Sly Bullhorn Brodsky Page 18

  Sly slammed the man into the wall, causing him to drop the bat. Bull snatched it up and threw it out the window. Then, he turned to Clyde and clocked him with a right in the stomach then in the face. The man went down.

  “Hold it right there. Put your hands up,” a police officer announced as he raised a gun and pointed it at Bull.

  Devon was right behind him. “No, he’s Bullhorn Brodsky. He plays for the Kings. It’s the other guy you want to arrest,” Devon said.

  The officer lowered his gun and stepped over to the man lying on the ground rubbing his jaw. Bull moved to Samantha. He picked her up, cradling her against his chest.

  “Sly?”

  “It’s me, baby. It’s gonna be okay now. The police are here.”

  Her brother joined them. “Sam, are you hurt?”

  “My head hurts a little. My arm.”

  “Concussion?” Brodsky turned to Devon.

  “Probably. Maybe she should go to the emergency room?”

  “No, no,” she said.

  “Yes, yes. Come on. I’ll drive, you meet us there,” Bull told Devon.

  The cornerback nodded.

  The police stopped them. “Miss, we need to speak to you.”

  “Officer, can she get checked out at the hospital first? I promise I’ll bring her down to the station house once she’s been examined,” Bull requested.

  “Sure, Mr. Brodsky. But who is this guy?”

  “He’s Clyde Belden. His wife, Tiffany, is inside.”

  “Can you unlock the door, miss? I want to talk to his wife.”

  Before Sam could retrieve the key from her purse, the door opened. Tiffany poked her head in. Bull eased Sam to her feet. She was shaky, but standing on her own.

  “What the hell?” Tiffany exclaimed.

  “That’s his wife,” Bull said.

  “Thanks. We’ll talk to her. Please bring this young woman by when you’ve cleared her at the hospital.”

  “Will do,” Bull agreed.

  Devon walked them to the car and opened the door for his sister. Before she got in, Sam fell into Bull’s arms, sobbing. He held her tight and stroked her hair. Her brother leaned in to give her a hug and kiss her head.

  “You’re in good hands, Sam. I’ll meet you at the hospital.” Devon stepped away to dial his phone. “Stormy?”

  Bull bent to touch foreheads with Samantha. “You’re all right, baby.”

  “Thank you. Thank you. You saved me.”

  “I don’t think he would have killed you, but you never know.”

  “I didn’t let him get in. I protected her.”

  “You were so brave. I’m proud of you. Let’s get you checked out. Okay, honey?”

  She nodded. He helped her into his vehicle and drove slowly to Monroe General. Because she walked in with a Connecticut Kings player, she was ushered into a room quickly and examined. The doctor treated her cuts and pronounced her head injury a concussion. He examined her and recommended she remain overnight for observation.

  Devon took her keys and went to her apartment to get her things. Bull signed for a private room. They brought a cot for the big man, who planned to spend the night. He laughed at the flimsy bed.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Brodsky, this is all we have.”

  “No problem. It’s fine. I promise to try not to break it.”

  The nurse helped Sam get undressed and settled into bed. Bull stood outside, kicking himself. Devon and Stormy arrived with an overnight bag.

  “I’m sorry. I should have been with her. This is my fault. If I hadn’t been such an asshole, I’d have come to the dinner and then to the shelter. I knew that dick would come back.”

  “It’s not your fault, Bull,” Devon said, patting his teammate on the shoulder.

  The big man cast his gaze to his shoes. “I’m staying with her.”

  “Good. Thanks.”

  Devon and Stormy hugged and kissed Samantha then left.

  ****

  It was almost midnight when Sam lay back and turned out the light. Bull slipped off his sweatshirt and shoes. He eased down on the cot, which creaked dangerously.

  “I don’t think that thing can hold you. You can share mine,” she said.

  “You’re the patient. If I break this, I’ll buy a new one. I can sleep in the chair too.”

  “If you don’t want to get into bed with me, I understand.”

  He chuckled. “Are you kidding? I’d like to spend the rest of my life in bed with you.”

  She gave a short snort. “I knew you’d say something like that.”

  “You’re beginning to sound like your old self.”

  “Come on, Bull. You know you want to.”

  He eased up gently from the cot and approached her bed. At least it’s sturdy enough. “Roll on your side. I’ll get in behind you.” She did as he suggested. He scooped her into his arms, resting her against his hard chest. “You’re safe now, baby. Nothing can harm you.”

  She gave a little sound like a cat’s purr.

  He parted her hair and kissed the back of her neck. “I love you, Samantha. I’m sorry I didn’t come today. I was being a dick. I could have stopped this if I’d come to your place for dinner. It’s my fault.”

  “It isn’t. It’s okay, Sly. It’s over. You’re here now. I feel better.” She cuddled into him.

  “I’ll always be here to keep you safe.”

  His heartbeat calmed. As he inhaled her sweet scent, he smiled. Having her in his arms confirmed that she was the only one for him. Happiness flowed through him for the first time since he’d heard from Tiffany. Now, there was only one option left for his former fiancée. His resolve firm, he’d make his plan tomorrow. But tonight, he’d enjoy his girl.

  He fell asleep until two o’clock. Sam stirred. She cried out and woke up, shaking.

  “Bad dream, sweetheart?”

  “Where am I?” She grabbed his arm and squeezed.

  “In the hospital. You’re safe, and that douche is in jail.” He stroked her hair. “Go back to sleep, honey. I’m here. You’re okay.”

  She snuggled her cheek into the pillow. “Sly? Oh, thank God. Sly. I’m so glad you’re here. I love you so much,” she murmured as she drifted off.

  Bull went back to sleep with a smile on his face.

  The next morning, he headed for the cafeteria for breakfast while Samantha was examined by the doctors and made ready for release. They pronounced her healthy and able to go home. Sly packed her few belongings.

  Samantha called the director to explain what had happened, but the police had already contacted her. She was arranging to have the damage repaired and to have someone else replace Sam in the evenings.

  Jo Sebastian phoned to tell her to take a few days off. Sam agreed.

  “I think you should stay with me for a few days. Just until you’re feeling better,” Bull said.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you want.”

  She smiled at him.

  “Do you feel up to going to visiting the cops? They wanted to talk to you last night, but we bought you recovery time.”

  “Sure. Might as well get it over with while it’s fresh in my mind.”

  Sly loaded her into his car and headed for the police station. Sam called her brother. She turned up the heat in the car to chase away a chill that refused to leave her bones.

  “Cold, baby?”

  “Freezing.”

  “We’ll run a nice, hot bath for you when we get home.”

  Home. The sound of that word spread a smile across her face. “Okay.”

  She recounted the entire event for the detectives. Reliving some of the scary moments made her tremble, but Sly was there to hold her hand. Clyde was in jail. Samantha didn’t even want to see where he was locked up.

  “Can we go?” She tugged on his hand.

  “Sure.” Sly opened the door. She raised the collar of her coat against the wind that had warmed up some but was still biting. Once t
hey reached his house, he took her bag up to his bedroom. “Come on downstairs.”

  Samantha had never been on that level before. Sly had a small gym in his finished basement. He even had television down there. He led her through a door to a tiled room. There was a big, wooden door to a sauna and a huge, square, sunken tub. He turned on the water.

  “Hot is good,” he said, adjusting the knobs. “Push this. There are jets for massage.”

  “This is big enough for two. Are you joining me?” The thought of being alone spooked her.

  Samantha had started undressing when her cell rang. It was Stormy. Sam stopped disrobing to listen. “Stormy, that’s so sweet.” She glanced at Sly as she pulled her shirt over her head. “Sly?”

  “What?”

  “You’re having Thanksgiving dinner tonight.”

  “I am?”

  “You are. At Devon’s. They invited us to join them. Its leftovers, but sometimes the food is better the second day.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her silly. “I love you. You forgive me for not coming?”

  “I do, my hero.”

  “Last one in’s a rotten egg,” he said, pushing down his jeans.

  Chapter Fifteen

  December 17th, the week before Christmas

  Bull and his teammates kept up their workout routines. Even though they had clinched their position in the playoffs, they still had a game or two before the playoffs began. Losing had never been an option for the Kings, and these games were no exception.

  Samantha had moved into Bull’s house and never left. Each week for the past three, she had filled another suitcase with clothes and personal items then found them a home at Sly’s. He’d never had his own Christmas tree before, always traveling to his folks’ place for a chaotic, rushed holiday. This year, he and Samantha were staying home and having friends over. She planned an outing for them to cut down their own evergreen.

  “Sly, you have like no dishes, no serving pieces, no tools. How are we going to make a great meal on Christmas Eve for everyone?”

  “I guess we have to go shopping.”

  He’d never been a fan of stores and buying stuff. Having been raised poor, Bull believed in holding on to as much of his money as he could, rather than wasting it on useless stuff. He was generous with his friends, but his house was spare. No clutter, nothing that wasn’t utilitarian. Instead, he watched his bank account increase, giving him the security he’d never had as a child.

  Buddy’s mother managed his money, like she did for several team members. She was good at it and conservative. So, he watched it grow and finally rid himself of the fear of losing it.

  While they’d never discussed it, Samantha was living with him. He’d finally given her a key. They were both comfortable with the arrangement. He loved having her close by, not to mention in his bed every night. They shared dinner, hung out, and made love. She stopped working nights at the shelter.

  It had only been three weeks since the incident. Clyde was still in jail, being unable to post a twenty-thousand dollar bond. Bull went to the shelter to speak to Tiffany. The receptionist announced him.

  “Let’s have lunch at the diner,” he said, taking her arm.

  They placed their orders then she gazed into his eyes. “What’s up, Bull?”

  “It’s time for you to move on.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve called your mom.”

  “You what?”

  “You heard me. Your mom. She and your dad are coming to pick you up.”

  “Why did you do that?”

  He slid his hand over hers for a moment. “Because you need help. You need support, Tiff. And I can’t give it to you.”

  She shut her eyes and took a deep breath.

  “They’re coming this weekend to get you.”

  “Then, I’ll be far enough away, huh?” She opened her eyes. “Far enough away to forget. Is that it?”

  He shook his head. The waitress appeared with their burgers and fries. “You’re missing the point. This isn’t about me. I’ve got what I want. It’s about you. It’s my last act of looking out for you, Tiff.”

  “You’re gonna testify, aren’t you?”

  “Trial’s on Wednesday. I’ll be there. But then, you have to move on. Forget me. Put your life back together. Your mother was very concerned and wants you home.”

  She sighed. “I suppose it’s the only place for me.”

  “The safest place.”

  They ate in silence. Tiffany teared up.

  “Don’t start,” Bull said, taking a bite of his food.

  “Can’t I even say I’ll miss you?”

  “Oh. Sure, sure you can. We had something once. It was fun.”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  He turned their conversation to football and then to how much stuff she had to move. Tiffany had made a few friends at the shelter, and she thought they’d help her. When they were done, Bull picked up the check and they left.

  They shared a goodbye hug and kiss then went their separate ways. If someone had lifted a nine-hundred pound weight from his shoulders, he couldn’t have been more relieved. He had done what he could for her, and now they’d be moving on. Clear sailing with Samantha.

  He could hardly believe he had what he wanted. The first few years of earning big bucks, he had gone a little hog wild, buying expensive things, taking luxurious trips. After a year or two, he figured out that you couldn’t write a check and buy happiness. His needs were simple, and now, they would be fulfilled.

  The life he wanted lay before him with only minor stumbling blocks to be negotiated. But he was the NFL’s best offensive lineman, and he could out-block anything.

  He stopped by Zucker’s jewelry store on his way home.

  ****

  Samantha’s job was stimulating and challenging, and a diversion from her terror-filled evening at the shelter. Her experience with Clyde Belden had her spooked. She jumped at the slightest sound, was startled when a door opened unexpectedly. Spending nights with Sly Brodsky helped. When a bad dream woke her up, he’d be there to hold her and speak softly until she went back to sleep.

  Jo, her boss, had suggested she speak with Dr. Wendy McMillan, the team psychologist. Samantha did. According to the doctor, there would be a recovery period involved after a life-threatening experience, like Sam’s. Wendy encouraged Sam to continue with the way she was handling her recovery—not keeping things inside, instead surrounding herself with friends, especially Bull. She said it would be helpful for Sam not to be alone for a while.

  Truth was, Sam loved living with Sly. He treated her like a queen. She kept her apartment because this wasn’t a lifelong commitment. Slowly, she took over some space at his place. First, it was a dresser drawer. Then, two. Finally, he had to buy her a separate one. Now, she was modifying the kitchen.

  The idea of a shopping trip for kitchen utensils and supplies using Sly’s pocketbook thrilled her. Instead of cutting corners, she could get the better grinder, blender, and food processor, the nicer dishes. She was totally on board with the idea of creating a warm, welcoming environment in Sly Brodsky’s house. And she had his approval.

  Humming as she packed up at the end of the day, she caught Jo’s attention.

  “You’re in a good mood.”

  “Sly’s taking me shopping tonight.”

  “Clothes?”

  “Kitchen stuff! I’ve had my eye on a china pattern for forever. It’s always been too expensive, but Sly can afford it.”

  “You’re stocking his kitchen?”

  “Yep. He doesn’t have much. A few forks and spoons. A can opener. A bottle opener, of course, and that’s about it.”

  “What fun!”

  “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Sly and Sam grabbed dinner at The Savage Beast then he drove them to her favorite stores and let her buy whatever she wanted. They ended up spending two thousand dollars. Sly didn’t sweat it. Sam guessed it was a drop in the bucket
when you made ten million a year.

  Once they got home, he made a fire in the fireplace while she unpacked. He set up chocolates and wine on the coffee table. Samantha plopped down on the couch and toed off her shoes.

  “I’m exhausted. That was great. Now, you’re ready for Christmas. Tomorrow, can we go out and get a tree?”

  “Sure, honey. Anything you want.” He reached for her foot and began massaging the arch.

  She purred like a kitten and sat back, closing her eyes.

  “You’re not going to fall asleep on me, are you?”

  “I’m fine.” She sipped the wine then popped a chocolate in her mouth.

  “I’ve been thinking…”

  “Oh? About what?”

  “Well, with all the stuff we bought…I mean, now the house is fully-equipped…”

  “Hmm,” she said.

  “I mean, I need you here to use all this stuff.”

  “You want me to stay?”

  Sweat broke out on his forehead. “You could say that.”

  She sat up. “What are you trying to say, Sly? Spit it out.”

  He took out his handkerchief and mopped his face before sliding down on one knee.

  “Are you sick?” She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

  “Not sick. Just a little nervous, maybe.” He slipped his hand in his pants pocket.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Well. I was thinking. I mean, we’ve got all this stuff. And I don’t know shit about cooking. Maybe we could make good use of this stuff if we, uh, if we got married?” He turned worried eyes to her.

  Samantha’s jaw fell open. Then, she laughed. “Are you proposing to me, Sylvester Brodsky?”

  He opened the box hiding in his big paw then flipped the velvet top up to reveal a seven-carat, round diamond. The ring reflected the light of the flames, blinding her for a second. “Yeah. I am. So, will you, Sam? I’m like a loony tune for you. I love you, honey. Let’s stay together always. What do you say?”

  She gasped, and her heart rate doubled. A smidgeon of doubt crept in. “And the wedding?”