Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

brADEN

Sweat poured down my brow and my arms burned as I sat up after finishing a set of reps on the weights. I'd been pushing myself hard for the past couple of hours. Probably too hard, considering I didn't have to report to training camp for almost three months, but I didn't have any other outlet for my frustration, anger, and grief. At least this was a healthier option than drowning my sorrows in alcohol.

"Let me grab some water and then I'll spot you," I said to my friend Malachi Houston, the Dragons' star quarterback.

Malachi nodded and started to add some extra weights to the bar while I guzzled down half a bottle of water in one gulp. My phone vibrated across the bench it was lying on as my notification tone sounded, and I snatched it up to check…and immediately wished I'd just left it alone when I looked at the latest email that had landed in my inbox.

To: Braden Hicks [[email protected]]

From: Unknown [[email protected]]

Subject: I miss youuuuuuu!!!

Hi baby,

I know you're aching for me as much as I'm aching for you. But the connection we have can't be broken by distance. Here's a little taste of what's waiting for you when we're finally together. I can't wait for the day when I finally get to replace my fingers with your hard cock. *eggplant emoji* *fire emoji*

Xoxo,

Me

Right below the signature – in the actual body of the email, not as an attachment where I could have ignored it – was a picture of a woman's pussy with her fingers buried inside to the third knuckle. But instead of turning me on, it made me feel like puking. Now I knew how women felt when they received unsolicited dick pics. I would never have wished this level of skin-crawling discomfort on anyone.

"Serious-fucking-ly?" I grumbled as I deleted the message, blocked the email address, and tossed my phone back onto the bench.

" Another email?" Malachi grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig.

"Yep," I clipped out. "This time with a pic of the chick's crotch."

He shook his head and snorted. "Classy."

I couldn't help it. I chuckled just a little, despite my shitty mood.

It wasn't like this was a new thing, though. This email was just the latest in a long line, and honestly, I was at my wit's end about how to stop them. Even though I always blocked the email addresses, it didn't seem to be doing anything to deter this person – and I was almost positive it was just one person sending them, because they were always signed the same way. It wasn't like it was that hard to make a new email address. Or even three dozen of them.

This was , however, the first time the email had been accompanied by any kind of photo, and for it to be a picture like that… Well, I'd have been lying if I'd said I wasn't a little freaked out. Was this an escalation that I needed to take seriously? Or was it just a harmless fangirl who had way too much free time on her hands?

I wished I knew the answer, but I could barely string a coherent thought together today. As creepy as it was and as much as I felt like I wanted to go take ten showers to wash off the slimy, gross feeling that was permeating every pore of my being, this would have to be future Braden's problem.

"Have you thought about talking to Vicki about this? Maybe having her field your emails so you don't have to see messages like that?" Malachi asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

"She's supposed to be. Yet this shit still ends up slipping through," I practically growled. "And after today, she's lucky she still has a goddamn job."

"Whoa, what?!" His eyes went wide. "What happened?"

I sighed. "Right after training camp ended last year, I got a new number and had my old one forwarded to her so she could field interview requests. I told her a few personal calls might slip through, and I asked her to either give the people my new number or take a message and pass it on."

"Right. You told me about that. I'm guessing she got a call she didn't tell you about?"

"Not just a call. My uncle died, my cousin called that number to tell me, and she never fucking told me about it. I missed his funeral today because of her."

I tried to choke down the emotion that was threatening to drown me, but I wasn't entirely successful. Ever since that phone call this morning, I'd felt like either screaming or crying or punching something. Or doing all three at once.

" Damn ," he said sympathetically as he put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm so sorry, B. Why didn't you say anything, man?"

I shrugged. "It's nothing personal. I just needed not to think about it for a little while, you know?"

"I get that. Did you call her out on it?"

"Yeah," I said with a nod. "She said her secretary must have taken the call and not passed it on to her, but…I don't know, man. In all the times I've called her office, I've never talked to her secretary. My calls always go directly to her."

"I don't even think she has a secretary. I mean, there's someone at the front desk, but I don't think the individual agents have secretaries. Garman's whole business model is about building a personal relationship with their clients."

Wait. Now that I thought about it, he was right. She didn't have her own secretary. But maybe she'd meant the secretary at the front desk.

I couldn't sort through my thoughts with any clarity right now. I was beyond pissed off about this whole situation, and I was grieving for my uncle – whose death had been sprung on me in the worst possible way – on top of it. Which meant I definitely wasn't in any kind of condition to be making major business decisions right now.

"I fucking wish I could fire her, but I know I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I did," I muttered. "And I know I'm not in the right headspace to be doing something like that right now."

He sighed. "I hate to say it because this is not okay on so many levels, but you're right. As much of a shit human as she is, she's a damn good publicist. So, you up for a round at Hurricane's Eye later? I can't do much to help you now since you already missed the funeral, but I can at least buy you a drink."

I cracked half a smile. Malachi was a good dude. Most of the guys on this team were, but he and I had just clicked right away and were as close as brothers now.

"Sure," I said. "After we finish up here and hit the showers."

"No way," a deep voice laughed sarcastically from behind me as a hand landed on my shoulder. "Braden fucking Hicks."

I pulled my eyes from the basketball game that was playing on the TV at the bar and turned around, groaning when I saw a guy from my hometown, Jeff Hollister. I'd had the misfortune of attending the same high school and college as him and playing on two different football teams with him. He'd gone out for the draft at the same time I did and had ended up being picked up in the final round by the Portland Foxes, but from what I'd heard, he hadn't been getting much field time. He was a decent safety, but he wasn't great. A good, reliable backup, but not a star player by any stretch of the imagination. Not to mention, he was a pompous asshole.

"Hollister," I said with a slight nod. "Long time, no see." Not long enough. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting family. Going to introduce me to your friend here?" He sneered, throwing a look of disgust in Malachi's direction.

"This is Malachi Houston, our quarterback. Mal, this is Jeff Hollister. Plays for the Foxes. I went to high school and college with him."

"Nice to meet you, Jeff," Malachi said, holding his hand out.

Jeff just looked him in the eyes, looked down at his hand, and then back up at his face again. The friendly smile that Malachi was wearing disappeared as he lowered his hand, and his lips pressed into a thin line while his eyes grew hard.

Luckily, his phone rang at that moment, and he pulled it out of his pocket to answer it. "Hey, baby. What's up?"

There was a pause as his girlfriend, Morgan, spoke. It had to have been her, because he wouldn't have called anyone else "baby."

"Whoa, baby, slow down. Give me a second. It's too loud in here. Let me go outside," he told her, then walked out of the bar.

"Well, Hicks, you like to hang out with the dregs of society, don't you?" Jeff scoffed. "You always have."

My blood started to simmer in my veins and the hand that wasn't holding my beer bottle clenched into a fist. It was all too clear from his body language what he wasn't saying, and maybe Malachi was used to it, but it wasn't acceptable to me. Not in any way, shape, or form. His skin color had absolutely zero bearing on who he was as a person. None. And the fact that this asshole thought it did just pissed me off even more than I already was.

"I hang out with people whose company I enjoy," I bit out.

"Like…oh, what was that mousy girl's name? Kyler . You know, the quiet one who liked to do ‘em three at a time. Shame I missed my opportunity to tap that before the asshole, Thomason, claimed her," he laughed. "Heard she was a freak between the sheets."

I heard the sound of my bottle slamming down on the counter before I registered that I'd set it down, and I turned toward him, seeing red. This jackass had picked the wrong day to fuck with me.

"You're going to want to watch the next words that come out of your mouth," I warned him. "Those are my friends you're talking shit about."

"What? I can't point out that she ruined three good guys' lives and got another dude killed because she had some morning-after regrets?" he taunted. "She wanted it, they gave it to her, and then she went crying rape. What kind of fucking bitch does that?"

My fist connected with Jeff's face before I realized what I was doing. He stumbled backward, and I took advantage of his startled state, delivering another blow to his jaw and a knee to his balls.

His knuckles crashed against my cheekbone, making me see stars for a second, and he threw me backward onto the bar top. I heard a crash and what sounded like breaking glass, and something wet soaked through my back. I tried to shove him off, but he had one of my arms pinned behind me.

"I've wanted to punch that smug look off your face for eight fucking years ," he gloated.

He raised his fist again, and I surged forward, planting my head square in the middle of his chest as I pushed him back. As he stumbled backward, I delivered a sucker-punch to his gut and then a shove to his shoulders, knocking him down onto his ass. I wasted no time straddling him and punching his face again.

"Do. Not . Talk. About. Ky. Like. That!" I roared, accenting each word with a blow.

"She was fucking asking for it!" he laughed as he spat out a mouthful of blood.

I delivered an uppercut to his jaw. He coughed and sputtered, and I saw him spit some more blood out.

Good. Fucker deserved to bleed, just like he thought Kyler wanted to happen to her. My knuckles were going to be black and blue tomorrow, but I didn't give a fuck. No one talked about my sister from another mister like this.

"No one asks to be raped!" I growled as I raised my hand to punch his fucking lights out. "No! One! But you? You're asking for this!"

A pair of dark-skinned, tattooed arms wrapped around my chest, pulling me backward.

"Don't be stupid, B," Malachi said into my ear. "Someone called the cops, man. Don't make this worse than it already is."

"He fucking?—"

"I know. I heard what he said. Be the bigger person," he said as he pulled me up, still restraining me. "Nothing you say or do is going to make a damn bit of difference to someone like him."

At that moment, a couple of uniformed officers walked through the door of the bar, heading right for us.

"Can someone tell us what happened?" one of them asked.

"That fucker, Braden Hicks, punched me!" Jeff whined like a fucking toddler.

The officer looked at me, wordlessly demanding an explanation.

"He made a comment about my friend asking to be sexually assaulted," I tried to explain, but even I knew it sounded weak.

Malachi was right. He'd saved me from making this worse than it already was. And it was pretty fucking bad. I'd let this asshat get under my skin and let my temper get the best of me. And it wasn't even like I'd been defending myself. I'd been the one to throw the first punch.

"All right, we're going to have to bring both of you in," the other officer said.

Malachi backed away from me, and the second officer took both of my arms and put them behind my back, restraining me in handcuffs.

"Braden Hicks, you're under arrest for assault and disorderly intoxication," he informed me as he started to lead me outside to a waiting police cruiser. "You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights as I've read them to you?"

"Perfectly," I groaned as he opened the back door of the cruiser and shoved me inside.