by S. J. Bishop
"I've got news for you," I whispered back to him. "The cuffs are going on me no matter who wins." I batted my lashes at him, and Jax grinned.
Epilogue
Jax - 3 Months Later...
I turned to Mason, my hands shaking. "Is everything ready?" I asked.
"For the hundredth time, yes. Caden's behind the stage, talking to the band. Everything is set. Are you ready?"
I nodded. "Absolutely."
"You're lucky we're winning," Mason said, clapping me on the back.
"Why is that?" I asked.
"Because," Mason said, "no one wants to marry a loser. Duh." He shook his head as if that were obvious. I tightened my lips. Mason had been a big help to me in setting things up today. He wasn't such a bad guy. He was still kind of a dick sometimes, but now I realized he was like that to everyone.
Suddenly, Caden appeared on stage. His team hadn't made it to the big game this year, but they'd come close. Caden had taken them as far as he could. It wasn't his fault they'd lost out on it—that was just bad luck. If their wide receiver hadn't broken his leg, the Jets would be playing the Patriots today. The rest of football agreed with me. The New England Patriots had refused to let Caden go when his contract ended this season. Instead, they'd offered him the single biggest contract in sports history. He was already a millionaire, and with his new contract, he'd be hitting billionaire status next fall.
I was surprised the Jets had done so well this season, considering all that had happened. The owner had hired a new coach right away and let me come back to the team without any issues. He figured that since I was such big news, I could bring the team lots of free publicity. Whatever. I was just happy to play. Even more than that, though, I was happy to put the last few months behind me. Coach Allen's trial had come and gone, and he would be rotting in jail for the rest of his life. Convicted of first-degree murder, as well as attempted murder and obstruction of justice, he was not even eligible for parole.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Caden said into the microphone. The crowd cheered. Mason was right. It was a lot better going into halftime with the upper hand. It would make taking the stage that much sweeter. "We have a man here tonight who would like to say a few words to his girlfriend. Maybe you can all help get her up here. What do you say?"
The crowd began to cheer. I looked towards the fifty-yard line and spotted Treena sitting between her father and Clarissa. Lars was on Clarissa's right. I started toward them. I'd told her father what I'd planned to do today, opting to be traditional. I respected him and knew I had a lot in my past that might not make me the ideal son-in-law, so I figured I'd better put my best foot forward with him. He'd been ecstatic, especially since it was no secret now that Treena was pregnant.
Treena had finally come to terms with her pregnancy, recognizing that as a cop, there were going to be some things she just couldn't do until after the baby was born. I'd secretly spoken to Keith and Emily. They'd promised me they'd keep an eye on her and keep her out of harm's way. That didn't make me feel much better, but it helped. They were here somewhere tonight, their own engagement still fresh in the air. From what Treena told me, Keith had helped Emily study for her detective's exam, and this time she'd passed.
I walked to where Treena was sitting on the bench and pulled her up.
"What's going on?" she asked. Her stomach was showing now, and she walked slowly beside me as the crowd roared. Up on stage, the halftime band stepped out and began to play a soft instrumental. I got down on one knee, holding out the ring I'd spent a month debating over. A round diamond in a platinum setting gleamed at Treena from under the lights. Her eyes widened.
"Oh," she said, her hands covering her mouth. Caden handed me the microphone.
"Treena Walker," I said. "You are not only beautiful and fierce, but the reigning skee-ball champion. I promise that if you marry me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you and trying to take your championship title away." The crowd laughed. Treena was glowing. "I love you. Will you be my wife?"
Treena bent down to hug me, almost falling over. I caught her and held her close. "Yes!" she squealed. "Yes!" The crowd cheered. It was only halftime, but I already felt like a winner.
Billionaire Baller
BLITZ - BOOK 5
Prologue
Caden
"Awww, come on, Eli," Raina whined. "Let me try."
Raina whined a lot. Nine-year-olds tended to do that. Still, she wasn't all bad. She had two long blonde pigtails that my mother assured me were "adorable" and a fiery temper that I thought was sorta funny. Especially when she tried to kick Eli's butt whenever he pissed her off.
"Football is for boys," Eli teased her. He held the football out to her, then just when she was about to grab it, he pulled it away again. Raina stuck out her bottom lip.
"Oh, it's okay. Let her try," I told Eli. He looked at me like I'd lost my mind.
We were only three years older than Raina, but that three years made a world of difference. It meant we were in middle school while Raina was still in elementary school. It also meant that Eli and I were making money mowing neighbors' lawns on the weekend, while Raina was still selling lemonade.
"Girls can't play football," Eli reiterated to me.
"I just wanna try kicking it," Raina said. "I kick pretty good for a girl. See?" She kicked him in the shin to emphasize her point. A lot of older brothers I knew would've gotten mad, but Eli thought it was funny that his little sister was so tough. I saw him start to give in.
"Fine, but if anyone sees you, pretend like you're cheering us on or something. Okay? Not like you're playing with us."
"Okay," Raina said and took the football. She was grinning.
"I'll hold it for you," I told her. "Just don't kick me."
"Thanks, Caden." Her grin widened, and I felt myself grin back.
"I'm not responsible for it if she kicks you in the nuts, man," Eli said.
"She won't do that." I looked at her sideways. "Will you?"
She shook her head, and her ringlets spun around her head in a halo. "Uh-uh. Promise."
"Okay." I set the ball on the lawn and held it straight for her. "Now just kick it as hard as you can."
She backed up about ten yards, narrowed her eyes, and ran toward the ball. Her foot hit it hard, but instead of flying straight into the air, it made an L-turn and flew into Mr. Woodman's yard across the street. It rolled to a stop in his flower bed. Raina stuck out her bottom lip as Eli laughed.
"I told you girls can't kick," he shouted.
"Actually, that wasn't bad," I said.
"Aw, you're full of it," Eli said, waving me off.
"No, man, it flew crooked, but look how far it went."
Mr. Woodman was standing on his lawn, our football in his hands. Eli scrunched his face up and ruffled Raina's head. "Yeah, alright, I guess that's pretty good. For a girl." He ran across the street to retrieve our ball.
"Sorry, Mr. Woodman," he said, taking the ball back. "Did we hurt your flowers?"
"No, they're pretty sturdy. Just remember that one day, when you and Caden are professionals, you owe me some seats at a game. Maybe down by the end zone. I like to be near the action."
"Sure thing, Mr. Woodman."
Eli came running back.
"Was he mad about the flowers?" Raina asked nervously.
"Naw, Mr. Woodman's alright."
My mom said that Mr. Woodman was thirty and something called a contractor. He had lots of muscles and an expensive car. Her eyes got all funny looking whenever he was around, and she giggled a lot. A lot of the moms in the neighborhood acted the same way.
The front door to Eli's house opened, and his mom stepped out on the porch. "Eli! Raina! It's dinner time."
"Aw, mom, just five more minutes," Eli said.
"Nope. Now." She looked across the street and waved to Mr. Woodman. "Hi, Logan," she called.
"Hey, Molly. Nice night out, isn't it?"
She giggled and nodded. "Y
eah, I'm taking the kids out for ice cream after dinner."
"Wish you had been my mom growing up," he winked.
She giggled and nodded again before going back in.
Moms must have magic ears. As soon as Eli's mom called them in, my own mom opened up our front door and did the same thing. Eli handed the ball off to me.
"Tomorrow, we'll get some of the guys and go to the field," he said.
"Yea, okay." We headed in before our moms could start yelling.
Over dinner, my mom informed me that she was going out tonight.
"With whom?" I asked.
"Just a friend."
I knew what that meant. It was code for "date." Whatever. Since she and dad had split up, she'd had lots of dates. I didn't care. Not since she'd stopped hiring babysitters to watch me. That had been embarrassing. When I’d turned twelve, I'd shot up to almost six feet and looked more like I was in high school than middle school. She'd decided then that I could probably take care of myself.
At least I hadn't had to move. A lot of kids had to move when their parents got divorced. My dad had moved out of Boston, but Mom and I had stayed here. I'd grown up in this house and liked living next door to Eli. He was my best friend, and it would have sucked to have had to go away.
"I won't be home late. I left some ice cream in the freezer for later."
"Thanks."
Around nine, she still wasn't home. I was into my second bowl of ice cream and watching some movie where a guy with a machine gun was blowing away some sort of alien trying to take over the Earth. Only the machine gun bullets didn't do anything, and he had to cut the aliens' heads off with a machete instead.
It was a warm night, and I had the windows open, so when I heard the scream from Eli's house, it was crystal clear. I couldn't tell whether it was Raina or her mom, but I knew it hadn't just come from the television. I bolted outside to see what was going on.
There was no fence between our houses, so I just walked toward their back porch like I usually did. I could see from ten feet away that their patio door was open.
"Eli?" I called out.
The light was on in their kitchen. It flicked off as I got closer. I hesitated. Something didn't feel right. I started walking slower. When I reached the porch, I realized that their patio door wasn't just open, the glass was broken. It lay all over their porch.
I knew what my mom would say. Call the cops. But maybe Eli had just been goofing around with his own football and broken the door. His mom would've probably screamed bloody murder if he'd done that. My mom sure would. Eli's dad would still be at work, so she was probably making Eli get the dustpan and broom out of their basement. Still... the hairs on my arms were standing on end.
I started to turn back when a second scream pealed through the night air. "Raina?" I called out, certain this time it was her that I'd heard. "Eli?" I stepped into their house. Something lay on the floor in the kitchen, just behind the breakfast bar.
"M-Mrs. Parker?"
Even in the dark, I could see she wasn't moving. Something thick and black oozed out of her head from where she'd been hit repeatedly. I took a step closer and saw Eli lying beside her. My heart froze. I knelt down to shake him and saw his chest rise and fall. Thank God.
"HEEEEEEELLLPP!" Raina's scream was so loud it made my ear drums bleed. I looked down the hall and saw two figures, one short and one tall, struggling at the bottom of the stairs. It didn't take me long to figure out who was who.
I didn't even think about it. I ran toward them and hit the guy as hard as I could. All three of us went flying. He let go of Raina, and she scrambled away.
"Raina, run!" I yelled, but she stood there, her eyes glued to us.
"What the fuck?" the intruder yelled. "Where'd you come from?" He swung his fist, and it collided with my jaw. I fell against the doorknob and felt it bruise my back.
"Uuuggh!" I cried.
"You shouldn't have come in here," the intruder snarled and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a knife. Raina kicked him as hard as she could from behind, hitting the back of his knees. He crumpled to the ground, and I pounced on him.
I grabbed a handful of his hair, just like I'd seen guys do in the movies, and used it to first lift his head then smash it into the ground. Repeatedly. His nose bled, and his eyes closed. I let go of him and grabbed ahold of Raina. She was sobbing.
We sat together a minute on the floor, her crying into my shoulder, me too stunned to move. Blood dripped down my forehead and ran into my eyes.
A noise from the back of the house made us both jump. It was Mr. Woodman. He took one look at the two of us on the floor, the intruder motionless at our feet. His face was white.
"I'll call the cops," he said and ran to the phone.
Raina whimpered like an injured kitten. "Th-th-they're dead," she cried.
"Eli's not," I told her. "He was breathing."
She looked up at me hopefully. I wrapped both arms around her as her body shook.
"It's okay," I told her. "I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
1
Raina
I kneeled on the ground, my nose almost touching the dirt as I bent over looking at the heel print.
"See anything good down there?" Officer Skeecher asked. "Like your dinner?" He and a few of the other guys broke up laughing. Mac shot them all a look.
"Grow up," he said. "This is a crime scene, not a comedy club." He turned back to me, holding out his hand to help me up. I waved it off and stood up, brushing my hands on my pants.
"As a matter of fact," I said loudly enough for Skeecher and the others to hear, "this heel print is identical to the ones in the other burglaries."
"So now you're an expert at footprints?" Skeecher asked.
"No, but anyone with half a brain could see the similarity. Which is probably why you missed it."
Mac grinned. The other officers started laughing but immediately stopped when they saw the look on Skeecher's face.
"Are you saying I'm brainless?" he demanded.
"Not necessarily. Maybe your brain is just in your dick, like most men."
I turned away from them and smiled at Mac. I'd lucked out getting him as a partner when I’d transferred to Boston's South End Burglary and Theft division. He was the only man in the department who didn't make me cringe with his juvenile, male-centric attitude.
Mac started talking so that only I could hear. "What do you think? Same guy, right?"
"Definitely. That heel is worn in the same spot, and you can just make out the same letter carved into it—'A.' I don't know whether this guy's crazy or just stupid, but I'm starting to think he's leaving these heel prints on purpose."
"A calling card?"
"I don't know. It's the only thing that makes sense. We find them at almost every one of these burglaries, but nothing else. No prints. No hairs. No fibers. Not even around the safe."
"I think you're onto something. A lot of sick fucks out there who know they're sick. Maybe he wants to get caught."
"Or maybe he wants to claim credit. A little bit of the spotlight?"
Mac grunted his agreement as Officer Hernandez came out of the house with a bag of samples that I was positive would yield no results, just like the rest of the burglaries.
"Final score," Hernandez yelled, "Patriots 24, Jets—"
"WHOA!" Mac and I cried together. Hernandez dropped the smile from his face and looked at us like were both crazy.
"Don't you say another word," Mac threatened.
"What's your problem, Officer Forster?" Hernandez asked, eyeing Mac with contempt. Mac had annoyed a lot of people by sticking up for me when I’d first joined the department. I appreciated it, but I also wished he'd back off sometimes. It was hard enough being a woman in this job without him fighting my battles for me.
"The problem is that me and Officer Parker here are planning to catch the end of the game on the replay at nine. So don't tell us anything. Especially not who won."
"The rep
lay already started," Hernandez said. "It's almost ten."
Mac and I looked at each other. "We're almost done here. Tell these bozos anything you want when we're gone."
Hernandez shrugged. "Whatever," he said and made his way to our car with the evidence bags.
I quickly scanned through them. A glass the burglar may have drunk from. Some silverware we think he touched. An expensive bottle of scotch. The intruder had made away with every scrap of jewelry in the home, as well as some money stored in the safe, and this crap was the best we'd come up with. I set the bags aside and looked at Mac.
"If we're gonna catch this guy, we're gonna have to do better than collecting trinkets like this. You know there won't be any prints on this stuff."
"Sometimes even the best criminals get sloppy."
"Not this guy," I said.
Mac looked around. "I think we're done here. Shift's about over. You ready?"
"Sure." I slid into the passenger seat. Mac still preferred to drive. I think it was his way of staying macho with a female partner, but I had nothing to complain about. He was already head and shoulders better than the others. I didn't want to emasculate the guy, just work with him.
I turned the knob on the radio, and WKAL crackled to life. They were in the last quarter of the game, about where we'd left off when the burglary call had come in.
"Five bucks Jets take it," he said.
"You're on."
We shook on it and leaned back, listening as the announcer gave a rundown of players on the field. Caden Scott had started the game as quarterback, despite having injured his ankle during his last game against the Jets. There was just nothing that could keep that guy down. That was probably why the Patriots had agreed to pay him so much to renew his contract.
"Fuck!" Mac yelled when Caden delivered a successful pass to a halfback in the end zone, tying up the game.
"Haha!" I cheered.