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  In the Tank-is-god atmosphere, it was difficult to keep his head. On the football field, he didn’t have a problem—partly because Franco had a way of keeping him grounded and partly because he had a healthy enough respect for the talents of other players that he knew he had to keep his head in it. But off the field, in Tank Is King of the World Land, he was invincible. For the first time in his life, he became indiscriminate with women. If they were offering, he would take. At first, he’d attempted to keep it to the night after a game. Now, the only night he was alone was the night before a game. If he seemed to have a preference, no one could figure it out. Willing seemed to be the only requirement.

  Part of him, the part that was grounded on the football field, kept waiting for someone to rein him in or say no or ask for more. And another part of him marveled at the power a twenty-one-year-old football player could wield. Why was this so important to everyone? What made them think he was anything special? Because he could throw a football? Because he had amazing receivers who could catch anything he threw at them? Because his coach was amazing and scripted his play just enough to give him the ability to make decisions when the opportunity arose? Why did his skill with a football really matter in the whole scheme of things?

  But then he’d step out of the locker room and move back into the world, and his questions would dissolve in a haze of reporters and fawning fans. It wasn’t such a bad way to live.

  The stadium maxed out at about 23,000 people, but for the Bears opening game, it was beyond capacity.

  People were watching. And Tank didn’t disappoint. He went twelve for fifteen, throwing for one hundred sixty-five yards. He also rushed twenty-three times for two hundred seventy-five yards. It wasn’t the stats that Franco wanted, but a win was a win. And as they continued to garnish national attention, the last thing they wanted to do was stumble.

  After the post-game interviews, Tank made his way to Franco’s office because his presence had been requested. He already knew that Franco wasn’t happy about his performance. His coaches didn’t want him running the ball as much as he had been. He understood because he knew the game plan, but he didn’t think that Franco could really argue with a victory. Again, he felt that pull of invincibility.

  Let Franco bitch, he thought. He can’t win without me.

  And if Tank believed it was odd that he’d suddenly become the most important factor in the game in his mind, he brushed it off. He certainly didn’t notice that, for the first time in his life, he was walking into a coach’s office with a chip on his shoulder.

  But Franco did.

  Franco nodded briefly as Tank threw himself into the chair across from him. He didn’t say anything for a moment—not necessarily to make Tank stew, but just to watch his level of frustration at being kept waiting. Looking down at something on his desk but watching Tank from below his lashes, he shuffled some papers. Tank shifted, rapping his fingers against the arm of the chair. Still, Franco waited.

  Finally, Tank couldn’t hold it back. “What the fuck, Coach?”

  Franco looked up, a bit surprised at the hostility in Tank’s tone. When he met Tank’s eyes, he knew that Tank was shocked, too. But bravado being what it was, Franco watched him bow up some more.

  “You want to try that again, Antony?” Franco asked, the hardness in his tone a distant but foggy reminder to Tank that he was in charge.

  Franco saw the struggle in Tank—his ego doing battle with his innate sense of respect for other people.

  He didn’t apologize—the celebrity in him wouldn’t allow him to—but his tone changed. “What’s up, Coach?”

  Franco leaned back in his chair, warily watching his star. “We’ll talk about your performance on Monday during film. Right now, I want to discuss what you are doing off the field.”

  If Tank was surprised or pissed, he disguised it. Still drumming his fingers, he nodded his assent to the conversation. Franco didn’t need that, but it helped.

  “You’ve been on a tear. And I’m not going to stop you from having your fun. I’ve never been that guy, but I know what it’s like to have offers, and I know how hard it can be to resist. So, I’m all right with that. But you need to be careful.”

  Franco saw the look steal across his face, as if to say, Who are you? My mother?

  And, almost on cue, the door opened to one Chantel Jones. It couldn’t have been better scripted in Hollywood. The shock on Tank’s face was absolutely priceless after the attitude earlier. Franco stood to greet Chantel. He’d been around for a while, and Chantel trusted him. Leaning down to kiss her, Franco walked her to the chair next to a belligerent Tank. But, this time, the innate sense of respect won out, and Tank immediately stood to greet his mother.

  “Hey, Mama,” he said as he grabbed her for a long embrace. “Did you like the game?”

  Chantel took her seat. “You ran the ball too much. But I’m pretty sure you know that, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Franco could see the struggle in Tank, could tell he wanted to know where this was all going. But he kept quiet and waited impatiently for them to tell him why they were meeting like this.

  “Tank, you know that Franco and I have your best interests at heart.”

  This one was easy for Tank. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He could be all bravado, but Franco knew that Tank trusted him with his career.

  “Well, Franco and I want you to be careful. Now’s the time when people will come out of the woodwork.” She didn’t say it, but they all knew she was talking about Richard Howard. “You’ve been very free with yourself over the last few weeks.”

  Tank squirmed.

  Franco watched as Tank experienced some horror that his mother knew what he’d been doing. If Tank took the time to ask his coach, he’d find out that Chantel had requested this meeting. She’d been watching his Facebook and Instagram accounts. She’d seen too many faces over the last couple of weeks, and she was concerned. But Tank wouldn’t ask. He made some assumptions. At this moment, Franco knew what he hadn’t foreseen. Tank was going to punish him for this somehow.

  “Look, Mama, I’m just having some fun.”

  “Fun can get you in trouble. I shouldn’t be having this conversation with you. You know better. Everyone’s going to want a piece of you. All it takes is one girl. One screw-up. You can’t afford that right now.”

  “I’ve got it!” Tank said with some emphasis that his mother didn’t seem to like.

  “Excuse me?” she said, standing up and walking over to him. “I don’t care who all these people think you are. You are still my son, and you’d better talk to me the way I taught you to talk. Do you understand me?”

  Franco wished he weren’t here. He didn’t need to see Tank dressed down by his diminutive mother. But Chantel had wanted him present, and he would do just about anything for her.

  Tank rose, dwarfing his mom. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied with the proper amount of deference. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast?” he asked as he bent to kiss her cheek.

  “Yes. Eight o’clock sharp. I have to get back for work. You be careful tonight.”

  Tank nodded as he made his way to the door. He gently turned that knob. Then, he turned and blasted Franco with a look of contempt. Franco merely nodded and watched his star storm out.

  Chantel sat heavily in the chair. Looking at Franco, she said, “I misplayed that, didn’t I?”

  Not one to rub salt in the wound, Franco merely said, “He’ll be okay. He just hasn’t gotten called out on anything for a while. And, right now, he’s feeling a bit invincible. But it’ll be okay.”

  Franco just wished he believed that.

  Eight

  Amber and Keira had reached a tentative truce over the last few weeks. During the incident with Tank outside the restaurant, Amber had grudgingly accepted that Keira was right. It was why she’d warned him, why she had been able to walk away when everything was telling her to stay, to take a chance. But she had stopped trusting he
rself after Rowdy, and she understood, right now, Keira knew what her best interests were better than she did. Not that she cared to admit that to Keira. She just forgave her friend for her brutal honesty.

  Keira and Amber worked during the game that Saturday, the first home game of the season. Even though there had been a record crowd in attendance at the game, the Bear’s Den had been packed with Bears fans. It had been a busy day.

  Exhausted but amped up from the adrenaline of watching a good football game, Keira suggested they go out. About to refuse, Amber decided that she and Keira needed a good time out together. She hadn’t really been social since the accident, and she really wanted to do something other than work, rehab, sleep, and evade her father.

  They headed to Keira’s apartment to get ready. There was some big party tonight, and although they both preferred a dance floor to a kegger in a field, Keira convinced Amber that this party would be worth it. She should have guessed that Keira wanted to go there for a reason, but she was too excited to be going out to worry over what was motivating her friend. Embracing their north Georgia heritage, which they both normally downplayed, they donned jean skirts, T-shirts, and their cowboy boots.

  As they drove through town, Amber’s curiosity finally won out. “What’s up with wanting to go to this party?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Keira said. “Just thought it would be fun. I’m pretty sure everyone nineteen to twenty-five who lives in the town is going to be there.”

  “Oh-kay,” Amber replied, not really satisfied with that answer. “But is there someone in particular you are interested in seeing?”

  Keira tucked her hair behind her ear and quickly glanced in Amber’s direction. Then, she shrugged, which was a dead giveaway.

  “Who, may I ask, are you interested in?” Amber teased.

  It was so rare to see Keira shy and slightly uncomfortable that Amber laughed with the novelty of it.

  “I don’t want to tell you.”

  Taken aback, Amber’s brows drew together in confusion. “Why not?” She tried to keep the hurt out of her voice, but really, who was she to force something out of her friend? How could she push her friend for information now without being a complete hypocrite?

  As Keira hesitated, Amber swooped in to alleviate the tension. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to.”

  Again, Keira looked over at her, briefly taking her eyes off the road. She drew in a deep sigh and said, “I don’t want to tell you because I feel a bit like a hypocrite.”

  Amber choked out a laugh at the irony of Keira making that statement right at that moment. Shaking her head, she exonerated her friend. “Really, Keira, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

  “Don’t pull that shit, Amber. If I had to do it all over again, I would still hound you for information. And maybe, if I’d kept at it, things would have been different. If you’d had someone you felt was actually there for you, no matter what, maybe things wouldn’t be like they are.”

  Amber reached out for Keira’s hand. “There is no way that anything you would have done could have changed the outcome. Please do not place any of the blame for what happened in my life on our friendship. My relationship with you is one of the only reasons I am sitting here, alive and somewhat healthy. You have to believe that.”

  Keira kept her eyes on the road.

  Amber, needing her to acknowledge what she’d said, squeezed her hand again. “Really, Keira, that’s the honest truth.”

  “I want to see Tilly,” Keira said in a rush, as if saying it as fast as she could would take away the complete shock of her words.

  Amber leaned back in her seat, her face a knot of confusion. “Tilly Lace? The hulking, big black man with the sometimes gold grill in his mouth, on the football team?”

  Keira merely nodded. Then, Amber couldn’t help it; she laughed her ass off.

  Keira looked annoyed. Amber tried to say something, but she couldn’t stop laughing long enough to formulate a response.

  “I knew you’d be pissed because I told you to stay away from Tank. But the last couple of times Tilly’s been into the bar, I’ve talked to him. He’s a really cool guy. And, the last time they were there, he was really concerned about you when you disappeared outside with Tank. I don’t know. I like him.”

  They arrived at the field, and as Keira turned off the car, Amber got ahold of her laughter.

  “He does seem to be really nice,” Amber conceded. “Just take your own advice and be careful. Right now, those boys are getting girls left and right. That’s what happens when you’re really good and the whole country is talking about you. Trust me on this! You need to be cautious, okay?”

  Keira merely nodded. Amber caught the look in her eyes and almost groaned. She recognized the look because it would stare back at her in the mirror whenever she thought about Tank Howard.

  Amber and Keira brought their own drinks. They weren’t all that interested in drinking beer, and they didn’t trust any of the guys there to watch out for them. This way, they could control what went into their bodies. There was a DJ set up not far from them, providing some decent music. But, no matter how many amenities the organizer had attempted to provide, they were still in the middle of a field.

  They picked out an old picnic table where they sat watching the crowd. After they had been there for an hour and hadn’t seen anyone of interest, one Tilly Lace specifically, they decided to pack it in. Just as they made that decision, a big bear of a man and his lanky sidekick moved on to the dance floor. Amber noticed them at the same time Tilly noticed Keira. Walking through the crowd, he was quickly in front of them.

  “How are my two favorite bartenders?” he asked, his gold grill flashing in the hazy light.

  Keira, who hadn’t noticed his arrival, smiled broadly. “We’re good,” she answered for both of them.

  Since Tilly had recently seen Amber at two of her weakest moments, he waited for her answer.

  Amber smiled and nodded. “We are.”

  “How come you’re not working?” he asked.

  “We worked during the game, so we got the night off,” Keira responded.

  Iman, who still reminded Amber of a twelve-year-old boy, puffed up as he asked, “You mean, you didn’t get to watch us stomp on Akron?”

  “Oh, we watched,” Amber replied, “enough to know that you should have caught that third and long ball that Tank practically gifted into your hands.”

  Tilly laughed as he popped Iman in the back of his head. “Told ya,” he said, as if they’d just discussed that play.

  “Where is your third wheel?” Keira inquired.

  If she were asking for Amber, Amber could have told her friend not to do her any favors. But when she looked over at Keira, she saw that Keira was just making conversation.

  Tilly glanced briefly at Amber, perhaps to gauge her level of interest. “Not really sure.”

  Iman just laughed. “Probably off with some girl. It’s not only his stats on the field that are making headlines.”

  Again, Tilly popped him in the head, “Freshmen,” he muttered.

  Snickering, Iman gestured to the makeshift dance floor. “Wanna dance?”

  The four of them got up to dance. It was dimmer over there, but someone had gotten some kind of strobe light that flashed intermittently, taking away some of the dark but not enough to make out faces.

  They were quickly swallowed in the dancing crowd. Tilly and Iman stayed close, not letting anyone really get near them. But it was hard for them to keep the other girls at bay, and soon, Keira and Amber were jostling for position, trying to stay with the two guys.

  Tilly kept Keira close, Amber noted, but Iman enjoyed soaking up the attention that was being lavished on him. Finding herself on the outskirts of the Iman circle, Amber flinched when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her backward into his chest. She started to protest and moved to stomp on his instep when she caught a whiff of his scent. Without even needing to see h
im, Amber knew that Tank was behind her. And against all her honorable intentions and trappings of self-preservation, she leaned back into him, allowing his hands to steal around her waist and his leg to creep between hers, before he pulled her ass back against him.

  “I really hope,” he breathed into her ear, “that you know it’s me and have just agreed to stop trying to stay away from me.”

  In response, she moved her hands behind her and settled them on the backs of his thighs, molding herself to him by getting as close as possible without being absorbed by him. Somehow, her body had made the decision for her.

  Nine

  When Tank had left Franco’s office, he’d been pissed—pissed at Franco and pissed at his mom. The fact that they’d teamed up on him messed with his invincibility, and that made him mad, too. How they could treat him like some eighteen-year-old freshman who needed to be told how he could act bordered on demeaning.

  He hadn’t known what to do with his mad, so he’d stayed away from the bash. On a night with the high of the game and the useless rage against the two people he respected most pumping through him, he had known he’d get himself in trouble. He’d hit the weight room and taken out his anger on the dumbbells. When he felt in control, he’d headed to the party.

  His first sight of Amber had come the moment he stepped out of the car. That platinum hair had called to him like a beacon. He’d moved toward her with purpose. He hadn’t stopped to talk. He’d just plowed his way through the dance crush, needing to get to her. He had seen her on the outside of the circle around Iman. Cursing the freshman for letting her slide from his view, Tank had grabbed her and hauled her to him. As she’d acquiesced, he’d felt the tension of the night drain from his body.

  “Thank God,” he breathed into her ear.

  Then, he moved his mouth down, kissing the unmarred side of her throat. They stayed like that, molded to one another, as one song ran into the next. He couldn’t stop touching her and got bolder and bolder as the dance wore on. He moved his hand under her T-shirt, inching up toward her amazing breasts. Before he knew it, his hand was under her bra, weighing her breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers. He felt rather than heard her moan. Her ass jerked against his pelvis, sending him into a tailspin. For a brief moment, he wanted to look at her, see her eyes, and make sure she was okay with this, with him. Then, that invincibility kicked in.