Stroker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Page 18

  I’m still inside her, soft now, but I’ll be hard again soon. I don’t want the public to know, but there are limits to my endurance.

  Tia double-taps the mouse. “Take that, Alliance scum.”

  I pull her back to me, my hands running over her breasts, her dusky nipples taut. “Tell me what happened to your mother.”

  She looks at me. “Why?”

  “Because I want to know everything about you, good or bad.”

  She looks back to the screen, exhales. “I want to, but I can’t.”

  “It’s been a year.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I want to understand. Let me in.”

  “Talk to Dad. He’ll tell you, but I can’t do it. I just… can’t. She lifts her leg and turns around, still managing to keep me inside her. She locks her hands behind my neck. “How about we change the subject?”

  I run my hands up her sides. “What would you like to talk about?”

  She kisses my shoulder. “Who said anything about talking?”

  *

  The following morning I find Coach going through papers in his office.

  He waves me in. “You look like a man on a mission.”

  “I am.”

  “I have news.”

  I ignore him. “What happened to Tia’s mother?”

  He takes his reading glasses off, places them down on the desk. “Careful.”

  “I need to know.”

  “Why?”

  “She said you would tell me, that she can’t do it herself.”

  “She did, did she? You think if you find out it will somehow provide magical insight into her state of mind, make this thing you have going on complete?”

  “Yes.” It’s the truth. “I can’t be with her, be with her completely, if I don’t know everything.”

  “Take a seat.”

  I sit on the same plastic chair that’s been there ever since I started. It’s the same chair I was sitting in when Coach told me he’d gotten me a scholarship. Best damn day of my life, or at least it used to be.

  Coach leans back. “It was a home invasion. I mean, you associate family holidays and theme parks with Orlando, sunshine and smiles, you know—not that.”

  My throat tightens up. “Did they hurt her, hurt Tia?”

  She told me about what Ethan did to her in the hospital—the van, his friends. We took it all to the police, the Dean, but nothing’s come of it, not that Ethan’s showed his face since the meet.

  Coach huffs. “No, thank god, but Jen, rest her soul. She didn’t get off so easy.”

  “What happened?”

  Coach points to his breastbone. “Two shotgun blasts to the chest. She had no hope. She didn’t even try to put up a fight. She was a pacifist, Jen. Two coked-up junkies were the last thing she was expecting on a Saturday night.”

  “Shit.” I can’t even wrap my head around it, but now I understand why Tia’s been so reluctant to talk about it.

  “They fled with fifty bucks,” Coach continues, “a purse and an iPad. Cops caught them six hours later. The incident itself was hard enough on Tia before she had to relive the whole thing in courts six months later. It was really fucked up for a while there.”

  “But they got put away?”

  “Life, no parole—both of them. Won’t be seeing those scumbags again.”

  “And Tia?”

  Coach looks at me, fingers drumming on his desk. “She performed CPR on her mother for over an hour. There was a mix-up with the ambulance, wrong address or something, not that it would have done much good. The detective working the case told me later that Jen was dead pretty much the instant those shots tore her chest apart. There’s some comfort in that, knowing she didn’t suffer, but Tia… It broke her.”

  It’s so abstract, so extraordinary that I can’t imagine Tia, peaceful and placid as she is, being involved. God, what she must have been feeling when she gave me CPR at the pool, the fear that must have been running through her, going through it all again, living it all over again. “What do I do?”

  Coach shrugs his shoulders. “You’re already doing it. You’re there for her. We both have to be there for her.” He stands, coming around his desk and extending his hand to me. “Promise me you’ll look after her and maybe I can shelve that baseball bat.”

  I stand and take his hand. “You have my word.”

  He pulls me close, close enough I can smell the bologna he had for lunch. “You’re like a god-damn son to me, Blake, but listen carefully, because I won’t say it again: Be with her, love her, but if you break her heart, I’ll break every damn bone in your body.”

  I have to laugh. You take the man out of the military, but not the military out of the man. “I got it the first fifty times, Coach.”

  He lets go and takes a seat on the edge of his desk. “Now, to the news.”

  I’d forgotten all about it. “Good or bad?”

  “Both, I’m afraid. A campus security guard out on his morning stroll found a metal baseball bat stuck in a drain down by the old gym, noticed the blood. He fished it out, handed it over to the authorities.”

  Hope rises. “And?”

  “Ethan’s toast. The blood matched yours, only his prints on the bat itself, which might not have been enough to put him away until a kid came in the same morning saying he witnessed the whole thing through the windows of the pool complex. It’s enough.”

  “You think his parents won’t bail him out somehow, pull some strings?”

  Coach lifts his shoulders. “Probably, but he won’t be swimming at the Games, that’s for damn sure. USA Swimming would never allow it. They’re useless, but they’re not that useless.”

  It dawns on me. “And the bad news?”

  “Ethan dropping out opens up a spot, but it’s Cutter’s, not yours.”

  “Fuck!”

  Coach is smiling.

  “Hardly something to be happy about, is it? Good for Cutter, but how do you think I feel?”

  He’s still sitting on the edge of his desk just like he did the day he told me about his daughter, the girl who would become my everything, my very reason for living, for pushing ahead no matter how hopeless the situation appears. “Seems your squad buddy Cutter couldn’t stay away from that damn dirt bike of his.” His smile widens.

  “Cutter?”

  “Got beat up real bad after he came off on a track down-state—broken collarbone, compound fractures left and right. They’ve got him over at St Augusta’s. He’ll be fine, but he won’t be back in the pool anytime soon either.”

  It dawns on me. Holy shit. “I’m back in? I’m on the Olympic team?”

  Coach stands, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You’re in. Better sharpen up on your Portuguese.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  TIA

  The Olympic Aquatics Centre in Rio is a temporary structure built specifically for the games. It reminds me more of a soccer arena than a swimming complex, which would make sense given how soccer mad everyone is over here.

  Lacey and I are perched high in the stands, the competitors readying themselves down by the pool.

  Lacey leans forward, almost spilling her coffee over the woman in front of us. “You’d think the fiancé of the number-one swimmer at the Olympics would get better seats. Am I right?”

  I don’t care. I’m simply happy to be here for Blake. I see him stretching in lane five, jumping up and down on the spot to loosen up. He’s got his headphones on, probably pumping Metallica or, his darkest secret, Beyoncé.

  It’s the men’s hundred-meter free—one of the star events of Olympic swimming. It’s the finals, Blake’s first chance at a medal, but I’m not nervous. I’ve seen him in training—in and out of the pool. He’s ready.

  Lacey’s bouncing on her seat beside me. Blake offered to buy her a ticket over, which has proved both a blessing and a curse, though it is nice to have another familiar face here. Dad’s no doubt down near the action. Magnus is in the finals as well, b
ut it’ll be Blake that Dad’s gunning for. Hell, all of America’s gunning for him now. He hasn’t shaken off the ‘bad boy of swimming’ title yet, but after this he’ll be well on his way to redemption.

  The light glints off my ring. I look down and still struggle to believe it’s there—ten carats of super-bling. I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who cares about the size of a diamond, but it is pretty as all get-out. When Blake proposed in front of the whole Olympic swimming team, I practically fell into the pool.

  Tia Reed, hitched at twenty-one. Who would have thought? Certainly not Dad. When Blake told him I wasn’t sure if he was going to hug him or look for a rifle. I think he’s getting used to the idea of having a son-in-law, maybe even a grandkid or two—well, down the road, we’re in no hurry.

  I look down as the competitors stand up on the blocks, Blake and Magnus in their white caps. Ethan’s not there. He’s busy awaiting trial. Even his parents wanted no part of it. That will prove to be a testing time, but with Blake by my side I can handle it. We both can. After what we’ve been through, we can handle fucking anything.

  “Take your marks.”

  Only seconds now, the entire world watching.

  Lacey holds her breath.

  It’s all yours, I tell him, my love, my world.

  Take it.

  EPILOGUE

  TIA

  FIVE YEARS LATER

  As he stands on top of the podium, I have never been so proud. The lighting’s bright, the crowd cheering with enthusiasm. It’s the culmination of months and months of training, and he’s happy, beaming away as the medal is slung around his neck.

  Our baby boy’s very first swimming carnival and already he’s cleaning up, doggy-paddling like a pro.

  “Whoo!” shouts Blake beside me. “That’s my boy!” He looks even happier than he did when he won his first Olympic Gold, the torrent that followed landing him with the nickname ‘Superman’. It’s stuck, not that I mind. He is my superman—a father, a husband and the most compassionate man I know. When I think back to the first time we met in Dad’s office, I can’t believe this is the same guy. He stills pulls out the cheek on occasion, can’t help a dick joke… or dad joke. ‘Pull my finger’ has become an all too common phrase in our household.

  Jayden, our four-year-old, was born in water and remains, like his father, a natural. I still swim, but only to clear my mind, to breathe. Competition was never my thing. Besides, I’ve already won the jackpot.

  Running’s where it’s at for me now. I’m ten marathons down and counting, the trophy cabinet growing every month. Soon we’ll need a whole room just to house Reed gold, especially if Jayden keeps up his form. I see Blake in him every day, in his eyes and dimpled cheeks. He’s going to be a Daddy’s boy alright.

  Lacey crouches down in front of Jayden by the pool, the rest of the kids leaving with their parents. She’s become something of an impromptu godmother, always up for babysitting duties—as long as we provide food. Ever since she dropped out of Carver she’s been a lot more liberal with her eating. I think she’s eaten her way through decades of repression over the last few months.

  “You’re going to give your Daddy a run for his money, little buddy,” she says, pulling on Jayden’s chubby cheek.

  “Aunty Lace-Lace!” he beams, almost toppling her over in with one of his crushingly cute cuddles.

  “What about Grandad? Doesn’t he get any love?”

  Blake sniggers. “Not if Grandad keeps feeding him donuts and ice cream.”

  Jayden jumps out of Lacey’s arms and into Dad’s, Dad who has all the time in the world now he’s actually retired. Problem is, I don’t think he knows what to do with himself, though I see the looks he gives Mrs. Avery next door. I cringe to think what kind of sparks will fly there.

  Dad sweeps Jayden up into his arms. “Grandads are allowed to spoil their grandkids, are they not?”

  “Just remember,” adds Blake, “kids tell their parents everything”.

  It’s been nice seeing Dad take on the grandparent role. My pregnancy was an emotional time. My hormones were all over the place. I craved Skittles twenty-four hours a day, whatever that was about. Car commercials made me burst into tears. These days I don’t even have time for that. Between Blake’s training, taking Jayden to preschool, swimming lessons, soccer, waking up at five at doing it all over again… It’s insane, but it’s our insane and I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

  Blake gets down to Jayden’s level. “So, little man. You going to the Olympics one day like your dada?”

  “Jayden go to the O-wym-pics!” he announces, and I have no doubt he’ll get there. He’s just as determined as his father, just as stubborn. The girls are going to love him.

  I got pregnant immediately after our shotgun wedding in Hawaii. All I remember about the honeymoon is spending a lot of time in our hotel suite, day blending into night and a lifetime’s worth of sex squeezed into three days. Surely there has to be a law against climaxing that much.

  “How are my two favorite ladies doing?” says Blake, wrapping his arms around my fast-ballooning belly.

  I feel her kick inside me, never getting sick of that special connection only mothers and their unborn know. “She is going to be a lady… and a kickass gamer.”

  “She can join our guild!” Lacey beams. “It could do with more females.”

  “Hey,” says Blake, “I’ll have you know Billy and I do all the heavy lifting when it comes to getting that sweet orc gold.”

  I have to laugh. “You spend a little too much time in front of that computer, if you ask me.”

  He puts his hands up. “Nowhere near as much time as Billy does, thank you very much.”

  Billy—I don’t think that boy’s ever going to change. He has a new girlfriend every time I see him. Like Lacey, the pressure at college became a little too much for him. He was destined to be his own man, tread his own path, and he has. If you had of told me five years ago he’d be the proud owner of three burrito shacks, I’d have laughed you out of the room. The guy makes more than all of us combined, not that we’re on the poverty line thanks to the mysterious Aunty Linda. Blake even made a point to stop by her grave and pay his respects.

  We’ve got a nice place on the coast with a large infinity pool. The endorsements flowed in thick and fast after Rio. Everyone wanted a piece of American swimming’s biggest hero. During summer I swear we spend more time in the water than we do indoors. We love parties, entertaining people. Cutter and Magnus are around non-stop. They’re both still swimming competitively, have their own medals to show off.

  While the others busy themselves with Jayden, Blake slips up behind me, hands running down the back of my jeans and squeezing. I thought being pregnant might turn him off, but if anything it’s made him even hornier—if that was even possible.

  “So,” he whispers, lips hot against my ear, “How about we have our own little pool party later?”

  I can’t help but roll my eyes, turning and taking his face in hand. “Whatever you say, superstar.”

  ###

  Note from the author:

  Read on for Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance or use the table of contents at the start of this title to skip ahead to an exclusive preview of coming novel Wrecked.

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  About Teagan Kade:

  Teagan Kade thinks talking about yourself in the third person is silly, just like her collection of snow globes and rare manga. When she’s not being silly, she’s hanging out with her own Brock and two children in the south of Australia, dreaming of new characters and torturous ways they can get themselves into trouble. Teagan loves hear
ing from her readers, all of whom are as dear to her heart as salted caramel cookies. Shoot her an email at: teagankadeauthor@gmail.com. She doesn’t bite.

  Read on for Striker: A Bad Boy Sports Romance followed by an exclusive preview of Wrecked!

  Also by Teagan Kade:

  Throttle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

  I only know one position—on top.

  ANDY

  I do whatever it takes to win. That’s why I’m a Formula One champion. And I’m going for the prize again this year, no matter what my team says. But I’ll play their game—so long as it benefits me.

  Now there’s a beautiful woman traveling with me to make sure I wear the team sponsor’s outfits and smile at all the right moments. I’m going to make Sara smile, all right. But not about what I’m wearing.

  In fact, clothes won’t be involved at all.

  SARA

  Working PR for a fashion house and traveling the world? I’m not complaining. Even if it means putting up with a womanizer like Andy.

  Yes, he’s sexy as hell. But I’m nothing to him—just another score, someone to warm his sheets for a night and then be forgotten. He’s going to learn I’m not that easy.

  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  Burned: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

  My stepbrother Brock—the street racer, the panty-dropper, the absolute and utter as*hole.

  He’s back in town, alive, and now we’ve been thrust together in the worst way possible. I’m living with the very guy my investigation is focused on. I’m betraying him right under his nose.

  Since that night I’ve tried my best to forget him, done everything in my power to disconnect us, but here he is infiltrating every area of my life. All he cares about is that cursed car of his… or so I thought. You see, try as I might I can’t stop thinking about him, about his hands and his magnetic touch, everything I know is wrong.