UNSPORTSMANLIKE CONDUCT (Gods of the Gridiron Book 1) Page 3

  “This looks far more comfortable than the bar bathroom,” Travis began and looked her over with renewed interest.

  She gave him a withered look and crossed her arms over her chest. “Give it a rest, Travis. I already told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, lighten up, would you? I’m just teasing,” he protested. “You need a good fuck, though, to loosen that cork shoved up your ass.”

  “I’m sure that’s the answer to all your problems, huh? Well, us adults have to actually face reality instead.”

  His eyes flashed red. “You don’t know the first thing about my problems, big shot.”

  “And you don’t know the first thing about mine so shove it.”

  He laughed, and the sound of it tickled and infuriated her at the same time. “Man, that temper of yours is as hot as the rest of you. Red hair always starts the hottest fires.”

  She took a deep breath in and counted to ten. Why the hell did he have to follow her out there in the first place? She listened to the sound of the heavy rain on the roof of the car and waited for her heart to calm down. It didn’t, of course, for she was so close to him, in her car alone with him, and her senses had never been more heightened.

  “Sky,” he said softly and the hair on her arms stood at attention. She’d never understood the overexaggerated response his deep, sexy voice had always had on her body; it awakened some deep primal instinct within her, her mind sailing back to those memories she’d tried unsuccessfully to stuff down over the years.

  “What’s the matter, Sky?” Travis asked as he turned in his desk in front of her.

  She hadn’t been able to stop crying as she left the bathroom to go to class. It had continued as she took her seat, even as she wiped the tears from her cheeks. She simply shook her head. He couldn’t understand. He’d never been made fun of a day in his life. It wasn’t Skyla’s fault her single father wasn’t rich like his and couldn’t afford the best clothes.

  “Hey, talk to me?” he beckoned, his perfect blue eyes speaking to her soul as they stared back into her own.

  She was held captive by them, a prisoner to him. How could he not see into her soul? See the secret she kept from him. She relished in his presence, lived for this class because she saw him every day, got to sit so close to him, see his sexy big frame in front of her. She’d memorized every inch of his hairline, every curve of his muscled back, every mark on his flawless skin.

  “I—” she began, his request too enticing to not answer. “My shirt came from Walmart,” she admitted and blushed, horrified, because she couldn’t for the life of her understand why she’d divulged this information to him. He’d think she was an idiot, poor, even more undeserving of his attention than she already was.

  He smiled big at her, his sexy dimples popping into view beneath his scruff. “I like Walmart clothes, myself.” Was he kidding? Surely he must be. “These shorts came from there, you know? And guess what, I don’t care.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Did someone say something to you about that?” His concern touched her and made her heart literally melt.

  I can’t tell him. He’ll pity me even more than he already does.

  “Trav. Ugh, don’t talk to that fatty. She shops at Walmart!” Brittany Balboa interrupted, and Skyla’s bubble burst in an instant.

  “I do too, Britt. What the fuck?” he smarted over at the gorgeous blonde pouting up at him. She immediately canned whatever she had been about to say and turned forward, scowling. “Don’t worry about what she thinks. I like that color on you. It brings out your eyes.” And with that, he winked and turned around.

  And Skyla’s heart soared on a cloud of perfection that lasted through the entire sixth period...that was until Britt ridiculed her again after class.

  The dark void she felt then spilled over into the moment now as Skyla attempted to hold in the emotions that threatened to overtake her. Dammit, that was a decade ago, I have to let it go! But it was easier said than done when it seemed as fresh as yesterday. She gulped, looking into the same eyes that had both calmed and excited her that day so long ago.

  “I need to get out of this car,” she whined and reached for the umbrella, only to be stilled as Travis’s hand halted her own. She pulled in a shaky breath, unable to stop the tears that threatened her eyelids.

  “Do I make you nervous?” Travis asked, confused.

  Nervous. Angry. Horny. Reflective. Miserable. Pick one, asshole, she wanted to scream. But knew it wasn’t his fault for what his paramour had made her feel all those years ago. Skyla knew her anger was misplaced, but he was here, not Brittany. Therefore, Travis was to be the one to deal with the wrath that had built up over the years beneath her skin, a volcano ready to erupt after lying dormant for too long.

  “Don’t touch me,” she hurled and could’ve recoiled at the shock on his face.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re bipolar,” he threw back and jerked his hand away. “Fine. Have it your way, crazy bitch.”

  “You know what? I am crazy! Because of assholes like you!” she retorted and grabbed for the umbrella.

  He didn’t stop her this time as she took it and got out of the car, not understanding why she was so furious with him and why she was completely overreacting as she was. Were her hormones off? Was she about to start? No. She was simply sick and fucking tired of being pushed around by men. Never a-freaking-gain.

  When she stopped at the front of the car, she looked back into the windshield at Travis who continued to sit in the passenger seat. She couldn’t see him but knew he was probably stewing over how she’d talked to him. She felt bad, as she probably should. But she also felt justified. He was a hot-headed, self-confident legend who was used to getting his way and having women drop their drawers for him at his beck and call. Well not this time, jerk off. Not this girl.

  Skyla Lynette Larson was done with letting people make her feel less than what she was. She had proved herself over and over again and no longer cared what they thought of her. Fuck people. Fuck Brittany. And fuck Travis Redmond.

  As if sensing her challenge, the passenger door opened and the man whom she’d always felt was larger than life approached her.

  She was suddenly overcome by his powerful presence, stunned by how big he was right there in front of her—so tall, so broad—and literally stepped back. He grinned, glad for his mightiness. Her eyes narrowed, angry that he could best her. God, he was so fucking cocky.

  “You over your little temper tantrum, darlin’?”

  “Fuck you,” Sky stated back, feeling a power all her own.

  “Fucking is exactly what your sassy little ass needs. Let’s go back to the SUV, and I’ll do you that service,” he offered. Whether he was serious or not made no never mind. She was over him. He needed to cease and desist.

  “Travis, I—” she began, only to stop talking as a big vehicle’s lights blinded her. Oh, good, the tow truck is here. “Thank God!” Now, she wouldn’t have to deal with this smug, brazen bastard any longer.

  She looked at the truck door that opened and stepped forward, only for Travis to step in front of her and approach the burly man with a grease-stained shirt first. She didn’t protest. If it made him feel more like a man to help her, then she wouldn’t object. There was a part of her that was grateful he was being a gentleman and making sure she was safe out here by herself.

  “Howdy,” the tow truck driver began. “Someone call for a tow?”

  “I did,” Sky stated, coming to a stop beside Travis. “I got a flat.”

  “A flat?” Both men turned to look at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “You called a damn tow truck for a flat tire?” Travis asked, incredulously.

  “Yes! I did. I wasn’t changing the freaking thing in the rain.” She shrugged.

  Travis took a deep breath in and shook his head at her. “You didn’t tell me that. I thought it was dead. Jeez, Sky.”

  The tow truck driver put his hands on his hips, puffing his chest out. “Well, you wanna tag team and we’ll get
this tire changed out for this young lady?” he asked Travis.

  Travis nodded and turned to follow the other man to the side of her vehicle.

  Together they began working on the deflated rubber blob clinging to the rim, and Skyla felt bad for being such a cunt to Travis Redmond, who really had never personally done anything to her. He was just a good target for her rage because his life had always been perfect: Perfect family, perfect genes, perfect football record—save til now.

  Skyla wasn’t paying attention as another car’s headlights came up the hill, but the hum of the engine quickly faded into the distance as a loud blast assaulted her ears and rattled her entire body. She screamed as she watched the tow truck driver’s head literally explode on his shoulders.

  “Sky, move!” She heard Travis’s voice and felt his stocky body hit hers as he moved them around the side of the SUV. He pushed her to the wet ground as the whoosh of a bullet flew past her ears. She felt his big arms around her, his heavy frame against her back and bottom. She screamed again and Travis’s hand covered her mouth. “Shh,” he whispered. “Get to the truck.” He pointed up to the open door of the tow truck and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. “On three, we’re gonna run for it. I’ll put you in first, then I’ll get in. Ready?” he asked, looking into her eyes as he held her tightly to his muscular chest. She wasn’t sure she was. She was overcome with panic, her logical mind shooting off in a million different directions, but somehow her brain told her to listen to him and do as he’d said. She nodded and was rushed to the truck door, terror seizing her as the sound of bullets rained through the air.

  Travis picked her up and pushed her in. She crawled over the bench seat and watched him follow and slam the door quickly. He put the diesel in drive and gunned it. She gaped as she looked back and felt Travis grab her head. She was pulled down to the seat, her cheek hitting his massive thigh as the sounds of gunfire blasted the back window. She pulled her legs in as glass shattered around her and felt the shards, like a thousand pin-pricks, rain over her legs. “Keep your head down.”

  Sky’s head reeled as her adrenaline soared with the reverberations of truck racing car. Travis kept his cool, somehow, as he drove, jerking the wheel to outmaneuver the vehicle behind him. Soon, the only sounds were that of the rain pelting the windshield and bed of the tow truck.

  Apparently, the chase was over.

  Sky shivered and felt something hard jab against her cheekbone. She gasped when she realized what it was, bolted upright, and shoved Travis’s big shoulder.

  “Gross, you pig!”

  “Oh can it, Red. I can’t help how my body reacted to the combination of adrenaline and your head in my lap.”

  “Oww, dammit,” she yelped as a glass shard on the seat dug into her right palm.

  “Careful,” he insisted and sighed.

  “Ok, first off, what the fuck was that?” Her rational mind had returned.

  “That was Geraci’s retaliation. One of many to come, I’m afraid.”

  “Hold up! You mean Giovanni Geraci?” she asked, dubiously.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “What the hell have you gotten yourself into, Travis?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “You have exactly thirty-seconds to tell me,” Sky retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him.

  “I will tell you, but right now, I’ve got to get us out of this truck and into a different vehicle. We’re sitting ducks.”

  “Oh, no!” Skyla huffed. “There is no ‘we’ to all this. It’s just you.”

  “And that’s where you’d be wrong, Fireball. Like it or not, you’re now running from him too. Unless you wanna be ‘swimming with the fishes,’ you gotta hide.”

  “I’m here to investigate a crime, I’ll have you know.”

  “Yeah if you can survive until morning.”

  “Stop talking, my damn head is killing me.” Sky held her fingers to her temples, trying to quiet down the migraine coming on.

  “There.” Travis pointed and turned onto the highway from the two-lane road they’d been on. “We’ll head north, ditch the tow truck, and hit a hotel for the night.”

  “Jesus, Travis. We can’t just steal a car.”

  “Where’s your phone?” he asked and grabbed for her purse.

  “It’s dead. W—what the hell are you doing?” she protested as he took it from her grasp and opened his window. “Travis!” she cried even as he tossed it out the window along with his own that he suddenly fished out of his pocket.

  “Like it or not, we have to get off the grid.”

  “I’m an assistant DA, I can protect us. I could’ve made a phone call, if you’d have given me—”

  “Look, you don’t know this man like I do. He won’t stop until we’re dead. Get that through your fucking thick skull. You’re not in Atlanta anymore. We’re on our own right now.” Travis took a deep breath in. “He’s gonna kill Tuck; I just know it—if he isn’t dead already. Jesus, I should have seen this coming. Dammit!” He slammed his massive palm against the steering wheel, causing Skyla to flinch.

  Sky was quiet for a time, taking in the fear in Travis’s face, the anxiety in his muscles, the seriousness of the situation.

  “Jesus, Trav. Does this have anything to do with you throwing the games? What’s going on?”

  “It makes so much sense,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “They’ve been watching me... Of course they were there. They saw me talking to the assistant DA of Atlanta.” He laughed without humor, and Sky couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up her spine. “Who knows you’re here?”

  “I—” Sky huffed. “My boss of course—the DA—and my friend Joanie.”

  “Good. They’ll have to know you’re in trouble when you don’t check in, right?”

  Right, but why did his eyes still look so uncertain. “Why do we have to hide?”

  “Just until we can get away from their reach. Then we might have a chance.”

  “I just need to make one phone call, Travis.”

  “Don’t you see that they’re watching us? Let’s say you do get to a phone to make that call. Did you not see what they just did to the tow truck driver? That’ll be you before you can communicate what’s going on. You get me? They’re reach is unending. Trust me!”

  Sky sighed and looked away, knowing it was true. Geraci, of course. He was the powerhouse of the Atlanta crime ring. He did the empire’s “dirty work.” But she knew there were more bosses than just him. There had to be. Especially for them to have all the eyes and reach they seemed to have. Now, he knew she was here in San Antonio. He’d be covering the things up she’d come here to investigate. There would be no evidence now. Dammit!

  “Sky, why are you here in San Anton?” Trav asked, as if reading her mind.

  “Trying to link crimes to a mob boss.”

  “Jesus Christ. It all adds up now. I bet they thought you’d come to talk to me. Fuck. We gotta get out of here.”

  Travis took the next exit off the highway and pulled into a Love’s Travel Stop.

  “I want you to listen carefully. I’m gonna go swipe some keys, and I want you to go grab us some food. I don’t give a fuck what it is: Doritos, canned goods, Powerade, whatever. Make sure it’s non-perishable for a little while, nothing we have to heat up or keep refrigerated, just in case. You’ve got a total of five minutes.”

  “But—” Sky began.

  He gripped her cheeks and looked deeply into her eyes, holding her as captive as he had in class all those years ago.

  “Sky, do you want to die?”

  “Trav—”

  “Do you want to fucking die?” he insisted.

  “No!”

  “Then do what I’m telling you.”

  A part of her wasn’t sure if she should trust him or not. Wasn’t he throwing his games on purpose? But she’d always trusted him and had to hold to her gut instincts now. A man was dead, and they would be, too, if she didn
’t do as he told her.

  “Ok,” she agreed, and he let her go.

  Travis was losing his calm as he moved into the bathroom of the Love’s truck stop, anxiety tore threw him as he looked around and approached a urinal. At least he did have to pee. He took his time unzipping his pants and relieving his bladder as he assessed the current situation. He waited for his moment when the smaller guy beside him—the one he’d followed inside from the gas pump—was off-guard and they were all alone as he zipped his pants up and made his move.

  It took one second to step up behind him, and Travis gritted, “Give me your keys and don’t look at me.” He held the guy’s head straight ahead with his left hand and opened his right palm for the man to acquiesce.

  “Please. I got kids.”

  “And you’ll see those kids again...so long as you hand me your keys.” Much to Travis’s surprise, the dude did as he’d asked. “Thank you. Now, I’m gonna move you into that stall. You’ll stay there for five minutes. Don’t come out until then. If you do, you’ll regret it. Remember your kids.”

  Travis guided the stranger to the stall, which he opened and moved into. He closed the door and Travis headed off, keeping his capped head lowered as he quickly walked out of the truck stop.

  Sky was standing just outside the automatic door with three filled bags. Travis nodded to her and hit the lock button on the fob in his hand. The lights of a black Kia Sportage flashed, and they both moved to it as he then hit the unlock button. Travis was grateful the owner of the vehicle had done as he’d asked as they peeled out of the parking lot and headed out, back onto the highway.

  “Where are we going?” Sky asked.

  “I have a house in Lubbock.”

  “We can’t go to your house. They’ll look there.”

  “It isn’t listed.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”