Not Broken (Firebacks Book 2) Read online

  He hardly gave her time to rest. The moment she’d slightly recovered from her orgasm, he reached for a condom. He stuck the sachet between his teeth ready to tear it open but Samara stopped him with a firm hold on his wrist. “You don’t have to use it, baby, I’m safe.”

  That was is it for him. How stupid did she think he was? They’d been together long enough for him to know exactly who he was dealing with. Samara may’ve been a model but she was far from stupid. There was only one reason she’d make a ‘suggestion’ like that. He wasn’t trying to be anyone’s daddy right now. Without a word he got off the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

  “Baby, where are you going?” Samara called out, her voice laced with panic. Kian would’ve bet his next year’s profits that she hadn’t expected him to walk when she’d tried that shit. “Kian, Kian, Kian.”

  He locked the door behind him. This bathroom was much larger than the one in Samara’s previous apartment. The moment they’d started their liaisons, Samara had decided she needed a bigger place. That should’ve been his first clue to start running – but what was there to say – Samara had a good pussy and knew how to work it for a man’s pleasure. At that time he’d been so obsessed with her brand of sex that he’d even helped her out with the rent.

  The tiled floor was icy beneath his feet as he stepped into the shower. He turned on the faucet and closed his eyes, letting the warm water wash over him. His mind immediately conjured up an image of his fantasy woman. He could see her supple back, tiny waist and luscious apple bottom. His cock hardened as he imagined what it would feel like to touch his mystery woman’s caramel skin; what it would feel like to trace a finger down her spine to her ass and beyond and turn her on just as much as she was turning him on. To think he didn’t even know her name.

  He slipped his hand down his body and began to slowly stroke his dick.

  “Kian. Kian.” Samara’s incessant knocking interrupted his fantasy. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

  “Gimme a minute.” He sighed as he looked down at his dick – still hard as steel. It would just have to wait. He quickly dried himself off then exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist.

  Samara was standing by the door still naked. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” He dropped the towel, oiled up and then put on his clothes as Samara looked on silently. Fully dressed, he took the towel and wrapped it around her. He tugged her to the bed then sat down beside her. After taking a deep breath, he plunged in, “Samara, I think we should stop seeing each other.”

  Her eyes widened in shock. “Excuse me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Kian said as he stroked her hand. “You’re obviously looking for more than what I’m offering right now and I think it’s time you started looking for a man who can give you-”

  “Excuse me?” This time her voice was laced with more anger than shock. She snatched her hand out of his and stood up.

  Sensing an impending storm, Kian also stood up already inching for the door as he continued, “We can still be friends but-”

  “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?” she yelled, hot anger glinting in the depths of her eyes. “Just friends? Do you know how much I’ve invested in this fucking relationship? You think you can tell me to be just friends with you aft…”

  The rest of her diatribe was lost as she snatched a lamp from the bedside table and hurled it at his head. Only quick reflexes and the fact that he was already close to the door saved him from a concussion. The lamp shattered by his feet in a loud hail of glass and metal. Not waiting to see if anymore missiles were headed his way, he rushed out of the bedroom.

  “You think I’m not good enough for you? I’m Samara Fucking Daniels. I am better than good…” her irate yells followed him as he made his hasty escape. It was only when he was standing out in the building’s hallway that he realized he’d forgotten his shoes and car keys in the apartment. He thought of going back in but reconsidered when he heard a sickening crash as something shattered against the door. No way!

  Barefooted he walked towards the elevators and pressed the down button. When the doors slid open, there was an older couple inside. They gave him a head to toe once over as he entered, their eyes lingering on his bare feet. Neither said anything. Retrieving his phone from his pant pocket, he dialed.

  “Si!” Raphael Lopez-Cavos, his best friend and sometimes business nemesis answered on the second ring.

  “We still meeting up for that drink?” Kian asked without preamble.

  “Si, but I need a couple of minutes.”

  “Actually, you’ll have to pick me up.” Trying to figure out how to explain what’d happened with Samara, Kian threw a look at the couple standing behind him. While the woman’s gaze was curious, the man’s eyebrows were raised as if he knew exactly what Kian had been up to. “Um…I have a situation.”

  “A situation?”

  “Are you picking me up or not?” he snapped.

  “So rude. Americans.” Rafe sucked his teeth. “Where are you?”

  Kian gave him the directions before ending the call. In a few minutes, Rafe’s limousine pulled up outside the building. Acting like a shoeless Kian was an everyday occurrence; the chauffeur opened the door for him. Rafe on the other hand wasn’t as circumspect. The moment he saw Kian, he erupted into bellyfuls of laughter.

  ‘It’s not that funny.” Kian informed his friend with a serious face.

  ‘It…it is.” Rafe chuckled. “Dios. This is what? The third time this is happening?”

  It was. “Shut up and get me to a shoe shop.” Kian retorted grouchily.

  Kian and Rafe had been competitors right from the day they’d met at their first business class. To Kian, Rafe was nothing but a snooty Spanish heir who was just going to sail through college courtesy of his parents money while to Rafe, Kian was the scholarship thug who was either going to get shot or arrested before he finished college. It’d only taken a few debates to realize just how wrong they were about each other. A strong friendship had grown that had lasted for over a decade.

  “If you’re not going to marry them why don’t you just try one night stands?” Rafe asked, unfazed by Kian’s mood. Because even though he wasn’t ready for a commitment he’d never been much of a sampler. He liked having a steady woman – just not forever.

  Rafe continued to rib him about his love life all through the ride. As a happily married man, he seemed to think that he was an expert on relationships or something. Kian wasn’t buying it. Rafe hadn’t had the smoothest ride so far with his wife Dahlia.

  Once they’d gotten Kian a new pair of shoes, they drove to Nox for the promised drink. The atmosphere at Nox was not particularly different from any other day. New York’s A-list celebrities and rich milled around the club to the sound of soft contemporary music playing in the background.

  “How many people did you piss off today?” Kian murmured drily once they were seated at their corner.

  “A couple of thousand, maybe ten thousand.” Rafe shrugged, making it seem like his taking over one of the largest football teams in the city was nothing. The Firebacks was more than something.

  “Someone’s gon’ shank you one of these says, you know,”Kian warned.

  “They can certainly try,” Rafe offered drily.

  Rafe didn’t have a background in sports as most of his family business being in imports and exports so it wasn’t a surprise that Firebacks fans hadn’t been happy with the change of ownership. Although Kian was also a die-hard fan, he knew Rafe well enough not to be worried. Rafe was like him - he didn’t like losing. By the end of the next season, the Firebacks would probably be right at the top of the charts.

  Reaching for his scotch, Rafe added, “Besides you’ll all have more to hate me for in a couple of days when I start firing some players.”

  Kian, who’d been on the verge of tilting his own glass against his lips, paused in his actions. “Hold up. Hold up. You’re firin
g players?”

  “Yup! Polo Nelson will be the first to go,” Rafe drawled. Kian almost dropped the glass.

  “Are you crazy?” He didn’t even bother hiding his shock. His movements precise, he put the glass on the table between them before he explained, “Polo Nelson’s the best linebacker we’ve got. Last season alone he racked up more than one hundred and thirty tackles and ten defended passes. You can’t let him go. That’s business suicide.”

  “I’m not denying he’s a good player. But have you seen the catastrophe he calls his personal life.” “Dahlia says if I don’t fire him-”

  “What? This is about your wife?” Kian interrupted him. He waggled his finger at Rafe as he said, “This is why I told you never to get married. Now she’s got you pussy whipped.”

  “True.” Rafe smiled, his gaze glazing over as if he was recalling something before he shook his head. “In any case I agree with her. I don’t want Nelson’s image attached to mine.”

  “C’mon! ‘Cause of that little incident?”

  Rafe offered Kian a mocking smile. “Harper, he faked a DNA test so that he could pawn his son off on a teammate. Then he shot the same player’s wife. Little incident?”

  “The press blew that whole thing out of proportion,” Kian insisted. He’d been a victim of the press’s sensationalism one or two times so he’d learnt not to believe anything they said. “If it was so big why didn’t Lucky Ford level charges against him?”

  Rafe shrugged. “Don’t know. But I don’t like his image. I already have enough problems with the fans without having such a controversial player on the pitch.”

  His mind stirring, Kian contemplated the brown liquid in his glass. The Firebacks couldn’t afford to lose Nelson if they wanted to have a chance next season. He had to do something. His eyes meeting Rafe’s, he asked, “What if I can change his image?”

  “Not even God can make him look good right now.” Rafe shook his head. A flare of amusement lit his eyes as he observed Kian. “Intrigued by the possibility of having a real human to play with again, are we, Harper?”

  Though most of his work these days involved negotiating licenses and equity, Kian missed the good old days of public relations and branding. His lips widened into a smile as he said, “I propose a bet.”

  Rafe’s laughter rang out, muted only by the music flowing around them. “Okay, I’ll bite. What are you offering?”

  “One million dollars to a charity of your choice if I can’t make Nelson New York’s leading man within one month,” he offered. “If I can, you give a million to a charity of my choice and Polo gets a three-year contract.”

  Rafe gave an exaggerated sigh, pretending as if he didn’t want to do it, before he said, “Okay, we have a deal.”

  “I hope you’ve got your million ready,” Kian taunted.

  “I hope you’ve got your million ready,” Rafe retorted.

  Kian smiled. He never placed a bet unless he was sure he was going to win. Raphael was in way over his head with this one.

  CHAPTER 2

  “O.M.G is not a word,” Tasha insisted.

  “But Mrs. Cameron said that it is,” Asia countered. Putting the last nail on the coffin, she added, “and she’s a teacher.”

  Mrs. Cameron was old enough to know better so Tasha assumed there must’ve been weed involved. Arching an eyebrow, she said, “Young lady, you’ll need to put up something better than O.M.G.”

  Asia stared at the scrabble board on the birch-wood breakfast tray which lay on her lap as she strategized her next word. She stared at the letters in front of her, then at the scrabble board, then back at her tiles. Her face broke into a wide grin before she started to arrange the tiles on the green board. LMAO.

  “Asia!”

  “What?” Asia’s eyes widened as she tried her best to look innocent but failed spectacularly. She burst into little giggles as she said, “It’s a word.”

  “Are they teaching you English in a jungle?” Tasha’s brow furrowed as she faked sternness but pretty soon she too was chuckling with her daughter. Asia’s laughter was like soothing balm to her heart. It was a wonder that the little girl could even laugh right now when she was lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a dialysis machine with a large needle in her arm.

  Tasha didn’t know how her baby could be so brave. Asia had grown so used to the Monday, Wednesday and Friday evening hospital visits that these days she didn’t even cry. But Tasha wasn’t used to it! What mother could ever get used to the helplessness that came with the knowledge that there was nothing she could do to ease her child’s pain?

  On the outside she kept a brave face. She smiled with the doctors and nurses and kept Asia’s company with games and stories while a machine repaired her daughter’s damaged body. But inside sadness was her constant companion. Sometimes the sadness was so overwhelming she swore just taking one more breath would break her.

  “Mama, your turn.” Asia jerked her out of her thoughts.

  Tasha scanned the board versus the tiles she still had. She was just about to put up her own word when she heard someone clearing their throat behind her. When she turned it was to find the hospital’s pediatrician, Dr. Katie Thorpe.

  Dr. Thorpe was one of those petite blonde perky types with a permanent smile on her face and positive quotes for everyone. But more than just adding positivity to this situation, she’d also been a great help. After the whole Lucky saga, Polo had insisted that Tasha move Asia’s dialysis sessions from Chesley Memorial where Lucky’s wife and her best-friend Zain was a doctor. Fortunately, Dr. Thorpe had found them a place at Nightingales Hospital where she was the Head of Pediatrics.

  Dr. Thorpe pulled Tasha into to the hallway, leaving Asia to chat with Gil, a sixty year-old man who usually came for his own dialysis on the same days they did. Once they were outside, the doctor’s smile dropped and it was replaced by a worried look.

  “Have you talked to Polo?” she asked. “I know Asia looks well right now but you never know what could happen in the next few months. We need to plan a date for the transplant.”

  “I’ll talk to him tonight. You know, with the football season about to start, he doesn’t want to be benched for the operation.” Tasha felt stupid even making the lame excuse but she couldn’t tell Dr. Thorpe the real reason why Polo was in no hurry to give his own a daughter a kidney. She asked, “Is there any possibility for a kidney from the transplant list?”

  “I can’t promise anything.” Dr. Thorpe shook her head. “With Asia’s blood type it’s going to be hard to find a deceased donor. Polo is her best option.”

  “I’ll talk to him tonight,” Tasha repeated. She would’ve given anything to save Asia but she wasn’t a viable donor. Polo was and he was using as his personal bargaining chip to keep Tasha from leaving him. She didn’t even understand how he could sleep at night knowing that he was risking their daughter’s life like that. What kind of monster did that?

  Four hours later, Tasha carried Asia to the car. The treatment often left her fatigued and by the time Tasha belted her in the passenger seat, she was already asleep.

  As Tasha drove home, her thoughts were consumed with strategies of how she was going to approach Polo. He rarely came home before midnight so she would have some time to put Asia to bed and prepare a script. By the time she drove through the gates of their mansion it was close to nine p.m. The moment she saw Polo’s truck in the driveway, her heart sank. He was already home.

  She parked the car then carried the still sleeping Asia towards the house. Their home was a large two-storey mansion in grey and brown stone set on a large well maintained estate. Tasha often wondered why Polo had purchased such a big house. It was just the three of them. With his aversion to servants, the eight bedrooms just seemed like wasted space. By day, the row of large glass windows on the upper floor reflected the sun-light. However, right now, with all the lights off except for the one in the den, it seemed like the spooky large house all the kids in the neighborhood were warned about. />
  The moment Tasha opened the door, a chill enveloped her. Anyone who’d ever feared someone would know that chill. It started deep in her belly and seeped into the bones, flesh and limbs until even if they were in the middle of a desert she’d start to shiver. Tasha wrapped her arms tighter around Asia’s body.

  “What the fuck do you mean he wants to see me on Monday?” Polo’s voice carried from the den. “I’ve got plans.”

  Assuming that he was on the phone and hadn’t heard the front door open, Tasha crept towards the stairs.”

  “Tasha!” he shouted, startling Tasha into almost dropping Asia, “Get in here!”

  Deep breaths, Tasha! Deep breaths! She sucked in a large gulp of air, fortifying herself before she walked into the den. Polo was seated on the armchair that had a side-view of the door, his legs atop the mahogany coffee table. The car race on their large plasma screen was on mute, while he yelled into the phone, “Bullshit. They can fire me. You think I care?”

  He looked up when Tasha came through the door but continued to bellow, “I’m the best fucking linebacker the NFL has seen in a decade. If they fire me, I’ll be in a new team by midnight.”

  Asia stirred restlessly in Tasha’s arms, probably because of the yelling, but didn’t awaken. Tasha’s arms were aching because Asia was no light weight. Polo stared at her as he listened to the person on the other end of the line, almost daring her to put Asia on the couch without his permission. She didn’t. As much as it pained her to show him obedience, the beatings were more agonizing.

  “Fine. I’ll go but if this Harper guy is full of bullshit I’m walking out.” Ending the call and balancing the cell-phone in his palm, he turned to Tasha. “Where have you been?”

  The spurt of anger was almost immediate. What kind of stupid question is that? If he was any kind of father he’d know where she and Asia had been. Tasha kept silent.