FORCE: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (68 page)

Case

The ceiling seemed farther away than it should. Case squinted at it, wondering what had changed, and then he wondered why his head was hurting so badly.

"Case."

That voice had been saying his name for hours. Maybe. Maybe it had been years. Maybe his whole life had been spent lying in his cot, staring at the far away ceiling, hoping not to feel anything.

"Case."

Turning his head was a lot of work, so he continued to stare straight ahead as he answered J. "What do you want?"

"You're scaring me, man."

He turned his head in tiny increments, not daring to take his eyes from the ceiling for fear that the world would turn upside down when he did. "Why?" Case asks dully.

"Do you even know what day it is?"

What a silly question. It was the day of the party of course. The day he saw… He didn't want to think her name. "Yeah." Then he paused. "I think so."

He heard the sound of J. standing up; the crinkle and brush of his leathers was the loudest sound in the world. It drilled like an ice pick through his ears and directly into his brain.

Case groaned. His throat was a desert.

"No I don't think you do. You've been lying here in your own drunken filth for four fucking days."

Case inhaled sharply.  That hurt too. "No, you're lying."

"Why would I lie about this? Every time I thought you were getting up you'd just pop another pill and black the fuck out again. You're a fucking vegetable over her and it's pissing me off.  You wanna turn into your mother?

Anger flooded his veins and he tried to lift himself off the cot to knock J. to the floor, but the room swam too violently before his eyes and he sat back down again and groaned.  "Fuck you," he spat bitterly.

There was another footfall that sounded out the bunkhouse door. Case couldn't turn his head to see, it was J. who greeted the new arrival.

"I'm trying here, Teach, but he's being a punk. Can you deal with him? Because I'm about ready to flip my shit."

Resentment simmered angrily in Case's belly.

"Case!" Teach's voice was gruff and matter of fact. "This is your only warning. A man cannot serve two masters. Either you sober up and start doing your duty to the club again, or you turn in your colors. That's it."

Case laughed incredulously, "What? You're serious?"

Teach's voice lowered to a growl. "Dead serious."

Case fought to sit up, the rage in his belly now stronger than the pain in his head. "My colors?" he repeated incredulously.  "You'd take my colors?"

"I don't want a washed up junkie for a brother," J. snarled.  "Or a best friend."

"Hey fuck you, asshole!" Case shouted.  "You think you're better than me?"

"I think you're better than this shit!"

"Shut up!" Teach roared.  "Case, your colors are fair game and you fucking know it."  The president's usual composure and calm was gone.  His amber eyes were dark with fury.  "Did you forget so quickly? You wrote the change to the bylaws yourself."

"You're supposed to get a black eye," J. thundered, starting towards him with his fist raised.  Case threw up his arms protectively, but the motion had him overbalanced and he fell backwards into the side of his cot.

"Fucking pathetic," J. spat as Case groaned.

Teach looked down at him, his anger inflating him until he looked seven feet tall.  "This ends now," he growled from above Case, his eyes dark and terrible.  "No fucking drugged up washout will wear the patch of the club I have devoted my life to."

"You're such an asshole!" Anger lifted Case to his feet and the throbbing pain shot through him like a lightning strike. With a guttural cry he whirled his fists around and sent them crashing into the nearest object. There was a loud clang of broken springs and screeching metal and suddenly his knuckles were on fire and bleeding.

"J. go get the first aid kit," Teach rumbled.

The pain in Case's hands snapped him out of the anger-fueled blindness and he looked up to see Mac's bunk. The mattress was now sunk through the several broken springs, which had ripped and torn it to shreds. It was broken, irreparably so.

As if on cue, Mac appeared in the doorway and peered inside. When he saw the wreckage of his bed, his face twitched with a disgusted wrinkle of his nose.

That expression on the face of the man who had done everything for him wrenched something inside of Case. He choked back a sob.

"Aw damn.  Mac, I'm sorry." The pounding in his head was excruciating. J. reappeared in the doorway with the first aid kit, the medical tape already out. He approached Case as one would a wild animal, but he no longer had anything to fear.

"Can I get a minute alone with J.?" Case muttered, staring at the floor.  "I'm done trashing the place.  I swear."

He waited until he heard the bunkhouse door close, then looked up at his friend.

"What the hell is going on?" J. demanded. His jaw worked.  The anger hadn't left his face yet.

"The girl. The girl Crash brought to the party."

"What about her?" J. snapped.

"When protective services came that last time. That time my brothers went into foster and I got sent to the group home?"

J.'s expression changed.  He knelt down to where Case was still sprawled on the floor.  "Yeah, the last time you saw them, I know."

"She was the one who reported us."

"Damn," J. whistled.

"I know. She lived down the street from me." He paused, trying to find the words to describe Lexi, but all he could bring himself to say was,  "I loved her."

J. didn't answer him, but he leaned back against the broken cot and nodded for Case to continue.  Case swallowed, hating that he was forced to remember. "And I think she loved me. I trusted her, but she must've told someone, because CPS came and found my mother drunk on the couch.  They saw the dirty house with no furniture and a bare mattress for my brothers to sleep on.  They saw everything that I tried to keep a secret. All because I weakened and I told her."

Case rolled onto his back, strangely grateful to be staring at the ceiling again. It seemed to make thinking easier.  "I never thought I'd see her again. I wanted to, but I never wanted to, you know?"

"I do," Jay said grimly.

There was a silence that stretched out far too long. Case's mind was whirling.

Lexi, what had he said to her? He had had her next to him, her body close to his for the first time in the five years he had yearned for it, and he had driven her away. He had been drunk, and God knows what the pills had done to his language. She had been there, kissing him and then she had disappeared again. And he had the most horrible feeling it had been because he had driven her away.

"I think Crash has a thing for her…" J. said carefully.

His voice brought Case out of his misery. Carefully He pulled himself on to his knees. "Shit, I think you're right."

"Does he know?" J asked carefully.

"Who she is?" Case knelt gingerly, gulping a few times against the nausea.  "I don't think so. Unless she told him, but I don't think she would have."

"Why do you think that?"

Case gave up and sat back heavily on the floor. "Because… because I know her."

J stood up and extended his hand. "This is your story to tell. I won't say a word until you tell me what to do."

Case extended his hand and his best friend lifted him to his feet. "I don't know what to do."

"Well you can lie on the fucking floor some more," J. said pointedly.  "Or you can stand the fuck up like a man."

Case steadied himself on J.'s arm.  "There," he said, gritting his teeth.  "I'm up.  Now what?"

"Well, now you should probably go drink something other than Jack Daniels."  J. leaned in and sniffed him.  "You smell fucking horrible. So after the water, go take a fucking a shower, change your clothes." J. looked him in the eye.  "And get back to work."

Case looked at the floor.  Four days. His little network would have run out of supplies by now. He dusted his hands off on his jeans had nodded. "Get back to work," he echoed.

***

The shower only took the edge off.  He no longer felt like he was going to vomit everywhere.  Now he only had an eye-watering, skull-splitting headache to contend with.  "Progress," he muttered grimly as he used two towels to dry his massive body.

Since he felt like shit, he decided to start with the most pleasant task first. One of his favorite pushers was a little spitfire named Ingrid, who sold at the community college and was his best earner. She had been flirting madly with him, and he wondered if today he should take her up on her constant offers. That would help his mood considerably.

He got out his phone and shot her a text, asking to meet at their predetermined place.

His phone rang immediately after and a breathless little voice shouted, "Hey!"

He gritted his teeth. "Don't ever call me."

She gave a little squeak. "Oh shit, sorry!  It's just that I can't get away right now. I'm at my place, can you come here?"

The pounding in his head intensified with irritation.  So much for fucking her today.    "Whatever ."

"Great, thank you so much, and I'm so so sorry. But also one thing, I have a friend here." She must've heard his sharp intake of breath because she started babbling even faster. "No no don't worry, she's cool, she's dating a biker, so like she knows the drill. I swear."

He felt like shit, and he did not want to deal with this. But getting back to work with the best way to move on. "Whatever," he grunted again. "I'm coming by." And he hung up.

Lexi

"I just have to meet this one guy."

I didn't want to be at my house, but winter break had robbed me of the usual excuse of class. In desperation, I had texted Ingrid and asked if she wanted to go somewhere for dinner.

The less time I spent at home, the less motive I gave to my mother to pry into my life. I knew that if she got me cornered, I would be confessing everything to her. And so I kept in perpetual motion, even resorting to driving around aimlessly rather than face my mother's suffocating love.

I couldn't afford to start feeling again. Bad things happened when I did.

Ingrid was exactly what I needed. Her shallow stream of constant babble washed over me like a balm. She kept me laughing and gritting my teeth in irritation. Especially now.

I stood in her kitchen as she fluttered about her apartment. We were supposed to go out for dinner at this new Vietnamese place she claimed to have 'discovered,' but first she needed to get some cash.

When I suggested to her that we just hit up the ATM on the way there, she had blinked first several moments. "Never mind, I don't want to know," I said, holding up my hands.

"So yeah, there's a guy coming over who owes me money," she said carefully. "Try to be cool okay, Delaney? I told him you were cool."

Her cell phone buzzed and she looked down.  I expected her to answer, but she only worked her tongue around her cheek.  "Stop calling me," she whispered.

"Who is it?"

She shivered and shook her head.  "Restricted number.  Some pervert I guess.  Whoever it is keeps calling me and not saying anything.  Just hangs up.  It's creepy."

"That's fucked up, Ingrid," I said worriedly.  "You should change your number."

"Too many people have this one," she said, flicking her hair dismissively.  "They'll stop when they're bored."

I wanted to press her further, but stopped myself when I saw that Ingrid looked more nervous than I had ever seen her. Her usual preening self-confidence was gone, replaced with a bouncy, nervous agitation that looked a lot like fear. 

"So anyway, just need to meet my guy," she sang out breezily, but I wasn't fooled that all. "He's a biker too," she was laughing now, a hysterical little sound, "but don't you go stealing him like you stole Crash, you little slut!"

Her cell phone buzzed and she looked at it in panic, then pressed the door button for way too long.  Cracking the door, she looked out into the hallway, her toe tapping so nervously I felt my hands start to shake.   Her voice caught as she tried to keep up her normal stream of prattle. "His name is Case by the way and holy fuck he is so hot..,."

"Case?"

I barely had time to realize it before she made a little sound and threw open the door.

There he was. 

And he looked like hell.

Despite everything he said, despite everything I had done, and against every rational bone in my body, my maternal instinct kicked in. "Are you okay, Casey?"

"Casey?" Ingrid looked between the two of us.  "You know him, Delaney?"

I looked down, "I did."

"Jesus fuck, Delaney.  How many more secrets are you going to keep from me? So I guess I don't need my introductions.  Case, this is Lexi, Lexi, Case. 

"Yeah. I know," he growled.  He looked pale and his eyes were rimmed with red. 

"Do you need water?" I asked.

"I don't need anything from you."  The low menace in his voice made Ingrid step back quickly.

But I was done with feeling bad. "Casey...."

His name from my lips seemed to enrage him. He balled his fists and stepped back into the kitchen, looking everywhere but at my face. "Don't say anything. "

I lifted my chin. "Why? Why shouldn't I get to say something?"

He didn't answer my question, only shivered slightly. "I heard you, you know."

"Heard me?"

His voice rose. "I wasn't asleep. I heard you say you were sorry." He sneered, "Sorry? You're fucking
sorry
? Is that supposed to make everything better?" He whirled around to the dishes that were piled in Ingrid's sink and flung a ceramic plate onto the tile floor where it shattered into a million pieces. Ingrid gasped and made a small, strangled crying noise, and I moved protectively in front of her. Case pointed accusingly at the shards. "There. Now, say sorry to it. Tell that plate you're fucking sorry and then maybe it will go back to being how it was."

"Casey," I was surprised at how low and steady my voice was. "I thought by now you would understand why I had to…"

"God dammit," he cried, smashing his fists into the cupboards and fixing his pale eyes on mine.  His voice broke raggedly. "When I saw you watch me leave, I thought that it would be the last I ever saw of you, Lexi!"

And with that, his mouth was on mine.

It was violent.

Searing.

Almost painful.

I welcomed it.

I kissed him back with all the resentment, guilt and pent-up feeling of five years of longing for him. We drowned in each other, dancing amidst the shards of plate. "I thought I would never see you again." His voice was a broken thing. "Goddammit, I wanted to never see you again. I hate you."  His lips were at my throat, his breath hot against my fevered skin. "I fucking hate you, Alexandra Delaney."

I ran my fingers through that honey colored hair, amazed that it was real and under my fingertips. "I know you do, Casey." I lifted my lips to his throat and he moaned a low animal sound. "You can hate me all you want, but I have never stopped loving you." I dragged my lips downward, tasting him. "Not for one day."

He pressed me against the counter, his fingers kneading my flesh through my jeans. I gasped and moaned to feel myself come alive underneath him, the downward rushing pressure flowing through me and awakening my inner core. I gasped again.

Grabbing his hair, I yanked his head back from my breast and fixed him firmly with my gaze, forcing him to hear what I had to say. "Casey, I loved you enough to get you away from her." He was staring at me, his eyes unfathomable. I shuddered. "I didn't mean to, but I did." Tears were starting to come, "Has it been so bad? Has it really been so bad?"

His eyes blazed at me but he didn't let me go.  I couldn't keep myself from smoothing back his hair as he let loose the words in a torrent. "They called me belligerent and unfosterable. I spent two years in a hell hole of a group home before they kicked me out on my eighteenth birthday."  His voice was low and dangerous. "I had no where to go. So I lived on the streets for two weeks before I gave up what little dignity I had left and went to Mac." He finally broke his gaze from mine and stared at the floor, swallowing repeatedly. "He took me in."

I was quiet as I tried to piece it together in my brain. "Mac? The guy on the corner that never talked?"

Case stepped back from me, but I wouldn't let go of his hand. "He took me in.  And since I had been working for the club as a mechanic unofficially before that, they took me in too." He patted his jacket.  "I patched up my own life." He swallowed again and his eyes blazed anew.  "But I never saw my brothers again."

The two blond little ghosts who he had cared for more than anything in his life. I had to say their names. "Hunter. Jonah."

He nodded, his eyes bright and blinking. "I have no idea where they are. Who they were with." He spread his hands helplessly.  "Are they adopted?  Are they in foster?"

"Jesus."

“Yeah, Jesus. "  The passing sorrow fled, replaced with blazing anger once more. He shook his head.   "I can't believe you're here again."

"I didn't know.  How was I supposed to know all this?  All I knew was that your mom was hurting you."

"I could take it."

Now it was my turn to be angry. "No! You couldn't!"  I grabbed two handfuls of his black t-shirt and ripped it upward.

Instead of the web of scars that I had expected, I was greeted with a mass of tattoos have covered each and every one of them.

He had hidden his old life under his new.

I gaped as I ran my hand over his stomach, tracing the lick of flame that outlined the two names printed in huge Gothic letters. "Hunter. Jonah." And underneath the twisting vines that twined the two names together was a phrase I couldn't identify.

FRATERNITAS ANTE OMNIA.

"What does this mean?" I breathed

He looked down at my finger.

"Brotherhood above all else."

I stared at the words, wreathed in flame. "Why is it all on fire?"

He didn't answer me.  Only reached his hand up to my fiery red curls.