“That’s what counts. We can’t always control how we feel about things. Obviously, you’re in love with Bull. That’s a good thing. No one could expect you to welcome an old flame back into his life. That’s okay. I’d feel the same.”
“You would?”
“Of course. As long as you help her and keep your feelings to yourself, you’ll be okay. I saw the way he looked at you at The Savage Beast. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
“If Sly finds out, I’m finished.”
“He’s pretty smart. He’ll understand.”
“He’s nicer than I am.”
Jo chuckled. “I don’t think so. I think you’re just what Bull thinks you are—a compassionate woman who cares about other people.”
“What if she stays here forever?” Sam’s voice trembled.
“Don’t worry about it. That won’t happen. Do what you can for her and love Bull the way you do. Everything’ll be okay.”
“You think so?”
“I do.” Jo squeezed Sam’s hand. “Now, dry your eyes. I’m going to take you to lunch.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“I know. I want to. And I’m starved. Damn, I’ve never been so hungry in my life.”
“Is being pregnant fun?”
“I don’t know if I’d describe it as fun, but I feel great. I’m eating like a linebacker and sleeping like Rip Van Winkle. Pete waits on me all the time. Life is good.”
Samantha laughed. “I guess I’ll find out someday.”
“I’m sure you will. You’ll be a great mom.”
“I hope so. Thanks for listening and for the advice.”
“Come on. I’m seeing a big burger in my future.” Jo pushed to her feet. Sam followed, and they headed for the parking lot.
Food and baby chatter with Jo helped Samantha get her emotions back on an even keel. She returned to the office with a smile, her shoulders squared, her step light. She turned on her computer and got her mailing list up when her cell rang. It was Bullhorn.
“Hey, Sam. How you doin’?”
“I’m fine. You?” And, by the way, I love you.
“Good. I’m okay. Tiffany is getting discharged tomorrow. I’m going to pick her up in the morning. Can I bring her to the shelter at noon? Can you come over on your lunch hour and get her set up? I hate to ask you, but they won’t keep her at the hospital, and there’s nowhere else safe for her go.”
“Absolutely, Sly. No problem. Call me when you pick her up, and I’ll meet you there.”
She heard him release a breath. A small smile crossed her face.
“You’re an angel, you know that? Did I ever tell you how much you mean to me? This is deep, Sam. Real deep. I love you for this. You’re saving me. I’m responsible for this, and you—”
“Wait a minute. You’re not responsible.”
“I am. She told me he’d do something like this, and I didn’t listen.”
“You didn’t beat her up. She could have gone to the police with her suspicion. Did she?”
“Well, no.”
“That’s on her. You’re not responsible. That you want to help her because you’re a great human being…well, that’s one thing. But you don’t owe her. Hell, Sly, she stabbed the bastard. Ya know? You could figure he might be pissed off.”
“You’ve got a point. Still…”
“Still nothing. I don’t want you to beat yourself up over this. You didn’t make this situation. You don’t know how much she’s responsible for.”
“But most abused women aren’t responsible.”
“You don’t know that she’s an abused woman. She stabbed him. You don’t have all the facts, Sly. Don’t pick sides. Let’s get her safe, and then leave it to them to work it out.”
“Good words, Samantha. I love you, babe.”
Her insides melted. “You’re awesome,” she whispered. “I love you too.”
“You do?” The wonder in his voice made her laugh.
“Shouldn’t we be having this conversation in person, somewhere private?” she asked.
“Somewhere private and naked.”
She snickered. “Aww, you tease.”
“Hold that thought, honey.”
“I will.”
“Until tomorrow then. I’ll call you when I get her.”
“Right. Be careful, Sly.”
“I will, baby. I will.”
The connection went dead. Samantha sat back, wearing a broad grin.
Jo stuck her head in. “Everything okay?”
“Perfect. I can handle this.” I think.
Chapter Nine
Samantha took extra care dressing on Thursday. Looking professional was her top priority. It was the day she was taking Tiffany Belden into the shelter. She picked a burgundy suit and a pink, tailored shirt. A scarf and burgundy pumps finished off the look.
At the front office, the mailing list captured her attention most of the morning. As the hands of the clock neared twelve, her palms started to sweat. At five after, her cell dinged.
“Okay, Sam. We’re heading for the parking lot.”
“Got it. See you soon.”
She grabbed her coat and purse. Jo had agreed to give her extra time for lunch. As Samantha drove, she did some deep breathing. She stopped at the front desk and explained to Elaine, the woman filling in for the director during the day, why she was there. Then, she sat in a chair across the room and read a magazine.
Time dragged. Looking at her watch every five minutes only made sweat break out under her arms. Where the hell are they? Did she want to stop for a quickie? Anger heated her. Unable to sit, she paced, checking the front door often. At half past, Sam dialed Bull.
“Where the hell are you?’
“Tiffany was hungry. She wanted to stop for a quick burger. We’re almost done. I’m bringing one for you.”
“Don’t bother.”
“Already bought it.”
“Why didn’t you call? I’ve been here for half an hour.”
“I’m sorry, Sam. Tiffany has been dragging her feet. We’re on the way.”
Sam refreshed her makeup and poured a cup of coffee from the pot in the waiting room.
After fifteen minutes, she saw Bull’s car pull into the lot. Tiffany waited at the door for Bull to open it. When she saw the young woman’s face, Sam was shocked. Some women came in with bruises, but most of them weren’t this fresh.
Emotion got the best of her, but she held her tongue while Sly made the introductions. He placed a small valise on the floor next to Tiffany. “I’ve got practice. Samantha will take good care of you. Just do what she says, okay?”
Tiffany nodded then threw herself into his arms for a hug.
Bull’s face reddened as he eased her out of his embrace. “You can’t be doin’ that, Tiff. You’re a married woman, and I have a girlfriend.”
“I know. Just grateful for your help, that’s all. Go on. Do your thing.” She tried to smile.
He leaned over and brushed his lips over Sam’s before heading for the door. Samantha took a key from her pocket.
“Like an asylum? You gonna lock me in? You keep all the women here locked in?”
Holding it up, Samantha said, “This is to keep the bad guys out, not to keep you in.” After unlocking the door, Sam placed the key in Tiffany’s palm. “This is your key. All the residents here are free to come and go as they please, as long as they close and lock the door behind them. Keep your key with you when you’re out. You can’t get back in without it. There’s a place to hang the keys when you’re in for the night. It’s on the back of the door.”
Tiffany nodded. Sam stooped to pick up the small suitcase and led the way inside. She knocked on a door marked with an “A” on it. There was no answer, so she opened it. Inside was a small room with a single bed, fresh linens folded up, and one window.
“This is your home away from home until you find another safe place to live. Bathroom’s across the hall. The door locks
from the inside, but not the outside. We trust each other here, but keep your valuables on you if you leave. Most of the women here have nothing to steal. They come with the clothes on their backs and not much more.”
“Got it.” Tiffany reached out with her good hand to stop Sam. “I really do appreciate your taking me in.”
“No problem. It’s what we do. I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad time of it. Are you sore?”
“Not much. They gave me some painkillers at the hospital.”
“We have an arrangement with the drugstore down the street. If you have a prescription, they’ll fill it for free and bill the Shelter.”
“Thank you.” Tiffany smiled. “Good to know.”
Sam saw a glimmer of the attractive woman who was once engaged to Sly. Pity had welled up in her heart when she had laid eyes on Tiffany and saw the extent of her injuries. While none were life-threatening, Samantha guessed they must be painful and humiliating. She put the piece of luggage on a small table. “You probably want to get some rest.”
“Look, I didn’t do anything to deserve this.”
“I’m no judge or jury, Tiffany. Your private business is private.”
“Clyde gets jealous for no reason. We had a fight. He threatened me. So, I stabbed him. End of story. “
Samantha held up her hand. “It’s none of my business. Don’t feel you have to justify yourself to me. I don’t judge. Just rest and think about getting your life back.”
“Clyde and I are done. I’ve never been without a man in my life. Finding a new one will be my first priority.”
Sam turned to leave, but froze with her hand on the doorknob. She peered over her shoulder.
A hard light shone from the blonde’s eyes. “I need someone who can afford me and keep me safe. Now, who do you know like that?” She gave out a snort and half-laugh as Sam left the room.
A chill ran through Samantha as she walked down the hall and out the exit.
* * * *
A frown creased Bull’s brow all the way to the stadium. Tiffany was trouble. He hoped she’d be safe at the shelter and that he wouldn’t have to see her again. The trial! Shit. He needed to call the lawyer and find out when the new date was. His neck began to sweat. He needed to leave this chick in the dust as quickly as possible
He’d tried to get an explanation from her when they left the hospital, but near as he could tell, they’d had a fight, she’d stabbed him, and for revenge, her husband had beat her up. Sly wanted nothing to do with Tiffany or Clyde. He had a great girlfriend. His relationship with Sam was progressing nicely, and he didn’t need Tiffany to mess things up.
He arrived at the stadium, changed, and headed for the workout room. Unable to shed his bad mood, he nodded briefly to his buddies then hit the treadmill. Bull needed to work the anxiety out of his system. Exercise was just the ticket.
He closed out the low murmur of voices around him and focused on his body.
“Hey, jerk-off, I’m talking to you!” Trunk Mahoney said, snapping a towel at Bull’s behind.
“Don’t do that.”
Mahoney did it again. Bull stopped the machine and scowled.
“I said, ‘don’t do that’!” he yelled, loud enough to make the metal in the room hum.
“Christ, Bull, you’re gonna break the windows,” Buddy Carruthers piped up.
Bull grabbed Mahoney’s T-shirt and slammed him up against the wall. “Stay away from me!”
All movement and talking stopped.
Bull stepped away from his teammate and grabbed a towel to mop the sweat from his face.
“Okay, okay. Fuckin’ A, Bull. What the hell’s the matter with you?” Trunk stepped away from the wall and smoothed out his shirt.
“Nothin’.” Bull cast his gaze to the floor and headed back to the treadmill.
“Yeah, right.” Mahoney gave a laugh.
Devon Drake put his hand on Trunk’s shoulder and shook his head.
“Okay. If it’s like that, I get it.” The defenseman moved away, joining Drake on another set of machines.
The place was completely silent until Coach Bass burst in. “What the fuck? Is this a funeral parlor? Who died? Aren’t you guys supposed to be working out?”
Bull hit the button that started the walking machine. He kept pushing it until he was doing a slow jog.
“That’s better. Move that ass, Brodsky. What’s the matter with the rest of you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Montgomery, Carruthers, and Johnson. Drake and Mahoney. On the field. Sprints first then passing plays.”
The Coach left as quickly as he had arrived. Though his teammates were talking low, Bull felt their eyes on him. They were like brothers to him. He chided himself for his fit of temper.
When Mahoney passed, Bull stopped the treadmill.
Trunk backed up, his hands in the air. “No more!”
Bull put his big paw on Trunk’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, buddy. It wasn’t you.”
Trunk nodded then joined the others headed for the field.
Bull turned the machine on again and cranked it up to a full run. He needed to get Tiffany and her problems out of his system. He had a big game coming up, and this preoccupation would kill his performance.
After five minutes, he put on his sweats and ran outside. Jogging around the field gave him time to think. His teammates gave him a wide berth.
Next, Coach Bass called for the linemen to get into position. They practiced until five. The men let Bull take the first shower. Trunk was brave enough to turn on the faucets in the one next to him.
“Wanna grab something at The Beast?” Trunk asked, soaping up his head.
“Nah. I gotta look in on Samantha. Thought I’d take some food with me. Does Carla do food to go?”
“I’m sure she will for you,” Trunk responded.
“Yeah. She’s nice that way.”
“How about a quick cold one then?”
“Sounds good. Meet you there in twenty.”
Trunk nodded.
Bull got dressed and slapped on the aftershave Buddy had recommended. He’d said it drove Emmy wild. Bull smiled. Buddy’s always exaggerating. But the lineman wouldn’t have minded driving Samantha just a little crazy.
He drove to the Beast. Trunk had a table and a beer waiting.
“What the fuck is going on with you?” Mahoney asked as Bull sat down.
“I don’t know. This Tiffany crap.”
“Tiffany? She still in the picture? I thought you were serious about Samantha Drake? Back to double teaming?” Trunk raised an eyebrow.
“No way. It’s Sam all the way. But Tiffany’s in trouble. I can’t just walk away, though I’d like to.”
Bull explained the situation to his friend. Trunk finished his beer and ordered another while he listened.
“One more?”
Bull held up his hand. “I’m driving. One is enough.” After a glance at his watch, he motioned for Carla. He ordered food, and the waitress fixed him a perfect picnic of blue cheeseburgers and fries. She added soda because Bull didn’t think Samantha could drink anything alcoholic on the job.
“I gotta go. Can you get home okay?”
“Sure, sure. Three is my limit. I can still drive good.”
“Okay. If you’re sure. Carla can take you home if you’re not okay.”
“I’d love for Carla to take me home.” Trunk snickered.
Bull punched him in the shoulder. “Hey, dickwad, you’re married.”
“Don’t remind me.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad.”
“It’s not. I’m just jokin’.”
“Good. See ya tomorrow.”
Carla put the package on the table. Bull paid for his food and the drinks, then pushed to his feet. He drove to the Shelter and entered the parking lot. Samantha was typing something on the computer. His gaze lingered on her profile. She’s so beautiful. The straight nose, thick black lashes, delicate chin, and kissable lips started his blood pumping. At the soun
d of his feet on the floor, she stopped and turned. The way her face lit up in a warm grin touched his heart.
“Hey, Sly. What’re you doing here?”
“I brought food. Thought, since you can’t go out with me, we could eat here. Kind of like an indoor picnic.”
“Food?”
“From The Savage Beast. Blue burgers and fries.”
“Oh my God. How wonderful! And I’m starved too. Let’s sit over there,” she said, indicating a small table across the room. Sly put the bag down and pulled out a chair for her. She poked her nose into the bag and inhaled. “It smells great.” She unpacked the food, laying containers in front of him and herself then distributing napkins.
“I figured you couldn’t drink beer on the job,” he said, plucking two sodas from the bag.
“Correct.”
“It seems kinda quiet here,” he said, taking a bite of his burger.
“It is. We only have half a dozen residents. They’ll trickle in mostly in the next two hours.”
“You must get bored out of your mind.”
“I read. Do crossword puzzles. Sometimes, I watch TV.”
“I’ve got a few ideas.” He snickered.
“I bet you do.” She shot him a sexy grin.
“Tiffany get squared away? I hope she wasn’t any trouble.” He wolfed down his fries.
“No trouble at all. Yep. She’s got her room. I hope she takes it easy for a few days, so she can get back on her feet and back to her own life.”
“Me too. That’s key. Back to her own life.”
“Dessert?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Carla made apple pie. I’m not supposed to be eating that stuff, but with practice today, well, I worked out extra hard. So, I figure I can have some.”
Samantha unwrapped the pie and placed a piece in front of the footballer. He was about to take a forkful when a voice stopped him.
“Boy, something sure smells good in here.” Tiffany stood in the doorway.
Bull’s appetite faded. “Just a couple of burgers.”
“Got any left?”
“Nope. I didn’t know you’d be here,” Sly said, staring at his pie.
“You dropped me here, Bull. Where the hell did you think I’d be?”
Sly Bullhorn Brodsky Page 11
