The ladies taking care of our manicures start speaking what I’m assuming is Korean to each other and I can’t help but feel they’re talking about us. I mean, do I have something on my face? Did I put my dress on backward? Are Dani’s tits leaking through her breast pads? Seriously, what’s up?
I try my best to tune them out and finally make it possible when my little guy starts kicking me in the ribs, reminding me he is there and ready for a little attention. I place my free hand on my stomach and feel as he kicks me while I relax further into the chair.
Yeah, I really needed today.
This pregnancy has been exhausting. I’ve just past the five-month mark and finally have stopped throwing up, though, with that stopping, the heartburn has started. My feet ache at the end of the day, I spend the majority of my time uncomfortable ad I have to sleep with a pillow jammed between my legs. I have no idea how I’m going to cope over the next few months, but it will be worth it when I lay my eyes on my beautiful little boy at the end.
I hear a light snore coming from beside me and grin as I take in my best friend, fast asleep. I consider waking her, knowing she will be pissed she missed yet another chance of being pampered but at the same time, I know she needs her sleep.
Forty minutes later, I wake Dani and we make our way out of the nail salon.
We’re halfway to my car with Dani complaining about falling asleep again when she stops in the middle of the street and bursts into tears. “What the hell?” I gasp as I stare at her like she has gone nuts. I pull her into my arms and she sobs on my shoulder.
“I miss Mia,” she cries.
Oh geez! She’s an emotional, tired wreck. I can’t wait to see how I’ll be handling it. “You’ve only been away from her for like four hours,” I say but apparently that’s the wrong thing.
“Four hours is a lot when I’ve never left her before. I tried to be all brave for Miller so he’d be confident when I left but the second I stepped out the door I had this need to run back to her.”
“Come on,” I say, dragging her out of the centre of the road. “Mia is doing fine. I’m sure the boys have stuck to her schedule and she did a great big shit. They would have called if there were any dramas.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” she scoffs. “Miller would have been all ‘I can handle it’ and ‘Don’t call Dani, she needs her girl’s day’.”
“Hmmm, yeah. You’re probably right but don’t stress we can skip having lunch out. We’ll head home and have lunch with the boys.”
“Are you sure?” she asks with joy lighting up her eyes.
“Yeah, babe,” I smile. “Besides after that hour massage, I could really use a little attention from Tank.”
“Ugh,” she groans as she climbs into the passenger’s side of my car. “That massage was supposed to be relaxing not get you hot.”
I shrug my shoulders. “What can I say? She had her hands all over me.”
“Oh my god, Sophie,” she says, shaking her head.
I pull out of my parking spot and get on our way home when an excruciating pain shoots through my stomach. “Fuck,” I grunt as my hand wraps around my baby and I do my best to swerve off the road and come to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Dani gasps, wide-eyed.
I can’t answer, all I can manage is focusing on remembering to breathe. Holy shit, it really hurts. I squeeze my eyes closed and lay my chair back, needing to stretch out.
Tears begin streaming down my face. “Fuck, are you having contractions?” Dani asks.
“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” I cry as I try to get back to focusing on breathing. “It freakin hurts.”
“Can you move? I’ll drive us home,” Dani suggests.
I focus on taking quick, short breaths as Dani hops out of her seat and comes around to the driver’s door. She helps me out and gets me comfortable on the other side of the car. The pain slowly starts to fade as Dani pulls out into the traffic.
“You ok now?” she asks as she quietly turns the radio back on.
“I think so,” I say, rubbing the spot on my tummy that had me in incredible pain. “I don’t know what the hell that was but if that was a contraction, there is no way I’ll be doing this without the drugs.”
“I don’t think it was a contraction,” she muses. “It was probably just your muscles cramping, it happened to me quite a bit but I apparently have a higher pain threshold.”
“Whatever,” I scoff. “I was there when you were giving birth, remember? And that was not the picture of a woman who has a high pain threshold.”
“Give me a break,” she grins as she pulls up at the gate for her home and starts punching in the code. “I was pushing a watermelon out of my vag, that’s a little different from having a cramp.”
I roll my eyes and am about to start with my comeback when a male’s voice coming through the radio pulls my attention away. “Breaking news,” the guy says, prompting me to lean forward to turn up the volume. “Marco Cincinnati, founder, and CEO of M.C Constructions, one of the big five Developmental leaders of L.A, has been found dead. The body was discovered at 9.37 this morning in what it is believed to be a high-class brothel. Reports are saying he suffered from a high mix of alcohol and drugs.”
Woah. Something inside me tells me there is so much more to this story as I reach forward and turn it up a little more.
“Holy shit,” Dani grunts as she brings the car to a stop at the top of her driveway.
“Shhhh,” I demand, waving my hand at her, needing to hear what else is being said.
A response comes from the other news reader. “Wow John, can you believe it?” she says. “This comes a week after the death of Andrew Taylor, CEO of Taylors Developments who died of a heart attack and three weeks after Phillip McDonald, CEO of McDonalds Constructions who passed of natural causes in his sleep.”
“Right,” John replies. “Sounds like there is a curse for all the leading developmental companies going around. I‘d hate to be the CEO’s of Baxter Corporations and First Choice Constructions, looks like they’re up next.”
Too freaking right. What’s the bet that one of these CEO’s had something to do with it? I mean, I could only imagine the type of money that would be coming their way if all the competitors are out of the way.
“Indeed,” the woman replies. “It will be interesting to see how these companies recover from these tragic losses.”
The news bulletin cuts out to an ad break and I turn the radio down before getting out.
“You’ve got that look,” Dani murmurs with disapproval as she reaches into the backseat and grabs her handbag.
“What look?” I ask, knowing exactly what she’s talking about.
“You’re not seriously going to investigate that, are you?” she asks.
“Of course, I am. Did you not hear how suspicious that was? Three of the five leading CEO’s in the construction world are all dead within three weeks of each other. It practically screams suspicious. There is no way I’m not looking into this story. If I’m right, which I usually am, this could be huge.”
“Soph,” she sighs. “It was an overdose. The other guy had a heart attack and the one before that died in his sleep. It’s just coincidence that it happened in such a short time frame,” she says.
“You know I don’t believe in coincidences,” I say bluntly.
“Sophie,” she grunts. “You’re pregnant, you really shouldn’t be doing this. If you’re right, then the police should be handling it. You should be concentrating on growing that baby.”
I roll my eyes. God, she sounds like she has been letting Tank get in her ear. “Come on, Dani. You know I can’t just sit around and do nothing. If there’s a story here, I’m going to find it. I’ll be careful, ok,” I promise her.
She lets out a huff. “Tank’s going to be pissed,” she warns.
“Please,” I scoff, “I can handle Tank.”
She rolls her eyes and pushes through the front door, only to find the boys fast aslee
p on the ground next to a snoring Mia.
“Looks like she wore them out,” Dani laughs.
“Sure does.”
Chapter 4
Tank
My blades cut through the ice as I push out into the middle of the rink. I know the season hasn’t started yet but I’m in the top position for becoming Captain this season and not a damn thing is going to stop me from earning it. So here I am, taking absolutely every chance I can get to improve myself, to push myself to my absolute limits.
I will be captain of the L.A Storm. No. Matter. What.
Besides, I’m about to have a son who is going to look up to his Daddy and when he does, I want to see pride radiating back out of those eyes that I hope are going to look just like Sophie’s. It amazing what that thought does to me. The knowledge of knowing I have a beautiful little boy growing inside my wife’s stomach fills me with something I’ve never felt before, in fact, I have absolutely no fucking idea what it is.
Pride? Love? Excitement? I have no idea. Maybe it’s a mix of it all but whatever the hell it is, it spurs me on to be the best possible version of myself.
When my son grows up, I want him to be proud of his Daddy, to brag to all his little friends that his Daddy is better than theirs and if that’s taking it too far, then I don’t give a shit.
It’s first thing in the morning and I crept out of bed earlier than normal today. Usually, I have no problem getting up and out in the morning except today, I did. Ever since Sophie got home from her Spa day with Dani, she has been off… well, maybe off is the wrong word. She has been distant.
To anyone who doesn’t know her, they would assume she is hiding something, whereas I know she only gets like this when she is deep in thought and is planning a strategy to get the next biggest story.
Don’t get me wrong. I love that she loves her job. It’s fun and exciting and she also gets to be a part of putting some slimy bastard behind bars but she is five months pregnant and she needs to slow down rather than start a new project.
This couldn’t be healthy for the baby, right?
I don’t know. Maybe it’s just me being too overprotective as she likes to remind me all the time. Maybe I should just let her do her thing.
Then again, if she was to get hurt, I would never forgive myself.
Why can’t she just be satisfied writing stories about clothes and makeup?
Damn it.
Someone pushing out onto the ice has my attention finally snapping away from the horrors of my own mind and I’m thankful that now I’ll actually be able to concentrate.
Coach Larsden skates up to me with a chin lift. “How’s it going, Tank?” he asks as he comes to a standstill beside me.
“Pretty good,” I say to the guy who has been my Coach for the past four seasons. “It’s a bit early for you,” I comment.
“Yeah, wanted to get an early start,” he grunts, “the season’s starting soon and I have a shit-load of work to get through.”
“Sounds exciting,” I scoff.
He rolls his eye as he pulls a puck from his pocket at drops it at his skates. “How’s your training going? I’ve noticed you’ve been logging a lot of hours in the gym,” he says.
“Yep,” I say. “I’m feeling good. I’m ready for the season.”
“I know you are,” he says with pride. “That’s why you’re at the top of my list for being this season’s Captain.”
I nod my head, trying not to let my ego soak that in but it feels damn good to hear those words, no matter how much I’ve heard it over the past few months. “Thanks, Coach.”
He shrugs off my thanks, just as I knew he would. He isn’t one for accepting thanks. He’s a believer in getting what you deserve. If you’ve put the work in then why shouldn’t you be rewarded but, either way, I’m not going to accept this position without letting him know how thankful I am.
“How’s Sophie?” he asks as he pulls the goals into position.
“Great,” I smile as I head over and grab a few more pucks out of the bucket by the barrier door. “I think she’s starting to get uncomfortable but she’s too stubborn to admit it.”
He lets out a scoff, knowing I’m right. “Just wait a few more months, then she’ll be telling you all about it.”
I grin at his comment. Most guys can’t stand it when their women complain about shit but me, I love it. Gives me a chance to fix it which makes her see me as some type of hero and that always comes with the benefits. “Can’t wait,” I smirk.
Coach Larsden shakes his head and leaves me be so I can concentrate on my training. I get to work and soon enough a few of the other boys have joined me. As the season hasn’t started, the boys don’t have to be logging as many hours but I’m glad they’re here, pushing themselves to better the team.
This year is our year. I can just feel it.
Miller cuts past me, being the smart-ass he usually is and steals the puck right out from under my unexpecting feet. He smirks as he flies by but the fucker isn’t going to live that down.
I take off like a bull after him. He looks behind him and I have to grin as his eyes widen in shock. He hadn’t expected me to come after him but now that I’ve started… I ain’t stopping.
He pushes forward and I cut across the ice, knowing his tells, after-all, I’ve been skating with the guy for over eight years. Back in college, we were known as the ‘dream team’, hell, some people still call us that. Miller was the big playboy on campus, the king of the fucking ice but right now, he’s a sleep-deprived new father who just messed with the wrong guy.
He flies around the bottom of the net and I distantly notice a few of the guys move away, knowing if they get in the way, their asses are going to get laid out. I cut across the front of the net and end up right in front of him. Miller attempt some of his fancy-ass footwork but I come at him with brute force. I mean, they don’t call me Tank for nothing.
He gets closer and I see the look in his eye. He thinks he’s got this in the bag.
My eyes come down on the puck and a split moment before he passes, my stick cuts out in front of him and scoops it up. He continues past me, enjoying his win far too much to notice he no-longer possess the puck. A mistake made by someone whose head clearly isn’t in the game yet.
I shoot around and fly up the other side of the rink with Miller heavy on my heels after realising he’s got to step it up a bit. I shoot the puck forward and watch as it beautifully flies through the air before slamming into the back of the nets and dropping to the ice.
“Fuck, dude,” Miller pants, coming to a stop beside me. “You’ve picked up speed.”
“Nah, you lost it when you left your balls back there,” I laugh, pointing out the patch of ice where I took the puck from him and notice some of the younger guys applauding my efforts.
“Fuck off,” he grins. “Give me a few weeks, then I want a re-match.”
“You’re on,” I smirk. “But you better be ready before the season starts.”
“You know I will be,” he states before taking off with another puck and running some drills with the guys.
I continue for another few hours before getting off the ice and heading into the locker room. I have a quick shower and get myself dressed before pulling out my phone to call Sophie, only I find an unread text message.
Crazy Jill – Tank, I love you. I can’t wait to be together.
Far out. This chick is relentless. Jillian, her name is. She’s been texting and calling for the past four years. It’s getting ridiculous, Sophie and I even make bets on how long she’ll wait between texts.
At the beginning, I would reply and tell her to stop but that only spurred her on. I started blocking her number so she got new ones. I changed my numbers but she kept working them out. So now, I just let it go. She messages and I ignore it. She calls and I decline it. Everything has been harmless so far, just a really enthusiastic fan so I guess it comes with the territory.
Sophie will get a kick out of it though, she alway
s wins these bets and as usual, today isn’t any different which means I’m on cooking nude duty but I must admit, I really don’t mind it. All it means is that Sophie is going to walk by me a million times, groping me until I give it to her on the kitchen bench.
A smile comes to my face as I make my way out of the ice rink. I press on Sophie’s contact details and hold the phone up, listening as it rings out. I get her voicemail and leave a message. “Babe, crazy Jill messaged so it’s on tonight. You better be ready. Call me back when you can.”
I hang up before trying her office number.
“Daily Star, this is Jen,” the receptionist greets.
“Jen, hey, it’s Tank. Is Sophie around?”
“No, sorry,” she says with a slight cringe in her voice. “She hasn’t been in all morning.”
“Damn,” I grunt. “Do you know where she is?”
“Ahh… let me have a look,” she says as I hear the familiar sound of her fingernails tapping away on the keyboard. “It says she is working on that story about that guy who wanted to clear his name.”
“No,” I tell her. “She wrapped that one up last week. The guy was guilty of that and more.”
“Shit, seriously?” she grunts. “I could have sworn he was innocent.” For fuck's sake. Is this chick serious? How could she not know that the story was done by now? Sophie sent it in days ago and it’s probably in the middle of being printed in their latest issue. “Look,” she continues. “This is Sophie we're talking about. If her last story is wrapped and she isn’t here, she’s probably following a new lead.”
“Hmmm…,” I sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of,” I tell her before hanging up.
I jump into my truck and write her a text.
Tank – Babe, where are you? Hope you’re being safe. Don’t get yourself in any trouble.
I hit send and shoot off to grab some lunch and am back at the ice rink an hour later.
Kings of Denver Page 3