Reckless: A Bad Boy Sport Romance (16 page)

After wandering around the opulent red-and-gold interior of the massive restaurant, I finally found the sign to the ladies' room. But before I made the turn down the narrow hallway, a lone figure in the booth behind me caught my eye. The kid wore a striped black-and-gray sweater with the hood pulled up and his headphones on, hunched over the table with an AP Calculus book in front of him.

“Aiden?”

Aiden pulled down his headphones, leaving them around his neck. I took a good look at him. The swelling in his eye had gone down, but it was still ringed with faint traces of brown and black. The gashes on his nose and neck had closed up, and were now crusty pink stripes.

“Ms. C?” His eyes lit up in surprise, and his lips curved in a small smile. “What're you doing here?”

“I'm with some colleagues from work, celebrating a birthday.” I leaned against the curved top of the antique wooden bench. “And what are you doing here?”

Aiden straightened up in his seat, the light in his eyes dimming.

“My parents own this place.”

“Oh, I see. So, are you –”

“Aiden! Aiden? Are you bothering that customer?”

I jumped back at the snippy voice. A man who looked to be in his 50s marched towards us, the kitchen doors swinging behind him. He pushed up his gold-framed glasses on the bridge of his nose and adjusted the white frog buttons on his black tunic importantly.

“Oh, no, he's not bothering me at all. If anything, I think I'm bothering him.” I beamed at the older man, extending a hand. “Nice to meet you – Mr. Chen, is it? You have a beautiful restaurant, and the food is absolutely amazing.”

“Yes, yes, thank you.” Mr. Chen shook my hand firmly with his cold fingers. “So, Aiden. Who is your friend?”

“I'm Brooklyn Cunningham. I teach a dance class at the studio down at –”

“I know who you are,” said Mr. Chen softly, crossing his arms. He gazed at me with his callous, narrowed eyes, his forehead cluttered with wrinkles. “You're Ms. C, and you're all my son can talk about –”

“
Ba
.” Aiden looked up at his father. For the first time, I could hear the crack in his normally cool voice. “Please, just leave her alone –”

“With all due respect, Ms. Cunningham, you are wasting my son's time. I've strictly forbidden him from extracurricular activities for this very reason. Ever since he began sneaking off to your little dance club, his grades have been slipping –”

“
Ba.
Back off. Your other customers are starting to stare –”

I pushed back my soldiers, returning his steely gaze.

“I'm truly sorry you feel that way, Mr. Chen. And with all due respect, Aiden is one of the most talented kids –”

“Mr. Chen!
Ping-an!
”

Mr. Chen whipped around, bowing and waving enthusiastically behind me.

“Mr. Dubois! What a pleasure to see you again. You're in luck – your favorite table is available.”

I groaned under my breath, my fingers curling to fists. This couldn't have been happening. Aiden shot me a meaningful look, signaling for me to leave with his jerking chin. I nodded and hurried towards the bathroom, but it was too late.

“Actually, I'm here for some take-out – wait, Brooklyn? Brooklyn!”
With my hands still balled at my sides, I heaved a breath and turned back around.

“Brooklyn! There you are – I've missed you –”

“Listen.” I grasped Xavier's collar, snarling into his ear. “All this shit you're pulling constitutes as stalking, and if you don't leave me alone, I'm filing a restraining order. I'm not kidding around – if you so much as poke me on Facebook, I'm calling my lawyer. Understood? Good.”

I let go of him, patted his chest, and continued on towards the ladies' room.

Chapter Fourteen:
Ace

2016

“What is it?” I held my phone to my ear, leaning with my palm against the coarse wall of the fire exit. “Keep it short. I've got a meeting to get to.”

“
My team and I have been tailing a number of individuals for the last couple of weeks, and we've compiled a collection of our findings thus far.
” The thick, plummy voice on the other end of the line droned in my ear. “
Perhaps we can set up an appointment sometime soon to discuss this further.
”

“Good, good. Thanks. I'll take a look at my schedule and shoot you a text as soon as I get out of my meeting.”

“
Very well. We'll keep in touch.
”

I hung up and pushed the door open, slipping my second phone into my other back pocket. The hallway was empty, save for 2 janitors mopping up the dark hardwood floors. I nodded at them, apologizing as I zigzagged past them, and made my way to Dubois' office.

“Come in.”

I pushed open the door, greeted by a chilly blast pumping out from the air-conditioning vents overhead.

Dubois put his desktop to sleep, his leather chair squeaking as he leaned back in his seat. The man was everything his son wasn't. He wore a sharp, ironed suit and tie, and his gelled white hair was neatly combed. Even without saying a word, you could tell the businessman was loaded, but his dignified posture told you he was well-educated and refined.

“You wanted to see me, Mr. Dubois?”

“I did. Have a seat.” He picked up his phone and punched in an extension. “Yes, Coach Myers, he's here – if you'll please join us in my office.”

He hung up his phone and began stirring his tea with a small spoon.

“So, how have you been since our last meeting?”

“I've been alright, I guess.” I rubbed my hands together, leaning forward in my seat. The suspense was killing me. “I've been holding my own. I've had a few nightmares here and there from the accident, but I've been getting a little more sleep lately, so there's that.”

“Good. It shows.” Dubois lifted his cup to his lips, blowing on the steaming tea. “And have you gone to any of the facilities I suggested?”

“No, but I haven't had a drink in a little over a week now, if that means –”

“That's wonderful news!” Dubois set down his teacup. He grinned at me, wrinkles forming in the corners of his eyes.

“Naw,” I sniffed, shaking my head. “I wasn't supposed to be drinking like that in the first place –”

The door behind us opened. Coach entered the office, zipping up his windbreaker. He walked over to Dubois and stopped next to his chair. And as he stared back at me with that grim look on his face, I wiped my sweaty hands on my lap. Fuck. This was it, wasn't it?

“We have a problem.” Dubois was the first to speak. “Donnelly sprained his ankle last minute, and we're not going to be able to find a replacement for the Steelers game next Friday.”

I swallowed, starting to relax.

“Coach Myers here told me how you've been to practice early every day this week –”

“As you should,” Coach added grumpily.

“Now, after much consideration, we've decided to temporarily lift your suspension for this one game.”

“That's – that's great news, thank –”

“Not so fast,” said Coach, taking a step forward. He held the edge of Dubois' desk with both hands, grinding his teeth. “I'm going to be watching you like a hawk. You show up a minute late or even the slightest bit hungover, and you're –”

All 3 of us jolted in our seats as the door flew open with a bang.

“Pops, you can't be serious!”

Xavier barged into the office. It looked like he'd just come in second place in a marathon. He was wheezing hard through his red, puffy cheeks, and the back of his hair looked like someone had just given him a noogie with a balloon.

“Xavier, what are you –”

“How can you even think about giving this asshole a second chance? After all he did?” Xavier demanded exasperatedly, his nostrils growing wider with every word. He pivoted in place, his chest swelling in Coach's direction. “And you! How fucking incompetent do you have to be –”

“Alright, Xavier, that's enough!” Dubois pounded his fist on the table, silencing his son at once.

“But Pops –”

“I said, that's enough,” Dubois repeated, glaring at Xavier. “Warner, that'll be all for now.”

“Thanks, Mr. Dubois, Coach.” I sprang up from my seat, nodding at them. “Take it easy, Xavier.”

As the vein on Xavier's forehead bulged to the size of a licorice stick, I walked out of the office, all smiles.

Chapter Fifteen:
Brooklyn

2016

I closed my book and tossed it aside, checking the clock on my nightstand. Damn it. It was 2:14 AM, and I was still infuriatingly wide awake. I've already downed 2 cups of warm milk. I sat through an entire National Geographic documentary about nothing but giraffes. I'd even finished the dreadfully boring copy of “The Ladies' Book of Etiquette and Manual of Politeness” my mother sent me 3 Christmases ago. And still, nothing. At the end of all that, all I'd accomplished was this new desire to chuck the book into the fireplace.

As I looked around at my bedroom, my eyes settled on the top drawer of my cherry wood vanity dresser. I threw off my covers and opened the drawer, rummaging through the rows of rolled-up panties and g-strings. When I finally found the black silk pouch, I closed the drawer and jumped back into bed.

Though I was still torn up about my cold war with Tabitha, I didn't realize how much I'd missed my alone time. And I meant actual alone time – without having to worry about Xavier showing up in the wee hours of the night for ill-timed pleas for sex or to snoop around the property for any signs that would indicate that a man had been here. None of that. This was my me time, and no one else's.

I unplugged my phone from its charger and found myself a video. While the video buffered, I pulled off my cotton sleepshirt and slithered under the sheets, making myself comfortable. And when the 3 naked bodies materialized on the small screen, I unzipped the pouch and pulled out an 9-inch, flesh-toned vibrator.

I started to tease myself. As the blonde dropped to her knees, stroking the fat, veined cocks on either side of her, I pinched the growing buds of my nipples lightly. The woman's intense, unblinking eyes darted from one man to the other, watching the pleasure unfold on their restless faces.

Wasting no time, the men hunkered down and flipped her over on all fours. The man on her left jammed his cock straight into her mouth. The woman gagged in surprise, but went to work immediately, sucking and slobbering on that pole like her life depended on it. Behind her, the man spit into his hand. He flicked it against her pussy in one swift motion and spread her moist lips apart, sliding right into her.

Biting down on my lip, I rubbed the tip of the toy against my cunt and taunted the aching button of my clit. But as I arched my back, squeezing the toy through the tightening lips, the whistle of my doorbell shrilled through the still of the house. Startled, I yanked the toy out and threw it under the covers.

“Who – who is it?” I closed the video, threw on my sleepshirt, and headed into the living room. “Xavier, if that's you, I'm giving you 3 seconds to leave before I call the...”

But the second I peered into the peephole, I unlocked the door.

“Sorry, I know it's the middle of the night.”

Aiden stood at the other end of the doorway, surrounded by 2 full duffel suitcases and a backpack with its zippers in danger of exploding. Even with his hood on, I could see the new bruise on his cheek and the brown trail of dried blood under his nose. My fingers shook around the edge of the door, my mouth and throat suddenly bone-dry.

“Can I crash here for a couple of days? I didn't know where else to go.”

Nodding, I stepped aside and let him through. Aiden swung the straps of all 3 bags over his shoulders, keeping his head down as he shuffled into my living room. I closed the door and turned back around to face him. But even before he set his bags down, he hit me with another whammy that woke the fuzz on the back of my neck.

“Ms. C? There's something else.”

“What is it?”

“You know that Whitaker guy – that dead football player? The one all over the news?”

“Yeah?”

“I think I know who killed him.”

Part 3

Chapter One:
Brooklyn

2016

They say that eyes are the windows to the soul. They say that if you just look hard enough, you'll see who they truly are, without ever saying a word. Thank God for that, because all Aiden was giving me was just a little more than nada.