried out in pain, and grabbed at his nose, but not before I felt a cloudburst of warm blood rain all around me.

  But breaking his nose didn’t stop the crazed psychopath. If anything, he was just madder. It was like trying to stop a bear with a BB gun.

  “I’m going to kill you!” The man ran towards Giles, shoulders down, like a bull charging a bullfighter, arms out like he was tackling the quarterback.

  I wanted to help Giles, but I was too weak. I was losing too much blood. I felt like I was swimming in a thick black fog. Using his lacrosse attack skills, he dodged the man, spinning around him, then executed another spinning kick, this time delivering the blow to the back of the man’s knees. The man’s legs collapsed and, as he fell forward, his head hit the edge of the wooden table, and I heard another sickening crunch.

  This time his body slumped to the ground and he didn’t move. I hoped the bastard was unconscious, although dead would be fine too. I couldn’t put much energy into worrying about it. Giles was okay. I needed to close my eyes and lie down. I needed to take a nap.

  “Cherise, oh my God, Cherise,” Giles said running over to me. He pulled me off the ground. I winced when his hand touched near my injured shoulder. “Oh my God, you’re bleeding,” he said, then continued to help me up, pulling me against him for support, taking care not to touch my injured shoulder. I leaned against him, sobbing, I felt lightheaded, going into shock. I could feel myself sliding into unconsciousness. Giles grabbed me in time. Then I felt his hand pull back in surprise as it made contact with my bare ass. I looked up at him, my eyes accustomed to the dim light, and I saw shock register on his face. Then I saw the regret in his eyes.

  “I’m so sorry, I let this happen to you, I’m so sorry,” he whispered painfully into my hair, his wet tears puddling against my scalp. I turned my head toward the sounds of voices nearby. We were not alone anymore. Several people had entered the patio area, milling about, talking amongst themselves, speculating on what was going on outside in the patio while the party raged on inside the club.

  Giles saw that I was looking elsewhere; he turned to the people.

  “Get an ambulance, call 9-1-1,” he roared, shocked at the apparent indifference of these clueless bystanders. He waited until someone grabbed their phone, then he made an effort to pull my dress down as far as it could go to protect my privacy.

  He turned back, and instead of making the call, the guy appeared to be filming the incident.

  "You fucking bastard," Giles roared and grabbed the phone out of the guy’s hand and threw it over the fence out onto the road. Then he reached into his pocket and used his phone to call for help.

  The guy who'd just lost his phone borrowed his friend’s phone as he complained about Giles' actions. He appeared to be making a call. Great - I thought, call the cops ‘cause someone destroys your iPhone but take a video of the girl bleeding to death? Suddenly, I became aware of the fact that I was losing a lot of blood. I could feel blood pumping out of my arm, to the rhythm of the electronic beat on the other side of the wall. I felt dizzy. Giles was holding me, supporting me against him, but someone finally gave a shit and brought over a chair. Giles helped me into it, and we waited for the ambulance.

  But I was too tired to stay awake.

  "Giles," I said, trying to get his attention.

  "What, Cherise? What is it?" he asked, sounding concerned.

  "I love you,” I croaked weakly, trying to smile, but not quite managing it. And then my eyelids shuttered closed and I knew no more.

  The next thing I remember was laying on a stretcher in an ambulance, a thin sheet covering my body, my stepbrother Giles near the foot of the bed, and two medical techs hovering over me. I lifted my head to make sure my dress wasn’t riding up. I couldn’t see the yellow dress, just a white sheet. A white sheet covered in blood.

  Chapter 5

  The next time I awoke, I was all alone.

  I was in a hospital room.

  There were needles in my arms, and a huge pad bandaged to my shoulder. I felt woozy and sick. I wanted to throw up.

  I started to get up, but the alarms went off.

  A nurse rushed into the room.

  “I’m going to be sick,” I yelled.

  The nurse helped me out of the bed, to the bat
hroom and stood by until I emptied out my guts.

  She helped me back to bed and washed my face with a clean damp cloth. “What time is it?” I asked, groggily.

  “Three AM,” she replied.

  I went back to sleep, and when I woke, Giles was in the room. He looked like hell.

  “Cherise,” he said, a smile showing that he was happy to see me awake.

  “Giles,” I said, then the memory of what happened to me came back, and I felt the tears rushing up.

  “Cherise, I’m so sorry, I should never have let you go out with that guy. I was too late; I’m so sorry.”

  “Wait, a minute,” I said, despite the pain meds, I picked up where he was going with that. “Giles, he didn’t rape me, you did get there in time.”

  “But what about the panties, he took them off of you?”

  “Uh, no,” I said looking at him, my eyes downcast. I could feel the color flooding my face.

  “What are you saying?” Giles asked, leaning toward me, holding my hand tightly in his, those blue eyes piercing my soul.

  “He didn’t rape me, but he would have. You saved me, Giles,” I said sincerely. “You saved me! Thank you!”

  “But,” Giles said, scratching his head, “What happened to your panties?”

  “There were no panties,” I said calmly and deliberately.

  His eyebrows raised, and a smile tugged at his lips.

  “You little brat!” he said, then before anyone could come in and change his mind, he bent towards me and kissed me gently on the mouth. I opened for him, and his tongue tentatively probed the inside of my lips. Then he pulled back, a mere fraction, and whispered, “I’ve wanted to tell you this for years Cherise, but I think I’m in love with you.”

  I gasped in shock, but he took away that gasp, and we kissed hard for a long moment, and time stood still until one of the devices started to beep, no doubt the one that measured my heart rate.

  Giles got back in his seat quickly as a nurse came in.

  “You should go now,” the nurse said, picking up on the pheromones radiating between patient and visitor. “Visiting hours begin again at eight in the morning,” she informed us as she shooed Giles out of the room.

  Chapter 6

  The family had their go-away brunch for Giles without me, they just changed venues. It went from being held at my parents’ house to the hospital cafeteria. While they feasted on pot-roast and barley soup, or whatever, I was treated to multiple doctor visits, x-rays, blood tests, and terrible liquid food. A policewoman and man came to talk to me about the attack and asked if I wanted to press charges. “Hell, yeah!” I answered them.

  I would be happy to stand up in a court of law and admit to my slutty error, if it came out. I’d been drinking, yeah I was looking for sex, but I wasn’t looking to get raped and brutalized. That man needed to be locked up! He’d threatened to kill me.

  Giles spent as much time by my side as he could, and even Brandy showed up, totally freaked out. She'd been making out with some cute guy and didn’t know anything was wrong until she saw them carrying me out on a stretcher.

  She was so sorry.

  Everyone was so sorry.

  No one could see that I was anything but sorry.

  My heart was soaring with joy.

  Giles had told me that he loved me.

  At two o’clock, my father came in to tell me that he had to go to drive Giles to the airport and my heart sank.

  That’s right, today was the day.

  Of course, my little incident wouldn't change his plans to leave me, to go away to college.

  Giles didn’t come in after my dad.

  My cell phone was out of power in my purse, so I couldn’t even text him.

  That night, they released me from the hospital and I went home, depression and soreness setting in.

  Chapter 7

  Over the next few days, I spoke with Giles on the phone a few times. He was kind and concerned, asking how my injuries were healing. He kept the conversations short, never mentioning how we’d kissed, or bringing up the words he’d shared with me as I lay in the hospital bed. As the weeks passed he stopped calling altogether, and he stopped responding to my calls and texts. It was as if I didn’t exist for him. So I stopped trying. I wasn't going to be desperate. A few weeks later, it was finally time for me to start my college career. At the small university no one knew me, and people left me alone. I focused on my studies, spending more time in the library than at any venue where I could make new friends, or meet guys. I didn’t have a social life. I didn’t have a boyfriend. And I didn't want either. I didn’t do anything but study, work out and read.

  I didn’t see Giles again until the holidays. That Christmas was the most miserable Christmas I’d ever spent. Giles was there, but he might as well not have been. He was cold, distant, and preoccupied, and we barely spoke to each other. He was out with his friends most of the time and frequently gone overnight. And then he was gone, back on a plane to his school.

  After that experience, I didn’t want to go home. When I heard he was heading home for Spring Break, I stayed on campus. I would have stayed away all summer, but my housing arrangements weren’t year around. And besides, my dad missed me. I couldn’t just be away all summer. But still, I dreaded going home, and I dreaded seeing Giles, knowing that he despised me for being this type of person.

  My spirits lifted when Brandy called, asking me if I'd hang with her for the first two weeks of summer. Of course, I would. Anything to stall the uncomfortable times waiting for me back home.

  “I’ve got us a cabin in the mountains, for two weeks. You can come straight from school. You'll love it!”

  So I rented a car and filled the trunk with all the things I needed to clear out of the dorm and drove four hours to the mountain resort.

  Brandy had planned to meet me at the cabin, since we were coming from different places, and she gave me directions and told me she’d arrive first and pick up the keys. That was the plan.

  It was pitch dark by the time I found the cabin, but a strong light blazed from an upstairs window, and there was another rental car parked outside in the dirt. So, clearly Brandy had arrived. I couldn’t wait to get inside and rest my nerves with a hot-toddy by the fire. Driving unfamiliar windy roads in the dark always put me on edge.

  However, when I made it to the front door I was surprised to find it locked. I knocked several times, but no Brandy came to the door. “Brandy?” I yelled into the house through the heavy wooden door, rapping my knuckles so hard they hurt. But still, nothing.

  I suddenly felt a chill wash over me. Even though it was summer, a cool breeze had come up, swaying the branches of the pine trees overhead. I wanted to get inside.

  I put my overnight bag down on the porch and decided to check for a back door. Maybe find one that wasn’t locked. There were no lights on the outside of the house, save for a dim bulb masquerading as a porch light. As soon as I rounded the corner of the cabin, I entered a world of shadows and darkness. Bound and determined to investigate all doors and windows, I put out one hand to feel the side of the house, using it like a blind man uses a cane to find my way. I hoped to find a window to peek through, expecting to find Brandy passed out from too much early celebrating, her iPod headphones blocking the sound of my knocking. Maybe if I was banging on a window right next to where she dozed, she’d wake up and let me the fuck inside. She had to be there. Her car was outside!

  The path around the house was uneven and I stumbled a few times before I found the first window. Unfortunately, no light shone on the other side of the glass. I used the side of my fist to circle away a layer of dust and film, and leaned forward to peer inside. Suddenly I heard a noise behind me. It was as if someone had stepped on a twig and broke it. Then everything went still and silent, as if the thing or person that had made that noise had just frozen in their tracks, on purpose.

  The hair flew up on the back of my arms, and my body tensed. I stopped breathing and became comple
tely still. Someone was behind me. I could feel it.

  Chapter 8

  My body tensed. Whoever, whatever, stood behind me was big and was standing still as death. I knew it wasn’t Brandy. I knew it was a man. Long tendrils of cold fear gripped at my stomach.

  Was there a psycho killer loose in the mountains?

  Was Brandy already his victim?

  Is that why she hadn’t come to the door?

  My heart raced, and my breathing quickened. My right hand curled into an open palmed fist as every muscle in my body tightened. I forced myself to control my breathing, channeling all my energy towards my next move. Fight or flight.

  Spin, then stamp hard on his instep, then knee him in the groin and follow through with a karate strike to the nose? My mind desperately tried to formulate a plan. Or was it groin first instep second, and throat instead of the nose? Darn it! I seriously regretted never taking a proper self-defense class. I tried to recall the scene from Miss Congeniality. I couldn't.

  Leaves rustled on the ground behind me, and I knew my attacker was making his move. It was now or never. I took a quick breath, then whirled around, planting myself into an athletic stance, my arms coiled ready to strike.

  “Ah, ya!” I yelled as I whipped out my right leg as my body spun again, attempting to deliver a debilitating kick-box to my opponent’s groin. But instead of the satisfying crunch of cross-trainers on balls, or the satisfying music of a bad-guy in agony, all I got was a cry of surprise coming out of my own mouth as my foot found air.

  And because my foot had expected to make contact with something, hitting nothing flung me forward, onto my hands and knees. The moment I got back on my feet, I felt a strong hand grip my arm from behind me. I couldn’t see my attacker. I tried to wiggle and jerk out of his powerful grasp, but his other hand locked onto my injured arm, and I let out a yelp of pain.