UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT
GODS OF THE GRIDIRON: BOOK 1
Shanna Swenson
UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT
Shanna Swenson
UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT is an original work of fiction. Names, characters, places, organizations and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, businesses, companies, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by Shanna Swenson
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-7329626-5-1
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, information storage and retrieval systems or other electronic or mechanical means, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names, such as the NFL and its teams, used within this book are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publisher nor the book are associated with any products or vendors mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within have endorsed this book. The San Antonio Stallions and the Atlanta Gladiators are fictitious football teams used for entertainment purposes only.
www.shannaswenson.com
For permission requests, write to the author at [email protected]
Edited by Jennifer Soucy
ebook design by: OliviaProDesign
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Contents
FOREWORD
FOOTBALL TERMS
PROLOGUE
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
EPILOGUE
SNEAK PEEK AT FALSE START
AFTERWORD
ACKNOWLEDMENTS
ALSO BY SHANNA SWENSON
ABOUT SHANNA SWENSON
ARES- THE GOD OF WAR
"Magnanimous, unconquered, boisterous Ares, in darts rejoicing, and in bloody wars; fierce and untamed, whose mighty power can make the strongest walls from their foundations shake: mortal-destroying king, defiled with gore, pleased with war's dreadful and tumultuous roar.”
—Orphic Hymn 65 to Ares (trans. Taylor) (Greek hymns C3rd B.C. to 2nd A.D.)
FOREWORD
This book was inspired by my love for football (and obviously Greek mythology too) which started at the ripe age of thirteen.
All it took for me was to see the legendary QB, Brett Favre, #4 for the Green Bay Packers take the field and I was hooked—line and sinker. I’ve been a diehard fan ever since.
(Go Pack Go!)
What followed was an obsession with football players, the game, and numerous book ideas that started before Abundance was ever thought up. These ideas have been in my head for far too long, and now they finally have a “field to play on.”
The main MC in this book, Travis Redmond, was originally inspired by former RB for the Packers, Travis Jervey, #32.
I hope you enjoy the exciting start to this four-book football romance series.
**To note: These books are written in order as part of the series, although you can, it is not recommended they be read as stand-alones.**
***Some books in this series may have subjects that are sensitive to some readers; reader discretion is advised.***
This book mentions characters that connect with the Sin and Secrets series by Shanna Swenson, Nicole Rodrigues, Kali Brixton and Cara Wade. (The prequel novella, RISE, premieres in November)
FOOTBALL TERMS
Here are some terms to familiarize yourself with for the series, if you aren’t familiar with football:
Offensive players—
QB- Quarterback (the team leader—throws/hands off the football to an RB or receiver)
C- Center (hikes the ball to the QB and blocks)
RB- Running back (a running position; the QB hands or pitches him the ball)
WR- Wide receiver (the QB throws him the ball; he catches a thrown pass)
TE- Tight end (can act as a blocker or receiver depending on the play)
OT-Offensive tackle (Runs blocks for the offense and protects the QB during pass plays)
Defensive players—
DL- Defensive line (Defends the line, blocks the progress of the ball)
LB- Linebacker (goes after the opposing team’s QB and ball carriers)
DE- Defensive end (defender with same duties as above, can act as a lineman or linebacker depending on the play)
CB- Cornerback (covers the opposing team’s receivers)
Other terms to know—
TD- Touchdown (6 point score, can be scored by anyone who has possession of the football and breaks the goal line)
INT- Interception (when the ball is caught by the defense of the other team)
FG- field goal (when the ball is kicked through the uprights for a 3 point score)
Down- One of four chances to advance the football 10 yards (ex: Fourth and inches, means fourth down and inches to obtain the first down)
End Zone- the area where a score is made, the rectangular end of the field (between the end line and the goal line)
Red Zone- the area between twenty-yard line and the goal line
GM- General Manager- responsible for players contract, hiring and firing of coaches
For the real #21
I love you, my yankee boy
***
For all those who’ve ever been bullied, you are good enough, you are beautiful, and you are worthy!
PROLOGUE
Travis Redmond sat at the bar, beer in hand, feeling like the biggest loser in the NFL. He’d gotten formally suspended this time after he’d pulled his helmet off and gone nose to nose with a player on the field, during a game, in front of eighty-thousand plus fans.
Yeah, he’d been wrong. Yeah, he’d been angry. Yeah, he’d been throwing the game...intentionally. And Pollux Reed had called him out for it.
But dammit, he had no idea what Travis was going through, why he’d done what he had. He was tired of the talk behind his back and when Reed had mumbled that bullshit under his breath, Trav had seen red and went at him before he could even think.
He’d only been playing for the Atlanta Gladiators for a month now and he was being scrutinized, his motives questioned—like they’d been before the Stallions had traded him. But no one understood what was happening, what a shit-show his little brother had gotten the two of them into. There were some dark and shady men at the center of this whole scandal, and if Travis didn’t play his cards right, Tucker’s life was at stake. He had to do what they said, had to subtly throw the games, had to keep the facade going; the alternative was unthinkable.
For now, Travis was simply biding his time. He looked back over to Hank, the bartender of Gunslingers, the current bar he was in, here in his hometown of San Antonio, Texas. He’d needed a break from all the heat he was in, back in Atlanta, using the excuse to come out and visit his family and catch up with his former teammates.
Tonight, T
rav was meeting up with a friend he used to play with on the Stallions—his former QB, Judd Gilbert. He’d be heading back to Georgia in a couple days’ time.
Travis checked his phone again, all too aware of the eyes that kept coming back to him. He was as inconspicuous as a famous football player and record-breaking running back could be in his backwards ball cap and shades, despite that it was so dark in the place that he could barely see. The tight-ass Nike t-shirt and jeans probably didn’t help hide his appearance. Judd hadn’t texted him back yet, although Travis had been at the bar for about twenty minutes now, waiting.
“Is it true? Were you throwing that game like they said?” Hank asked, leaning over the half-empty bar top, polishing a beer stein.
“What the fuck do you think?” Trav grumbled and looked around. “You know me. You know I ain’t like that!” It hurt that people had no more faith in him than they did...even if it were true.
“I know, but it sure don’t seem that way. You shouldn’t have fumbled that ball, Trav.”
“What do you do for a living?” When Hank paused, Travis buried the hatchet. “You pour fucking liquor into glasses. Why don’t you do that and stop telling me how to do my job? When you bust your ass on that field every Sunday, then we can talk. Until then, shut the hell up.” Travis looked away, his heart hurting at the acid dripping from his lips. He had to make this seem legit though or Tucker was a dead man. They’d warned him and warned him and warned him. And Tucker was in their grasp now. They could put a bullet through his head in the blink of an eye if Travis acted suspiciously. They’d already sent him a pinky toe in the mail. He assumed it was his brother’s but couldn’t verify it for a fact. They could be bluffing, but he knew them too well; they hadn’t bluffed prior to now.
Travis pulled his shades off and looked around, narrowing his eyes at the onlookers, almost growling like a cornered dog. Yeah, it’s me fuckers, Travis fuckin’ Redmond! In the flesh, he wanted to shout but took another sip of beer instead. Back home and up to no good, he thought to himself.
Just then his phone beeped and he checked it, seeing a text from Judd.
Judd: Hey, man. Sorry, I’m gonna have to bail tonight. Jerica is running a fever and Gemma thinks we should take her to urgent care. FML! I really hate this. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can do lunch before you head out on Thursday?
Well, shit! Trav was on his own tonight...in a bar he didn’t even wanna be in. His night just kept getting better and better.
Travis texted back with: No worries, man. Hope she’s alright. Talk tomorrow.
He replaced his phone in his back pocket and looked at the opening door, seeing that it was raining out now as an impeccably dressed redhead with a giant umbrella stomped in, huffing.
Trav’s eyes narrowed as he tried to place her. That face, mouth, and skin tone… He could swear he’d seen them before. When she looked up, her blue eyes grazed him robotically before zeroing in on the bartender.
“Excuse me, do you have a phone I could use?” she asked and got a scoff from Hank.
“Payphone’s in the back, lady.”
She sighed heavily and closed the dripping umbrella, swiping her black heels on the giant rug at the entrance of the door. She was clad in a striped, heather-gray pant suit with a cream silk top. She rifled through the big leather bag on her shoulder before tucking her unruly, long curly hair behind her ears. He heard her grumble, “Fuck,” as she pulled out a wallet and runaway coins began to bounce onto the floor with little pings here and there.
Travis understood; his day was just as shitty.
He decided then to move off his seat and assist her. He stepped forward and bent down to retrieve the three quarters, five nickels, and four dimes that had fallen out of her wallet. As her sapphire blue eyes fell to his, the woman’s jaw literally dropped. Damn, she recognized him.
He was used to this. Being a professional athlete got a man all kinds of attention; some wanted and others not so much. He wasn’t sure of the attention here but hoped she didn’t draw too much his way. The heat of the chaos he’d already generated himself was creating steam around him, and he wanted to hug a wall at this point.
The shock on her face quickly turned to scorn. Great! She not only recognizes me, she hates me. No scoring for me tonight.
“Here, you dropped this,” his voice plunged in annoyance as he thrust the fistful of change forward.
“Keep it! No one asked for your two cents anyway.”
Ouch! Feisty. Well, she was a redhead after all.
“It’s actually $1.40 to be exact,” he smarted.
“Hmm, you could probably use it more than I could right now, Mr. Redmond.”
He rolled his eyes. Maybe she was a jaded fan or the wife of an opposing player. Either way, he wasn’t taking her money; to hell with her.
He slammed it on the bar top because his temper was the shortest thing on him. “You’ll need it for the fucking payphone,” he grated out even as she turned her back to him and walked in the direction of the phone and bathrooms. “Ungrateful bitch,” he mumbled under his breath.
Travis sat back down at the bar and continued to nipple his beer, looking up at the television that hung on the back wall. It was set to SportsCenter, so he kept his eyes locked on it, listening to the play by play of past Sunday’s games. The sportscasters began arguing predictions of the coming games, evaluating the players and their stats, and then started to debate Travis’s future with the Gladiators. Again, anger seized him. What the hell did they know? His head coach, Greg Cavanaugh, and the owner of his team, Jerry Taylor, hadn’t talked about cutting him. He was only suspended for two weeks, and it’d been for taunting, not throwing the games.
Travis sighed and leaned back on the bar stool. His guilt might be enough to kill him; the team didn’t deserve to be done the way they were, nor his teammates. Travis wished things could be different, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t go to the cops, he couldn’t discuss it—with anyone—and he couldn’t allow them to fire him. He had to keep this up, had to continue to keep his brother alive.
“Can I have a water please?” Joy! The stuck-up lady was back.
“Does this look like a Waffle House?” Hank snorted.
“C’mon, I’ll pay for a soda. I—”
“Give her a damn water, Hank, and quit bein’ a dick,” Travis scolded with yet another scowl, getting one in answer. Hank huffed but did as he was told. “You’re grumpy tonight and it’s showing.”
“Yeah, and with no damn help from you. You’re supposed to be the town hero, Travis. You’re really disappointin’ us lately.”
Yeah, that makes two of us, buddy, he thought but spoke instead to the mysterious redhead who’d sat down two stools from him. “You sure you don’t need somethin’ stronger?”
“I don’t drink.”
“Figures,” he mumbled and sipped his beer again.
“Yeah, well maybe if you didn’t drink so much, you could keep your damn hands on the football.” The redhead smirked, and Travis frowned over at her. Who did she think she was, talking to him like that? What Hell had she come from to torture him like everyone else was tonight?
“Like you’d even fuckin’ know,” he retorted back. She probably didn’t even watch football, he bet. She just went along with what the man who’d put that big rock on her finger told her to do.
Travis rolled his eyes and looked back at the TV, getting nothing else out of her for a minute. As soon as this beer was done, he was saying, “Fuck off” to all of ‘em and getting the hell out of Dodge while the gettin’ was good.
The redhead rifled through her giant bag once more and sighed at the cell phone in her hands, drawing Travis’s attention again.
“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath and threw it back into her purse.
Trav’s brows went up in question, but she looked away quickly, as if his stare was abhorrent. She’d be pretty if she would stop being such a cunt. There was something about her though that,
again, made him feel as if he knew who she was.
“You from around here?” he finally asked, curiosity getting the best of him, and moved lithely onto the stool beside her. He was curious by nature; he couldn’t help himself.
“Yes, unfortunately I am,” she responded, running a hand through her mane of red hair.
“Unfortunately?” he smarted. “What? You too good to come from ol’ San Antonio?”
“No,” she replied back and rounded on him. “But I certainly wasn’t banking on running into you again.”
Again? When the hell had he run into her in the first place? He hadn’t slept with her, had he? If he had, he was certain he would’ve remembered a set of tits and a pair of legs like hers.
He grinned. “I don’t reckon I know you, darlin’.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” she retorted hotly and took a sip of her water. “You just don’t recognize me. I mean, it’s been almost ten years since we graduated.”
Holy shit! He’d gone to high school with her? Who was she?
UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT (Gods of the Gridiron Book 1) Page 1