Table of Contents
Title Page
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
A Note to Readers
Books by Crista McHugh
Copyright and Bio
In the Red Zone
The Kelly Brothers, Book 6
By
Crista McHugh
All-Star linebacker Frank Kelly is as well-known for his off-the-field hits as he is for his on-field ones. When a dance club brawl ends with him in handcuffs again, he’s rescued by a well-connected woman who can get the charges dropped in exchange for a small favor. If he’ll agree to play the part of a doting boyfriend for two months, she’ll keep him out of the slammer and help restore his reputation.
Kiana Dyer may be the daughter of a Hall of Fame football player, but the charity organization she took over when he died isn’t getting the media attention she’d hoped for. A staged romance with Frank Kelly is just the ticket she needs to get in the spotlight. As the lines between fake and real start to blur, she begins to wonder if bailing him out was the best call she’s ever made. Just when everything seems to be falling perfectly in place, scandal surrounds her charity, and she’s the one left scrambling to clear her name.
Recommended for those who like:
Sports Romance
Interracial or Multicultural Romance
BWWM
The Kelly Brothers
The Sweetest Seduction, Book 1
Breakaway Hearts, Book 2
Falling for the Wingman, Book 3
The Heart’s Game, Book 4
A Seductive Melody, Book 5
In the Red Zone, Book 6
Here All Along, Book 7 (June 2015)
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Chapter One
“Damn!” Frank Kelly drew the word out into two syllables, a habit he’d picked up since moving to Atlanta four years ago. “Would you look at the ass on the hot thing that just walked in?”
His teammate, Treson Dyer, didn’t even bother to look up from the text message he was typing out on his phone. “In a minute. It’s last call for placing bets on the West Coast games.”
“No, you really need to check this woman out.” As it was, it was taking all the strength Frank could muster not to drool at the set of curves that had just walked into the club. He’d always been an ass man, but she took bootylicious to a whole new level. The way her dress hugged her body made him long to touch the tempting flesh covered by the thin material. She stood near the entrance, craning her neck to peer above the dancers as though she was trying to find someone.
Frank rose from his table in the VIP section and patted his friend on the chest. “On second thought, you stay right there and keep betting on basketball games. I want her all to myself.”
“Have fun, Romeo,” Tre replied, his gaze never leaving his phone.
Frank used the excuse of smoothing out his shirt to wipe the sweat from his palms. On the field, he was the epitome of confidence. Nothing got to him—not loud crowds, extreme weather, or the reputation of the future Hall of Fame quarterback hunched across the line from him. He just zeroed in on his target and went after it.
Women, on the other hand, were an entirely different matter. His teammates may have called him Romeo, but they never knew how tied up in knots his stomach became when he approached a woman for the first time. He hid it well behind a cocky attitude and cheeky grin, but there was still a part of him that remained a gawky teenager with fiery red hair and braces, working up the courage to ask a girl to dance.
He swallowed back his fear and slipped his trademark grin in place as he approached the woman. “Looking for me?”
Dark curls framed an angelic face and honey-colored eyes, all surrounded by flawless skin the color of coffee and cream. She arched one perfectly groomed brow. “Excuse me?”
Ouch! Her reply was almost the equivalent of a slap in the face, so he decided to change tactics. Assistance replaced arrogance, and he lowered the wattage on his charm. “You just seemed to be looking for someone, and I thought I’d be able to help.”
The corner of her mouth rose into a wry smile, drawing his attention to the dark ruby color of her full lips. She was even more tempting up close.
“I know you from somewhere,” she said after staring at him for what felt like an eternity. “You’re Frank Kelly, aren’t you?”
“The one and only.” He didn’t wait for permission to take her hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow. “And I’d love to have you join me at my table.”
She unwound herself from him. “Oh, no, Romeo. I’ve heard about you and the ladies.”
Shit! Warning bells went off when she used his teammate’s nickname for him.
But he continued to grin at her like she was playing right along with his plan. “Are you going to believe the rumors? Or are you tempted to find out if they’re true?”
The arched brow returned, this time with a healthy dose of Are you fucking kidding me? attitude. But the corner of her mouth twitched, and finally, laughter bubbled out. “I’m looking for my brother, Tre. Have you seen him?”
And just like that, the proverbial bucket of ice water doused his desire. It was one thing to hit on a stranger, but his friend’s sister? Even he knew better than to dig himself into that hole.
Time to change the game plan. He offered his arm to her again, this time more as a gentleman than a prospective lover. “This way, lovely lady.”
She linked her arm with his and allowed him to lead her into the VIP section. Not the way he wanted to bring her back there, but it was better than getting smacked for his advances.
When they got to the table, his teammate was still furiously typing away.
The woman placed her hand on her hip. “Hey, Tre, put that thing down for five seconds and say hello to me.”
Tre jerked and blinked several times when he looked up. “Kiana, you made it.” He tucked the phone into his pocket long enough to stand and give his sister a hug. “What took so long?”
She glanced over at Frank. “Romeo here was trying to make a move on me.”
“Dude, you were hitting on my sister?” Tre smacked the back of Frank’s head and gave him a warning glare that clearly said hands off.
“I didn’t know.” Frank rubbed the spot on his head. Tre had never even mentioned having a sister, much less that she would be joining them tonight.
He slumped back into his chair and studied the siblings. They had the same shape of eyes, both fringed by thick lashes. The same chins. The same foreheads. Enough to hint at a family resemblance, even though she had a much lighter complexion.
“Treating me like the dirty family secret again?” she asked lightheartedly and took the seat beside Tre.
“No, just busy.”
Even though her brother brushed off her question, Frank was intrigued. He leaned forward. “I can’t imagine how someone as lovely as you could be considered a dirty secret.”
“Believe it, man,” Tre snapped. “I’m her brother from another mother.”
Kiana rolled her eyes. “What he means to say is that our father had a problem keeping his zipper up. I’m his half-sister.”
“Enough said.” Frank’s spidey senses told him that was o
ne topic they didn’t need to continue.
“But I still love you, Kiki.” Tre placed a kiss on Kiana’s cheek and went back to his phone.
An awkward silence followed that made Frank squirm in his seat. Tre obviously was more interested in watching basketball scores roll in and estimating his winnings for the night than hanging out with his sister. But if Frank dared to ask her out on the dance floor, he might open himself up to more than just a warning glance from his friend. A wise man might have found some excuse to leave the table, but Frank had never been accused of being wise.
Especially when it came to women.
An older song from Pitbull blasted through the speakers of the club, and Frank rose from his seat and approached Kiana. “Care to dance?”
A flicker of amusement shone from her golden-brown eyes. “Depends.”
“On what?”
“On how well you can dance.” She raked her gaze over him, her expression one of challenge.
Frank chuckled and rolled his hips in time to the Latin rhythm. “I’ve got plenty of moves.”
More laughter rose from that tempting mouth, and his chest tightened. He didn’t dare breathe until she held out her hand.
“Not bad for a white boy,” she teased.
“You might find I’m full of surprises.” He took her hand and cast one more glance at her brother to make sure it was safe to take her out. When Tre didn’t look up, he led her to the packed dance floor.
The music throbbed through the sound system, and flashing lights illuminated the sea of writhing bodies with shadows that concealed faces and highlighted sexy silhouettes. Once they were deep enough into the crowd, Frank grew brave enough to rest his hands on the curve of her hips. She danced along with the beat, each sensuous sway of her body heightening the fire flowing through his veins. He followed her lead and lowered his mouth to her ear, singing some of the lyrics of the song.
“I know you want me. You know I want you.”
Her grin widened. “You can dance, but you can’t sing.”
And another blow to his pride. At least this time, she softened it by wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer her.
He dropped his hands to the top of that luscious ass that had called to him the moment he’d first spotted her. Now it was his turn to take the lead. Once again, he found himself thanking his mother for insisting he take ballroom dance classes when he was in junior high. The experience revived the salsa moves like an old memory. He pressed her against him and guided her movements, watching for any sign that he’d overstepped his bounds. Instead, he was rewarded with heavily hooded eyes and a seductive smile that made his dick ache with desire.
They don’t call me “Romeo” for nothing.
And he wanted her. Badly.
Too bad she was Tre’s sister. If she weren’t, he’d be all too ready to invite her back to his place after a few more songs.
The song faded into the next one, but she didn’t move away from him. Instead, she coyly met his gaze and ran her fingers up and down his neck.
He found himself staring at her lips, longing to taste them. Sweat prickled along his spine. He tried to divert his attention to the music, the lights, the people around him, but he kept coming back to the siren in his arms. So tempting, and yet so dangerous. And he knew if he gave into her, he’d be lost.
He was spared from falling into her snare when she stiffened in his arms.
“Shit,” she hissed under her breath, staring at something behind him. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Don’t ask.” She took his hand and pulled him toward the VIP section.
He’d managed to take one step before a hand clamped on his shoulder and spun him around. His hand reflexively curled into a fist, but he’d had enough run-ins with the law not to swing blindly.
A black man a few inches shorter than him stood less than a foot away, surrounded by an entourage of his buddies. The expression on his face spoke of pure trouble, and Frank started calculating his odds if he took him on.
“Kiana,” the man said with a subtle lift of his chin. “I thought that was you.”
“Fuck off, Malcolm.” She tugged at Frank’s hand, but a member of Malcolm’s party cut off her escape route.
“Ah, is that any way to say hello to me, Boo? How’s my baby girl?” Malcolm reached for her arm, but she shrugged out of his way and moved closer to Frank.
The mixture of both irritation and fear on her face kicked Frank’s protective urges into overdrive. He moved between Kiana and their unwelcome visitor. “I don’t think she wants you around.”
Malcolm replied with a dismissive snort. “And who are you, whitey?”
“The man she was dancing with until you decided to interrupt us.” Frank kept his words low and even, sticking to that line from Hamlet. Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, Bear't that the opposed may beware of thee. He didn’t want trouble, but if the guy didn’t take a hint soon, he wouldn’t back down from defending Kiana.
Malcolm’s eyes widened ever so slightly before he laughed it off, his whole body relaxed in comparison to the increasing tension in the rest of his entourage. “I always knew you were more white than black,” he tossed out at Kiana.
She winced, and Frank’s fingers dug into his palms. What he wouldn’t give to punch that smirk off Malcolm’s face.
He took a step toward Malcolm, drawing up every bit of his six foot three, two hundred and fifty pound frame. “I’ll say it simply enough for you to grasp. Leave her alone.”
“Or you’ll what?”
His pulse throbbed through his temples. After getting caught in a compromising position with one of Jenny’s cousins after the engagement ceremony in Seattle a few weeks ago, he’d promised Adam he’d behave, that he’d stay out of trouble. But right now, all he wanted to do was shut that arrogant punk up with his fist. He glared down at Malcolm, waiting for the smaller man to cower. Instead, the expression on the man’s face dared him to bring it on.
A sharp cry jerked his attention away from the staring match. One of Malcolm’s friends had Kiana by the shoulder and was murmuring a string of lewd comments while he ground his body against her.
Frank’s vision clouded red and he swung.
Chapter Two
Kiana’s breath caught as Frank punched at the asshole who’d been trying to feel her up. She’d barely had to time to free herself from his grip before Frank’s fist connected with the guy’s nose with a sickening crunch. Blood splattered her face and dress, and a squeal of disgust mingled with fear escaped from her lips. She added a few more feet of distance between her and the two men exchanging blows, but like much of the crowd gathering around them, she couldn’t turn away.
The night had started out so well. For the first time in ages, she felt sexy, confident, alive. And the more attention Frank gave her, the stronger those emotions became. Dancing in his arms reminded her of those carefree days in college where she could flirt with the best of them and not worry about the consequences when one thing led to another. If Malcolm hadn’t interrupted them, she might have let her guard down enough to indulge in a kiss or two.
But that was all she would’ve allowed Frank Kelly. She knew better than to play with a player. She’d come to the club with only one objective, and that was to secure a celebrity endorsement from Frank Kelly for her foundation. She was willing to go to any length to get it, even if it meant playing along with his flirtations. But her plan went to hell the second Malcolm entered the picture.
The last player who’d burned her stood a few yards away, encouraging his buddies to jump into the fight and beat the crap out of Frank, but not making a move to dirty his own hands in the brawl. He only hit those he considered weaker than him. Thankfully, his entourage saw the beating their friend was receiving and hesitated to become the next person to feel the fury of Frank’s fists.
When he saw none of them were willing to do his dirty work, Malcolm reached into
his jacket, and her heart stuttered to a stop. She knew the pissed-off glint in his eye well enough, as well as his habit of carrying a concealed weapon. As far as she knew, he’d never fired the .44 he liked to hide in his clothes. It was more for intimidation, for street cred, than anything else. But the rage twisting his face signaled he might have reached the point where he wanted to pull the trigger. And just like the night he’d pointed it at her, she couldn’t tell if it was loaded.
The dull black grip of a handgun appeared from under Malcolm’s jacket. Her ex’s gaze never wavered from the man who’d challenged him. The man who continued to pummel his lackey. The man whose back was to him.
Something snapped inside of Kiana. If she didn’t do something, Frank would be shot, and it would be all her fault. And then, who was to say that she wouldn’t be next? This time, she refused to huddle in a corner and beg for mercy. This time, she would take control of the situation and act. She darted forward as Malcolm pulled out his gun. Her hand connected with the side of his arm as he extended it. She snapped it up as he squeezed the trigger.
The deafening shot rang in her ears long after the bullet left the chamber. A strobe light above them exploded. Showers of sparks and shards of glass rained down on the crowd. Then pandemonium erupted.
Screams filled the club, and the occupants ran toward the doors. Frank stopped punching his opponent long enough to get up on his knees and spy Malcolm, still holding the gun.
“You stupid bitch!” Malcolm shouted, his free hand connecting with her cheek.
The familiar taste of blood filled her mouth, and she tumbled to the floor.
A feral growl rose behind her, and she lifted her head just in time to see Frank tackle Malcolm as though they were on the football field. Her ex’s eyes bulged when Frank’s shoulder connected with his gut. A grunt of pain escaped his lips. The clang of metal followed, and Malcolm’s handgun slid off in the dark shadows of the dance floor.
“You need to learn some manners,” Frank said before delivering a solid punch to Malcolm’s jaw.
Kiana bit her swollen lip, fighting back the urge to cheer Frank on. For the last two years, she’d wanted to see Malcolm get what was coming to him. She wanted him to feel the pain and humiliation of being hit by someone bigger than him. She wanted him to experience what she’d endured during their stormy relationship. And now Frank was dishing it up for her.
In the Red Zone Page 1