Hard Man: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Bad Ballers Book 1)

  Hard Man

  A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  S.J. Bishop

  Contents

  Exclusive Offer

  HARD MAN

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Epilogue

  Personal Note

  CUFFS & BALLERS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Free Book

  Exclusive Offer

  Would you like a free scorching hot romance? Refer to the end of this book to get a copy.

  HARD MAN

  Bad Ballers Book 1

  Prologue

  Lars

  I squinted my eyes against the darkness, searching for Big Nose Vincent and his men. Where were they? They were supposed to meet us in this crummy old warehouse at nine. It was already twenty after, and Big Nose was never late. His massive frame suddenly moved into view, and the nose he was known for stuck out like a lightbulb, even in the darkness.

  "Lars," he said, smiling a bit too widely. He walked toward me, his arms extended in a friendly gesture that rang false on his face. He stopped halfway across the room. Something wasn't right.

  "Vincent," I said, nodding. Beside me, I felt Tony and Ash stiffen. Ash hadn't wanted to come tonight. I'd had to talk him into it. But the money was good, and once we got the briefcase and got back to Angelo's, all would be right in the world again. Besides, it was an easy exchange. We give them the briefcase stashed to the brim with heroin, and they give us a briefcase stashed to the brim with money. Nothing could be simpler.

  Except now that Vincent was here, something in the back of my head was screaming at me to get out, and I never doubted my senses when they screamed. You couldn't when you worked with the mob, but I also didn't want to make any mistakes. If I drew my gun too soon, all shit would break loose, and it would be my fault. So I waited.

  "Lars, let's get out of here, man," Ash whispered. "This is all wrong. Where are the rest of them?" Ash was right. All I could see were Big Nose and two of his men. Big Nose never traveled anywhere with less than a dozen hired guns. He was way too paranoid about taking a hit.

  "It's fine," I whispered back. "We can't just leave. Angelo would kill us."

  I could see Ash's dark brown eyes glint back at me with fear. The hair on the back of my neck was standing on end.

  "Don't worry, I got this," I told Ash. I signaled to Tony who lifted the briefcase off the ground, tightening his hand around its handle until his knuckles turned white.

  "Maybe Ash is right," Tony said. "This job stinks." His eyes darted over my shoulder at Big Nose. I knew he wasn't talking about the musty, stale smell that permeated this decrepit warehouse we were standing in. I smelled it too. Lies. Trickery. These things all came with the job. Part of our job was knowing when to heed the internal warnings buzzing in our heads and when to let them go and get the job done anyway.

  Whatever the situation was, you had to ask yourself which was worse. You had to weigh the odds of getting hurt against the consequences of not finishing the job you were sent to do. It was a shit choice, and it was mine to make.

  "Give me the briefcase," I said. Tony handed it over, his large hands letting go reluctantly.

  "Make it quick," Tony told me.

  I nodded once and shot a glance to Ash. Dark circles seemed to be forming under his eyes as I watched him. His skin was too pale for a man in his twenties. I felt like a shithead for bringing him along. He'd been talking for weeks about wanting to get out of this life, away from the mob and from Angelo. But Ash was like a brother to me, and I was reluctant to let him go. He gave me a quick nod to let me know he was okay, even though I knew better.

  Just get going and get out.

  I took a breath and met Big Nose at the center of the room. He was seven years older than me, and his skin was already wrinkled. I don't know what the man had done to himself, but no thirty-year-old should have a face like this. It looked like maggots were crawling under his skin, and his famous nose was so long it could have had its own zip code.

  "Lars, good to see you," Big Nose said.

  "I'm not here for pleasantries," I said, handing him the briefcase.

  "Of course not. Here you are." He gave me back a black briefcase that should've been filled with hundred dollar bills. I was no genius, but I was smart enough to know the case he gave me was too small to hold twenty million dollars.

  "This is it?" I asked, that alarm bell ringing inside me again.

  "That's everything you need," Big Nose replied, smiling at me with his crooked teeth.

  I made the decision in a second. I set the briefcase on a tired-looking ledge crumbling against the wall of the warehouse and opened it. Big Nose never tried to stop me. My eyes bulged when I saw the newspapers piled inside it.

  "You fucker!" I shouted, turning back to him. "Where's the money?" I drew my gun, but Big Nose was only laughing.

  "Lars!" Ash screamed. I looked up to see Big Nose's missing men appear out of the darkness, guns drawn. I didn't know what they'd been waiting for. They could have killed us anytime they wanted. Big Nose just likes to draw things out. Stupid asshole. Suddenly, shots rang across the air. I threw my briefcase at Big Nose and heard a loud crack.

  "Goddammit! You broke my nose!"

  I didn't stop to look back. I could see Tony and Ash dodging their way through the bullets, almost to the door we'd come in through. We were parked right outside of it.

  I caught up to them and was slightly ahead of Ash when a shot rang out. At almost the same time, I felt Ash's hands push me to the ground. "Look out!" he screamed. When I looked up, Ash was lying still. Blood was pouring out of him.

  "Tony! Ash got hit!" Tony stopped at the exit and, without pausing to think, ran back into the hailstorm of bullets. Together, we dragged Ash to the car.

  "You drive," I told him, climbing into the back seat with Ash. It slowly sunk in that Ash had just saved my life. He'd pushed me out of the way and taken the bullet himself.

  "Ash, buddy? You okay? Can you hear me?"

  But Ash's eyes wer
e wide. His already pale skin was like a ghost now. I saw the life leaving him. "Goddammit, Ash! Don't you fucking die on me!"

  Ash looked up at me, his eyes tearing with blood. "Don't let it be for nothing," he croaked, barely audible. "Get out before it gets you too." It was the last thing that Ash ever said to me.

  1

  Clarissa

  "There!" I shouted, slamming my shot glass onto the bar.

  Madeline rolled her eyes. "Yes, fine, alright. You win. You could drink me under the table any day of the week. Are you happy now?"

  I smiled and laughed, but inside I still felt crushed. I knew Madeline was seeing right through me and was grateful she'd come out with me tonight. My audition today had been a joke. No one in New York was ever going to hire a size sixteen, even if my body was the hottest thing this side of Manhattan. I just didn't understand it.

  In Colorado, I'd gotten offer after offer to be in college plays and student films. I'd even sung in a nightclub part-time to pay the bills. New York was just different. I couldn't even afford to share a room with someone here. Not even two or three someones. I knew a lot of twenty-one-year-olds still lived with their parents and were fine with it, but I sure as shit wasn't. Moving back in with my dad after living on campus the last four years in Colorado was like stepping into a time warp. Nothing had changed. He still thought my career choice was a waste of time and money, and I still thought the only thing he cared about was football. Of course he was the coach of the New York Giants, as he liked to point out. Thinking about football was his job.

  "Come on, let's do karaoke. Singing always cheers you up," Madeline said, grabbing my hand and trying to pull me through the crowds. Saturday nights at Lola's were always busy. It was supposed to be the hippest, trendiest nightspot in the city right now, though I thought it felt a little flat. The bars in Colorado were all a little nicer, a little friendlier. Here, everyone always seemed like they were in a bad mood. Madeline was the only friend I'd made since arriving in the city, and I was lucky to have her.

  "Not right now," I said. "I need another drink."

  Madeline rolled her eyes. "A Bride for My Father probably won't even stay open for a week. Besides, it's not your fault they didn't pick you. Your body's to die for, and no one sings as good as you, you know that. Not even me."

  "Yeah, but you're the one they're giving the part to."

  Madeline blushed. "We don't know that yet."

  "Oh, come on. That one director was practically drooling over you. You killed it in there today. You deserve it." It was hard for me to say that when I didn't really feel that way. Madeline was awesome, sure, but I was better. That wasn't ego talking; it was fact. My voice was just stronger. My curves were curvier. My breasts were fuller. Everything about me screamed woman, whereas Madeline's size zero body made her look like a little girl, or even a little boy.

  I guess I was a little bitter. So what? I'd been here a month already and hadn't landed one job. My mother never returned my phone calls; she was too busy getting it on with her boy toy in California and trying to be a movie star. Maybe if my father hadn't been such a grouch when they were married, she wouldn't have deserted us when I was six. I knew how shallow his support was when it came to the arts. What was it he'd said to me today when I'd gotten home and told him I'd bombed the audition? Oh yeah, "I told you so."

  "Well, I'm going to the bathroom. Why don't you get another drink and get your head together?" I watched her wobble away, her long, dark hair swinging loose behind her head. She really was pretty—for a skinny girl. She tripped over her own feet and fell against a tall guy with blonde hair who looked like he'd just won the lottery when he saw her. Crap. No way could she drive like this.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started searching for the number of a cab company, then remembered this was New York City. One thing we had here were cabs. I was about to put my phone away when a picture of me and Treena at the Denver Zoo sprung up. I looked at it for a moment and smiled at the memory, then started scrolling through my pictures. I paused on each one, suddenly missing my older sister fiercely. I still couldn't believe she'd stayed in Colorado to be a cop. I would never have pictured that for her when we were little. I was glad I'd stayed with her through New Year’s. At least it gave me some happy memories to look back on. So far, my new year in New York had been dismal.

  Madeline sauntered back over to me. "I just realized it's after midnight," she said. "I've gotta go. I've got an audition in the morning."

  I made a face. I didn't want to be alone right now. "Skip it. You know you got that part today."

  "This one's for a movie," she said, her eyes lighting up.

  "Oh. Awesome." I smiled but turned my head before she could see it didn't reach my eyes. "Give me your keys," I said when I got my jealousy under control.

  "I need them to get into my apartment."

  "Fine. But I'm watching you get into a cab."

  Madeline nodded, and I followed her outside, where the chilled January air whipped my blonde hair around my head in a halo. When Madeline was safely in her cab, I went back into the bar.

  "Come on, come on, come on, let's get this karaoke party started," the DJ was saying from his booth.

  Suddenly, I wanted to sing. I ran up on the stage and grabbed the microphone before anyone else had a chance to. I shouted the name of an old standby that always made me feel good, and when the DJ brought up Peggy Lee's "Fever," I closed my eyes and let the song take over. The world around me stopped. I didn't hear the people in the bar anymore—all I heard was the music. The beat of the drum, the rhythm of the song... they moved through my body like they were a part of me.

  When I opened my eyes again, the bar erupted into applause. I felt myself blushing and stared in wonder at all the people who could applaud me now but wouldn't give me the time of day most days of the week. Through the crowd, one face stared back at me, hitting me like a truck. He had dark hair that was almost black and equally dark eyes that screamed of danger. It felt like they were seeing right through me.

  I took a breath, and when I stepped off the stage, he was there waiting for me.

  2

  Lars

  "Fuck me. I hate karaoke. What do you say we get out of here?"

  The two girls I was talking to looked at me with their fake blue contacts and dyed hair, and I could see they were ready to run out the door with me.

  "Sounds good to us," they said, each one running a delicate hand up and down my arm, stroking my tattoos. I was just swinging my jacket over my arms when the woman on stage started to sing. I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. My shoulders stiffened, and I dropped my jacket back onto the chair.

  "Aren't we leaving?" one of the blondes asked.

  "Not yet."

  I listened as the woman belted out a rendition of an old song I recognized from the radio. Each note that carried through the air landed on my ears like the soothing tones of a saxophone. I'd never known anyone who could sing like that. My body shook like a wave had just tried to bury me. Her voice pressed against me, warm wind on a cold day. It felt like soft electric kisses buzzing up and down my skin. The harder she sang, the harder they kissed.

  One of the blondes tugged at my arm. I couldn't remember her name and didn't think it mattered anyway. "Are we going?" she asked. I shook my head, grabbed my coat, and walked away from them, closer to the stage. I could hear them both gasp behind me but couldn't have cared less. They had big fake boobs and that plastic look that men today seemed to love. They'd find someone else to lay them tonight.

  The song ended, and the woman stepped off the stage.

  "Hey," I said, approaching her. I could feel her eyes moving over my body, checking me out. "You're amazing. I'm Lars. Can I buy you a drink?" I offered her my hand, and when she took it, a strange buzz ran up and over my skin. When she let it go, the buzz disappeared.

  "That depends," she said, her blues eyes glinting playfully at me.

  "On what?"

&nb
sp; "On how good you are at darts."

  For a moment, I was taken aback. "You want to play darts?" I asked.

  "Why not? It's Saturday night, and I've got nothing better to do. Yet."

  I smiled back at her and led the way to the dart boards at the back of the bar. It was around one and starting to clear out just a bit. The lightweights were all heading home, and we got a dart board easily.

  "You haven't told me your name," I said.

  "Guess," she teased.

  I looked at her and smiled. I liked this game she was playing.

  "Maria."

  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

  "Kaylee?"

  "Not even close."

  "Do I get a hint?"

  "Maybe after you get your first bullseye," she said, then sent one of the darts sailing past my nose. It landed just off center, a half inch from the bullseye. She smiled alluringly at me, her liquid blue eyes swimming at me through the dim lights of the bar.

  "You're good," I told her. "But guess what? I'm better." I sailed my dart to the heart of the board, where it landed perfectly in the center. Her jaw dropped, and I couldn't help laughing.

  "Name?" I asked.

  She turned toward me, stepping closer so that I could feel her breath on my face. It smelled like violets.

  "Best two out of three?" she asked, purring in my ear as she leaned in closer so I could hear her through the music and the people talking.

  I touched her cheek, unable to resist the lure of her, and was shocked at the softness of her skin. I almost pulled away, afraid the coarseness of my own skin might hurt her—football hadn't been exactly kind to my hands, but then again, neither had my last job. She reached up with hands as soft as the rest of her and placed one over mine, keeping it on her cheek.

  "I'm gonna learn your name tonight if it kills me."

  Her moist, pink lips turned up at the corners. "I'm not afraid of you."