Eligible Receivers (A Playing Dirty Sports Romance Book 4)

by Lane Hart

  “I’ll try to sneak in,” he agrees on a sigh. “But I can’t make any promises. Now I need to go and talk to Domino if this plan of mine is gonna work,” he says. “When they come for me tomorrow, tell them where to find me.”

  “Do you really think Domino will take you on?” I ask.

  “Yeah, I do,” Cain answers, his smile glowing in the darkness. “And if I can convince Mario that I’ll make a decent living, hopefully he’ll let me stay at the shop.”

  Ever since the first day we met, Cain has been drawing. It’s his passion and he’s amazing at it, getting better all the time. Instead of fighting like my brother, Ivan and Knox, Cain wants to become a tattoo artist. For the past few years, he’s been apprenticing with Domino at his tattoo shop whenever he’s had the time, drawing for him and training so that he could get a job actually wielding the needle one of these days.

  “Then I can come live with you in nine months when I turn eighteen?” I ask.

  “That’s the plan,” Cain says tersely on a sigh, and my heart breaks knowing he doesn’t really want me to tag along.

  “If not, I can just go work at the club –” I start, but he slaps his palm over my mouth hard enough to put me on my back.

  “You’re not working there!” he snaps from above me before remembering to keep his voice down. “I’ll die before I let you dance naked in that fucking place. You should be surrounded by flowers and shit, not all the smoke and booze in the club, taking your clothes off.”

  And there he goes again with the big brother protector spiel because all he’s ever seen me as is the kid sister that needs taken care of. I do want Cain to take care of me but in a slightly different and less familial way. That’s why lately, I never miss an opportunity to remind him that I’m not a little girl anymore.

  Reaching up to remove his hand from my mouth, even though I like any way he touches me, I tell him, “Maybe I want to work at the club. How bad could it be? And Mario said I had the perfect body type…”

  “When the fuck did you talk to Mario?” Cain growls.

  “A few weeks ago. I stopped by the gym one Saturday to work out and see Robbie. Mario was there too,” I answer with a shrug.

  “What were you wearing?” he asks. “Gabby, please tell me you weren’t running around in just your sports bra and spandex shorts with your ass cheeks hanging out.”

  “What else am I supposed to wear to work out in a hot gym?” I challenge.

  “Fuck! You shouldn’t have done that, Gabby. Do you have any idea how stupid that was?” he grumbles, reprimanding me like the little girl he thinks I still am.

  “Not everyone sees me as a child, Cain. Only you.”

  “Mario doesn’t see you as anything but a payday. A big fucking payday for him to strip naked and throw to the greedy wolves!”

  “That’s not true,” I argue. “He asked me to go out with him, you know, like on an actual date.”

  “A date? Seriously? Are you that damn naïve?” Cain barks. “He doesn’t want you. All Mario wants is to pop your sweet little cherry and slut you up like the rest of the girls at Escapades before you come work for him. Innocent virgins don’t suck dick for money, do they?”

  “You’re such an asshole,” I tell him with a shove to his thick, muscular chest that doesn’t budge. Cain has put in a ton of hours at the gym since he didn’t have to go to school during the days. When we first met, he was tall and skinny. Now he’s all filled out with bulging muscles that make my mouth water. Along with every other woman in a hundred-mile radius. “You would know what they do there, wouldn’t you?” I challenge.

  “I would know what?” he asks innocently.

  “You’ve been to Escapades with Knox plenty of times I bet. That’s where you’ve been whenever you come home late reeking of perfume and smoke, isn’t it?”

  “You want to know the truth?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “After fight nights, everyone usually goes. And whenever Knox or any of Mario’s other fighters win, he gives them a freebie. Any girl at Escapades the fighter wants to fuck is theirs to take home for the night. Knox said he can do whatever he wants to them, and they let him because Mario says so. He owns their bodies. They’re his fuck toys he rents out, and he doesn’t give a shit about them except for how much money they make him. So, is that what you want, Gabby?”

  “Do you fuck them?” I ask, feeling sick at the thought of Cain with any other girl. He sleeps in my bed every night, yet always refuses to touch me like I want him to.

  “I don’t fight yet and I’m broke, so no, I don’t pay anyone to fuck me,” Cain answers. “The girls who get on their knees and suck my dick do it just because they want to.”

  My palm lands across his face with a loud smack before I even realize what I’ve done. I instantly regret hitting him, but it’s too late to take it back.

  “What the fuck was that for?” he asks while rubbing his scruffy jaw.

  “Just go!” I tell Cain as my lungs gasp for air. I’m so stupid to think he would want to kiss me or fool around with me. I’ve never even seen him with another girl, but I’ve heard all the guys bragging about their conquests. I should’ve known Cain screws other women. It was naïve of me to think he wouldn’t just because he sleeps in my bed. I’m nothing more than an obligation to him, someone he feels responsible for.

  “Are you jealous, angel?” he asks.

  “No, you’re disgusting,” I lie rather than tell him the truth and face his rejection.

  “That’s what I thought,” Cain says before he kisses the top of my head and climbs out of my tiny bed. “I’ll see you soon, Gabby,” are his last whispered words before he picks up his backpack from the floor and walks out the door.

  Chapter Seven

  Cain

  My nerves were already shot to hell about this whole plan of mine, so having Gabby talk about going to work at Escapades almost sent me off the deep end. Like I need any more reminders about how fucking important it is for me to try to convince Domino to give me a shot to become an artist in his studio.

  I’ve spent the last three years falling more in love with Gabby while at the same time trying to find a way to help her escape the life she has waiting for her. It may have been her brother Robbie’s fault that she lost her freedom, but I’ll be damned if I let her take her clothes off for a roomful of assholes. And don’t even get me started on what she would have to do for Mario at the end of the night.

  While winning fights might let me bank a few thousand, I want to do more. I need to be more than a caged animal who brawls for them. Tattooing will let me earn a decent living while saving for the future and getting out from underneath Mario’s thumb.

  That’s why I can’t let Domino refuse my offer, or Gabby and I will both be screwed.

  Even though it’s close to midnight, I know he’ll be awake and cleaning up the shop, so I go around the back of Classic Ink and knock for him to let me in.

  “Cain! What brings you by so late?” Domino asks gleefully as he peers over his glasses at me with one palm resting on his beer gut. I’ve always thought Dom looked like a jolly old Santa…if Santa were covered in tats and had a long black beard instead of white.

  “I’ve got some sketches for you,” I tell him, which is a partial truth. I yank my backpack around to my chest and pull the loose sheets of paper out from my notebook to hand them to him.

  Whenever I draw some flash worth a shit, I bring it to Dom to put in his books or on the walls. Occasionally, when he’s really backed up, he’ll also pay me to design the stencil for a requested tattoo.

  “These sketches are great, Cain,” Domino tells me as he flips through the pages that consist of a few dragons, a grim reaper, and some skulls. “I’ll give you twenty for them.”

  “That’s great and all, but I was hoping for more,” I tell him.

  “Fine, thirty, but that’s the most I can do,” he says sternly.

  “No, Domino, I meant that tomorrow’s my birthday, so I
was hoping you could give me a job working for you here in the studio.”

  “Did Mario approve this?” he scowls while stroking his long beard.

  “Not yet, but I needed to get your agreement first. If you’ll give me a station, then I can get set up and show him that this alternative to fighting could work.”

  “I dunno, Cain…”

  “Come on! Please. You know I’ll be great, and I can design all the stencils you need for free if I were a full-time employee. This is it, Dom. If you don’t help me, then I’m done. Mario will make me fight; and in three years, my hands will be too fucked up to ever ink anyone.”

  “Fine,” Domino grumbles. “But I’m gonna play dumb if anyone comes here asking questions. I can’t protect you, kid. Not from them.”

  “I don’t expect you to put yourself out for me,” I tell him. “If you’ll just give me a chance to show them this is a legitimate job with a steady income, I think it could work.”

  “Good luck to you, Cain. I hope you’re right,” he says. “Set up shop over there.” He points to the empty chair and station in the corner. “And, ah, I was gonna wait until your birthday tomorrow to tell you about my gift, but fuck it. If you want, I’ll ink both sleeves for you, your choice of design, no cost. Whenever you’re ready.”

  “Holy shit! Thank you,” I tell him, barely refraining from hugging him. Not only have I wanted my own ink for years and couldn’t afford them, but Domino just gave me a chance at a new fucking life. A better one. Not just for me but hopefully for Gabby soon too.

  I haven’t figured out how I’ll save her in nine months unless I can come up with enough money for us to get new identities and move out to the west coast. As far away as we can get from the mafia’s reach. I can save my artwork and take photos of my tattoos for a scrapbook to use to find a job at another studio, and Gabby can go to college if she wants or work in a flower shop, doing the artsy crafts she likes to do.

  All I have to do is start saving money and figure out a way to convince her to leave her no-good brother behind and come with me.

  Leaving will be risky, but it beats the fuck out of the alternative.

  …

  It only takes two short days for all my dreams to be crushed.

  “What do you think you’re doing here, Cain?” Mario asks when he strolls into the backroom of Domino’s tattoo studio in his three-piece suit with his dark hair combed over to the left perfectly and removes his sunglasses. I may not be able to see them, but at least two, maybe three goons are likely lurking within a few feet. The head of the mafia can’t just wander around town alone unless he’s on a suicide mission thanks to all the enemies he has.

  “I’m earning a living,” I reply coolly even though I’m panicking that Mario came himself rather than send one of his errand boys. “I plan to work my ass off here so I can pay you, just name the price.”

  “The price?” Mario repeats followed by a chuckle. “You can’t afford it.”

  “Name your price,” I repeat, leaning my back against the counter and crossing my arms over my chest, trying to show him I’m not budging on this. The reason he wants fighters is to make money. If I can pay him an equal amount, then I should be able to convince him to let me earn money using ink instead of blood.

  “For you?” he asks. “Well, you’re a naturally big guy who we’ve already spent three years training to fight, so I’m thinking… ten thousand would be the low end.”

  “Ten thousand dollars a month?” I shout.

  “That’s just for you…”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I ask still reeling over the enormous number he just threw out.

  Mario goes over and picks up the single framed photograph of Gabby at my workstation that I just started setting up yesterday. “Robbie said you’re very protective of his sister.”

  Fucking Robbie. Someone has to be protective of her since he sure as hell isn’t.

  “What does Gabby have to do with me fighting?” I ask.

  “You care about her.” It’s so obvious Mario says this as a statement, not a question.

  “We’ve known each other for years,” I respond rather than with the whole truth, that I love Gabby and would die for her.

  “This photo here says you really care about her.”

  “So?”

  “So, in what, eight, nine months she turns eighteen, right? The girl is really fucking hot too, isn’t she? I saw her in a tiny pair of shorts recently, and fuck were those long legs of hers made to wrap around a pole or what? I know for a fact that her innocence and sex appeal would turn a lot of heads…”

  “How much to keep her out of Escapades?” I ask, knowing that’s where this is going.

  “Since I like to keep my girls happy, I usually only take half of what they earn, so, let’s say…six thousand for her.”

  “Fuck, man,” I groan, swiping my palm over my forehead to wipe up the sweat dripping down. “You know I can’t give you sixteen grand a month and still have enough to get by.”

  “I know. That’s why I have another offer for you,” Mario says, setting Gabby’s photo back down while my heart races with fear of what he’s about to say.

  “Let’s hear it,” I reply even though I’m dreading it. Gabby’s the one thing he can use against me and, thanks to Robbie, now he fucking knows it.

  “When Gabby turns eighteen, she comes to work for me–”

  “No!” I yell to interrupt him with a shake of my head.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Mario says, “That’s not up for debate after almost four years at the house. But, I’ll make you a deal. I’ll keep her off the stage and set her up as a waitress. If I do that, then you have to fight. Your training starts tomorrow.”

  I fucking knew it! That son of a bitch Scarfone has been set on me brawling for him ever since I was a kid, bigger and stronger when I was beaten and half-starved to death than all the other guys years older than me. Now that’s what Mario’s been counting on too after he took over the criminal empire.

  And it’s no surprise how badly he wants Gabby. The girl’s fucking gorgeous. And he’s right, she is innocent, and I plan to keep it that way, even if I have to leave my dreams behind to do it. There’s a reason the girls at Escapades are all strung out on coke or heroin most of the time. They don’t just strip; they’re whores who are sold to the highest bidder each and every night after they take their clothes off for a room full of men. I would literally do anything in the world before I'd let Gabby go through that nightmare.

  Dammit, I’ll fight for the fucker if I have to, save up my money until I have enough to disappear with Gabby and our new identities. Leaving is still risky with the contacts Mario has, but so is staying here.

  “No one touches her?” I ask for clarification.

  “No one will touch her, not even me unless she asks for it,” he replies with a smug grin.

  Gabby won’t ever fucking ask him for it.

  “So if I fight, that’s it? I don’t owe you any more money for either of us, and I still earn the winner’s purses?”

  “You’ll earn half of what the other fighters earn. If you fight and if you win for the next three years, then yes, that’s all I’ll require. I’ll even let Gabby out nearly a year early.”

  Right, I knew there had to be another catch. Otherwise, I would say to hell with it and lose every fight, just like Ivan always does. And three fucking years seems like a lifetime.

  “What if I lose?” I ask, since no matter how much I train or how good I am, someone else will eventually be better.

  “That’s the price of making a deal with the devil,” he replies with a grin. “I’m a man of my word. But if you lose, Gabby takes it all off on stage, and there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it. As much as I love my fighters and the stacks of money they make me, I’m hoping you lose. Because the first night she goes up, she’s mine,” he declares. “But don’t worry. I don’t have to force myself on my girls. They willingly spread their legs for me
because they’re usually desperate for something, and I always give them whatever it is they need. Gabby won’t be any different…”

  “I won’t fucking lose, and she won’t ever need a goddamn thing from you,” I assure him through clenched teeth, my hands balled up at my sides. Hands that are gonna be so fucked up soon that I’ll barely be able to pick up a pencil, much less a tattoo gun. I’ve trained as they required for the last few years but kept my fists as protected as possible with gloves and by concentrating on cardio. Now I’ll have no choice but to damage them.

  “Three years, win all your fights, and you’ll both be free in no time,” Mario says with a smirk.

  Fucking Robbie. He’s always been a shit brother, but I can’t believe he would put Mario up to this. How else did Mario know how close I am to Gabby unless Robbie ran his mouth?

  With one fell swoop, there go all my dreams right down the shitter. I’ll have to use my fists to make a living, live in a nasty dorm with a dozen other men, and I have no fucking idea what Gabby will do when she turns eighteen and gets kicked out of the house.

  Then, I suddenly have an idea. I may be pushing my luck but I have to try, for Gabby’s sake. She’ll need a safe place to live in a few months, and I want to make sure I can take care of her. Fighters live together to train and keep their dicks in their pants until after wins.

  “One last thing,” I say when Mario turns to walk out the door. “If I agree to do this, will you at least let me, Ivan, and Knox get our own place near the gym?” I leave out Gabby’s name for now.

  “No.”

  “Come on, man. Please. I’ll do anything,” I beg.

  “Do you really think you three can actually adhere to the rules on your own?” Mario asks.

  “Yes,” I answer without hesitation because I’ll make my boys stay in line, eating healthy, no drinking, no sex, whatever it takes to get out from underneath constant supervision for the first time in our lives all while giving Gabby a safe place to live in a few months.