Whiplash: A Sports Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  “She’s your boss, not mine.”

  “You can keep saying that all you want but it won’t change the outcome. Go right ahead and expose us if that’s what you want to do, but I will kill them myself — live and in glorious Technicolor.” He stops to laugh. “What’s your little sister going to think of you then if you let her daddy die, Fox?”

  Dani. I spent all my focus on her, I never even thought he’d go after them. She’ll never forgive me. Hell, I’ll never forgive me. “I guess you want a trade?”

  “You and the file for them. Simple and clean.”

  “Where?”

  “It’ll take a few hours to get out there to corn cob country,” he mutters.

  “There’s an old farm outside of town,” I say. “Look up Larry Clark, you’ll find it. Meet me at noon. Bring them with you or no deal.”

  “Secluded,” he chuckles. “I taught you well. Sure, we can meet there. Both of you. Together. I don’t want you prone in a tower somewhere with your rifle.”

  “I won’t be.”

  “Good talk, Fox.”

  I slam the phone down and an officer eyes me as he passes by.

  My concrete box will have to wait.

  ***

  I drive back to Mrs. Clark’s farmhouse.

  Dani steps outside onto the porch as I arrive. I spot Mrs. Clark lingering behind the screen doorway behind her. Neither of them seem too happy with me. Hell hath no fury, as they say.

  I walk across the driveway and Dani steps off the porch to meet me halfway. Her eyes are puffy and red, shooting a twinge of guilt down my back. She stares at me for a moment in silence before reaching out and slapping me in the face.

  I wince. The pain fires up my cheek, staying only for a brief moment before disappearing completely. “I guess I deserve that,” I say.

  She doesn’t disagree. I’ve left her twice now without saying goodbye but in my defense, I never thought I’d see her again both times.

  Her hard eyes soften and she lunges forward to wrap her arms around me. I smile as that faint apple scent invades my nose.

  She looks up at me. “They have Dad and Cora…”

  I sigh. She must have seen the news already. I’d hoped to break it to her myself. “Yeah, I saw it.”

  “What do we do?” She looks at me like I have all the answers, like I’m a real man of action.

  I wish I could tell her I did. I wish I could look into her eyes right now and be the man she thinks I am but I’ve lied to her enough. A tear falls from her eye and I wipe it away with my thumb.

  “We make a trade.”

  “Fox, you can’t—”

  “I have an idea,” I interrupt. “It’s a bad one.” She steps back, waiting for me to say more as I glance over her shoulder at the old barn across the field. “That training you did with the L.A.P.D., did they teach you rifles at all?”

  Her eyes shift as she tries to remember. “Yeah,” she nods.

  “What kind?”

  “Umm…” She closes her eyes tight. “A Reming 7-something…”

  “Remington Model 700?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “Were you any good?”

  “So-so. Why?”

  “That’s good enough.” I study her face, taking in every detail of her. Scarred cheek. Red lips. Short, black hair. “We’re going to need some help, but I really need you to trust me, Dani.”

  Her eyes shake, but she doesn’t hesitate. “I do.”

  “Come on.” I gesture her towards the car.

  “Where are we going, Fox?”

  I ignore the voices in my head telling me to shut the fuck up. “School.”

  Chapter 18

  Dani

  Fox reaches out and knocks on the door.

  I look up and down the hallway from behind my sunglasses. This is a world entirely foreign to me. College. Dorm life. Dining halls and mid-term exams. My father put me in front of cameras before I even graduated from high school. I never went to college but I always wondered if I would someday.

  The door opens and a petite, blonde girl looks at us. Her eyes fall on Fox’s face and she gasps. “Oh, god, it’s Channing Tatum!”

  Her red-headed roommate spins around in her chair. “What?”

  “Never mind—” She steps forward and slams the door closed behind her, nearly knocking herself over in the process. “What are you doing here?” she asks Fox.

  “We need your help.” He holds up a plastic grocery bag and she takes it from him.

  Her face falls as she looks inside and spots the pair of scissors, the comb, and the box of black hair dye we picked up on the way here. “Oh, hell no.”

  I study her features closely. “Fox, who is this?”

  “Fox?” she repeats. “Is that your real name?”

  “Yes,” he answers her.

  I pull my sunglasses off and she gasps again, recognizing me with eyes full of confusion. “Why is Roxie Roberts in my hallway?”

  “Darla, we need—”

  “Wait — how did you know my real name?” she asks quickly.

  “How do you two know each other, but not each other’s names?” I ask.

  Fox sighs. “Is there somewhere more private we can talk, please?”

  The girl nods. “Come back in a few minutes. My roommate has a class soon.”

  “Thank you,” he says. She tries to give him the grocery bag, but he pushes it back to her before she cringes through the door.

  “Fox…”

  He grabs my arm and pulls me with him down the hall. “She’s a friend, Dani.”

  “Why do you have a mysterious lady friend that looks just like me?” I watch his face, noticing the subtle twitches of guilt plaguing him. “Fox—”

  He pauses near the elevators and flexes his jaw. “Because I thought I’d never see you again.”

  There’s only one obvious conclusion to be made and it’s written all over his face. “Ohhh…” I whisper.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I stand up tall and shake my head. “It’s okay.”

  “Is it?”

  The red-headed girl passes by with a backpack and taps the call button on the elevator. I quickly slide my sunglasses back on. “It is. I get it,” I answer, waiting to go on until the elevator doors close and we’re alone again. “Do you really think she’ll help?”

  “It’ll take some convincing, but yeah…”

  “Good.” I take in his nervous face. “Have there been others like her…?”

  “No,” he answers. “Just her.”

  I bite my lip, not sure if I should ask more questions but I can’t stop myself. “Were you two… together, or—?”

  “She’s a professional.”

  I stare back at him until it sinks in. “Ohhhh.”

  “We should probably talk about this later,” he suggests.

  “Of course, yeah. Task at hand.” Neither of us move, our eyes locked on each other in an awkward tug of war. A smile fights my lips, but I manage to keep it steady.

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, his cheeks turning red.

  “Nothing.” I look away. “Let’s go talk to her.”

  Fox grabs my arm before I can walk away. “What do you want to know, Dani?”

  I pause, letting my lips curl. “I knew there were Roxie Roberts impersonators. I just never thought there’d be, you know… professionals.”

  “It’s an underground industry,” he chuckles. “Does it upset you?”

  “Kind of flattering, actually…”

  “Does it upset you that I…?”

  I think for a moment. “No. Honestly, after the last few days, this is the least shocking thing I’ve encountered.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yeah.” A smile hits me again. “You told her your name was Channing Tatum?”

  He rolls his eyes and tugs my arm. “Come on.”

  “I can’t wait to tell him about this,” I joke. Fox glares at me out of the corner of his eyes before knocking on
her door again.

  It opens instantly and Darla’s eyes shift between us. She gestures us inside and closes the door, locking it with a swift flick of her wrist.

  ***

  “So, I just have to stand there?” Darla asks with her head hanging down into her bathroom sink. I stand over her with plastic gloves, running my fingers through her hair as black dye water spills down the white, porcelain drain.

  “And don’t speak either,” Fox says from the connected dorm room. “Your voices are pretty different…”

  I catch him glancing inside but he quickly looks away, pretending that he wasn’t just sneaking a peek at her tight, push-up bra. He probably wasn’t but I don’t mind teasing him about it. The shame on his face is just too adorable for words. “Are we sure this is going to work?” I ask. “Mercer isn’t stupid.”

  “No, but it’s the only idea I have.”

  I turn off the water and Darla wraps a towel around her hair. “And you weren’t kidding about it being a bad one…” I peel the gloves off and toss them into the trash below the sink.

  “Dani…”

  “I mean…” I step into the dorm to face him and point back at Darla. “This part will probably be fine. It’s the other part that’s got me nervous.”

  “You can do this, Dani.”

  “You don’t know that.” I fight the butterflies causing havoc in me already.

  “You’ve done it before.”

  “I’ve shot targets before,” I argue.

  “It’s the same thing. I know how that sounds, but it’s true.”

  I take a deep breath but it does nothing to calm my nerves. “Think she knows any boy prostitutes that look like you instead?”

  “I am not a prostitute!” Darla shouts from the bathroom. “I prefer the term escort.”

  “Sorry,” I say.

  She pokes her damp head out and her short, black hair falls over her eyes. “It’s okay. And to answer the question: No, I don’t know any.” She flicks on her hairdryer and disappears again.

  Fox lays his hands on my shoulders as I heave a thick sigh. “Dani, look at me.” I do as he says, peeling my eyes off the floor. “You can do this. I trust you.”

  “What if I miss?” I ask.

  “Then you try again.”

  “But what if—”

  “Dani—” He moves his hands to my cheeks. “I know you’re scared—”

  “Understatement.”

  “I will not let anything happen to you,” he says, holding my eyes. “Say it.”

  “You won’t let anything happen to me.”

  “Or me!” Darla shouts from the bathroom.

  “Or you,” he says, his eyes flicking towards her once before coming back to me. “You just have to slow him down. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  “Let’s just pretend all this goes well,” I say, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “We haven’t really talked about what happens after…”

  He drops his gaze for a brief, but noticeable, second. “No matter what happens, I will get you and our parents home alive.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking you.”

  “I know.”

  The hairdryer shuts off and Darla steps into the room. “How do I look?” She throws up her arms and poses in the doorway. Jet black hair. Cherry red lips. A white bandage across her left cheek to hide the lack of stitches. Just like me in almost every way.

  I nod and force a smile. “You look like Roxie Roberts.”

  She snatches my sunglasses off her desk and slides them up her nose. “Tell me something I don’t know,” she quips.

  “We should get going,” Fox says.

  I look back at him, disappointed that he won’t answer my question but I’m not sure why I ever expected him to in the first place. Honestly, I’m not even sure if I’m prepared for his answer.

  ***

  I lie down on my stomach and press the butt of the rifle into my shoulder.

  “Now look through the scope,” Fox says in my ear. I feel him shift down to the floor beside me on my right. “You should be able to see the bottle pretty close.” He lays a hand on my back and warm goosebumps break out on my spine.

  “I see it,” I say, squinting through the scope. The empty beer bottle sits in the middle of the gravel driveway across the field.

  “Put your finger on the trigger.”

  My knuckles twitch as I lay my right index finger against it.

  “Line up your shot,” he continues, his voice smooth as butter. “Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Fire at the end your breath.”

  The bottle shakes back and forth in the scope. I remember his words and take a long inhale to calm my quaking nerves. I push it out—

  “Slowly.”

  I halt my exhale halfway and force it to back in to try again. His hand moves up my back an inch, shooting fresh warmth throughout my body. I breathe in and slowly exhale until it’s all the way out.

  I pull the trigger and the bullets strikes the white gravel several feet away from the bottle.

  “I missed,” I say, frowning.

  “Reload.”

  I grab the bolt and pull back. The empty casing flies free and I push the bolt back in to load a second round. “I remember being better than this.”

  “You’re nervous,” he says. “You don’t have to get it perfect.”

  “I just have to hit a moving target from across a corn field. Yeah, no problem…”

  Fox grips my shoulder and rolls me onto my back towards him. “Dani…” he whispers, hovering over me. “There is no doubt in my mind that you can do this.”

  A gust of cool wind strikes my pink face from the open window of the barn. “I feel sick…”

  “I know but you’re going to be okay.”

  “I’m not worried about me.” He raises his brow. “Okay, I’m a little worried about me — but I’m more worried about you.”

  Fox sighs and traces a finger along my cheekbone. “I’ll be all right, Dani.” He leans closer to me.

  “Fox—” He pauses above me, our lips barely touching. “Don’t kiss me if it’s the last time you ever will.”

  He does it anyway. His lips press against mine; firm and passionate. Desire still lingers on his breath, the same kind I tasted on him last night in his bed. “Dani…” he whispers. “Be brave, for me.”

  I close my eyes, focusing all of my energy on his voice. It’s easy to lose myself in it and it’s all I want to do right now. “I just have to slow him down.”

  “That’s right,” he says. “We have the advantage. They won’t know you’re out here until it’s too late.”

  I take another long, deep breath. “Okay.”

  He leans back and glances across the field towards the farmhouse. “I should get over there. It’s almost noon.”

  My breath knocks around my chest. I’m not ready to let him go yet. “Fox—”

  He takes my hand and brings it to his lips. “Be brave,” he whispers, his breath tingling my fingertips. “And, you know, don’t accidentally shoot me.”

  I laugh even though I shouldn’t. “I make no guarantees.”

  Fox pushes off the floor and slides down the ladder to the ground. He walks out of the barn and looks back at me with a smile.

  Be brave.

  He says it like it’s so easy, like it’s just flipping a switch on and off. I never considered myself a courageous person. I’m an actress. I have stunt girls and special effects to make me look cool but none of it is real in the end. It’s all just make-believe.

  I lay my hand on my heart. It thumps against my palm like a pair of hummingbird wings, never ceasing for a moment. It’s all just a machine in there. Machines can be studied and controlled. I’m the master of my machine. I have the will to say whether or not I’m scared or brave.

  I am Roxie fucking Roberts.

  Scratch that. I am Dani fucking Roberts. Fox trusts her. He believes in her and dammit, I do, too.

  I look through the scope and ta
ke aim at the bottle with my finger on the trigger.

  Fire at the end of your breath.

  The bullet strikes the bottle and it shatters along the driveway into a dozen pieces.

  Chapter 19

  Fox

  That’s my girl.

  I step across the driveway and kick the broken bottle bits into the grass. No sense in leaving them there for Mercer to see.

  “Well, that was impressive.” Darla slides back and forth in the rocking chair on the porch.

  I nod and glance across the field. “She’s a quick study.”

  She chews on her lip, staring at me over the top of Dani’s sunglasses. “So, turns out… I was completely wrong about you.”

  I smile. “Think so?”

  “This isn’t narcissism at all,” she says. “This is something else entirely.”

  I step up onto the porch and bend over to grab my black duffel off the bench. “Well, go on. Don’t leave me hanging here.”

  “I can’t!” she laughs. “Your issues are way out of my league.”

  “Good.” I reach into the bag for Caleb’s revolver and pop it open to reload. “It’ll make it easier for you to forget about.”

  “Forget?” she asks. “Please, I’m going to remember this until the day I die.”

  “Of all people, I don’t think I have to explain the value of discretion to you, Darla.”

  “Oh, of course. You’re a former assassin in love with his super famous stepsister that paid an escort who looks just like her for sex. I completely understand why you wouldn’t want that getting out…” Her voice trails off into a chuckle. “The last person I want to piss off is a contract killer, am I right?”

  “Right.”

  She scans me with nervous eyes. “But you’d never, you know… kill me, right? You’re retired.” I pick up the duffel bag. “Right?”

  I leave the question dangling while her face turns white and I step inside the house. Mrs. Clark sits in her chair in the living room with Sammy lingering next to her feet. He doesn’t move from his place but he keeps his eyes on me as I move into the room.

  “He’s not growling,” I note. “I guess that’s progress.”

  “Well, after seeing you beaten and bloodied, I bet he views you quite differently,” she says. “An animal can’t see what’s inside. He can only smell what’s on the outside. Now, he knows you’re as fragile as the rest of us.”