Contender: An Everyday Heroes World Book (The Everyday Heroes World)

by Tiffani Lynn

  Contender

  An Everyday Heroes World Novel

  Tiffani Lynn

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  © 2021 JKB PUBLISHING, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC.

  Cover Design by: Wicked Smart Designs

  Editing by: Twin Tweaks Editing

  Published in the United States of America

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Keegan

  2. Collins

  3. Keegan

  4. Collins

  5. Keegan

  6. Collins

  7. Keegan

  8. Collins

  9. Keegan

  10. Collins

  11. Keegan

  12. Collins

  13. Keegan

  14. Collins

  15. Keegan

  16. Collins

  17. Keegan

  18. Collins

  19. Keegan

  Also by Tiffani Lynn

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also Written by K. Bromberg

  Introduction

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the Everyday Heroes World!

  I’m so excited you’ve picked up this book! Contender is a book based on the world I created in my USA Today bestselling Everyday Heroes Series. While I may be finished writing this series (for now), various authors have signed on to keep them going. They will be bringing you all-new stories in the world you know while allowing you to revisit the characters you love.

  This book is entirely the work of the author who wrote it. While I allowed them to use the world I created and may have assisted in some of the plotting, I took no part in the writing or editing of the story. All praise can be directed their way.

  I truly hope you enjoy Contender! If you’re interested in finding more authors who have written in the KB Worlds, you can visit www.kbworlds.com.

  Thank you for supporting the writers in this project and me.

  Happy Reading,

  K. Bromberg

  For Teddy,

  The only contender worthy of my heart.

  One

  Keegan

  The house is far too quiet and my gut clenches as I turn the handle on the front door after unlocking it. “Lou!” I shout, praying he responds. Maybe he’s in the bathroom or something. My hands grow clammy and I wipe them on my sweatpants and flex them twice to try and relax. “Lou!” I yell for him again and still no answer. A chill slides down my spine. “Lou! Come on, old man. Don’t play games with me today. We’re already late for training and you know I have a lot of work to do.” He’s always telling me there’s more work to do. He likes to bust my chops.

  The silence is killing me. Usually when I arrive in the morning, the television is blaring SportsCenter, because the old man can’t hear very well anymore, while the scent of bacon and eggs hangs in the air. I swear the man doesn’t eat anything but bacon and eggs, ever. “Lou,” I call, not quite as loud as before, more to have something to do as I fight against what I know I’m going to find. There’s no other explanation. Lou has lived his life the exact same way every day for at least the last fifteen years. He never varies his routine, except on fight days, and even then, it’s all the same until about three o’clock in the afternoon. It’s seven in the morning now.

  I pass through his small living room and pause at the doorway of his bedroom. There is Lou, lying on his back under the covers, still and peaceful. His covers aren’t mussed, almost as if he crawled into bed an hour ago and didn’t move around even a little. Without even checking, I know he’s gone. My chest tightens and my breath grows shallow. All the lines of his old, dark skin are smooth, making him appear twenty years younger. I swallow the huge lump that’s formed in my throat and move closer to the bed. On the nightstand, right next to him, is a picture of us together after I won my first fight. I was fourteen, gangly, and goofy looking. Our smiles light up the whole picture and I can still remember the feeling of making Lou proud that day. It’s a feeling I worked for every day from then on to keep.

  “Lou, I’m not ready for this. Time to wake up,” I choke out as I reach for his hand. His skin is cold and hard and I don’t even have to check for a pulse. I sit on the edge of the bed and allow the memories to flow through my brain like a river.

  The first time I met the old man, his face was twisted in rage and I thought he was going to snap me in half like a twig. The first day I went to work for him to make up for my trouble, he watched me like a hawk with those dark eyes of his. The first time he put my inexperienced ass in the ring to train me and the warmth that filled my chest when I heard the hope in his voice as I followed his commands. The many long days we spent training and the many nights we hung out and ate dinner together at his little kitchen table.

  Lou whipped my ass into shape, took care of me and taught me valuable lessons.

  I’d be in jail or dead by now if it weren’t for him. He’s also the only person who has ever truly loved me. The loss of that is something I can’t even comprehend in this moment. So many people I know take their parents for granted, having always had their love and support, but I never have with him because I never had that unconditional supportive love until I met Lou. I’ve appreciated every second and tried to make sure he knew. How the hell am I supposed to go on without him? My life as I’ve known it has just slipped into oblivion along with Lou’s soul.

  I sit with Lou’s body for over an hour, trying to comprehend a life without him before I call nonemergency 911.

  Three weeks later…

  My fight was two nights ago and my body is sore all over. It always is, following a good fight, but my heart still hurts way worse. Fighting without Lou in my corner was a torture all by itself. My heart wasn’t in it and it took eight rounds for me to knock my opponent out, which is not the usual for me.

  Now I’m seated in front of Frances—our attorney—as she reads Lou’s will. I haven’t slept well since he died, so my brain is a little foggy, but I’m certain she just said that Lou left everything to me, including the gym. Not only that, but his savings account has over a million dollars in it. With the modest way Lou lived, you’d never know it.

  “Frances, did I hear you right?” I ask as I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees.

  Her face gentles as she looks up from the paper to see my perplexed expression. “Yes, you did. Lou was a saver. After his brother died in that car accident, the settlement went to Lou. He said he didn’t have any use for it since the gym paid for itself and the few needs in life.”

  My body shakes with quiet laughter. He lived in a small one-bedroom house that he kept neat with a well-worn recliner that he said fit his body perfectly after all these years. He drove a 1984 El Camino that he cherished. When I moved in with him, he bought a new couch with a hideaway bed for me to sleep on, but other than that, he never bought anything new. He was
content with what he had in life.

  In fact, one of the many lectures he sat me down for came once the big money started rolling in for my fights. “Now, boy, don’t go pissing me off by buying fancy sports cars and mansions and shit. Buy only what you need and save the rest. The only things those high-dollar items are gonna bring you are fake friends, crazy broads and hefty bills. Surround yourself with genuine and that’s what you’ll attract.” At the time, I was kind of pissed because I was young, never had much and was ready for a spending spree. For some reason though, I listened to the old man. It didn’t take long before all the hangers-on disappeared when they realized I wasn’t going to have expensive parties and blow money like it was going out of style.

  Now that I think about it, that stash of money Lou kept in the bank is probably also why he never accepted a dime from me for sleeping on his couch or eating his food. I bought him a television once, thinking he would enjoy it but couldn’t afford a nice one. He blew his stack at me, so I never again bought him anything more than a new T-shirt or frying pan for his eggs and bacon.

  Frances clears her throat to pull me back into the moment, and my eyes meet hers. “So you mentioned that there’s more?” I ask, wondering how there could be more. What the hell am I going to do with that kind of money? I already have my own.

  “Not more money, just more words. You ready?” I nod, because if there is one thing I still want more of, it’s whatever Lou has to say.

  Frances continues, “And I quote, ‘Boy, don’t go spending this money on crap. I saved it because I want you to do something good with it. You were born to be a great man, not just a great fighter; you’re already that. But you were born to be the kind of man who changes things. I’m not going to tell you how to do it. That’s up to you. I’m just telling you to take this money and figure out a way to make a difference to someone else. See in someone else what I saw in you and help them become more than they are. I didn’t say it much, well, hardly at all, but know that I love you. The day you took my name was the proudest day of my life. You grew up good and strong and I’m real proud.’” She sets the paper down and folds her hands together.

  With a flick of my fingers, I push away the tears that are silently running down my face and clear my throat. “Can I get a copy of that?”

  Frances swallows hard and nods. “Of course. It’s going to take some time for this all to go through, but I’ll call you when I need you to sign the paperwork.”

  There are so many memories and emotions running through me that I know I need to get out of here. “Thanks for everything. I need to get going. You have my number. Just call me when you’re ready.”

  I stand and stride out of the room before she sees that I’m unable to stop the tears. When I reach the parking lot, I straddle my Harley, kick the stand up and pull away from the building having no idea how long I’m going to ride. I just need time to breathe, think and process a world without Lou.

  Two

  Collins

  The one thing about being a police officer in a smaller town is that there isn’t a lot of crime. Well, at least not like I’m used to. Until six months ago, I was a cop in Colorado Springs, Colorado, and there was never a slow or dull day. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen from one day to the next and I liked the variety of it, but when my mom died, and my dad and brother were left to fend for themselves, I decided it was time for me to move back to Sunnyville and slow things down. That wasn’t exactly how things went down, but it’s the easiest version of that story to tell.

  As I’m finishing an arrest report, I hear my brother’s loud, monotone voice as he’s coming through the station, and I smile. Most of the guys in the department have known my brother most of his life and are good to him, so I give him a minute to make his way to me. He enjoys male camaraderie and I love to see him happy.

  When I glance up, I notice Grant Malone, one of the best-looking cops on the force, come out of his office and do some complicated handshake with Sam—that’s his thing—ending with a pat on the back. They laugh and talk a minute before Grant excuses himself and Sam continues making his way to me with his ear-to-ear grin firmly in place. Sam was born with Down’s syndrome and I swear the guy had never known an unhappy day in his life until my mom died. From the moment he learned to smile, he has, and it always brings joy to those around him. My favorite is the way his skin crinkles around his almond-shaped eyes.

  “Hi, Sis!” He and I exchange our own special handshake before he hugs me tight.

  When we pull away, I muss his straight brown hair. “You need a haircut.”

  “That’s not until next week. My haircut is on the first Thursday of the month. Are you and Wade ready for lunch? I’m going to have a BLT with no mayo today.” Wade is my partner and the other member of our lunch party on Wednesdays.

  I giggle a little. “Sam, you eat the same thing every Wednesday. Don’t you want to try something different today?”

  He stops walking and gives me a look that says, “Don’t be stupid, Sis.” I smile and keep walking. We have the same conversation every time we have lunch together. It’s my way of being the annoying sister because I know that Sam is the most consistent human being who ever lived. You can set your clock and calendar by the things he does. Everything from when he wakes up to what he eats on which days, to where he goes and when he goes to bed. It would drive me crazy if it wasn’t so comforting to know that some things never change.

  After our lunch, Sam turns right and walks the few blocks toward the house he shares with my dad. Wade and I go left toward the office, and as we are passing through the door, Detective Stetson is passing us. Of course, he has something to say just loud enough for me to hear. “She’d be good for a one-night stand but putting up with the retard keeps me from going there long-term.”

  “What an asshole,” I mumble under my breath. I may have known these people all my life, but I’m trying to be professional and my boss doesn’t like drama. Over the years, I’ve heard everything and put up with a lot of sexual harassment. My parents taught me early on to have thick skin and it’s served me well, but there is no faster way to piss me off than messing with my brother.

  Before I even have the chance to think more about it, Wade turns around. “Hey, Stetson! Sexual harassment won’t look good on your record.”

  Oh, crap. Detective Stetson is a hothead and a sneaky son of a bitch. Everyone in this town knows he and his father caused trouble for Chief Malone and his son Grant and we’re all just waiting with bated breath for him to get caught being the asshole he usually is when the brass have their heads turned. I don’t think any of us can forgive him for forcing Chief Malone’s retirement. It’s probably why we all still call him Chief Malone.

  “Fuck you, Wade.” He and his partner laugh and walk away.

  Wade turns to me. “Sutton, you don’t have to put up with that shit. Why don’t you tell the chief how he treats you?”

  “Because he’s proven he can slip out of any mess, and then I’ll be left looking like an idiot. I need this job, so I won’t rock the boat. I can ignore him as long as he keeps his slimy hands to himself.”

  “You shouldn’t have to ignore him. It’s bullshit. If I knew that Rayann had to put up with that kind of crap, I’d go apeshit on someone.”

  “Your wife is a lucky lady, but I can take care of myself. Don’t worry. Thanks though. You’re a good guy, Wade.”

  A few hours later, I’m walking through the door of the house I grew up in. Garlic and spaghetti sauce permeate the air. It’s Sam’s favorite meal and the only one he can cook. I come over every week on Wednesday for Sam’s special spaghetti dinner. My father is sitting in his worn-out tan recliner with his feet up, facing the television while the evening news tells its tale of woe.

  “Hey, Sis!” Sam greets me as he sets the spoon on the counter, ready to do our handshake. Once we’re done, I move through the kitchen to where my father is seated.

  “Hey, Sis,” he says with affection and a so
ft smile. For some reason, both my parents started calling me Sis when Sam began talking, and never stopped. I should probably think it’s weird but instead remind myself that word is wrapped in love and family history. Framed pictures of my family hang on the faded butter yellow wall behind my father’s chair. I scan them as I always do, looking for my mom’s red hair and familiar smile before I lean down and press my lips to the bald part of his head.

  “Hey, Dad. How’s your day been?”

  He smiles softly beneath his fluffy white beard and his sad eyes meet mine. “Quiet as Wednesday’s go. Sam was out most of the day and I was in the shop. Mrs. Mercer brought me her old clock radio to fix. It would’ve been cheaper and easier to buy a new clock, but she said she knows how to work this one so it’s worth it to her.” We both chuckle because we know she’s set in her ways.

  Dad only works part-time doing appliance repair since Mom died. Her life insurance was enough that he could cut his hours back to be with Sam more. He could have fully retired but he enjoys working and needs something to keep him busy besides Sam.

  “What can I do to help, little brother?” I tease, because I know he hates being called “little brother” and doesn’t want any help.

  “Sis!” he grumbles as a warning, and I giggle and prop myself up on a stool across the counter from where he’s cooking.