by Andrea Rose
THE HARDEST YARDS
Andrea Rose
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Bonus 1: Broken Anarchy
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Bonus 2: Hell’s Horsemen
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Bonus 3: PROTECT AND SERVE
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Bonus 4: Saved by the Bad Boy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Want More?
1
“Who am I?” I ordered. “Say it again.”
“A king, baby. A fucking king.”
I crooked my thumb between this feverish thing’s lips, enjoying hearing my name coming from her mouth..
“Cum for me, slut,” I commanded.
Mistress Juniper wrapped her legs tighter around my waist, back arching in a stolen gasp.
She curled upward then collapsed back to bed, wiping pretend sweat from her brow and writhing in the sheets.
“That’s how I would fuck you,” I said, smiling down at her. “Can I go now?”
“Why don’t we do it for real, just this once? Lorna tells me she hasn’t been the same since your younger days.”
“I’ll stop you there,” I said in warning.
I rolled to the side of the four-poster bed. A robed Mistress Juniper traced her fingertip over my tattoos but I shrugged her off.
“You can stop pretending now,” I said and rolled down the sleeves of my shirt. “We’re off the hour.”
Juniper’s smile dissolved.
“Whatever. Thank you for humoring me,” she said and went to the sink in the corner to wash her face. “Showing me what it might feel like to fuck the king instead of being your cheap entertainment every fucking week.”
“You’re welcome,” I said, choosing to ignore her tone. “The king’s always willing to put on a show for the right girl.”
She shrugged in the mirror at me. “I’m not going to stop trying to get the real deal. If Lorna could seduce you, I damn sure can.”
“I’m not some horny kid anymore, June. I grew up.”
“Really?”
She made a sorry smile at me when I nudged her aside to get my sweater.
“Why, Tyler?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“You can stop hiding. Why don’t you just tell the world the truth about why you kept visiting here?”
I leaned against the doorframe and rubbed my lip.
“Kept visiting?”
I knew what she meant. Truth was I’d never tell anyone why I came to the Brommer House. This upscale bordello in NYC was the only place I could lock out the rest of the world. My Brommer girls knew how to keep their mouths shut.
The mattress squeaked and Juniper’s head hit the pillow. “…Keep visiting here every week,” she corrected.
“Those assholes deserve nothing but tight lips.”
“True. But you deserve to live a life where you don’t pay an escort nine hundred an hour to watch netflix. Just tell the public you can’t get it up anymore. Be a spokesperson for it or some shit.”
“Shut it.”
Juniper let out a large sigh and looked at me. “You could have any girl in this city. Some good girl who’ll understand you… Isn’t that what everyone wants?”
“I had it. Didn’t suit me, a’right?”
“Obviously you didn’t have it because you’re still sad and alone.”
I swung open the door. A gust of stale, cigarette-stained air hit my face from the corridor.
“You wanna be this bored forever?” she asked.
“I don’t pay you to ask questions.”
Once upon a time I used to have real fun. I was the most famous twenty year old in the nation and the world was kissing at my feet. I spent two years living neck deep in pussy and then everything changed. One day I bring a girl home and find my dick is broken.
I kept paying these Brommer girls to pretend they cared about me the same way women used to when I could please them.
Staying by what I knew was easier.
Especially now, when I didn’t know who to trust.
The media built an image made of what they thought they knew about Tyler King and his bad behavior.
It was pure bullshit. But why fi
ght it?
Through a whisper, Juniper begged me, “Don’t leave yet.”
“Duty calls,” I said grabbing my phone off the bedside table.
Gavin Spiros, my manager, had texted to tell me he’d found my locale. I don’t know how the fuck he did it and I sure as hell don’t have time to figure it out.
“You look pale,” Juniper said, brushing fingertips across my hand.
I snatched it back and stumbled forward. “How much cognac did you put in those drinks?”
She checked her watch and pouted. “Not enough, obviously, because you’re still not in my bed. W—Want another before you leave?”
“It’ll take more than liquor to do that, Junie. Besides, I have to actually show up at the stadium tomorrow.”
I flicked away the message from Gavin. An old text message lingered in my inbox:
‘I’m beyond disappointed. Be a leader again or I’ll find someone who can be.’
Wesley Brown, the Lightning’s head coach, thought he’d chime in with another opinion I didn’t ask for.
I’d ditched this morning’s practice…
Slide. Delete.
…So what?
Wes took today, three days from game day, as a chance to grill the star quarterback about his head not being in it? He thinks I’d let my lifestyle jumble my priorities?
Maybe Wesley had a point…
But he wanted a champion on the field, and I gave him that. I was quarterback for The Lightning, New York’s national team. I’d lifted the whole damn team from the ashes. We dominated another season thanks to my leadership. We were on track for the Super Bowl and I had zero intention of risking that. My personal life wasn’t going to fuck up my time on the field. I’d made sure of that.
I’d distanced myself from everyone and everything—Separating those who cared about the real Tyler from those who cared about Tyler King, Incorporated became impossible on my own. Every relationship in my life came with releases, conditions, clauses, terms…
Juniper got a kiss on the hand.
“Here,” I said, placing five crisp hundred dollar bills on the bed.
“I said I don’t want it.”
“Take something, for fuck’s sake. Time is money. You need a good head for business if you wanna survive this city.”
I headed toward the door.
“Wait, Tyler…” I turned. “You can’t leave yet.”
“I’ll be back next week, babe. I’ll see ya.”
“Tyler!” Juniper shouted down the stairwell.
I stalled and waited for an answer. “What?”
“You have to wait there. Y—You forgot something in the room. I think…Wait there, I’ll go get it…”
I waved up at her. “I’ll pick it up next time. I gotta go.”
“Tyler, wait, please.” Something had her edge. Half of me felt a need to stay with her. What if this was her way of asking for my protection? Maybe her pimp was on his way, or some gangbanger client who could do her harm.
She followed after me but—
“No!” I said and shook her from my arm. I couldn’t stay.
Gavin and my team had found me, which meant the press could too.
Eyes closed, I threw my hoodie over my head, sunglasses hiding my face.
Outside on the stoop I studied my surroundings:
To my right was uptown. A huddle of Orthodox Jews stood at the corner and a few men turned down an alleyway.
To the left, a familiar voice ranted away on her in-ear bluetooth.
Jacquie… My bland PR girl.
The absolutely last person I wanted to see.
She leaned against my Escalade a bit further down the road. I’d left it in my building’s basement this morning to try and throw off the tabloid reporters that were always chasing me around looking for a story.
Why the hell did she bring it here?
She didn’t see me shoo her off when I turned right. The distant clicking of high heels followed behind me a second later.
“Tyler?” Jacquie snatched her nails into my shoulder and spun me to her.
“Shocked you actually caught me here?”
She backed away and pressed her fingertip to her ear. “Tyler, I need you to get back inside. Th—There’s some photographers hiding out waiting for us. You can’t leave yet.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “You baited them with my car.”
“I baited them?” she huffed and stomped her stiletto. “You shouldn’t be here in the first place. Get back inside before they have a field day with you.”
“Quit pretending like you give a shit. I’m waiting ten more minutes inside then I’m out.”
Juniper let me back inside.
“Told you you couldn’t leave yet,” she said.
“What’d I forget?” I asked June.
Someone tugged hard on the back of my collar, enough to choke me.
A group of men near my size slapped to clutch my wrists. I struggled, jolting violently to tear free but they threw my head in a pillow case.
“What the fuck! Gnnarh! Juniper! Jacquie!”
Unable to see or get loose, my feet dropped and dragged beneath me down a hallway and a flight of stairs.
Thud…thud…thud…thud…
Crack!
Something hard and fast—wow, definitely a fist—made contact with my temple.
Punch after punch into my ribs.
I curled forward, gasping for air through the hood’s fabric, and grew dizzy fast.
More knuckles against my cheek.
“Get him on the floor!”
My arms threw up in self-defense. I was blinded by the cloth, throwing jabs at shadows.
A t-shirt!
I tugged inward and cracked the wearer with a left hook.
“Whoa there, Mr. King,” one said.
Two of them held my arms at the brink of snapping. I grunted, knowing I had to conserve my energy to get outta this jam.
“What do you want from me? You think I’d carry a wallet here?”
Clunk! My teeth rattled. Something metallic cracked my cheekbone— A gun? Knuckle-dusters?
My knees buckled from under me at the force of the blow.
I rag-dolled to the floor, tasting blood.
If I knew one thing about head injuries, it was don’t sleep if you get one. I felt tired. Blood beat dull and fast in my ears, eyes thumped in the sockets.
“Stand up, Mr. King,” the voice ordered.
I held my hands up and did as they said. Another pistol whip sent me straight back down to the floor.
“Who in this place is good enough for Tyler King to risk his career for?”
I feared for the girls right now. “Are you trying to enjoy my sloppy seconds?” I croaked to lighten the mood.
Someone yanked my head back and waterboarded the pillowcase with a dousing of beer. I choked, wheezed and gasped as it leaked through the cloth, down my sinuses and throat.
“Got a death-wish, pretty boy?”
I swallowed the booze. “Fuck you.”
He didn’t know I had nothing left to lose.
I broke from the floor, snatched the damp cloth from my head and noted the attackers features.
“Aw shit!” Two of them stumbled to stand outside the room. They knew I’d seen them. Two others pulled balaclavas over tattooed faces and stayed for the fun.
In a leather glove, the gangster help up a gun. His other hand held an empty beer bottle.
“This bullet is going into your head, your leg or that famous dick o’ yours. Stand still, you might get lucky.”
I thought about Juniper upstairs. I hadn’t heard screams but that didn’t mean they were OK. The girls had no chance without me.
My fists balled, stomach tightened, ass clenched. It was time to make a play.
I faked a step left, making Balaclava One panic and shoot as I lunged right. A burst of dry-wall drifted through the air.
Two more drill runs that’ve made Coach proud, I’d disarmed the punk and
twisted his arm enough that a crack resonated around the room with his screams. I dropped him to the floor.
“Do somethin’, Leroy. Shoot this asshole.”
“Don’t fucking move,” I said turning Leroy’s weapon on them.
Bang!…
Bullet broke skin, the front then the back….
My victorious snarl fell to stifled breath…
Leroy had another gun…
A gun he’d just fired through my gut.
A searing pain spread from the wound near my hip.
I stumbled back, catching sight of Leroy and the holster strapped down by his ankle. I squeezed the trigger, bullet after bullet missing my target as these assholes scrambled up the stairs.
I dropped the gun, the metal clattering against the hard floor.
Heavy, hurried footsteps…
Cool blood trickled down my face…
Warm blood pooled under my hoodie.
Racing with some kind of foggy adrenaline, I found strength to climb upstairs and stumble down the hallway.
I wiped blood from my face, noticing my sticky hands were covered from the bullet hole weeping crimson down the front.
Gavin wouldn’t be happy about this…
In the winter sun, Jacquie waited against my Escalade.
My collapsing head knocked against the railing beside me sending a resounding ting! down the road.
The world flipped upside-down.
I fought the increasingly overwhelming urge to rest.
My eyelids went heavy.
Moments before dying, I watched Jacquie as she helped Gavin out of my Escalade.
Didn’t know he’d be here.
He saw me lying there but took the time brushing particles from his immaculate coat. Those payroll jockeys and their ulterior motives.
Jacquie wasn’t moving any faster…two-faced bitch.
I bled out alone on the stoop of that whorehouse until the Orthodox Jews at the corner came to my aid.
My hand reached toward a calm-looking Juniper who appeared behind the glass door beside me. She mouthed ‘Sorry’ and turned three deadbolt locks.
I threw her a peace sign the way she does in her pics she sent me.
Gavin finally fell at my side and I reached out to smudge my bloodied hand on his immaculate shoulder then brushed it along Jacquie’s neck.
I was just happy to fuck up his coat. Good luck getting the blood out.
After one last pitiful chuckle at the world Tyler King was ready to die smiling.
2
I’d been in such a rush to make it to this morning’s meeting, I’d forgotten a parka and umbrella. Kelly ‘KK’ Kristoff, my best friend, ran towards me with a newspaper over her head and a smile bright enough to ease the weather.