Small Town Daddy: A Dark Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  He smiled. “Nah. Is that all?”

  “Listen.” I hit play on the sound file.

  I watched Tony’s face as he listened to his own muffled voice talking to Taylor. He went from mildly amused to confused to angry over the course of the two-minute recording.

  “What the fuck is that?” he demanded when it finished.

  “Should I play it again?”

  “No. Don’t play it again, you fucking idiot.” He finished his drink and poured another. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “You say some shit in that recording that I bet you don’t want out.”

  He looked at me for a second and then burst out laughing. “Hot damn, Rack. I didn’t expect this.”

  “You’re going to leave me alone, or I’m going to send my story to a journalist. Taylor will corroborate me and so will this recording.

  Tony shook his head. “No. That won’t happen. We’ll just kill you.”

  “My lawyer has a copy. If anything happens to me or Taylor, he releases it, along with your name and information.”

  “You’re fucking serious, aren’t you?”

  “Very serious.”

  “Fucking hell, Rack.” He shook his head. “This simply won’t do.”

  “You have my proposal. Make your decision. I’ll take your guys down or you let me go.”

  “You can’t take us down,” he said, laughing. “We’re the fucking mafia.”

  “Maybe not, but I bet I’ll cause you guys a lot of problems and lose you a lot of money.”

  He processed that for a second, and slowly I could see his surprised amusement turn into anger.

  “Listen to me, you little punk,” he said. “I’ve been nice to you, a lot nicer than a lot of guys in my position would be. I’m done being nice. You do what we ask, or I will ruin your career, torch your grandmother, and fuck your pretty little girlfriend with a knife until she bleeds to death. Understand?” He stood up.

  I stood up along with him. “You’re making a mistake,” I said.

  He walked toward the door. “You dumb fuck.”

  “Don’t test me, Tony. I’m done with you fucking pricks.”

  He stopped and turned toward me. “Did that dumb bitch put you up to this?” He shook his head, amazed. “Before her, you were a decent guy. That fucking whore destroyed you.”

  “Don’t talk about her that way.” I stepped toward him.

  “Or what?” he said, laughing. “She’s a fucking herpes slut. She sucks donkey cock for change. She’s fucking worthless, and so are you.”

  I punched him in the jaw. There was no thought in my mind but blinding, dark rage. I punched him so hard that his head snapped back and I heard his jaw crack. He stumbled backward and moved to come back at me, but I was already moving.

  I punched him again in the face and then took him by the jaw and slammed him back into the wall. I smashed his head backward. He tried to knee me and punch me, but he was already too weak.

  I was blinded with red rage. I beat him over and over before throwing him to the ground. I realized that I was bigger than him, stronger than him, and it was Tony who should be afraid of me.

  I released all of my pent-up anger and rage on him in that moment. I beat him within an inch of his life, his face broken and bleeding, some of his teeth snapped from his skull. I shoved his face into the floor and got down on my knees next to him to whisper into this ear.

  “We’re done,” I said. “Do you understand?”

  “Yeah,” he groaned. “Okay. You’re not worth it.”

  “Good.”

  I released him. He rolled onto his back and spit out blood, groaning.

  “Get the fuck out,” I said.

  He slowly got to his feet, opened the door, and left without a word.

  That had felt so fucking good. Maybe it had been stupid, but I knew it was the right thing. Tony needed to get his ass beat, and he needed to know that I wasn’t fucking around.

  As I stood there, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Tony was going to let me go. I knew they had other guys and still would, but they were going to leave me alone. I wasn’t worth it.

  I was a free man.

  Feeling elated, I called for a car. It showed up ten minutes later. I got in and told them to take me to Taylor’s address.

  The whole car ride over, I just kept thinking about my fist smashing into that asshole’s face. My knuckles were bruised, but I should have done that weeks ago. I should have beaten his ass the second I first met him. I should have killed him.

  I took a deep breath. There was no need for that. It was over.

  The car pulled up out front. I climbed out and rang her apartment.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s me.”

  She buzzed me up right away.

  I felt like I was floating as I walked up the stairs and headed toward her apartment. The door was already open, and she was coming toward me down the hall

  “Owen?”

  “It’s done.”

  I threw my arms around her as she ran to me. I grabbed her and pulled her close, feeling her body pressed up against mine.

  “It’s over,” I said in her ear. “I love you.”

  She kissed me hard, so hard that my lip nearly bled, but I loved it. It was exactly what I needed. She didn’t have to say it back. I knew what she felt.

  I loved her. I’d been falling in love with her since the moment we first met. I had known she was the one the second I saw her, and every second I was around her just confirmed that belief. She was right for me, and she made me better.

  That was love. It lifted you up, made you stronger, made you want to move past all the petty differences we had in this world. Love made you want to transcend and improve.

  Our kiss slowly broke apart. “I love you too.”

  “I know you do.”

  We walked down the hall together, hand in hand, and went into her apartment.

  33

  Taylor

  A Few Months Later

  The pulse in the stadium was palpable.

  There was one minute left in the NFC Championship match. The Eagles were playing the Dallas Cowboys, and the winner of that went on to the Super Bowl.

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot, nervous as hell. I glanced up at the clock for the hundredth time that minute. The Eagles were winning by a field goal, and they had the ball on the thirty-yard line, trying to keep possession in order to run the game clock out.

  Owen was on the field as usual. He had scored twice this game, the most important scores to keep the Eagles in the game.

  He’d had an incredible season. After his rocky start, Coach gave him his starting position back, and he worked hard every day to earn it. He went from a rookie with an injury problem to one of the top running backs in the entire league.

  It was amazing watching him grow. He took everything he did seriously. He worked harder than I could have imagined, sometimes staying late after practice to watch more game tape.

  We saw each other as much as possible. It quickly became obvious that we couldn’t keep our relationship a secret, so I voluntarily gave up my assignment with him in order to pursue the relationship. I was reassigned to the kicker, a smaller but still important role, and someone else was assigned Owen.

  I missed those therapy sessions with him. During that time together, we had fallen in love, deeply and insanely in love. I’d always cherish those moments, even though they were over.

  Still, we managed to see each other all the time. I’d be lying if I pretended like we never disappeared into a broom closet almost every day to do unspeakably dirty things to each other.

  That was the kind of man he was. Owen was insatiable in everything he did, and he made me a better person because of it. He made me want to work harder at everything I did.

  Out on the field, Owen got the handoff. I held my breath, staring intently as he bashed into the line, breaking free. He managed to pick up five yards, ge
tting tackled just short of the first down.

  My heart was hammering in my chest, the same way it had been when Owen first told me that the mafia was done with him. I had been sure that they were going to try to kill him, but they hadn’t. In fact, after that night, we never heard a single word from Tony or the mafia ever again. Some of the guys on the team suddenly weren’t interested in being friends with Owen, including Raylon, but that didn’t matter to him.

  He was playing it clean, and I respected him so much for it.

  It would have been easier to stay involved with the mafia. They could have helped him in ways he probably didn’t even realize. But it wasn’t the way he wanted to do things, and nothing would change Owen’s mind once he made it up.

  The team lined up for their next and final play. If Owen couldn’t get another two yards, then they would turn it over and give the Cowboys a chance to tie the game.

  Owen took the snap. He pushed up against the line. The defenders surged, their powerful bodies trying to grab Owen, trying to tear him down.

  He moved forward, his legs churning, pushing against the pile of men. He was a beautiful beast, a monster on the field, crushing and destructive. He was an angel of death come to take what was his.

  He dove forward. The ref blew the whistle dead.

  Everyone held their breath.

  The ref signaled for the first down, and the stadium went insane.

  That was it. The Eagles were going to the Super Bowl, and there was nothing stopping them now. All they had to do was take a knee, and then it would be over.

  As time ran out, I kept thinking about everything that had happened. I went from hating that man to loving him with every ounce of my being. I couldn’t imagine living without him, and I never would. I was his, for as long as he wanted me to be.

  We had come through adversity together. There was going to be more in the future, and we’d get through that, too. Nothing was perfect, but perfection could come from hard work and dedication.

  He worked me hard. I was dedicated to him.

  We spend most nights together. After practice, he would send the car over and I’d stay with him, letting him do whatever he wanted to me for as long as he wanted to do it. He made me feel things I had never imagined.

  Sometimes we did workouts to help with his strength. When he ached, I rubbed him down and made him feel better. When I was stressed, he took off my clothes and made me feel right.

  That was all I needed.

  The stadium exploded again when the clock wound down. People spilled out onto the field as the guys shook hands, and the media began to swarm them. I stood off to the side, smiling, feeling blessed and amazed by everything that had happened and would happen.

  We were going to the Super Bowl. We were going to the most important, biggest sporting event in the whole world, and it was all because of Owen.

  He was going to win it for us. There was no doubt in my mind.

  As I stood there, I suddenly spotted him. Reporters were hounding him, but he ignored them all and walked right toward me. I smiled and laughed as he threw his arms around me, lifting me off the ground. I kissed his sweaty mouth and loved the salty taste.

  “Taylor,” he said.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking about waiting to ask you this, but I can’t.” He put me down and took my hands.

  “What are you doing?”

  He dropped down to one knee.

  “Owen?” I asked. There was a huge crowd around us. Cameras were running and pictures were going off. He reached down into his sock and pulled out a small, black velvet bag. He opened it and took out a ring.

  My heart nearly stopped. I covered my mouth. “Owen?”

  “Marry me,” he said. “I want you. Marry me.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes. Of course.” He slid the ring onto my finger, and the crowd began to cheer. He stood up and wrapped his arms around me, kissing me hard.

  The reporters all tried to get an interview with him, but he waved them all away.

  “Later,” he yelled. “I want a second with my damn fiancée.” He scooped me up and we walked off into the locker room together.

  “You had that with you the whole time?” I asked him.

  “I’ve had it with me at all times for the last month.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. I’ve known since the second we met.” He pressed me up against the wall of the hallway and kissed me.

  “I knew, too,” I said.

  “Liar.” He grinned. “You hated me.”

  “I still do. Asshole.” I hit his chest and smiled. The light reflected off the absurdly large diamond on my finger, and I knew that this was what was supposed to happen.

  I was Owen’s. I was going to be his wife, and I was going to have his babies. I was going to have a lifetime of him, days and nights and minutes and hours of him, moments of him. Owen waking, Owen showering, Owen laughing, Owen slowly stripping my clothes off and kissing my skin.

  That was all there was for me and all there ever needed to be.

  Long: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  Prologue: Avery

  It’s not like I didn’t know football.

  I’m not going to pretend like I’m one of those girls who doesn’t know a thing about football. I grew up in a big football area and I went to one of the biggest football schools in the country, Mater Dei. It’s a Catholic institution, and it’s one of the powerhouses of college football.

  I grew up around the sport. My father watched it, my uncles watched it, everyone I knew watched football. Going to the game on Friday nights in high school was practically a social requirement, even for borderline dorks like me.

  I just didn’t love football. I didn’t wake up every morning wondering about the game, wondering about the moves managers were making, wondering what the players were thinking. I didn’t live and breathe football like so many people did. It was fun to be a part of that screaming mass of intense students, don’t get me wrong, but I just didn’t really care all that much one way or the other.

  Which I guess is a long way of saying, I knew who Gibson Evans was the second he walked up to me that night.

  It was the summer between junior and senior year, and I was living in an apartment off campus with my best friend, Harper. I had an internship at a local sports medicine lab, and she was doing some admin work for the local government.

  It was our summer of fun. We had it easy. Our responsibilities were few, our rent was cheap, and all we wanted to do was hang out and have a good time.

  That was how we ended up at some random house party early in August. I had no clue Gibson was going to be there, or that the guy throwing the house party was an ex-player alumnus. All I knew was that there was cheap beer, lots of people our age, and an excuse to dance.

  I didn’t want Gibson to come up to me. I didn’t want him to smile that cocky grin, that sort of look that made you feel like he knew you, really knew you, and he liked what he knew. He had these eyes, blue as a Husky’s or something like that, just absolutely piercing. I heard one girl describe them this way: “If eyes could fuck, I would want Gibson’s eyes to get me pregnant.”

  That was pretty accurate, I had to admit.

  I’d never seen him up close before. He was tall, easily over six feet tall, and covered in muscles. Tattoos snaked their way up along his arms, and he had this swagger about him. People stared when he walked by, and it seemed like everyone was constantly watching what he was doing. The party seemed to revolve around Gibson.

  I’d never spoken a word to him before. He was just that mythical athlete, considered one of the best quarterbacks in the country, an untouchable god on campus. I never saw him out of his uniform, actually, until that night.

  Until he looked at me and smiled across the living room and then walked right over like it was no big thing.

  I didn’t freak out. Like I said, I didn’t really care all that much about football. My heart was hammering in my chest, and
I felt nervous in a really strange way, but it wasn’t because he was an important athlete.

  It was because he was the most attractive man that had ever so much as looked at me.

  Harper stopped talking mid-sentence and stared at him as he stopped right in front of me.

  “I don’t know you,” he said, smirking at me.

  What an asshole.

  Did that normally work?

  He was looking at me like I was some strange alien invading his space. It was this cocky mix of control and arrogant confusion, like I didn’t belong or something.

  I was flustered when he first smiled, but I was annoyed as soon as he opened his mouth.

  “Sorry,” I said. “I don’t know you, either.”

  Harper let out a choked laugh, because of course I knew him. Everyone knew him.

  That only made his grin get bigger, though.

  “I’m Gibson,” he said. “I just meant that I know everyone else here, except you.”

  “I’m Avery,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Same.” He stepped closer to me. “I don’t mean to be too forward. I’m just so used to seeing the same faces at these parties.”

  “I know what you mean,” I said, although I didn’t. “This is my friend Harper.”

  He barely glanced at her. “Hey,” he said, before looking right back at me.

  “Hey,” she managed to say.

  “Listen, come dance with me,”

  I laughed. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Hear that? Sounds like the DJ just got here.”

  There was a booming bass line coming from the basement, and I noticed that a lot of people were slowly filtering toward it.

  I wasn’t drunk, but there was something so intoxicating about him. Maybe it was the way he stared at me like I was the only girl in the room, or maybe it was his reputation. Gibson Evans was a bad boy, and everyone knew it. The media played it up even, loved to talk about how he came from a rough neighborhood and was practically raised by his grandmother. Gibson’s parents were too drunk to take care of him, so he had to learn to take care of himself.