Razor's Edge: A Bad Boy Romance (Bad Boys of Football Book 2)

by Clementine Roux

  Razor's Edge

  A Bad Boy Romance

  Bad Boys of Football Book Two

  By Penelope Silva & Clementine Roux

  Copyright

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Copyright @ 2016 by Penelope Silva and Clementine Roux

  VIP Lounge

  For updates on new novels, special promotions, fun facts, insider secrets and more, join Penelope Silva's VIP Lounge. This group will receive a weekly newsletter straight to their in-boxes. No spam. Get to know the woman behind the novels and find out what’s going on in my book world! Enter here: http://eepurl.com/bURXQD

  For Exclusive Updates from Clementine Roux, join her bi-monthly newsletter group here: http://eepurl.com/bLEyy9

  Table of Contents

  Copyright 2

  VIP Lounge 3

  Chapter One – Razor 5

  Chapter Two – Hillary 11

  Chapter Three – Hillary 19

  Chapter Four – Razor 25

  Chapter Five – Hillary 31

  Chapter Six – Razor 37

  Chapter Seven – Hillary 43

  Chapter Eight – Razor 51

  Chapter Nine – Hillary 57

  Chapter Ten – Razor 63

  Chapter Eleven – Hillary 69

  Chapter Twelve – Razor 75

  Chapter Thirteen – Hillary 82

  Chapter Fourteen – Hillary 88

  Chapter Fifteen – Razor 96

  Chapter Sixteen – Hillary 101

  Chapter Seventeen – Razor 108

  Chapter Eighteen – Hillary 115

  Chapter Nineteen – Razor 119

  Chapter Twenty – Hillary 125

  Chapter Twenty-One – Razor 128

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Hillary 132

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Razor 135

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Hillary 137

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Hillary 141

  Penelope's VIP Lounge 147

  Advanced Reader Group Invitation 148

  Please, Please, Please... 149

  One Final Thought 150

  Chapter One – Razor

  If war is what she wants, war is what she’ll get, but she better prepare herself because I fight dirty. Hard and dirty. Just the way she used to like it when we were together. She never complained back then. In fact, she used to beg me for it -- day in and day out. Hell, she would beg without even having to say a word. I saw it in her eyes the day we met. And now, she wants to act like none of that happened? Like she wasn’t behaving like a dog in heat the night I met her at the club -- the club I rescued her from? Before she met me, she was nothing but another fake blonde with fake boobs, sliding down a damn pole.

  “Hey, don’t leave like this!” My attorney Kelly DiNovo grabbed my elbow. “The press is outside; they get wind of the colossal fit you threw and you can kiss your son goodbye.”

  “What? That’s bullshit! They weren’t in the meeting; they don’t know how the crazy bitch was trying to railroad me and take Edge away from me. While her ass was off banging who knows how many other dudes, I was changing diapers and burping him at the field house. If anyone should look bad here, it should be Stephanie, not me,” I said, seething with anger over the latest negotiation meeting that felt more like a sentencing hearing.

  “If you keep calling her a bitch, you’ll ruin this whole thing. Keep it civil.” Kelly glanced outside the courthouse window, shaking her head at the number of anxious reporters and rabid fans who stood outside, cameras ready to capture me -- E.J. “The Arm” Razor -- as I stepped out of the second custody negotiation meeting with my ex-wife Stephanie or as many, many men could attest to, the high dollar hottie from The Spot, a VIP only strip joint in the heart of the city of Chicago. Yup, somewhere between the federal penitentiary and Daley Plaza sits a gentleman's club that caters to us celebrity types: athletes, politicians, and movie stars.

  I followed her gaze. I can’t say, I was surprised by all the attention. This city loved me. I won them championships. I put the city on the map, so to speak. Yeah, everyone knew Chicago and its reputation of having long-standing rivalries and long-suffering fans, but when I came to town as a free agent, this city wanted me. They made it known. Banners lined Lake Shore Drive begging me to say yes. The mayor practically threw a parade in my honor and I hadn’t even signed on the dotted line yet. Hell, part of the reason I agreed to sign with the Chicago Steam, aside from the money they were going to pay me, was the party they threw for me at The Spot. This city is the whole reason why I was in this custody battle to begin with. In a way, the people of this city set me up, parading horny strippers in front of my face and a few on my lap, so I’d agree to stay and help them see a championship for the first time in years. I gave them two so far and they turned around and gave me this drama in return.

  “You ready to do this? You ready to face my adoring crowd?” I mocked the people outside.

  “Are you?” Kelly challenged me. “Let me do the talking. All you have to do is stand there looking handsome. I’m sure you can handle that, can’t you? I mean, weren’t you voted the sexiest man alive this year or was that last year? I can’t keep up with you handsome hunks.” She winked at me.

  I was on to her tactics. She’d never steered me wrong before, so I let her take the lead and let those little jabs slide. She was right; I had to simmer down if I wanted to be able to retain custody of my boy. He didn’t deserve any of what was going on. He was just trying to be a kid and, truth be told, I wanted him to remain being a kid for as long as possible. He was my guy. My right hand man. Where I went, he went. That’s the way it was. Granted, I had enough people around me to keep things running smoothly, but for the most part, my world was him. Everything I did was for him -- to give him the best life ever. No stripper turned housewife turned leech was going to break us apart.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I answered, winking back at her.

  We hadn’t even stepped out the door yet before the reporters rushed us, asking questions and trying desperately to get pictures of me.

  “Razor, how did it go?”

  “Will you and your son get to stay together?”

  “What does Edge think of all this? Does he know his mother plans to gain full custody of him?”

  Hearing my son’s name come out of their mouths pissed me off. I’d made it known before, they were not to say his name publicly, yet some little prick with a microphone bigger than his head thought he could get away with it.

  Kelly was a step ahead of me. Her arm was up, attempting to block me from doing something stupid. “Don’t do it,” she warned.

  “Don’t you ever say my son’s name again! Do you hear me, you little prick?” It was too late. Sometimes my anger over the whole situation got the better of me.

  “E.J!” Kelly tried again, pushing me back with all the force her five-foot-three inch, one-hundred and thirty pound body could muster. “Stop it now or you’ll lose him. Is that what you want, Edgecott James?”

  Hearing her say my name -- my proper name -- straightened me up right away. No one called me Edgecott except my parents when they were angry with me over something I had or hadn’t done. “You fight dirty,” I muttered, taking a deep breath to calm down before I lost everything.<
br />
  The fervor ramped up again. This time, it was focused on the group stepping out of the doors behind us -- Stephanie and her entourage. They ran six deep. Business in the nasty whore world must have been good to her lately because unless she won the lottery, I had no idea how she was able to afford those attorneys.

  “Mr. Razor, how are the negotiations with your wife going?” a reporter asked.

  I got chills at the sound of those words. “She’s not my wife!” I said loud enough to fill every reporter’s sound bite. “We’ve been divorced for three years. She took off from her family -- our son -- almost five years ago, so don’t call her my wife. She ruined that opportunity a long time ago.”

  Kelly pinched at my waist through my suit. “Shut the hell up before I beat you down right here in front of everyone!”

  I had to laugh. Kelly was a little spitfire if she was anything. “Sorry, but the lying bitch isn’t my damn wife. She’s nothing more than a money hungry slut with a mean streak that runs deeper than the lines on her face.”

  I bit my lip to stifle a yelp when she kicked me squarely in the shin with the three-inch heels she had on her feet.

  “There, how do you like this bitch?” She hissed at me, motioning for me to keep walking. “Next time, your bodyguards need to be with us; this is getting ridiculous. You can’t handle everything on your own. You may be built like an Adonis, but you’re no match for all these people. They are hungry for a story and willing to eat you alive to get it. And, you’re not doing yourself any favors by talking about the mother of your child like she’s some whore you picked up off the street. If you ask me, that says more about you than it does about her.”

  As we got to the car, I took the moment to tease her. “So, twice today, you’ve said something nice about me. Are you getting soft on me? Have you finally decided to quit pretending and admit you want me?”

  She glared up into my eyes with a look that would probably kill a lesser man. “You’re a real douche bag. Yeah, I’m going to leave my husband of thirty years and tell my adult children, they have a new daddy because I’m in love with you. I love everything about you -- your way with words, the way you screw every little thing who bats her eyes at you, and I especially love the way you refer to the mother of your child. That right there, folks, is a winner. Nothing sexier than a man who calls women bitches.”

  I opened the car door for her, leaning close to her ear. “Tell me, is it my bedroom eyes or is it my rock hard abs that turn you on more?”

  Kelly shook her head. “No, it’s your stupid sense of humor and the ridiculous beard you’re sporting these days. You look like a caveman. Who is your stylist these days? A homeless neanderthal? And, by the way, those contacts are dumber than the tattoo of Stephanie’s face sprawled across your chest. Were you dropped on your head as a child?”

  I loved her! She was the best.

  “I love you, Kelly,” I said as I shut the door behind her.

  When I slipped into the driver’s seat, Kelly did exactly what I expected her to do. She slapped me in the chest. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you any manners? I’m not one of those little hookers you call your friends! I don’t get giddy at guys with more tattoos than brain cells. And I especially never waste my time on a man who can’t follow simple directions. How is it that you can play football like you do, but you don’t know how to keep your mouth shut when your attorney -- your very good attorney -- tells you to?”

  I started the car and tried to back out of the parking space, but the press had finally caught up to us and had the car surrounded. We were stuck. It’s not like this had never happened before. In my world, it was a regular occurrence. No matter where I went, someone was there to capture every little moment. I was always in the news, but sometimes I just wanted to go home and spend some time without a camera in my face.

  Kelly had been my attorney for so long, we’d developed our own language. We knew what the other was thinking. She was the only woman, aside from the women in my family, whom I truly trusted. Her opinion mattered. I didn’t always listen to it, but I trusted it.

  “Am I going to lose him?” I asked, feeling the weight of it all on my shoulders.

  “Not if I can help it, you won’t. But E.J., you have to do this my way. You can’t lose your head on this one. This isn’t a game. There’s more than your life at stake here. Now, I know you don’t like to admit stuff like this. You like the hardcore tough guy b.s. you like to put on display every chance you get, but like I said, I’ve known you a long time and I know how much you love your little guy. Don’t lose sight of that or you’ll end up having to say goodbye to him forever,” Kelly warned me.

  I swallowed hard. “I know, but I can’t let that bi--”

  Kelly cleared her throat.

  “Okay, but that woman -- Stephanie -- left us. She took off. She was the one who couldn’t handle being a parent. Why am I the one being punished for it? I can give Edge everything and more than she’ll ever be able to give him. I’m the one who has been there for him. You know it hasn’t been easy, but I swear, it’s all been worth it. He’s my boy,” I said, my voice filling with emotion.

  Kelly looked around at the reporters. “Back up. We can’t sit here all day. Move the car. Whatever you do; don’t run anyone over. That’s the last thing you need to do right now.”

  I backed out of the space as gingerly as I could. What I wouldn’t have given to have gunned the gas and taken one or all of these assholes out, but I paced myself. I behaved. I backed out slowly and kept my cool.

  As we left the lot and turned right onto the street, Kelly cleared her throat again. “I might as well tell you now...”

  I braced myself for more bad news.

  “You need to get married. You need a real woman. I’m not talking about one of those tramps you beckon to your bed or wherever it is you take them at night. I mean, you need a decent woman in your life. The way things are looking, you as a single guy -- the notorious bachelor -- isn’t working in your favor.” She sighed.

  My foot hit the gas hard. It might have been instinct or fear, but whichever it was, I took it as a sign that my trusted friend, attorney, and confidant had lost her damn mind. I was never -- I mean, never ever -- going the marriage route again. I was too fine for marriage. I didn’t need a wife. I loved women in all shapes, sizes, and flavors too much to marry only one. Nope, E.J. Razor was never going to settle down with any woman again. Not if I could help it.

  Chapter Two – Hillary

  I hated people who spit when they talked, especially when said person was speaking, or in his case, screaming at me. Again.

  “You’ve got to take control. These are kids. How hard could it be to keep a bunch of five year olds in line? I’m beginning to think those five years you spent teaching in Spain were a lie. Who knows; maybe you spent the last few years backpacking or sightseeing because I sure don’t see any evidence you were teaching children,” Principal Cantor spewed his words at me as if they wouldn’t hurt my feelings, but they did.

  Over the last eighteen months, so much of my life had changed. Maybe I was being a bit too sensitive, but his words really bothered me. I was trying my best. I thought, returning home was the best thing for me to do. I thought being around old friends and new students would help me deal with my loss. It was obvious now that accepting this job wasn’t the best decision for me. My belief I’d somehow do some good or be able to turn my grief into triumph had proven to be wrong. I’d failed miserably.

  “I’m sorry. You don’t understand. This child is going through something. I know it. I know I’ve only been here a short time, but I can tell something is very wrong. That’s why he’s acting out. All I’m asking is for someone to speak to him. Tell me what their thoughts are. I don’t think I need to be berated because a child has acted out,” I said to defend myself and, hopefully, get through to him and make him do his job.

  “Mrs. Jackson,” he started, “my job is to make sure you do your job. Take my advice. It
will save you a lot of trouble. Edgecott Razor is not the problem. Life will run a whole lot smoother if you remember that.”

  Is this man alright? Did he get dropped on his head?

  “Edge -- that’s what he prefers to be called -- is having a problem. I never said he was the problem. I don’t understand what’s going on here. I asked the school counselor to meet with him and all of a sudden you drag me down here to tell me to leave this child alone? Why? What’s the big deal?” I wasn’t going to sit back and let the poor little boy suffer in silence. That wouldn’t have been right.

  Principal Cantor sat back in his seat, rubbing his hand across his glistening, bald head. “This discussion is over. Get back to class and try to keep the noise contained,” he said, waving me off like I was a pesky fly.

  The school secretary and my best friend in the world, Felicia, had heard the whole exchange. I could tell because she had the look on her face -- that sour pussed face a mother would give you when a child had misbehaved in church. “I told you to leave the boy alone,” she said. “Cantor doesn’t like controversy. I don’t know; maybe, it’s a Chicago thing, but some people are more important than others around here. That kid -- what’s his name? He’s one of them. He went to preschool here last year. I don’t remember why, but I know, Cantor ruled him off-limits when it came to disciplinary action. He could get away with murder.”