Al Trunk Mahoney, Defensive Line Read online

  Al “Trunk” Mahoney,

  Defensive Line

  First & Ten series, Book 6

  Jean C. Joachim

  Sports Romance

  Moonlight Books

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  A Moonlight Books Novel

  Sensual Romance

  Al “Trunk” Mahoney, Defensive Line

  Copyright © 2015 Jean C. Joachim

  E-book ISBN: 9781626228221

  Cover design by Dawné Dominique

  Edited by Tabitha Bower

  Proofread by Renee Waring

  All cover art and logo copyright © 2015 by Moonlight Books

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Moonlight Books

  Dedication

  To MARILYN REISSE LEE

  My best friend of fifty years, my greatest supporter, and a brilliant, accomplished person. The world lost a great gift when you passed away.

  Appreciation

  Thank you Larry Joachim, Steve Joachim, David Joachim, Tabitha Bower, V. L. Locey, Renee Waring, my readers and friends for your support and encouragement

  Other books by Jean C. Joachim

  FIRST & TEN SERIES

  GRIFF MONTGOMERY, QUARTERBACK

  BUDDY CARRUTHERS, WIDE RECEIVER

  PETE SEBASTIAN, COACH

  DEVON DRAKE, CORNERBACK

  SLY “BULLHORN” BRODSKY, OFFENSIVE LINE

  THE MANHATTAN DINNER CLUB

  RESCUE MY HEART

  SEDUCING HIS HEART

  SHINE YOUR LOVE ON ME

  TO LOVE OR NOT TO LOVE

  HOLLYWOOD HEARTS SERIES

  IF I LOVED YOU

  RED CARPET ROMANCE

  MEMORIES OF LOVE

  MOVIE LOVERS

  LOVE’S LAST CHANCE

  LOVERS & LIARS

  His Leading Lady (Series Starter)

  NOW AND FOREVER SERIES

  NOW AND FOREVER 1, A LOVE STORY

  NOW AND FOREVER 2, THE BOOK OF DANNY

  NOW AND FOREVER 3, BLIND LOVE

  NOW AND FOREVER 4, THE RENOVATED HEART

  NOW AND FOREVER 5, LOVE’S JOURNEY

  NOW AND FOREVER, CALLIE’S STORY(series starter)

  MOONLIGHT SERIES

  SUNNY DAYS, MOONLIT NIGHTS

  APRIL’S KISS IN THE MOONLIGHT

  UNDER THE MIDNIGHT MOON

  MOONLIGHT & ROSES (prequel)

  LOST & FOUND SERIES

  With Ben Tanner

  LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  DANGEROUS LOVE, LOST AND FOUND

  NEW YORK NIGHTS NOVELS

  THE MARRIAGE LIST

  THE LOVE LIST

  THE DATING LIST

  SHORT STORIES

  SWEET LOVE REMEMBERED

  TUFFER’S CHRISTMAS WISH

  AL “TRUNK” MAHONEY,

  DEFENSIVE LINE

  First & Ten Series, Book 6

  Copyright ©2015

  Jean C. Joachim

  Chapter One

  Before practice, the team was warming up in the workout room when they heard a commotion. Cursing, the banging of metal, and the breaking of glass ground exercise to a halt.

  “Who’s in the locker room?” Griff Montgomery, the quarterback, asked.

  “Trunk,” Bullhorn Brodsky responded. “Damn!”

  Griff and Bull rushed into the room, followed by several teammates. There was Al “Trunk” Mahoney, trashing everything he touched. He’d already busted his own locker, and now, he was starting on an empty one. He’d thrown a chair through the window and shattered a mirror with his hand, which was bleeding.

  “Holy shit, Trunk!” Griff said.

  “What the hell?” asked Bull.

  “It’s Mary!” Trunk yelled, opening then closing his injured fist, making ready to take another swing.

  Tuffer Demson, a defensive linebacker, lunged at Trunk. Grabbing him, Demson and Bull tried to subdue the big man. Al fought hard, but the others pinned his arms to his sides.

  His eyes filled and anger drained from him like water from a bathtub. In a moment, he was sobbing. His teammates let him go, and he sank to his knees. He picked up a busted cell phone.

  “It’s Mary,” he choked out, fingering the mangled device. “She’s leaving me. In a text.”

  Silence clothed the room. The men glanced at each other then stared at Trunk. Pete Sebastian, known as Coach Bass to the team, ran in. He stopped short at the sight. The destruction made him gasp.

  “I’m sorry, Coach,” Trunk muttered.

  “Come on, Trunk. Get him up, guys. Bring him to my office,” Coach instructed. “Break it up. Show’s over. We have a game to get ready for.” Pete tossed a small towel to Trunk, who wrapped it around his bloody hand.

  Devon Drake and Bull eased the wounded linebacker to his feet. They followed him to Coach’s office then left and closed the door.

  Coach was on the phone with security.

  Trunk slipped down onto a chair like a deflated balloon. “Four years of marriage. Down the toilet.” He sighed, wiping his eyes.

  Pete handed him a handkerchief. “Want to talk about it?”

  Trunk shook his head.

  “I think you should see Dr. McMillan.” Coach called his wife, Jo, who handled publicity for the Connecticut Kings. After a brief conversation, he turned to his player. “She’s coming in. Be here in an hour. Let’s get that hand looked at.” He pushed to his feet.

  The two men walked down the hall, in silence, to the medical room off the locker room. The sounds of staff sweeping up broken glass met their ears.

  “I’m sorry, Coach. I’ll pay for the damage.”

  “Yeah, they’ll take it out of your check. No worries, Trunk. We need to get you fixed up so you can play.”

  “I’ll play. Never missed a game.”

  Pete sat with Trunk while the doctor cleaned the defenseman’s wounds, sewed up one cut, and bandaged the whole hand.

  “If we give it a cushion and a glove, he should be able to play, Coach,” the medic said.

  “Fine.”

  Jo poked her head in. “Dr. McMillan’s here.”

  “Come on, Al. Let’s go upstairs.”

  Trunk grabbed Pete’s arm. “Mary’s gone, Coach. What am I gonna do now?”

  “I don’t know, but I bet Dr. McMillan has some ideas.”

  Coach walked Trunk to the psychologist’s office. It was pa
inted light beige. There was a sectional sofa, desk, and two facing chairs. Dr. McMillan greeted Trunk at the door.

  “Sit down, Al,” she said, indicating the couch.

  He looked at the floor. Except for the mandatory anger management classes he’d attended, he didn’t know anything about this psychology stuff. He cast a suspicious eye on the doctor. “What are you going to do to me?”

  “Nothing. Really. Let’s just talk.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. My wife dumped me. By text. Period. The end. Can I go?”

  “I think there’s a little more to it than that. Come on. I don’t bite. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  “Do I have to do this?”

  She nodded. “I think management would be happier with you if they knew you were seeking some help during this painful time.”

  “Painful is right. Damn bitch. I’m sorry.”

  The doctor waved her hands. “Don’t apologize. All language is permitted here. Divorce hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Damn straight it does,” he said, moving toward the sofa.

  After he’d gotten comfortable, McMillan poured a glass of water from a carafe and handed it to him. She sat two cushions away and turned her gaze on the distraught man. “Why do you think this happened?”

  He looked at her sympathetic expression. Emotion welled up in him. He took a deep breath and thought about her question for a bit before answering. “I don’t have a fucking clue, doc.”

  * * * *

  Practice finished at five. Trunk and Bull loped over to the sidelines for water.

  “Mary took all the furniture. I get the house. I’ll have to sleep on the floor.”

  “You can crash with me tonight. Guest room is available.”

  “Thanks. Might take you up on that. I’ll have to find a new place.”

  Trunk returned home to pick up his clothes. He opened the door and stepped into the foyer. The sound of his footsteps echoed off the walls of the empty rooms. It wasn’t a huge house—only three small bedrooms, much more modest than most of his teammates—but it suited him. Extravagance wasn’t his style. Trunk made less money than some of the Kings, and was careful with it.

  Orphaned at thirteen, he had turned to football to deal with his anger at his parents’ death. Shuffled from one relative to the next, he had learned to stomach insecurity. He had succeeded at the sport, making a name for himself in every town he called home at one time or another. Being a football star meant a big welcome from each new school he’d attended.

  Having nothing, Al had gone to work young, doing odd jobs—raking leaves, mowing lawns, running errands. Sports had anchored him. His coaches had helped him stay on a good path, avoiding drugs and crime. Being a hero fed his heart, but he never outgrew the yearning for someone to care about him. He thought he’d found it in Mary, but he had been wrong.

  Now, he was rootless, just like the old days. But he’d lost his knack for starting over, and the pain of his loss cut through him like a surgeon’s scalpel.

  He looked around. The house was clean, immaculate, in fact. Just like Mary not to leave a mess behind. He walked from room to room, followed by the sound of his footsteps. It was ready to be shown for sale. He didn’t want to keep it, too many bad memories lived there.

  Mary had a good job as a loan officer at the bank. That’s where they’d met. She made decent money, and Trunk didn’t see why he had to give her alimony. He needed to find a lawyer.

  The barren rooms were chilly. Of course, she’d turned down the heat. He took the stairs two at a time. His dresser was still there, and his clothes were still in the closet. He pulled down a valise and filled it as quickly as possible. The cold was permeating his bones, making him shiver. He needed to get the hell out of there.

  He didn’t want to move in on Bull and Samantha too quickly. He needed time to think. He threw his suitcase in the back of his Rav4 and drove to The Savage Beast. It being a weekday night, the place wasn’t busy. A couple of tables had people eating, and two men were at the bar.

  Carla Ricci, the proprietor, was telling a story, and the guys were laughing. She looked up when he walked in and gave him a warm smile. She was Trunk’s special friend. The one who didn’t care how drunk he was or what stupid things he said. She always forgave him by the next day.

  His gaze roamed over her. She looked beautiful, prettier than he deserved. Her raven hair was long, shiny, and luxurious, her lips red, her skin like porcelain. And her body? Hell, every man who walked in there lusted after Carla, and Trunk Mahoney was no exception. She had more curves than a mountain road. She wore a red sweater showing plenty of cleavage. She’d once told him that her tips correlated directly with the neckline of her outfit. The lower the sweep, the bigger the payout. Black pants stretched over a perfect rear end and tapered legs.

  Her welcoming smile was exactly what he needed. “The usual?” She cocked an eyebrow.

  “What’s on tap?”

  “Heineken.”

  “Works for me.”

  Carla poured his beer and went in the back to put two burgers on for him. He eased his butt up on the stool and nodded to the men at the other end.

  “Aren’t you Al Mahoney? Defensive lineman for the Kings?” They moved two seats closer.

  “Guilty.” Most days, he relished meeting fans, talking about games. But not today.

  “Say, aren’t you playing St. Louis on Sunday?”

  “Yep.”

  Carla returned. He shot her a look, and she picked up on it. They had been friends for two years. She knew the days he didn’t want to be bothered. And this was one of them.

  “Hey, fellas, why don’t you give Mr. Mahoney a little breathing room. He just got off practice and would probably like to leave football behind for a bit. Can I get you another beer?”

  “Sure, sure, we get it.” The men went back to their original location.

  Carla brought them more drinks. “These are on the house.”

  They finished quickly and headed out. One of the couples at the tables paid and left. The place quieted down.

  “So, how come you look like you lost your best friend?” Carla sipped a ginger ale and leaned against the bar.

  Trunk couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts, squeezed together and almost spilling out of her top. God, they’re gorgeous. His fingers tingled at the idea of touching them. He took a deep breath and forced his gaze up to meet hers. Her dark brown eyes cut right through him. There was no lying to Carla.

  “Guess I did.”

  “I’m still here,” she joked.

  “Mary moved out. Left me. Took the furniture.” He spit it out, fast. It hurt less that way, like ripping off a bandage.

  Carla grasped his muscular forearm, and her eyes softened. “Well, shit. I’m sorry, Trunk. What happened?”

  “Damned if I know.” He took a gulp of his beer.

  “Didn’t she say anything?”

  “‘I’m leaving. My lawyer will be in touch. Took the furniture. You can have the house’.”

  “Eff that bitch.”

  “She says I can have the house, but I doubt her lawyer’ll let her do that. Money grubbing fuckers.”

  “Didn’t she say anything else? Like why she was leaving, or where she was going?”

  Trunk shook his head. “Nope. That was it. In a text.”

  “A text?” Carla’s eyebrows rose. “Damn, that’s cold.”

  “I think she’s afraid to face me. Though I don’t know why.”

  “You’ve got to track her down. Get some answers.”

  “You’re telling me.” He shook his head.

  Carla slipped back into the kitchen and returned with two blue cheese burgers and an order of fries. “These are on the house, Trunk.”

  “No way.”

  “Way.”

  “You can’t afford to do that. You just gave those two assholes free beer to leave me alone. And now this? You keep giving food away, and you’ll be out of busines
s. I’m paying.”

  “We’re friends.”

  He shot her a longing look, before masking his expression. Her statement cut him deep. He had wished he could be so much more than friends with this beauty, wished he’d met her before he got hooked up with Mary. It would never happen now. Trunk had a secret, a secret that would keep her away. He’d guessed it might be what finally drove Mary to leave him.

  “Business is business, Carla. You can’t afford to give food away. And I don’t want to be the cause of your closing down.”

  “Screw you. I’ll charge you double, then. For everyone else, $5.95, for you, twelve bucks!”

  Trunk laughed. He hadn’t thought anything could be funny today, but Carla was, and he was grateful. He bit into a juicy burger, cooked just the way he liked, and smiled. No one made food like she did.

  “Where you gonna live?” she asked, finishing the last of her drink.

  “Good question. I have no idea.”

  “I have a ‘sleep-it-off’ room upstairs, down the hall from my digs, if you need it.”

  “Thanks. I’m bunking in with Bull and Samantha tonight.”

  “Barging in on the newlyweds?”

  “When you put it like that, maybe I shouldn’t go there. But one night won’t kill ’em.”

  “Nah. Bull can keep it in his pants for once.”

  “Or keep it quiet.” Trunk snickered.

  She chuckled.

  He finished the first patty and washed it down with a healthy slug of beer. “Hey, how about this? I could rent that room from you. Just until I get a new place. Give you some more income.”