BULL: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (10 page)

T
hat mafia man’s
face was in my mind as I tentatively knocked on Cooper’s door.

“Come in,” he called out.

My boss wasn’t normally in so early, but I was glad he’d come in on time for once. I opened the door and stepped inside.

Cooper was something of a legend in the office. He’d been around since the beginning and was one of the most grizzled and jaded reporters on staff. He didn’t write much anymore, but he was very good at finding new talent and promoting them ruthlessly. It was everyone’s dream to be discovered by Cooper.

But that wasn’t my goal, not anymore.

“Can I have a second?”

“Charley. Sit. You have two seconds.”

I sat down. “I have a story pitch.”

“Save it for the weekly meeting.”

“This is important, something I’ve been doing on the side.”

He sat back in his chair. Cooper was in his fifties, balding, with thick round glasses and a big round stomach. He looked exhausted, but he always looked exhausted.

“What is it?”

“It’s about Bull Dixon.”

“That football ass? He’s old news.”

“No, he’s not. I have an in with him.”

Cooper raised an eyebrow. “He’s notoriously closed off when it comes to the press. How do you have a source?”

“Not a source. I have him.”

He blinked. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“I want to write a feature. I know some things about Bull. Hell, I have some pictures of him that would blow him wide open. I want to write the story.”

He crossed his arms, looking at me seriously. “And how did you get all this information, assuming it’s all real?”

“I’d rather not say.”

“But you already said it’s directly from him.”

I nodded. “It is.”

“Why would he talk to you?”

“Does it matter? I mean seriously, Cooper, does it? I have the biggest scoop on this guy ever.”

“Good point.” He sighed. “You’re a nobody, you know? You got some talent, but so far I haven’t been blown away.”

“This will blow you away.”

“I believe you, but I don’t trust you.”

“One shot. I’m not asking for anything up front.”

He laughed. “Good, because I wouldn’t give it to you.” He sighed, glancing down at his desk. “You have three weeks. Get me something by then and we’ll talk.”

“I need to get paid something extra.”

“There it is,” he said, shaking his head. “No way.”

“If it’s as good as I say it is, it’ll be worth it.”

“One thousand.”

“Eight.”

“Three.”

“I’ll take five, but I can’t go lower.”

“Fine.” He looked annoyed. “Now get the fuck out of here and bring me something worth five grand.”

“I will.” I stood up and left his office.

I wasn’t doing this for myself anymore. I hated that I was going through with this, frankly, and I hated that I had actually brought it to Cooper’s attention. Cooper was a good man, but he was a reporter first and foremost. Now that he knew about this, he was going to follow through.

I had no other choice. I couldn’t pay Rafa off on my own. This article was the only thing I really had, and it was the only way I could get enough money to satisfy this guy.

I’d brought this on myself. I went looking for danger, and danger found me. Now I was having second thoughts, but it was way too late.

I was going to have to take Bull down with me. I didn’t want that, not anymore, but I couldn’t see any other alternative.

Maybe Bull would survive it. Hell, he’d survived so far without any real problems. There were plenty of rumors and stories written about him, even if they weren’t exactly accurate.

But I knew this was different. I was close to Bull, closer than anyone else. I knew I could get things that other journalists would beg for.

I wasn’t cut out for this, though. I thought I could handle it at first. I thought I could be ruthless and uncaring, all for the pursuit of my job, but that was stupid. I wasn’t that kind of person.

I found myself caring about Bull, but it was too late. I’d already made one dumb mistake and gotten myself into a bad situation, and there was no turning back.

I got back to my desk and sighed, staring blankly at the computer screen. I wanted to get the heck out of there, maybe run away from the city entirely. Who knew how far the mob could reach, though? There was no real escape. I felt trapped and claustrophobic.

“You look busy.”

I turned and looked over my shoulder. Dee was standing there, smiling at me with that awful, smug look.

“I am busy,” I said back.

“Good. Coop wanted me to give you this.” She handed me a folder.

“What is it?”

“It’s everything we have on Bull Dixon. Are you writing something about that creep?”

“No,” I mumbled, opening the folder. “Not at all.”

“What’s it for then?”

I looked at Dee. “Did Coop tell you?”

“No,” she said.

“Then mind your own business.”

She looked shocked, and then she just smiled and walked away. I sighed, turning back toward the folder. That might have been a mistake, but I couldn’t help myself. Dee was just so terrible.

I opened the folder and began to skim it. There wasn’t a lot, which didn’t shock me. There were some references to some early arrests, but apparently the records were all missing. There were some quotes about his family, his mother’s name and address, but that was pretty much it.

The one thing that did catch my eye, though, was buried at the bottom of a bunch of useless crap.

It was an interview with a journalist. Apparently, she vividly recalled interviewing a young, college-aged Bull Dixon about his family, and she recalled writing the story. As far as she knew, that story had everything about Bull’s family, details nobody else knew.

But she said the story disappeared from the internet. She had no clue why, and when she asked her editor, he just told her not to worry about it. She said the guy seemed almost afraid.

I shook my head, mystified. How was Bull able to get rid of all this information? I could just imagine the lengths people would go to get that kind of power.

Regardless of how he did it, Bull was able to erase things from the internet. That told me a lot about the man and about his connections. If I was going to play him, I needed to be prepared.

But as I sat there paging through his file again, I couldn’t help but wonder who was really playing who.

M
y apartment was packed
full of people and drugs, so basically it was just another party.

The usual crew had arrived. Over the years we’d really whittled down exactly how many people were allowed to come to these parties. We’d had issues with journalists and paparazzi trying to get in during the early days, but that had calmed down over the years.

Now it was the same familiar faces, plus a few new ladies. There were no hookers, like I had requested. I leaned up against the bar, sipping a whisky.

“What’s your deal?”

I looked over at Calvin. “What?”

“Ever since this party started, you’ve had that fucking mean mug on your face.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, man.” He leaned up against the bar next to me. “Is this about that phone call the other day?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Come on, man, stop bullshitting me.”

I sighed. “Fine. It’s about that phone call.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“You don’t know her.”

“Damn,” he said. “Bull Dixon. You’re actually smitten by some pussy, aren’t you?”

“Not exactly,” I said, though I realized I was lying.

“Okay, man. Sure. Whatever you say. I’ve just never seen you give a shit about a woman before.”

“I’m still Bull Dixon. I’m still all about the pussy.”

“You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself.”

I sipped my whisky. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was trying to convince myself.

I didn’t feel too convinced.

Ever since I saw Charley at that party, I couldn’t get her out of my head. I thought maybe if I got a taste of her, maybe then I could be done. But no. That taste only made me so much hungrier for her.

Even finding out that she was a journalist wasn’t stopping me. I thought I was just messing around with her, but I was realizing that it was about more than that.

“I don’t need convincing,” I grunted.

“Well, loosen up, man. It’s your party.”

“Please,” I said. “This shit isn’t about me. It’s for the fucking insiders.”

“What do you mean?”

I gestured at the party. There were maybe a hundred people milling about, and each and every one of them was an NFL insider. There were players, coaches, managers, and other important people all over the place, plus their wives and girlfriends. The room was packed full with millions of dollars’ worth of people.

“Nobody fucking cares about me. They just want to network, and for some reason my parties got that reputation.”

“I don’t know, Bull. I feel like everyone just wants to do some fucking blow.”

I laughed. “Maybe. Could be that.”

“And you always have good blow.”

I held up my glass in thanks and then sipped it. “Go enjoy some then.”

“All right, man. Just quit skulking in the corner.”

“I’ll be around soon.”

He wandered off, heading over toward a group of rookies.

I watched him go and then glanced at my watch. The driver should have been back with Charley fifteen minutes ago. I was skulking in the corner because I wanted her to show up, and I was sick of waiting.

I wasn’t the kind of man to sit in the corner and wait on a woman, but there I was, drinking my whisky and waiting. I could have been in the party, mingling and shit like that, but instead I was anticipating the arrival of just one person.

As I finished my whisky and got another, the elevator dinged. I looked over as it slowly opened.

Charley stepped out. She was wearing a tight black dress with a neckline that didn’t leave much to the imagination.

I felt my heart rate spike as soon as she stepped into the room. I knocked back that second whisky, got a third, and then walked over to her.

She looked a little lost and overwhelmed, which I liked. I walked past a group of laughing guys and nodded at her.

“You look lost.”

She cocked her head at me. “I seem to have stepped into the wrong party.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t see any hookers.”

I laughed. “They’re on break for tonight.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Why? Interested in one?”

“Maybe.” She smiled at me and took out her lipstick, inspecting it for a moment.

“Want a drink?”

She paused. “Not tonight.” She slipped the lipstick back into her bag.

“No? Trying to keep your wits about you?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, welcome to the party.”

“Do I get my property back now?”

I stopped closed to her. “You can have whatever you want.”

“Good. Let’s start with that toy.”

I grinned and put my hand on the small of her back. She shifted her weight toward me. “You have to earn that.”

“I thought all I had to do was show up.”

“I’m changing the deal.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but it’s more fun.” I steered her toward the back hallway. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’re going to work for your toy.”

“Bull, is this a good idea?”

“Sure it is.” I stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. Inside was the game room. “Do you know how to play pool?”

She laughed and walked inside. I grinned, following her. She got a cue down while I racked the balls.

“Fair warning, I’m really bad.”

“Good,” I said, finishing. “I have a soft touch. I can teach you.”

“I’m sure you can.”

I got down my stick and went to the other end. I put the cue ball down and broke, sending balls scattering all over the table. Unfortunately, nothing dropped, so it was her turn.

She stepped up to the table, aimed, and slammed the cue down to the other end, knocking a few balls around at random.

“Good,” I said. “At least you hit something.”

She laughed. “I was aiming for the blue ball.”

“I bet,” I said.

“Let’s see you do better.”

“Gladly.” I stepped up to the table and sank three shots in quick succession. I missed the fourth shot and it was her turn.

“Showoff,” she said, stepping up.

“Hold on.” I stepped behind her and bent over her body. “Look.” I helped her aim the stick at a different ball. “Shoot it softly and aim for the lower part of the cue ball. That’ll give it some backspin, and then it won’t go into the pocket.”

“Like this?” She hit the cue and it shot forward, smacking into the green ball. The cue popped backward as soon as it made contact, and the ball went into the pocket.

“Good,” I said. “You have a soft touch, too.”

“Not exactly. I’m more likely to break things.”

I smirked at her. “Breaking things is my specialty, as you well know.”

She blushed and lined up her next shot. She missed by a mile. I laughed as I got up to the table.

She glowered at me. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” I sank a shot and then grinned at her. “You look like you’ve never handled a stick before, but I know that’s not true.”

She pursed her lips. “Good one.”

“Thank you.” I sank another shot. “Truthfully, Charley, it’s what I like about you.”

“What is?”

“You seem so nice on the outside, but I know you’re far from nice deep down.”

She sighed as I sank two shots rapid fire.

“You don’t know anything, Bull.”

“I know more than you think.”

“You’re not as great as you think you are.”

“Says the girl who came back to get a dildo made from my cock.”

She sighed. “We both know that’s bullshit.”

“Maybe.” I missed a shot and she stepped up. I smacked her ass as she bent over, and she glared at me. “Go ahead.”

She lined up her shot and missed.

“Tell you what,” I said, talking as I made my next two shots. “If you can make two shots in a row, I’ll give you a blank check.”

“I don’t want your money,” she said, a little too quickly.

“Okay then. You can take anything you want from my apartment.”

“Only two shots?”

“Only two.” I missed my next shot and it was her turn.

She stepped up to the table, took a second to aim, and then sank a ball. She giggled as she lined up her next shot and easily sank it.

I laughed, shaking my head. “Did you just hustle me?”

“I might have.”

“Damn,” I said, loving it. “I feel so used.”

She frowned and glanced away. “Anyway, that was fun, I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She lined up a shot and sank the eight ball in the corner. “I lose.”

“No fun.”

She hopped up onto the table, sitting on the felt. “I guess I’m not in a fun mood.”

“I find that hard to believe.” I stepped over to her. “In that dress, I think you’re in a very fun mood.”

I stopped in front of her and pulled her hips closer to mine. She bit her lip and opened her legs as I gently ran my lips up her neck.

“Bull,” she said softly “why do we keep doing this?”

“Because you want me to do bad things to you,” I answered. “Because you’re dripping wet, and as much as you pretend like you don’t understand it, we both know why.”

“Why?” she asked, barely a whisper.

I took her hair in my big hand, tipping her chin back. “You want to be owned by me.”

“No.”

I kissed her hard.

She didn’t return the kiss at first, but after a second she melted against me.

Like I knew she would. This was what she really came here for. She came for another taste of what she really wanted but was afraid to actually have.

I didn’t know why she was so afraid, maybe because of my reputation, or maybe because she was playing coy just to entice me. Whatever the reason, it was working, and I found myself kissing her intensely, my hands roaming along her body.

“Wait,” she said, pulling back. “We can’t. Someone might come in.”

“Nobody is going to come in,” I said. “They’re too busy doing blow and drinking to play pool.”

But almost as if she had summoned them, I heard a few guys open the door and pause.

“Oh shit. Sorry, Bull.”

I turned around and Ryan was standing there with two of his friends.

I felt Charley stiffen. Ryan took in the scene and a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Didn’t realize this was happening,” he said. “Charley. Good to see you.”

“Ryan.” She was bright red.

“Fuck off, you little shit,” I said to him.

“No need to be a dick, Bull.”

I stepped away from Charley and toward Ryan, rage flowing through my body.

“You’re in my house, you tiny cunt. I’ll tear you into pieces. Now fuck off.”

I didn’t recognize Ryan’s friends, but they didn’t seem as afraid as they should have. I guessed they were on coke, or maybe something a little more intense.

“Fuck this dude,” the guy on the right said. “He’s a fucking punk.”

“That’s Bull Dixon,” Ryan said.

“I don’t give a shit.” The guy stepped toward me. “You’re a fucking pussy, bitch.”

I walked calmly up to him and punched him clean in the nose. I felt a satisfying crunch as his nose broke and he dropped to the ground, groaning. Blood poured from his face.

His other friend stepped at me, swinging. I blocked his punch and then slammed my other fist into his elbow. It didn’t break, but the guy screamed and stumbled over. I followed that up by slamming his head into the wall.

He toppled to the ground, conscious but groaning. I looked at Ryan.

“You want to say something too?”

He shook his head, turned, and left.

I walked back to Charley and helped her down off the table. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking slightly.

“Are they dead?” she asked.

I laughed. “No. Look at them. They’re both conscious.” I led her out of the room and into the hall. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She looked terrified.

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“I think I have to go.” She started walking toward the elevator.

“Hold on. Don’t let that little fuck ruin this.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I just have to go.” She walked quickly away.

I cursed as she disappeared back into the main part of the apartment. I wasn’t going to chase her and force her to stay if she wanted to go, but she was making a mistake. It wasn’t my fucking fault those little twats wanted to step up to me. I wasn’t going to back down in my own damn home.

I made a fist and slammed the wall. That asshole Ryan probably did that on purpose.

Now I was even more frustrated than when all of this started. I wanted to chase her down and drag her back, but that was stupid. I wanted to go back into that room and finish beating the fuck out of those two bastards until they weren’t breathing. Most of all, I wanted to break Ryan’s punk-ass nose.

But none of those were good options. I knew I’d look like a little bitch if I dragged her back, and I’d be fucking up big time if I went after those two poor idiots again. And hurting Ryan was out of the question, since we were on the same team.

Ryan would get his. Sooner or later some girl would come forward and tell some stories about him, and then he’d go away for a long time. I wished I could make that happen sooner, but I didn’t actually know any real, concrete details.

Either way, I was damned if I did and damned if I didn’t, so I went out to the main party, found the bar, and had another drink.

At least whisky always tasted fucking good.