Red Flag (FSCU Pitbulls Book 2)

by Stella Marie Alden

  She moves them aside and nods.

  Knee to knee, I sit close, wondering how much I should tell her. “I can’t fire him. I don’t even dare say boo.”

  Her brows lift and mouth parts. “For heaven’s sake, why not?”

  “He paid off my debt. I think he belongs to a crime syndicate. We got an agreement. When I get drafted, he gets a huge piece of my salary.”

  “Holy shit. Why didn’t you tell me?” She clutches my hands and I hiss out my breath.

  Maybe I still got a chance with her. “I never wanted you to get hurt. That’s the last thing I wanted, darlin’.”

  She releases one hand and caresses my bearded cheek, her gaze so intense it takes my breath away. “So, James wants us to break up?”

  “Yeah. I talked to him. He said he was doing you and me a favor. College romances for NFL players have pretty pathetic statistics.” With all my heart, I will her to believe me.

  Heaving a deep sigh, she takes her hand back. “What are we doing here, Jackson?”

  She isn’t going to make this easy and if I want her, I got to go all in. “I want to start over. Pretend we never met before. Take you on a date. Go old school.”

  “Old school?” Her mouth parts the way it does when she wants a kiss.

  You got this, Jacks. Catch this one and it’s a first down. “Dad wrote me a playbook from when he first met my mom. What do you say? Want to go to the movies?”

  Chapter 20

  Star

  I should say no but when the moon comes out from under a cloud, his face reminds me of a fallen angel. I reach out and touch his forearm and slide my fingers up his bare arm to his neck and cup his soft beard.

  “You’ve let it grow.”

  “You like?”

  “Yeah, it’s soft…” My gaze is held prisoner to his. “But if we do this, things need to be different.”

  “I get that. Say you will.” He holds his breath, lips inches from mine, waiting for me to agree.

  I want to kiss him but a deep pain in my chest lingers. Maybe he’s right. We could start over. Go slow this time.

  “What movie you have in mind?”

  “Godzilla?” The lips I’ve been staring at go up at the corners and his eyes brighten.

  “Sure.” I laugh and the heaviness around my heart lifts.

  “Okay. Tomorrow night good? We can go to the early show?” He glances down at my pile of books.

  “It’s a date.” I gather up my stuff, put it in my knapsack, and when I start to put it over my shoulder, he takes it.

  Then, he holds my hand and walks me home. At my front door, I wait for a kiss but he waves goodbye. “Starting over, remember?”

  I nod, wave back, and once inside, shake my head back and forth. Crime syndicate? I’m not sure if that’s better or worse than gambling. I’m still imagining the worst as I slip into my pajamas.

  Don’t those people kill you if you go against them?

  Someone needs to help Jackson. I toss and turn all night, wondering what I can do and when I dream, it’s of The Godfathers, The Sopranos, and me.

  The next night, he knocks on my door, and hands me one pink chrysanthemum. Holding hands, we walk downtown and talk while we wait for the show to begin. I tell him about my college applications then he shares the complex rules to declare for the draft.

  After the movie, I stand, then yawn. “I really need to go home. I have to get up early and study for a test.”

  “Me too. Say, Saturday is an away game. Are y’all comin’?” We walk past the concession stand and he holds the door open for me.

  “The pep band’s not invited.”

  He frowns. “Can I see you next week?”

  “We’ll see.” I don’t know if I can handle having him break my heart again.

  He pauses on the sidewalk. “Star? Can I ask you something?” His tone matches the seriousness of his gaze.

  “Ah, Okay.”

  “Are you seeing someone else?”

  “Like in dating?” My brows lift. Is he for real?

  “Yeah.”

  “No, Jackson. You kind of broke my heart.” Guys are so clueless.

  He chucks my chin. “I tried to call you. Did you really block me?”

  I nod. “At first I was angry. Then, I was sad you would let James call me a cleat-chaser. Matt and Quest? They sent me over the top.”

  He takes both my hands in his. “I had no idea what they did until they sent me the image. By the time I realized what was going on, it was too late.”

  I sigh. “I’m sorry I lied to Kira and said you were still gambling. That was me, lashing out.”

  His fingers interlace with mine. “You got nothing to apologize for. Me and Ryan. We’re cool. He was mad until I explained. Listen, darlin’, I never had a problem with making bets. I don’t like it and it doesn’t give me any thrills. It was a way to earn a few bucks and I got no compulsions to do it again. I lied to you. At first it was because I was mad you shared my personal shit with Ryan, after, it was a way I could keep seeing you.”

  “Wow.” My ego deflates. “I thought I helped.”

  “You did help and you’re helping me, now. Just not like the way you thought.”

  “Shit. I can’t believe I fell into the trap.”

  Thank you very much, Mom.

  When a cool breeze blows, I pull my sweater closer. He shrugs out of his coat and places it around my shoulders, then grabs my hand.

  “C’mon. It’s getting cold, I’ll walk you home and you can explain.”

  We take a shortcut across the field, wetting my sandaled feet. “Transference. It’s when a therapist or a patient transfers their life’s experience onto someone else. In my case, I have an alcoholic parent so I assumed your behavior was addiction when it was something else. Dammit. I told you I wasn’t ready to be a shrink.”

  He puts his arms around my waist. “I didn’t really need one so it’s all good. Which one has the problem? Mom or dad?”

  “Mom. She’s been in and out of rehab for years.”

  “Your dad?”

  “A psychologist. PhD. He does his best not to enable her but it’s hard for him not to try to fix her which makes her worse.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “You have no idea. What about your family? All normal?” I slip my hand into his back pocket, ready for a subject change.

  “My mom’s a waitress and my dad works for the city. I’m an only child but hell, I got a ton of cousins. I’m closest to Egan because his mom is a nurse and worked nights. He spent a lot of time at our house.”

  “He’s the one who’s diabetic?”

  “Yeah. I can’t quite shake the night I called nine-one-one.” He closes his eyes, pain between his brows. “I’m not sure if he was trying to commit suicide. He has to have known he can’t ration insulin. He’s a smart kid. I think he knew his parents were using up all their savings to buy his medication and was trying to be noble.”

  The campus falls away as we approach the row of cheap brick housing. Jackson shakes his head back in forth.

  “I couldn’t let that happen.”

  “I understand.” Squeezing his behind, I fall a little more in love with this man who takes the world on his shoulders.

  We walk quietly for a while and when we get to my door, I turn, wondering again if he’ll kiss me. We’ve caused each other so much pain. And what about when spring comes? How will I ever be able to say goodbye?

  “Stop.” He tucks an index finger under my chin.

  “What?”

  “Thinking so much. We said we would take this one day at a time. No. Better than that, one moment at a time.”

  “Okaaaay.” My lips part and my gaze goes to his.

  “See you soon.” He leans over and brushes a chaste kiss across my mouth.

  When the door closes, I realize I’m still wearing his Football Jacket.

  “Wait!” I shrug it off and hand it to him. “You’ll need this.”

  Moaning, he pu
lls me into his arm and I kiss him back with all the love I feel. It’s an eternity before we stop, breathing hard.

  “Come in?”

  “Not this time. Slow remember?” With that, he turns and jogs down the street.

  Once inside, I unblock his number but stop myself from texting. My brain may have agreed but the lust pooling between my legs is not on board. In order to sleep, I touch myself, imaging his mouth on me.

  When I wake, the ache to have him near is just as acute but there’s no time to slake the thirst. I have homework, midterms, and a shit load of reading. And, of course, every afternoon, band practice.

  While the horns rehearse a particularly difficult section of music, I watch the guys flip six foot tires across the field. Jackson’s muscles flex as he squats with thighs clenching.

  So engaged with his perfect form, I miss my cue and the conductor blows the whistle. “Percussion? You with me?”

  I shout back, “Sorry, Mr. Miller!”

  Mr. Miller walks to the middle of the group where I stand, sticks poised above my drum, eyes on my music. “Everything okay back here, Star?”

  Standing directly in front of me, Kira snickers while my face heats.

  “Yes, sir. I’m good.”

  “Nice to know.” He taps out the start of the beat to ‘Another one Bites the Dust’.

  The tubas and trombones start their solo, taking the part of the bass guitar. We marching drums join in next, followed by the rest of the band. The footwork is complicated so all thoughts of my hottie on the other side of the field is banished, for now.

  When we stop, Jackson has his tire flipped to a few feet away from where I stand. Grunting, he sits on his heels, and flips it over. As it flops to the ground, he turns his head, catches my gaze, and grins.

  Then, he’s back at it and so am I.

  The week drags on slowly, every sight on him pure torture but I don’t text or call. I’m not a cleat chaser and am going to prove it if it kills me.

  The night of our next date, he texts me.

  Pick you up at 9:00?

  He shows up at my door in tight black jeans, tight t-shirt, and team jacket. His dark beard is shorter again, trimmed tight against those amazing lips that smile when he sees me waiting outside my door.

  “You look amazing.” He eyes me from my fluffy coat, down my leggings, to my foolish four inch heels.

  Then, he brushes his beard across my cheek, takes my hand, and opens the borrowed car door.

  I slide in, well aware of his heated look as I buckle up.

  When his hand reaches for the stick shift, I cover it with mine, then say, “I've missed you.”

  His gaze travels from my pink nails to my lips, and up to where I’m actually panting for him. I don’t want to go slow anymore. I want hard and fast. I want to feel his heat between my legs, have him moaning out my name.

  Starting over was a very bad idea.

  His brows crease. “Star… Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I need to prove to you I can live up to my promises.”

  “Even if I don’t want you to?”

  “Especially.” He puts the car into gear and eases the car away from the curb. For the rest of the evening, he’s a total gentleman.

  At my door, I’ve had quite enough. I grab him behind the neck and pull him into a searing kiss. My pelvis grinds against his arousal and we torture each other for way too long before pulling away.

  His eyes close and brows furrow in pain. “Goodnight, l’il darlin’.”

  “Won’t you stay?” I curse myself for sounding so needy.

  “Not until I’m sure you won’t get hurt.” Without any more explanation than that, he smiles and steps away as I watch him get into the car.

  He rolls down the window. “Can I text you now?”

  I nod, speechless from my unquenched thirst.

  “Excellent.” He hops into the car and burns rubber as tires squeal.

  Chapter 21

  Jackson

  Fucking Shit.

  If Star keeps kissing me like that, I may have to live in an ice bath for the next few months. No matter what, I’m not fucking this up. The only advantage to not seeing her so often is I can keep our relationship quiet.

  James Shannon is still in the dark.

  It’s damn hard to walk the fine line formerly known as my life but I can.

  I must.

  It’s late and I lost a couple hours of practice by taking her out. So, after parking Quest’s car in the lot, I trot back to the fieldhouse and use the key I stole from the janitor’s hook to get in the back door. From there I duck under the pipes of the boiler room, past the doctor’s office, and into the locker room where I’ve stashed my sneakers and sweats.

  A few seconds later, I’m running laps on the track behind the football field. When I reach my stride, my brain wanders.

  Will Star wait for me? Sure, we got passion but what about family, marriage? She has four more years of school but I want her in my bed, now. She should stand by my side as I start my career. Hell, I love diving into her sweet folds but even more, I like talking to her.

  I never talked to any of my other girlfriends, not even Janet. We fucked. I thought that was love. Looking back, now that I have Star, those relationships were shallow, pale. It’s like comparing the depth of the oceans to the campus pool. You can swim in both but one is so immense, you could get lost without even thinking about it.

  Am I? Lost?

  I take another lap around the track. Fuck if I know. I just want her so bad it hurts every goddamned second I’m not with her. I’d toss a hundred tractor tires to the other side of the field to see her smile.

  Thinking too much, I increase my speed until my brain cells are consumed with breathing and footfalls. About thirty minutes later, I stop and squat with my hands on my knees. I wave at campus security who’ve finally stopped harassing me about my late night practicing. Everyone’s jobs at the college depends on the football team’s winning streaks.

  After me and Ryan leave, Russ, Quest and Matt will need to lead the way.

  Exhausted, I jump the fence, and head back to the dorm.

  In the morning, I wake with an awesome idea.

  Me: Halloween Party? Student Union?

  At lunch, I check my phone when it pings.

  Star: Can’t. No time 4 costume

  Shit. I was thinking it would be the perfect way we could get together without actually being seen. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but it feels like James has spies everywhere.

  Me: All U need is a mask

  Star: K, fine.

  Me: Pick U up?

  Star: Find me

  Well, well, well. This could be interesting. For the next week, my active imagination goes wild. Dirty nurse? Wonder woman? Sexy schoolgirl?

  By Halloween night, my cock’s pressing against my jeans, filled with erotic images of Star.

  Me and all the guys go stag, except Ryan, who’s trying to stay clear of Kira. I guess they’re off again and I feel real bad for him.

  Women troubles cut deep.

  “Call her.” I offer my lame advice as if I’m some kind of fucking genius.

  “No can do. We’re through.” Lying on his back, Ryan tosses a football in the air.

  “It’s not too late, dude, I mean, if she’s important to you. I never knew you to be quitter.”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. This is me, minding my own business.” I back out of his room and join the rest of the team in our dorm’s lobby.

  We got two drag queens, three zombies, a pirate, and a vampire. I borrowed a chauffeur’s costume, a driver’s hat, and got a cheap plastic green mask.

  Quest grins out of his mouth, dripping with vampire blood. “Who’re you supposed to be?

  “I’m the green hornet’s sidekick, Kato.”

  He chuckles. “Awesome. Bruce Lee, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  We wander over to the Student Uni
on, show our ID’s and get bracelets to prove we can order drinks. At the keg, I search the whole place for Star’s pink hair but no go.

  Maybe she changed her mind?

  For almost an hour, I wander the party, studying all the pretty forms, looking for hers. Some guy shuffles alongside me, in a gray beard, thick glasses, pretending to smoke a pipe.

  Finally, I tire of his shadow. “Who are you?”

  He shrugs.

  The laughing brown eyes look familiar under the matted wig and bushy old brows. Someone did a damn good job of his makeup.

  “Listen, I, ah. I’m looking for my girl, so could you get lost? Please?”

  At the giggle, I almost piss myself. “Star? Is that you?”

  She bursts into hysterics and I have to join her because her joke was amazing. She must’ve gotten brown contact lenses. Her huge suit hid her beautiful curves and the gray hair? Just fucking incredible.

  We clink beers. “Sigmund Freund, I presume?”

  “Yah, yah.” She answers with a German accent.

  “Und you must be zat Kato person, yah?” She points the end of her pipe at me.

  I chuckle. All week I have pictured naughty nurses, sexy French maids, and a whole assortment of other costumes that should not be named. “You really got me. I thought you said you didn’t have a costume?”

  “Maybe I lied… a little.”

  I take her hand and lead her outside because it’s too loud to talk over the Monster Mash mix. On the way, I put our cups under the keg while someone checks our bracelets.

  Out in the fresh air, a warm breeze blows from the south. We sit at one of the picnic tables and for the first time in weeks, I feel safe from prying eyes. I swear James has someone following me but every time I check, the guy disappears.

  “Star, darlin’. Can we talk about something important for a minute?”

  She nods, foolish gray beard dancing at her chest.

  Snickering, I pull it down so I can kiss her then I take a deep breath. “The season is heating up. We aren’t going to have much time to see each other.”