Big Jock : Bad Boy Sports Romance

by Vanessa Kinney

  I open the door and have one foot out of it when King’s hand touches my back. “I know a way that we can deal with Tommy.”

  My ears perk up and I turn around. “How?” At this point, I’m pretty much willing to do anything to get rid of the creep.

  “I have some friends that can help us out. I’ll introduce you tonight. Be ready at 8.” He runs his tongue along his lips and I can tell there’s something else on his mind, but he bites his tongue.

  I lean over and give him a kiss on the cheek, his stubble brushing against my chin.

  “What are you apologizing for now?” he asks.

  “Nothing. I just wanted to give you a kiss.” I pull away. When I look back there’s a big smile on his face, right before he revs his engine and speeds away.

  Upstairs, I check every room and closet. When it’s clear that I’m alone, I jump into bed. From there, it doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

  King’s smile at the forefront of my mind.

  Chapter 9

  “I see you,” a voice says behind me.

  I turn around only to find darkness. I hold my hands in front of me and walk toward it. Everything is dark, not a light or anything to get me out. The next step could very well be my last.

  “You’re never going to get away from me,” it whispers into my ear.

  I spin around, trying to knock it away with my hands.

  Nothing.

  There’s nothing that I can feel.

  “Leave me alone,” I yell. I start to run in the opposite direction. I would rather fall and die at this point than be left alone.

  “Wrong way,” the voice laughs, even closer than before.

  Ahead I can see a ray of sunlight break through the darkness. I pump my arms, legs burning for release.

  I reach out my hands, inches away from the light that somehow hangs in front of me.

  I wake up. It takes a moment to realize where I am.

  The hotel room.

  I stare at the design on the ceiling, heart beating and drenched in sweat. I toss the covers off and rush to the window to see the sun setting. I look at the clock on the table.

  Shit! King’s going to be here in a couple minutes.

  I run to the closet and pick out one of the dresses I brought with me. One of the only ones that wasn’t ripped apart by Tommy.

  Tommy. That could be the only explanation for the weird voice in my dreams.

  I can’t get away from him even in my sleep.

  The faster that I can get rid of him and move on with my life, the better. In and out of dreams, he’s always there. I can’t keep living in fear like this. I can’t get away from him.

  My cell phone chirps and I know it’s King. I comb my hair and give myself a final look over.

  Not bad for a last minute kind of thing.

  Outside, the doorman opens the door to King’s Camaro and I snuggle inside. King’s all dressed to the nines in his riding gear. Even a tight red bandanna to hold back that long hair of his.

  “So, where we going?” I ask over the roar of the engine. A couple of pedestrians look over at us and point at the hot car. Some of the women bite their lip when they see King, while the guys look over the car. But King doesn’t notice.

  Instead, he’s got his eyes on me and a mischievous smile on his face. He doesn’t answer my question. His hand shifts the gear stick and we’re roaring off down the street.

  With both windows open and my hair let loose, it flies out the window. I let the pressure of the wind take hold of my hand, making it move like a snake slithering through water as we ride through Portland. Even though it’s chilly outside there’s still plenty of people about. It’s Friday night after all. Some hoot and holler, waving their beer bottles in the air, as the Camaro zooms by.

  Every now and then, I steal a glance in King’s direction. Our eyes sometimes meet for a couple blinks before he’s forced to look back at the road. The whole ride he has the biggest smile on his face. I’d forgotten how much I liked this part of him.

  The carefree and adventurous side.

  We round another corner and the scenery completely changes. We go from posh homes and sidewalks full of people to completely deserted streets. Here the homes are run down and graffiti is rampant. Off in the distance I can hear the roar of engines and hollering.

  I turn to King. “Where are we?”

  “A little place that’s familiar to the both of us.” At the end of the street he takes a left and my mouth almost drops.

  There are rows upon rows of muscles cars lined up on either side. Hoods open and music pumping. Owners show off their rides as people lean over and gawk. Back home in New York, when I wasn’t busy with school, places like this were where King and I spent most of our time.

  This is mostly King’s world. He’s laid his claim on it through the multitude of races that he’s won over time. I gave him the nickname King and ever since, it’s stuck as his racing name. Almost ever person who is serious about racing knows about him. And in some way about me.

  King sounds off his engine and people turn their heads. Most of them are smiles. They come over to King as he parks his car at the end of the line. He shakes hands and gives fist bumps to others. He’s only been in Portland for a couple months and people already know who he is.

  “Well, it’s about time you greeted us with your presence,” an Asian girl with spiked blue hair screams from the back of the crowd. With her limber and skinny body, she pushes her way through everyone, getting some sour turns. Two men follow behind her.

  One of them is skinny and wears a tattered Vietnam vest with dark red dyed hair. The other is a mountain of a man, whose belly hangs out from underneath his wife beater, his eyes scanning over the crowd.

  King opens his arms and hugs her for a moment. Instant jealousy surges through me.

  I shake my head. Why should I even care? It’s not like I want to get back together with him. I fold my arms and watch her pull away from him.

  “Cami, this is Cat.” He points in my direction and Cat slinks over to me, eying me for a second. “And those two are Lucky Jake and Tank.” He points first to the red haired vet and to the mountain.

  “So you’re the one whose been keeping King off the roads? Making him get out of the game?” Cat slinks over to me, doing a circle and taking me in.

  I look at King and he shrugs his shoulders. I hadn’t known that he stopped racing. I knew how much that meant to him.

  “I’m not doing anything. He can think for himself.”

  Cat gives me one more look, as if deciding if I’m worth her time. She nods to herself and sticks out her hand. “Yeah, but he’s not one to use his brain much.” She chuckles at her joke. I laugh and bring a hand to my mouth.

  King rolls his eyes and goes back to greeting the rest of the people when he sees that we’ve gotten along. I find out that King’s last race is today. Which explains why there are so many people here tonight.

  Apparently he’s going up against someone named Cobra. One of the youngest racers to hit the back streets of Portland. Also undefeated as of tonight. Just like King.

  King bangs on the top of his hood to draw my attention. “The race is starting soon. Get in.” He jumps inside and slams the door.

  The crowds of people around us disperse and I get into my seat. Behind us there’s a boom that sounds off. I turn around and see a souped up Mustang crawl through the crowd. People bang on its hood and pump their arms.

  That must be Cobra.

  King pulls away from the curb and sets his car to the starting line. Just like in the movies, there’s a scantly clad girl at the starting line with a red flag. On either side of the crosswalks, people line up. It has to be at least three people deep. Each trying to get a look over the other’s head and chanting their favorite’s name.

  My heart beats faster and faster, hands holding onto the seatbelt. The hair on my forearms stands up and everything around me dies down. I look over to King and everything seems to be in s
low motion.

  He doesn’t look back at me. He’s in the zone right now. His hands turn into fists as he clenches the wheel. I know his little ritual before every race. He’s probably visualizing the finish line up ahead.

  The flag girl holds the flag out toward our sides. “Ready?”

  The Camaro’s engine purrs to life.

  Cobra responds.

  She turns around and heads to the middle of the two beasts, her hips swaying. A couple of people from the crowds whistle and jeer, but she ignores them.

  For a moment, she closes her eyes, takes a breath, opens them, and brings the flags up. She does a final look at each car before her arms fall down and there’s a roar from the crowd and cars.

  King’s hand switches on the clutch. I fall back into my seat from the force, the air getting knocked out of me. Behind us, there’s a bloom of white smoke as both cars peel out down the road. Within seconds, everything becomes a blur.

  I’m too scared to look any other way but forward. It doesn’t take long before we pass the lines of people and turn into the main roads. I never bothered to ask what the route for the race even is.

  King takes a hard right with Cobra on his trail. We whiz in and out of traffic, trucks honking and lights flickering red. Just from past experience, I know most of the fun comes from finishing first and not getting caught by the police. And at this rate, it’s only a matter of time before they get behind us.

  A car comes to a sudden stop in front of us.

  “Fuck,” King shouts over the screeching of his tires.

  Cobra flies past us. Even gives us a little honk to let us know how fucked we are.

  King mutters a couple more curse words as he turns the wheel and drives the clutch down. “This is going to get a little dicey.”

  He didn’t have to tell me that. In front of us, the headlights of cars make me dig my nails into the leather seating. I force my head back hard on the headrest. My heart is beating at a million miles per hour as cars scare pedestrians by honking and swerving out of the way at the last second.

  If the cops weren’t after us before, they certainly will be in a couple of seconds after all these near crashes.

  A couple blocks down the road, we turn left and I can see Cobra up ahead. King’s managed to somehow catch up with him.

  King lines the Camaro next to Cobra and flicks him off before cutting him off. Behind us, there’s a wail of sirens and a loudspeaker drones on.

  “This is the police. Pull over to the side of the road.”

  And all of a sudden they swarm us. No matter where I look, left or right there’s a flicker of the red and blue lights. There’s no doubt in my mind that we are at the end of the road.

  “Maybe we should pull over,” I yell.

  “I’m not going out like this,” he says and drives his foot on the gas pedal.

  There’s a rip of thunder from behind us as the exhaust pipe shakes. I look to my side, but Cobra’s nowhere to be found. I close my eyes and try to calm myself, realizing that I might have bigger problems than a stalker if we get caught.

  The car swerves and the fear of the unknown opens my eyes. There are no more police cars around us. Up ahead, there’s a garage door that’s slowly opening up. And I don’t know if the door will be high enough, judging by the rate that we’re going. The fabric rips under my nails and I get my body ready for impact.

  Fifty feet.

  Still not high enough.

  Ten feet.

  Almost.

  I let out a scream that gets drowned out from the sound of screeching metal above me. My heart almost jumps out of my throat and I look over at King, who has a big smile on his face.

  The garage door behind us closes with a loud thud. King flicks on the high beams, lighting up the crowd of people at the end of the large room. There’s a cheer and people call out his name in unison.

  I look back and see the narrow entrance that we came through. There’s no way that both cars would have fit through that gate. There would have been no tie tonight.

  King throws the car door open and I’m not far behind. The top of the Camaro is completely destroyed, but King doesn’t seem to care. He circles the front of the car in a hurry and takes me into his arms. His beefy arms wrap around my thighs and lift me up. A crowd of people surround us and applaud.

  King drops me down to the ground, his hands hold my cheeks, and he gives me a deep kiss. Just like the beginning of the race, everything around me dies down. My heart calms down and I’m left stunned when he pulls away.

  “Sorry, it’s the adrenaline.” He brings his hand behind his head and rubs at his neck. Cat jumps on his back and pumps her hand into the air, starting off another chant.

  “King! King! King!” They all holler.

  My cheeks burn and I hover from one foot to the other. I want to say something to him, but the crowd encompasses him and I get lost in it. The palms of my hands are wet and not because of the race.

  It takes a couple hours before the celebration finally dies down. The last of the racers gives King a hand shake before they leave.

  Only King, Cat, Lucky Jake, Tank, and I are left.

  Cat jumps off the table she’s been lounging on and makes her way toward me. “Let’s get down to business. King’s told me that you’ve been having a problem with a local stalker.” She says it so matter of fact, like she’s gone through the same thing.

  Is this something that happens a lot in Portland?

  She pulls up a seat next to me and rests her head on it’s railing. She takes a swig of her beer and lets out a burp that gets a laugh from Tank and Lucky Jake. “So, spill the beans. How has the creep been following you?”

  I lower the beer bottle from my lips. The whole stalker thing seems so far away. I forgot that this was the reason that King brought me here. For the last couple hours, I’ve been able to relax and just enjoy myself.

  “He’s been following me for the last couple months. Recently, he’s broken into my home twice.” I tuck a hair behind my ear. Lucky Jake and Tank nod at my words and Cat lifts herself off the chair. I don’t like bringing my problems onto anyone else, but if King trusts them, so did I.

  “Do we have any leads on the sick fuck?” She looks to King and I.

  King jumps off the hood of his Camaro. “Yeah, we have a good feeling that it’s a local locksmith.” He pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and hands it to Cat.

  Cat pulls out her phone and punches in the number. “Good afternoon, I’m looking to speak to a Mr. Tom Kaminsky.” I hold up a hand to stop her, but King holds me down. She puts on her most formal voice and throws me a sly wink. She holds up a finger, switches the phone to speaker, and sets it on the chair.

  “This is Tom. What can I do for you?” His nasally voice comes through, sending shivers down my spine.

  There’s a high chance that this creep was the one who broke into my loft. He’s gone through my most personal items. Underwear, email accounts, and who knows what else.

  “Hi, Tom. I got your number from a friend and was wondering if you could come in to change my locks?”

  There’s a ruffling of papers on the other end before his whiny voice comes on. “I can do it in two weeks.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And what friend gave you my number?” Tom asks. I look at Cat and wave my hands like I’m signaling a plane down the roadway.

  “I’ll see you in two weeks, Tom.” She ends the call and takes a swig of her beer, clearly pleased with herself. “And that ladies and gentlemen is how you set up a trap.” She bends over, getting claps from Lucky Jake and Tank. “I’ll call you guys with the details.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay alone with him?”

  Cat holds up her right arm and flexes. “With guns like these I’ve got nothing to worry about. Plus,” she gestures with her head toward Tank and Lucky Jake, “I’ve got those two close by if anything were to get out of hand.”

  Lucky Jake pulls out a knife and runs
his tongue along it. “If he even touches a hair on that blue head of hers, he’s fucked.” Tank nods along next to him.

  “It’s settled then.” King walks over to me and drapes an arm over me. I eye him for a moment, but don’t say anything. “I’ll be keeping Camilla company in the mean time.”

  “I’m sure you will be,” Tank says, his shoulder shaking as he holds back laughter.

  All I can do is roll my eyes, but deep down I’m not against having King close to me.

  After the kiss he gave me, I’m secretly hoping for another.

  Chapter 10

  The next day, I wake up early. King’s offered to take me back to the loft so that we can fix it up.

  The thought of picking up the pieces of my broken home is heart-wrenching, but I know it has to be done. It’s a little chilly outside today so I decide to go with a chambray shirt, thighs, ankle boots, and a puffy vest. Something to keep me warm, but also a little to impress King.

  When I step out the revolving doors, King’s standing next to his Camaro with the passenger door propped open for me. There’s a big smile on his face when he sees me, his eyes glossing over my features and taking me in.

  I pretend not to notice.

  “Wow, you’ve already fixed the top?” There’s a fresh coat of black paint on the roof of the Camaro, not a trace from yesterday’s exhilarating race.

  “It took all night.” King stretches his hands up into the air, lifting his shirt a little and showing off his bumpy abs. I take a snapshot of his bod, letting a slew of naughty images run through my head. I shake my head and plop down into my seat.

  King and I don’t talk on our way to the loft. I want to bring up the kiss from after the race, but there never seems to be a good enough time. There’s so much that I want to know about him and yet don’t. If I get him to open up to me I know its only a matter of time before I’m back in his world.

  As soon as I step into the building, my heart almost drops. Each step up the stairs reminds me of what I have to face up ahead.