Karma (Endgame Series Book 3)

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  Copyright © 2016 by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the author, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the email address below.

  lalunsfordauthor@gmail.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Samantha Wiley

  Cover Design by Sassy Queens of Design

  Photography by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Models Debbie Schemansky & Travis Bendall

  Dedication . . .

  Still . . . each and every time . . . John and Evan.

  My loves.

  My constants.

  My strengths.

  My insanity.

  Table of Contents

  When We Met

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty~One

  Chapter Twenty~Two

  Chapter Twenty~Three

  Chapter Twenty~Four

  Chapter Twenty~Five

  Chapter Twenty~Six

  Chapter Twenty~Seven

  Chapter Twenty~Eight

  Chapter Twenty~Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  ~life with him was an adventure. But sometimes, an adventure just has to end for a new one to begin.

  Kelsea Ballerini ~ Peter Pan

  And then I knew . . .

  Promoter of school my ass.

  Player of pussy is a better description of who I am.

  Yet, I’m here at this orientation for upcoming freshman— when I’m a freshman myself. Ironic.

  Coach Gill didn’t give me an option. He said it shows school diplomacy. I’m a legend in baseball, therefore it’s my civic duty to show some fresh meat the campus and what it has to offer.

  I know what I offer, and I don’t have to give a campus tour to deliver.

  “Oh my God. That’s Mason Adler,” I hear them whisper.

  “He’s the pitcher,” another female chimes.

  “I heard he’s a God in bed.” Or the couch. Floor. Wall. I’ve been known to rock a few worlds in a bathroom if that’s all that was available. I don’t think I’ll be listing my attributes to these girls . . . they scream clingy.

  The faculty advisor clears his throat and rattles some humdrum shit, dividing the group and assigning them tour guides. Thank God the level-five clingers are with some dud from the football team. He can sack ‘em.

  I fight a yawn and wonder how I can fake this duty. Show them some frat houses, the cafeteria, random buildings. Shit. They’ll need to see the library. I don’t have a clue where it is. I’m lucky I don’t have to study. I don’t slack with my schoolwork— I am majoring in journalism but assignments come easy for me. Besides, I have a nice quiet house where I can study if I need to.

  I turn to let my group know we’ll start the leg of this tour at Greek Row, and I’m punched in the gut by eyes that shoot a tingle from my toes to my scalp— via my dick. I’ve never seen eyes like this— purplish, green, blue. They hold my attention for a moment before I peruse the rest of her. Long blonde hair, tiny frame, beautiful smile, and legs for miles. Her attitude is ambivalent— but I do see her scrutinize my ink, which is usually covered up by my uniform. Coach is strict and doesn’t want it to be a distraction on the field— anywhere else I show it off.

  “I’m Mason,” I announce to the new students, my gaze refusing to leave hers. I hear some greetings called back, but nothing from the seductress in front of me. I need to know her name. I dip my head down, encouraging her to share, and she just smirks at me . . . as she rolls her eyes.

  Her hip cocks to one side, pulling the tiny shorts she’s wearing up a fraction, and I’m salivating like a kid in a candy store. She looks to where my line of vision has honed and makes no move to pull those offensive shorts down. Instead, she raises her head, boring a hole in my forehead with her stare, and waits until my head lifts.

  As I do another slow sweep of her body, I stop at her face. She doesn’t appear to be offended with my obvious ogling— she’s amused. “See somethin’ you like?” Her fucking voice; the drawl and twang has me imagining what it’d be like screaming my name. I can’t get a clear picture and a visceral need comes over me. I need to hear it— in real time. Surround sound. Echoing off my walls.

  “I do.” I smile at her and get no response. Damn, she’s an ego buster. I’ve never had to work for pussy in my life, but she’s making me want to be a day laborer in one hundred and twenty degree weather— I know it’d be worth it. “You have a name?”

  “I do.” She looks at the other students. “But I think you’re holding up our tour— how else are we supposed to fall in love with the possibility of higher education?” She wants to play— little does she know I’m the master of the game.

  “Sure thing, doll.” Calling her that seems natural. Her absolute beauty is refreshing and reminds me of the breakable dolls Lee Lee and Avery had growing up. Fragile, yet sturdy. Their faces painted to perfection but not scary. My mom used to call them exquisite, and this girl in front of me— she is the very definition of the word.

  I show them every place I know, field questions fired at me regarding baseball, my dating life, my stats, again my sex life— the entire time this girl doesn’t seem fazed by my clout on campus. We end up back at the administration building, and I don’t want it to be over.

  She picks up a packet being given to new students, but as she passes me, she pauses. “Brecklynn.” Her voice is like silk with a heavy accent draping amid us.

  “Brecklynn,” I let her name roll off my tongue, liking the feel of it. “Do you have a last name?” I step closer. “A phone number?” I’ve crowded her space, and I hold my position.

  She doesn’t back up. Doesn’t flutter or hesitate . . . she doesn’t fly in a tizzy like the others. “Just Brecklynn for now.” She steps back and turns. Looking back to me, “But I’ll see you in a few months.”

  Holy shit. “You for sure coming here?” I hope I don’t sound over-eager.

  “It was a done deal before meeting you, don’t get excited. My brother and his girlfriend are here.” I watch her take a few steps.

  “You here for the weekend?” I sound like a tool, but I chase after her.

  “A few days. I’m here for my Spring Break.” She stops walking so we’re facing each other, blocking the sidewalk.

  “Can I see you while you’re here?” I’m desperate. This is bullshit. This isn’t me.

  I see a light flash in her eyes as her lips pull into a blinding smile. She leans close, places a hand against my chest, and rises to her tiptoes until her lips are at my ear. “In your dreams.” She gives
me a shove and bounces down the sidewalk leaving me staring at her ass.

  Brecklynn hasn’t seen the last of me. I’ll get what I want, and she’ll be left with the dreams. Crushed ones.

  Deacon and Saylor are sadists. Just tell Julie no. What kind of self-respecting person does that? Make an innocent baby cry. I’m thinking of getting them parenting lessons. They must be doing it wrong if they’re comfortable with her tears— I’m not, and that’s the exact reason I’m unwrapping a lollipop for her.

  They act like rotting teeth is an excuse . . . um, they’re baby teeth— she gets new ones anyway. I don’t know why they treat me like I’m dumb . . . first chance, I’m telling their parents.

  “Why aren’t you ragging on Lee Lee and Avery?” I refuse to take the heat from everyone. Caden and I bought Julie an X-box for her birthday— with educational games to go with Grand Theft Auto. The girls bought every last baby item from the mall . . . several of them. Bags, upon bags, with tons of pink shit exploding from them.

  “Gee, maybe because my daughter can’t go to a strip joint and pick up hookers with their gift.” Deacon is such a prude. She won’t learn those tricks for several years. Her hand and eye coordination isn’t exactly stellar . . . I still have to guide the lollipop to her mouth.

  Caden’s sitting back. He doesn’t seem to care our present is getting dissed. “You’re jealous your daughter will get more action than you.” Wrong thing to say. I rub my head where Saylor just landed a miniature shoe against it. “That hurt.” I open a lollipop and put it in my mouth as Deacon grabs a wiggling Julie from me.

  “Everyone out!” he commands. We all grumble but follow the dictator’s demands. He tells us we have to take our gifts home with us because Julie has enough toys here— I’m calling bullshit and leaving that gaming system plugged into the television. She’s gonna make it to Liberty City earlier than expected because of this little stunt.

  “Don’t forget. We have to workout later in the day tomorrow. I have that stupid tour.” Caden snickers as he shuffles from the house. Douche.

  “Make sure they’re eighteen prior to molesting them.” Saylor winks as she carries Julie to the back of the house.

  “Just let me know when you get done. We can use my gym.” I high-five him and follow the rest of the crew to our houses.

  I can’t erase that girl from my mind. Brecklynn. Shit, I didn’t get a last name. It’s been a month, and I can still envision her like she’s standing in front of me. The season has been great. Caden, Deacon, and I are magic when we step on the clay— it used to be like that off the field, too, but Deacon’s all pussy-whipped now. But, I love Shortstop so it’s all good in the hood. Getting their shit situated didn’t put a dent in our stats, and we all remained starters despite the fucking drama with Emberlee and her infatuation with Adriane.

  Thank God she got that shit fixed. The jury is still undecided with Brody reappearing in her life. The push and pull between them is lunacy . . . but she is fighting him every step of the way. With good reason— I witnessed the destruction he left in his wake. I’m trying to take a backseat in their dilemma, with my protective nature it’s hard to do. As long as she’s happy, I’ll support her. And that’s how I let her rope me into this mud run.

  And Caden with his Trickery Tara bullshit. As a team bonding idea, Emberlee decided the girls should do a mud run. She’s working double time for our forgiveness . . . we’ve forgiven her but it’s the forgetting that will take time. She set off some bombs that nearly cleared all of us when they imploded. She has a good heart . . . sometimes her reasons are skewed. I don’t quite remember how we got involved in this . . . but then the bets began. We lose . . . a Magic Mike performance. They lose . . . Trickery Tara. Like I said— Caden. I’m not worried, even if the girls had a shot in hell at winning, I have no shame and will get up in front of them— it isn’t fair because I’ll ruin them for everyone else. I’m shocked Lee Lee was able to move on, but I’ll have to console Deacon when Saylor tries to mount me like a bull. It’s a natural talent I have. I swear DD doesn’t see his girl is obsessed with my dick— she’s always bringing the size up. Of course, they aren’t flattering comments. She acts like it’s a chia pet; give it some water and attention, and it’ll grow on demand. Wait, that’s kind of how it does work. Shit.

  Standing with the team and Brody, my chest puffed— I was fucking brilliant. I brought everyone with me to see the girls lose. Not that I was worried we’d lose, but having the extra bodies would fluster the girls. If I’m anything . . . it’s a fierce competitor. I was being generous and gave them a head start. Hell, we could do this thing walking backwards with one of our hands tied behind our back and still kick their asses.

  Emberlee is shooting daggers our way; I don’t know if they’re directed at Brody or me. I don’t think I’ve done anything to piss her off, so my bet is she’s livid that Brody’s here. My job here is done— she’ll be focused on him and sink her own boat. The bell rings through the air starting the race, and we stand there watching them gain as much ground as they can . . . it won’t be enough.

  Lee Lee is barking orders, hustling the girls to go faster, and I may have underestimated her gumption. She’s on a mission to prove something, and we’re just innocent bystanders. We’re gaining ground, and I’m chuckling watching them lose steam and brainstorm. Short of burying us in the mud, they’re going down.

  Shit! I need a blindfold. Shortstop whips her shirt off to reveal something red . . . and tiny. Deacon’s gonna flip shit. She turns and tempts him. Lee Lee doubles over, and Avery can’t catch her breath. Well played, ladies, but I refuse to go down like this. “Focus, fuckers. They’re cheating. Deacon, look at me.” I sound like a motivational coach, and he’s motivated . . . to shield his girl.

  No she didn’t. Saylor falls into the mud, enacting every one of our fantasies and sure as shit each of these bastards stops and stares. Deacon’s growl doesn’t deter their eyes, and I’m scrambling. I could throw mud at her and hope to cover her, but the damage is done. If he can’t see her, it’ll work. “Move it. Double time.” Shitheads are still standing in awe. “Brody, you’re the trainer. Train them to move the fuck forward.” I’m desperate. I feel victory slipping through my fingers.

  Shortstop takes it up a notch . . . crawling through the mud . . . on her knees. Payback’s a bitch. I’m planting a candy field in their backyard. “Brody, can you check Deacon’s pulse?” His face is crimson; his jaw is ticking and looks as if it’s going to crack with the tension in it. “UNCLE!” He shouts, and I die. “Put your shirt on, Saylor.” He isn’t fucking with her. This train wreck is going to crush me.

  “What do I get in return?” she challenges him while wearing the shit-eating grin I hate. I didn’t hate it before today, but now it’s the worst thing in the world— unless you count a girl who doesn’t know how to use her teeth in the correct manner when giving you head. That is the worst thing in the world.

  “I’m done.” He resigns.

  “No. Fuck no, Double D. You know the rules, unless there’s an injury, we all have to cross the line.” I’m begging, pleading, whining— three things I’ve been able to avoid in my life until this.

  “One more pair of eyes looks at my girl, and I’m going to injure every one of you motherfuckers.” He’s finished. I know that look. I know that tone. I know he’s gonna fuck her senseless the rest of the day for this stunt. It doesn’t make me happy— they both get a reward for screwing me over. I hope her vagina turns into a Venus flytrap and snaps his dick off.

  Or the next time they have shower sex, their hot water heater stops working causing shrinkage, and they both spend the rest of the day frustrated.

  I’m teaching Julie a cuss word as soon as we get home. And adding a candy garden in my yard to match the one I’m planting in theirs.

  “Promise?” Saylor smirks. She knows his word is everything to him.

  “Yes, baby. Please put your god damn shirt over your head.” Damn, Matilda. Fucking pus
sy. She does what he says and runs to his arms. “You don’t play fair.” No shit, Captain Obvious— they should be disqualified for cheating.

  She grins, and I wanna cry. “Nope. But you can blame Mason. He wanted to taunt us with the whole team. If he would have just kept the race to you three versus us, my plan wouldn’t have worked.” She turns to me and winks. Cue the tears. “Thanks for being a dumbass. It benefited me this time.”

  They do some kissy face lovey-dovey shit, and I’m standing here wounded, bleeding, and nobody cares. To add insult to injury, she links arms with Lee Lee and Avery and takes a fucking Sunday stroll. But it’s Saturday.

  Lee Lee shouts, “Oh, remember six minutes.” Their laughter surrounds them as they cross the finish line. Winning.

  “Fuck you,” I spit. Deacon’s eyes are glued to his girl’s ass, and he doesn’t care he just crushed my dreams. “I hope she says no.” I don’t. He’s proposing to her this afternoon, and I’m happy for them, but I needed to get his attention.

  “What the fuck?” His head swings to me. “That’s messed up.”

  “What you allowed your girl to do is messed up. I need you to look at me when you tell me sorry.” I cross my arms, waiting for his grand gesture.

  Mud hitting me in my face, finding its way up my nose, sliding into my mouth isn’t the gesture I was hoping for, but it’s what I got. “Fucking Matilda.” He laughs.

  I hate that word . . . I don’t know why Saylor insisted on changing pussy to Matilda. Julie’s ears hear worse . . . and she’s still a baby. If her man didn’t constantly mention what he wanted to do to her, she wouldn’t have to have a code word. “Doesn’t that negate the reason of saying Matilda if you add fucking in front of it?” Ah, Caden has something to say all of a sudden. Fucker hates losing as much as I do.

  “What are you gonna do, tell on me?” Deacon taunts.

  I swipe the mud from my tongue and answer. “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. SAYLOR!” I trip over my feet trying to see through the mud coating my eyes, obstructing my vision and hindering my ability to tattle on DD. “Shortstop, wait!”