Cuffs & Ballers: A Second Chance Sports Romance (Blitz) Read online

  "This is yours," he said, indicating the wooden slab.

  "Thanks. I appreciate your—"

  "And this," he said, lifting the mound of paperwork off the desk and flinging it into my arms.

  "What's this?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light. I didn't want to make a bad impression on my first day. Anderson smiled. It almost brightened his face—almost. There was a dark shadow hanging over it that made his smile seem withered somehow. Like his lips were nothing but a layer of skin to hide the real, evil smile that lurked deep inside him.

  "This," he said, "is paperwork. You're gonna be doing a lot of it when you're a real detective." I noted the insult and had to bite my tongue to keep from yelling. I knew that every eye in the room was on us. On me. If I started shouting now, they'd think I was nothing more than a crazed woman susceptible to temper tantrums. Hell, they'd probably think I was on my period and tell Captain Murphy I was unfit for duty.

  "Is this all?" I asked, making my voice sugary sweet and smiling back at him. The smile dropped from his face. He took a half step toward me.

  "You think you're real cute, don't you? Just because your old captain is a fan of your father's and was able to fast-track this promotion because of your old man—"

  "My father had nothing to do with my becoming a detective," I told him. Deep down, I was bothered to know that might not be entirely true. Two years as an officer was awfully fast to make homicide detective. And my old captain had been a huge fan—and friend—of my father. But still, I was good at my job. Damned good. "My score on the detective's exam was perfect. The first one in my department's history. Did you know that?"

  "I did. So?"

  "So, I've got as much right to be here as anyone," I said, forcing my voice to stay even and measured. "Besides, I thought we were partners."

  "I can't be partners with someone who doesn't even know how to do paperwork." He stepped over to another desk with a nameplate that read "Det. Clive Morrow" and grabbed a stack of papers almost as high as the first one he'd given me. The bald man sitting there raised his blonde eyebrows in surprise and followed Anderson with his eyes as he walked around the room, gathering paperwork from almost every desk before returning to me.

  "There," he said when he was through. He handed me a stack of papers so heavy it could have sunk the Titanic. "When you're done with that, come find me. There's always more paperwork to do. It's all part of being a detective." He smiled and walked away as random giggles echoed around the room. This had to be, without a doubt, the worst first day on a job, ever.

  3

  Jax

  The locker room usually felt like home to me, but stuck down here alone with Mason sucked every ounce of joy from it. It felt being in a prison, except prison was probably better because at least there you had windows. The only consolation was that my locker, number fifty-five, was at the opposite end of the room from Mason's two hundred-one. We glared sideways at each other as we both changed out of our uniforms.

  "Hey, Jax," Mason called. "What do you say we go get a drink after this and bury the hatchet? I'm buying."

  "Piss off, Mason."

  He cackled loudly, sounding like a hyena. It stung my ears and made me move faster. I pulled the padding from under my jersey and was out of my spandex and into my jeans in about two seconds.

  "Hey, Jax," Mason called again. "What's a drunk man's idea of a balanced diet?"

  I tried to shut my ears to the coming punchline, but it was useless.

  "A beer in each hand." Mason cackled even louder this time. "Hey, Jax, what's the difference between you and a sofa? The sofa doesn't keep asking for a Jack and coke!"

  I slammed my hands against my locker, making my fifty-five number plate rattle. "Shut up!" I yelled. Mason started toward me, his arms outstretched.

  "What are you gonna do about it?" he asked.

  "Mason, I'm not going to fight you. It's not worth getting kicked off the team."

  "I'm not worried about that."

  "No shit. But if you start something with me now, Coach will bench you for tomorrow's practice too."

  "Not if I talk to Tim. Tim fucking loves me, man."

  Shit. Tim Hewitt. Owner of the Jets and possibly my least biggest fan. It was just bad luck that he and Mason were pals. I turned away from Mason, hating that I was beat. I took a deep breath and let it out. Mason inched closer to me, but he was still several feet away. He opened his mouth again just when my phone rang. I looked at the number.

  Crap. Could this day get any worse?

  Mason took a full step toward me now, and I decided to seize the phone call as my opportunity to dismiss him. "What, Penny?" I asked holding the phone to my ear.

  "Jax... Jax, baaaby." Her voice was heavy, and her words were slurred.

  "You're drunk."

  "Newp. Not drunk, just toasty." Her laugh was throaty and strangely maniacal. If she was calling me now, she must be extra "toasty. "

  "Is there something you need, or did you just want to gloat some more about getting to keep the house?"

  "Newp. Just thought I'd give a courtesy call. I'm dumping all your football stuff in the trash. In one, two, th—"

  "Fuck! Penny, don't!"

  I pictured my trophy room. I knew I should have taken my Penn State Player of the Year award when I'd moved out. I'd left it in the house, along with most of my things, because up until the divorce was finalized, I kept thinking that somehow I'd get the house back. After all, I'd bought it before Penny and I were ever married. Leaving my stuff there had made me feel like I still had a claim on it.

  "Just don't touch anything. I'm coming over right now."

  "Too late," she said, and I heard a crash. "Fuck! Penny, if you destroy my stuff, I'll fucking kill you, you hear me?"

  She giggled into the phone and hung up. I didn't even take the time to change out of my jersey. I grabbed my keys and made a beeline for the exit.

  "If you want that drink later," Mason called after me. "Just let me know. Sounds like you might need it."

  4

  Treena

  I set aside what was maybe one-tenth of all the paperwork Anderson had given me. I stared at the next pile and felt my stomach grumble. A soft shadow passed over the glaring white papers, and I looked up to see a woman with long chestnut hair pulled back in a bun. She had dazzling blue eyes that could leap across the room and knock your pants off if she swung them in your direction.

  "You know, Keith's not all bad," she said.

  "Detective Anderson? Yeah, I'm sure he's a real pussycat."

  "Only if you rub him the right way and feed him tuna," she said. Her mouth broke into a grin that I found infectious. She was the first friendly face I'd seen all day, also the first woman wearing an officer's uniform.

  "I'm Emily Hope," she said, extending her hand. I shook it. Her grip was firm. The practiced handshake of a woman working alongside men.

  "Treena Walker," I replied.

  "Yes, I know. I heard you'd arrived and thought you could probably use some cheering up right about now. The guys in this department are good, but they can be a tough group to break into. Especially if you're a woman. Believe me, I know." She was talking quietly so that only I could hear. I saw a few of the other officers and detectives glance at us, but they didn't seem to pay us much attention. Just two women chatting it up. Nothing important.

  My stomach rumbled again, louder this time. "Wanna grab some lunch?" I asked.

  "That's what I came over to ask you," Emily said, still smiling.

  We walked to a small café she knew about, not far from the station. "It's mostly just a coffee and sandwich shop, but most of the fellas don't come in here. They'd rather do burgers or hot dogs. This place is a little too dainty for them." I looked around the room with its lavender paint and freshly laundered tables. The smell of garlic and peppers wafted through the air, hitting my nostrils like a freight truck and making my mouth water. I thought the guys at the police station probably didn't know what they were
missing.

  "So, how long have you been with the department?" I asked as we sipped our coffees.

  Emily scrunched up her face, thinking. "I joined the academy right after I graduated high school, then transferred here right after, so... about seven years now, I guess. How about you?"

  "Two, going on three. But this will be my first in New York."

  "Wow," she said. "That's what I'd heard, but I wasn't sure if it was true. That's awfully fast to be a detective. I've tried the exam twice just in the last year, but I keep blowing it." Her smile downturned slightly. Now probably wasn't the right time to tell my new friend that I'd gotten a perfect score the first time around.

  "I'm sure if you keep at it, you'll pass. I can always help if you need a study partner."

  "Thanks. I might just take you up on that. Every time I take it, I think I've got it nailed. But I'm not even close." Our waiter brought our sandwiches, and we sat quietly for a few minutes, eating our food. "So what made you transfer to New York?" Emily asked between mouthfuls of her cheese sandwich.

  "My family's out here. My dad was in a really bad accident a few months ago, and it sort of made me reevaluate my priorities, you know?"

  "Is he okay?"

  "He is now, but for a while, it was touch and go." We finished our food and checked the time. We still had a few minutes left before we had to head back.

  "Do you miss Colorado?" Emily asked.

  "Sometimes. But I never had anyone really special there, so it wasn't too hard leaving it behind."

  "No boyfriend?"

  I hesitated. A flash of Jax ran through my mind, and I pushed it away, just like I always did. "No. At least no one serious. How about you?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

  She shook her head, her cheeks coloring. "Not anymore. There was one guy... I thought he might be the one, but..." I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for her to finish. "I guess he just didn't feel the same way."

  "It gets easier."

  She lifted her eyes. "I thought you didn't leave anyone behind?"

  I hesitated. It was never easy talking about Jax. "I didn't. There was a guy... once upon a time. We were high school sweethearts. It was silly to think it would last."

  "What happened?"

  I shrugged. "He was a year older. He left for college. I texted, emailed, called… all that sort of stuff, you know? It seemed fine at first. We talked almost every day." I took a sip of my coffee, remembering too easily how things had all gone wrong. "Then... it just stopped. Gradually at first. Almost so slowly that I didn't even notice. One day, I realized it had been three weeks since I'd last heard from him. That was it. No goodbyes. No explanations. It all just stopped."

  Emily reached out and patted my hand. "Love sucks."

  "It sure does."

  "I'm seeing someone new," she said suddenly, blushing furiously. "He's a cop. It's still new, just a few months, but... I don't know. We'll see."

  I giggled, the dirty girl in me surfacing. "You could probably have a lot of fun with two sets of handcuffs."

  Emily's cheeks turned a deeper red, and she pinched my arm. "That's so wrong. Besides... I've tried. He's not into it." We both burst into giggles as we pushed our chairs back and made our way to the exit. It felt good to laugh.

  "Hey, my sister and I are going out to Jon and Buddy's later. Wanna come?"

  "Jon and Buddy's?"

  "It's like Dave and Busters but without the alcohol. Perfect for cops, minors, and drunks."

  "I don't want to be a third wheel."

  "Oh, please. It's just my sister. She'll love you. Besides, you're the first friend I've made in New York."

  Emily smiled, "Okay. Thanks."

  Back at the station, we went our separate ways after exchanging numbers. I promised to text her later with the time we were meeting. Anderson came walking up beside her. I thought he was gonna yell at her for going to lunch with me like she was some sort of traitor, but he leaned close to her and whispered something in her ear and she smiled.

  Another detective whose name I couldn't remember was standing near the water cooler talking to an officer. They were watching Emily and Anderson. "I guess I can't blame Keith; Emily's hot. But what the hell does she see in him?" the detective asked.

  "Beats me. Maybe she's got a thing for cops."

  "Maybe she's hoping he can help her make detective."

  "By sucking his dick?"

  The detective finally seemed to notice me and quickly moved away, looking annoyed. I was shocked to hear that Emily and Anderson were an item, especially since officers and detectives in the same department weren't supposed to date. It took me about two seconds to decide I didn't care. Emily was the only person who'd treated me decently all day. She could fuck the whole department for all I cared. A friend was a friend.

  5

  Jax

  Penny was alternating between bouts of maniac laughter and soul-crushing sobs. Right now, she was sobbing in the entryway. I'd been here five minutes, and already it felt like five years. Her dark blonde curls were matted to her face, which was red and blotchy. She was only twenty-five, but she could have passed for forty when she was on a bender. The alcohol had a way of sucking the moisture from her skin and the light from her eyes. She was half-dressed and kept flashing her bra at me every time her robe fell open.

  "I've made a mistake," she said as tears streaked over her cheeks.

  I shook my head. I should have known better than to come down here alone. There was too much history. I had bought this house just before meeting Penny. It was here that I'd courted her, proposed, and regretted my decisions ever since. If I'd had any sense at all, I would have listened when my friends had tried to warn me about her. At times, I wondered if I'd ever really loved her. Cared about her... yes, but love? I thought there was only one woman I had ever really loved. And it was because I'd loved Treena that I'd cut her out from my life so long ago. How could I let her see the mess I'd become after going off to college?

  "I'm sorry," Penny cried, trying to wrap her arms around my neck and kiss me. I pushed her away, and she glared at me. She grabbed her drink off the table and gulped down half of whatever was still in it.

  "It's too late, Penny. You've made your decision. The divorce is final. I'm just here for my stuff."

  She swung her arm in a wild arc through the air. "Not that!" she cried, laughing again. "I don't care about that."

  "Then what are you sorry for?" I asked. Her dried-out, pink lips curved up into a smile. "I have a secret."

  "A secret?"

  "Yep. Do you want to know?"

  "No."

  She giggled. "Ask and you shall receive." She shoved her glass into my hand. I sniffed it, inhaling the smell of straight vodka like it was the scent of an old lover, then set it aside.

  I hated it when she played games like this. If she had some big secret she wanted to tell me, then I wished she'd just tell me. Instead, she wanted me to drag it out of her. I opened my mouth and immediately shut it. This was all a set-up. A way for her to reel me back in.

  "Penny, I'm getting my stuff and going." I paused as a whiff of her vodka-laced breath filled my nostrils and realized that I had to get out of here now before I did something stupid. "Actually, forget it. I'll just take my Player of the Year trophy and get the rest later."

  "I'll throw it all out!" she shouted, angered by my rejection.

  "Fine. Do whatever you want with it." I thought Caden would be proud of me for getting my priorities straight. My father too, if he were still alive. My mother had walked out on us when I was still a baby, so I had no idea what she'd think of all this, nor did I care.

  "Fuck!" Penny screamed as she followed me down the hallway to my trophy room. I grabbed the one award that meant the most to me and turned to leave. She grabbed ahold of my jersey, staining my number twenty-three with fresh tears as she clung to me like a life raft.

  "I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I don't know what to do." She looked up into my eyes, pleading with
me for answers I couldn't give, and for a moment, I felt a rush of sympathy for her. For a moment, she was the beautiful model I'd met at a party, the one who'd drunk with me and made love to me and almost made me forget the one girl from my past I'd been trying so hard to forget for the last seven years.

  "Goodbye, Penny," I said, gently pushing her off me. She grabbed a trophy off its shelf and flung it across the room as I exited with my Player of the Year award. The trophy left a dent in the drywall and fell to the floor with a crack. I didn't stop. If I didn't leave now, I'd regret it later. I called Caden from the car as I drove away from the house.

  "Hey, man," he said. The familiar voice stilled my nerves, like a patient talking to their therapist. I knew I was right to leave Penny's just now, but it wasn't easy for me.

  "Hey. I need to talk to you."

  "You okay?"

  "Not really. I just left Penny's."

  He let out a low whistle. "I'm still in Boston. I'm due to catch a flight back to Manhattan tonight. I'll stop by as soon as I'm in."

  "Thanks. I appreciate it."

  "Hey, Jax," Caden said. I could hear the care he was using when choosing his words. "You gonna be okay ‘til then?"

  I shrugged and realized he couldn't see me. It was probably a good thing. "I think so."

  "'Think' isn't quite good enough, man. Not if you want to stay sober. Do you?"

  "Of course," I said, startled by the question. It had been almost a year since I'd touched anything, even a beer. I had no intention of breaking my streak.

  "Good, then get yourself to a meeting. I'll be back by seven and meet up with you by eight."

  "Yes, Commander," I said, trying to lighten the mood. Caden didn't laugh. "Fine," I told him. "I'll go to a meeting."