BULL: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  I got into the car and started the engine, pulling out into traffic.

  This fucking guy. Dante just wasn’t letting this girl thing go, and I didn’t understand why. My decision not to hurt women hadn’t been much of a problem before, so I didn’t understand why he gave a fuck now.

  Unless it was because of what he’d said. Unless they were thinking about promoting me, but Dante didn’t think I could be trusted yet. He wanted me to prove that I cared more about the mafia than I did about my moral code.

  That had to be it. I couldn’t think of any other reason why he was pressing now. Gian wanted to promote me, maybe to a local captain or some shit, but Dante didn’t trust me. Simple as that.

  And now I was stuck finding these girls. I was willing to bet that Dante wanted me to kill them all, would be much happier getting all their heads in a bag than getting them back alive and unharmed.

  I couldn’t let the girls go, but I couldn’t find them either. I wasn’t going to be the one to drag these girls back into captivity.

  My problems were only getting fucking worse. Shit on top of shit.

  And meanwhile, Emma was alive and well back in my apartment, and she was going to stay that way.

  Fuck. I needed to find a way out of this, and fast, before Dante fucked everything up.

  10

  Emma

  It felt strange sitting in Brooks’s apartment alone for so long. As I stared at the television, feeling numb and lost, I realized that staying in his apartment for just a few days was the longest I’d ever been away from home.

  I had no home anymore, I had to remind myself. There was nowhere for me to go anymore, no home or father for me to return to. I didn’t have to worry about my father stealing my money anymore or vomiting all over himself in his sleep.

  That was scary in itself. That was all I’d known for so long, all that misery and anger and misfortune. Now I had to figure out who I was outside that house and that relationship with my father. I had to learn what it meant to be a normal person again.

  I heard the door handle turn and then push open. Brooks dragged himself into the apartment, grimacing.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked him, sitting up.

  He grunted. “Nothing. Don’t you worry about it.”

  That surprised me. His tone was short and gruff, and although he’d never exactly been a teddy bear to me, he’d never been short either.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I asked.

  He collapsed onto the couch next to me. “Nothing. Just this damn fucking bruise. And my fucking boss.”

  “Had a bad day at the office, sweetie?”

  That made him grin a bit. “Yeah, I did. Think you could rustle me up a little steak and a blowjob?”

  “Get your own meat,” I said.

  He sighed, kicking his legs out. “Is it too much for a man to expect his woman to cook dinner once in a while?”

  I laughed, shaking my head. “Your woman now, huh?”

  “Just going with the domestic fantasy joke you set up.”

  He lapsed into silence as I studied him again. I looked at the tattoos that curled up along his arms and disappeared into his tight black T-shirt. His eyes glanced at the television but drooped in exhaustion. I could sense a tension rolling off his body, like something had happened.

  “Look, I know something’s up,” I said. “Just spit it out.”

  He glanced at me. “You don’t want to know, Emma.”

  “I’m stuck in this apartment,” I said, annoyed. “The least you can do is talk to me.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Last night we were supposed to protect a shipment of girls.”

  “Girls?”

  “You know, Eastern European girls, addicted to drugs, forced to be hookers.”

  “Human trafficking,” I said, surprised.

  “Yeah, well, it’s not my usual shit. I got roped into it. Anyway, shit went bad obviously, since I got shot. During the mayhem, I let a group of girls escape.”

  “How noble of you.”

  He glared at me. “Look, I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want to get involved with that shit.”

  “And yet you did. You have choices, you know.”

  “I know that. Why do you think you’re alive and those girls are free?”

  I looked at him for a second, surprised by his intensity. “Okay. Fine. So what happened today?”

  He took a breath, relaxing. “My boss is suspicious of me, wants me to find those girls.”

  I blinked. “You have to hunt them down?”

  “And bring them back dead or alive.”

  “Brooks, what are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You can’t kill them,” I said, shocked at my own anger. “You can’t just murder those girls.”

  “I don’t murder girls,” he said, nodding at me. “As you’re aware of.”

  “But you work for men who do, and who keep girls as fucking sex slaves.”

  “Yeah, I fucking do.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “Fuck, no, I’m not,” he growled at me. “I’m not fucking okay with it. But then again, the mafia gave me my life. They took me in. I can’t just turn my back because I don’t agree with everything they do.”

  “It’s wrong, Brooks.”

  He grinned at me. “I fucking kill people for a living, sweetheart, and you think some dumb bitches are going to make me turn my back on my people?”

  I stood up, shocked. “I thought you were better than that.”

  He grunted. “Guess not.”

  “What happened to you not hurting girls?”

  “I fucking don’t,” he said, not looking at me, “but I also can’t control everyone else around me.”

  I shook my head, surprised by my own disgust. I walked away without another word, angry at him and angry at myself.

  As I shut the bedroom door behind me, I didn’t know what I had expected. I knew what kind of man he was. Brooks was a killer. Maybe he had saved my life and didn’t hurt women, but he was still a killer. That was the type of man I was dealing with, the type of man I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  I was angry with myself, and afraid.

  I knew the mafia sold drugs, guns, robbed banks, stuff like that. I understood that sort of thing and could be okay with it. But human trafficking was a whole different thing, something dark and horrible. I couldn’t picture Brooks being a part of it, but obviously he wasn’t turning his back on them completely.

  Was that even reasonable to want? He’d already gone so far for me, risked so much. As I sat on the bed, uncertainty rushing through me, I had the urge to look at my mother’s old photo album.

  I rooted through the duffel, searching for it. The album was the last thing I had that connected me to her, and when things got too dark, I always looked through it. Whenever I felt alone and scared, that album calmed me down, at least a little bit.

  But as I rooted through the bag, I couldn’t find it.

  Panic struck me. The album had been the first thing on the list, the one thing I absolutely needed. I remembered him saying that he couldn’t find a few things, but I didn’t think the album was one of them.

  I wanted to storm out there and yell at him, but I stopped myself. He didn’t owe me anything. He had done his best to get me what I needed. He had no way of knowing how important that album was to me.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Besides, I had to admit that I was a little scared of him at that moment. He was a man who got shot because of a human trafficking attack. I could overlook the murder of my father, because he was a bad man, but they were innocent girls.

  And yet he had let some of them go. That was probably another big risk to take.

  I was so frustrated. I couldn’t decide how I felt. This wasn’t so simple; it wasn’t just an easy decision to make. Brooks was a killer, but he had saved my life. He was involved with human traffickers, but he had let girls escape when he didn’t have to. B
rooks was a contradiction, and I didn’t know what to think about him.

  But I did know one thing. I needed my album.

  I pushed open the door and poked my head back out into the living room. Brooks was sitting on the couch, his head tipped back, snoring lightly.

  I blinked. He was asleep.

  There was no time to think about it. This was my chance. I crept across the room, moving silently. As quietly as I could, I opened the apartment door. I slipped out and shut it silently behind me.

  Down the steps I went, my heart beating hard. I stopped down in front of the main door, staring at it. Beyond that door was freedom and danger. It was an unfamiliar, scary world, one without Brooks. If I did this, he couldn’t protect me.

  But that album was my last connection to my past.

  I took a step forward and then another. I felt more and more confident.

  I put my hand on the knob, turned it, and pushed the door open.

  It was a beautiful day as I left the apartment building. It took me a second to figure out where I was, but once I did, I knew which way to go.

  I began walking.

  I’d walked alone in the city hundreds of times before, but this was the first time I was truly alone. Nobody was coming for me; nobody was waiting for me. My father was gone and my house was empty. All I needed to do was walk to the house, grab the album, and head back.

  I felt afraid, but good. I felt like I was finally doing something instead of sitting around and waiting for things to happen to me. I felt like I was going to change my life, like nothing could stop me.

  Cars drove past as I walked down the simple neighborhood. It was a cozy little place with neat row homes. It looked like the sort of place that’d always been a part of Chicago, like the people who lived there had always been there. It surprised me that a killer like Brooks lived in such a quiet neighborhood. I smiled to myself, enjoying the walk.

  And then someone grabbed my arm, yanking me backward.

  Terror lanced through my mind. In that instant before I looked back, I thought I was dead and Brooks was dead and I’d destroyed everything.

  “What are you doing?”

  I stumbled back into his body. He held me there, his strong hands on my arms. Brooks looked down at me, and I heaved a deep breath.

  “Shit. You scared me,” I said.

  “You can’t be out here.”

  “Let go,” I said.

  “No,” he answered. “You need to come back, Emma. It’s not safe for you out here.”

  He held me pressed against his chest, and I could feel his heart beating. He must have moved fast to catch up with me, and I bet that had hurt a lot. I couldn’t see the pain on his face, but I knew he was hurting. And he still held me tightly against his hard body, keeping me pressed against his muscular chest.

  “I’m sorry if I was pissed off, but you don’t need to run away just because I was in a bad mood,” he said.

  I shook my head. “It’s not that at all. I needed something from my house.”

  He stared at me and then grinned. “You were going to walk all the way there?”

  “Sure,” I said, shrugging.

  “It’s on the other side of the city. Do you know where you are?”

  “I knew that,” I said, looking around again and realizing that I had no clue where we were.

  “Come on,” he said, dragging me back toward the apartment. “It’s dangerous out here.”

  “But I need to go back.”

  “What did I forget?”

  “It’s a photo album.”

  He laughed. “You’re doing this for a picture album?”

  “It’s the last thing I have of my mother’s.”

  “If I promise to get it, will you stop fighting me?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Fine. I’ll go get it. But you have to stay in the apartment.”

  “Deal. Can you let me go?”

  His grip relaxed and we walked back toward the apartment.

  “Nice day out,” I commented.

  He grinned at me. “Cut it out. Someone could be watching right now.”

  “You think so?”

  “I told you, my boss doesn’t trust me.”

  He opened the front door and I went inside with him just on my heels. Once up in the apartment, he grabbed his gun from the coffee table.

  “I’ll go now. You wait here.”

  “I have nowhere else to go.”

  He nodded and then disappeared back outside.

  I stared at the door and shook my head. I didn’t know what he meant to me, but he was willing to go back to get the photo album, and that was something.

  11

  Brooks

  As soon as Emma was safely back in the apartment, I went out onto the streets. I probably needed to rest and heal up, but I didn’t have fucking time for that.

  What the hell was she thinking? As I cruised down the street in my car, I couldn’t imagine why she would risk her life for a fucking photo album. It just seemed like such a high risk for such a little reward. The damn thing must have been pretty fucking important to her if she was willingly exposing herself just to get it back.

  She was so damn willful and impulsive. I had to admit that I was impressed with her strength, but she needed to think before she went running off. This wasn’t some damn game we were playing. This was some real shit.

  I pulled my car over in the parking lot of a seedy-looking gas station at the edge of a very bad neighborhood. It was only ten blocks away from the club where everything had gone down the night before, and I happened to know the owner. He was a small-time hustler and often had his hands in a bunch of different illegal places.

  I climbed out of my car and couldn’t shake the strange feeling I had. It was like someone was watching me, but when I looked around, I couldn’t spot a thing. I walked carefully, keeping my eye out for a tail, but I didn’t see a thing. Either someone skilled was on me or I was getting more and more paranoid.

  I went into the gas station, pushing in the door. It was empty, and John the Rat was standing behind the counter. He looked up as I entered, and a look of fear crossed his face before being replaced by his normal sleazy smile.

  “Brooks!” he exclaimed. “So good to see you.”

  “No, it’s not,” I grunted. I leaned against the counter and let my jacket fall open so he could get a glance at the piece I had tucked into my pants.

  “What can I do for you?” John asked after eyeing my piece.

  “Got some questions for you, Rat.”

  He made a face. “You know I hate that name.”

  “It suits you, though. You’re a fucking rat, aren’t you?”

  “You come here just to insult me?”

  “Nah. I need information.”

  “I don’t know nothin’, Brooks, so just leave me be and fuck off.”

  I sighed. “Come on now, Rat, I haven’t even asked yet.”

  “Fine. What do you want?”

  “You heard all those gunshots last night, yeah?”

  “I didn’t hear shit.”

  I laughed. “The whole fucking city heard, Rat. I’m not some fucking cop.”

  “Okay, fuck. Fine. I heard.”

  “Did you see some girls come around here since then? Young, pretty, and thin. Clothes probably pretty dirty. Most of them wouldn’t speak English, just their leader.”

  “I didn’t see no girls.”

  “Rat, don’t make this fucking difficult,” I said, leaning toward him. “I know you have your little rat paws in everything around here. I know you heard something.”

  He frowned. “I heard a rumor. That’s all.”

  “What’s the rumor?”

  “Bunch of half-naked chicks were running around all wild last night, knocking on doors, asking for help. But some guys in black masks ended up grabbing them and dragging them off.”

  That wasn’t good. It sounded as though the Spiders had gotten to them already, and that was going to piss
off Dante and Gian. Not that I had any control over it, though it was my fault they got away. Still, they didn’t know that.

  “Who’d you hear this from?”

  “That asshole beggar, what’s-his-face. Roger or something.”

  “Ryan Green. I know the guy.”

  “Panhandles down the street sometimes. Go ask him.”

  “Thanks, Rat,” I said.

  “What, no fucking reward?”

  “Your reward is me not beating your fucking ass down, you dumb shit twat.”

  He flipped me off as I walked away, smiling to myself.

  Ryan Green set up shop down at the corner of the street where a major road crossed through. I spotted him perched up on a wall, holding his cardboard sign and looking out across traffic.

  “Green,” I called out.

  He looked down at me. “Brooks. I know you.”

  “Yeah, you do. Can I ask you something?”

  He shrugged. His sign said that he was a Vietnam vet, but unless he was ten years older than he looked, there was no way he had served in that war.

  “I’ll make it worth your time,” I said.

  He hopped down off the way. “What you need?”

  “I heard you saw some girls last night.”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “Pretty girls. It was recycling night, you know, so the good cans and bottles were out. I was walkin’ around, diggin’ like usual, gettin’ the good stuff. Those girls came outta nowhere, runnin’ around like crazy, screamin’ and shit. Then some guys in big black vans came and hauled them off. I swear it.”

  “Okay, Green,” I said. I handed him a twenty. “Anything else you remember?”

  “Girls didn’t talk English good,” he said.

  Damn. So it really was them.

  “Thanks,” I said and walked off.

  So the fucking girls got snatched by the Spiders after all, despite trying to let them get away. Fucking dumb girls should have run faster and sooner. They fucked themselves when they tried to get help in this damn neighborhood, but how could they have known? They weren’t from around here, and they had no clue that people didn’t fucking help other people and that they mind their own business.