Chapter 11
Zamir
Six, seven… one more, come on deeper; you bitch, eiighhhtt.
Fuck. My ass and thighs are on fire finishing my last set of squats for the day. I didn’t go too heavy since I came by myself. I could’ve asked one of the gym bros in here, but then I would need to have a conversation with them. I hate opening the door for people to ask questions and going full-on fan girl, telling me about how they almost made it to college to play. Wearing my huge noise-canceling headphones usually keeps people away. I decided to stay as far away as possible from the practice facility; I didn’t want to see dickhead today.
We have to make up eventually, but today’s not the day. I have to cool down before I speak with him again—him being Nash. I promise he does not want to see my demons come out to play. They’ve been at bay a little too long.
I’m in one of the fancier gyms in Vegas. I keep a membership here in case I want to dodge the practice facility. Sometimes, it gets to be too much being around my teammates every day, if not twice a day.
Walking back to the locker rooms, I stop in my fucking tracks. Ellie is on one of the lat pulldown machines—pulling some serious weight, I might add—and my eyes are drawn to that fucking ass on the edge of the seat. She has soundproof headphones on too. Maybe she’ll slide one ear off when she’s done with her set.
She, in fact, does not slide one side off; instead she just plays on her phone, not paying attention at all to her surroundings. I’m going to have to talk to her about that… Standing here like a damn creep, I finally decide to go up and tap on her shoulder. I get one tap in and she spins before I can blink, elbowing me right in the dick and balls.
I go down hard, groaning and embarrassing the shit out of myself. Fuck, that hurt. People are huddling around her, ensuring she’s fine. I’m still on the ground, getting up to my knees.
1?“Shpirt Im, you a trained killer?” I ask, coughing through the pain. I’ve been stabbed and shot multiple times, but nothing will take me out quicker than a good shot to my balls.
“What the fuck are you doing following me around?!” She looks way too shaken for this to just be from me tapping her shoulder. Who the fuck has hurt her, and why do I feel this need to protect her?
“I was just finishing up when I looked over and here you were. The devil herself delivered you, apparently. I wasn’t trying to scare you, but I fucked that up.” I let out a pained chuckle. Mainly from the awkwardness of this whole situation, but also the throbbing pain in my balls.
“You can’t sneak up on women like that!” Fuck, she’s still fuming.
“I’m sorry. I just wanted to know why you gave me a fake number…” I wasn’t above going back to the bar. I had to see her again. Damn, maybe I am a stalker. No, not me; I just needed to see her again. I felt the pull to her, and I know she feels it too. She’s just fighting it a little harder.
“You couldn’t have said anything creepier? You’re for sure my fucking stalker.” Fuck, did she just say her stalker? Meaning she actively has one?
We’re in the middle of the goddamn gym, and people are looking at us like I might carry her off over my shoulder. We should go somewhere more private, but I don’t want to scare her off again.
I’m up on my feet now. “Look, I’m cutting the shit. I promise I’m not some psycho. I’m just so used to people falling at my feet. You couldn’t have cared less, and you’re still acting like that. You’re very interesting to me, and I wanted the opportunity to get to know you.” She’s looking at me like I’ve completely lost it.
“What do you want with some random bartender that looks like me? You’re a fucking star wide receiver, for fuck’s sake.” Yes! She knows who I am. Mentally I’m fist-pumping but keeping my exterior chill as fuck.
With the most sultry voice I can pull out of my ass, I ask, “You’ve been looking me up, Shpirt Im?”
“I had to make sure you weren’t just some delusional rec league player or fantasy league bro.” She turns her head to the side as she mumbles under her breath, “You’re fucking unhinged.” I don’t think that last part was meant for me to hear, but she’s not wrong.
Ellie must decide I’m not a threat after all since she stays by my side on the way back to the locker rooms, walking at my slow pace after the ass-kicking she just inflicted on me. Thankfully, the locker rooms at this gym are all genders. “Do you really have a stalker, Ellie? That’s not good.” The demons are crawling out of me. No one is going to hurt a hair on her pretty head.
She pulls her eyebrows together. “Yeah, dumbass, why do you think I was ready to hit you? I didn’t pick up jiu-jitsu for fun.” She’s stares off again. “Though it has been a good workout.” Fuck, now all I picture is her in some skin-tight clothes, sweating and out of breath. I can’t wait to see what she can do rolling around with me.
Hearing her admission about having an actual stalker sets my nerves on edge. I’m already thinking about how I can protect her from this; I’m ready to take her safety on as a second job. She’s going to be sick of seeing me, but I will catch who’s stalking her… what am I thinking? I barely know her.
“Go out to dinner with me. It doesn’t have to be tonight but sometime this week.” I’m about to fall to my knees and beg. “Give me a chance, please.”
I don’t think she will answer me, but she surprises me. “Okay. Since you beg so pretty.” I have to keep my face cool, but if begging is what she wants, I’ll easily comply. “Give me your phone. I’ll add my actual number this time.” She’s holding her hand out, and the other is on her cocked-out hip.
“You had Ida blowing my phone up, by the way.” A light chuckle slips past her lips. It’s a sultry laugh, one that seems well beyond her years, and she doesn’t give it to just anybody. I want that beautiful sound to fill my ears at all times.
“That’s what you get for being a cocky bastard. Not everyone is obsessed with your pretty ass.” She thinks I’m pretty. I’m taking that one and running with it. I hand her my phone, and she adds her contact info and even texts her phone. She’s not trying to run away this time.
She saved her name under “Bartender.” Cute, but it’s getting changed to Shpirt Im. “I’ll text you to set dinner up,” I say, ready to counter if she puts up a fight.
“I’m picking the restaurant.” I smile down at her. She’s so fucking beautiful, even covered in sweat with her hair up on the top of her head and an oversized Pierce the Veil T-shirt hanging past the front of her skin-tight shorts. She for sure has the goth-punk vibe.
“You can do whatever you want, Shpirt Im. The world is yours,” I tell her, turning around and walking out of the locker room, grinning from ear to ear.
Ellie will be mine no matter what.
Monday hits me in the face as I walk into our practice facility; this place is beyond anything one team would ever need, but that’s any professional sports facility. Plus, this being new, I think they were trying to set the bar even higher. All the owners have pissing matches with one another, seeing who can put the most money into these places.
I’m making my way through the lobby towards the weight and cardio end of the building—yes, end. I don’t call this a room. I think someone told me on a tour once that the whole building is the size of four football fields, which I believe because it’s packed with weight machines, dumbbells, and cardio machines—you name it, it’s here. We even have a section in the corner just for treadmills.
I start to stretch out and get warmed up. Usually, our first practice of the week is running through plays and watching film on the team we are set to play that week. It’s just a pre-season game but still a good way to see how the upcoming season is going to go. We’re all just waiting for our season opener which happens to be a home game. I wonder if Ellie will come if I invite her. Usually, I never invite anyone out, not wanting them to get the wrong idea of where I want to take things, but with her, it feels different.
I’m stretching my hamstrings, minding my own, when I hear a scoff. I turn around and it’s Nash staring a hole through my head. “Can I help you, Djale I Bukur?”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I tilt my head to the side, grinning, because the last time I called him pretty boy in English, he flipped the fuck out. Just had to find a way around that.
Lying through my teeth to see his reaction, I say, “It means ‘fuck face’ in Albanian.” He lunges at me pretty quickly, I’ll give him that, but I’m a trained killer.
My father was second to my uncle, Vito, which made him the enforcer. He always hated being second in command. He trained me to be heartless. Shoot first, question never. I was supposed to follow in my father’s footsteps and become my cousin, Alex’s, second, but here I am fighting with a dumbass teammate instead.
I sweep Nash’s legs out from under him but catch him before he hits the ground super hard. Can’t be hurting our precious quarterback.
Football took priority once the Division 1 schools started looking at me. I went with Palm University down in Florida, figuring it would put enough distance between my fucked up family and me. I stayed three years and won the championship just like Nash did. I entered the draft with high hopes and got drafted in the first round to the Rebels, and the rest is history.
I growl into Nash’s ear while straddling his back right above his ass, “You don’t know who you’re fucking with, Nash.”
He grinds out, sounding like he’s going to crack his jaw, “Get. The. Fuck. Off. Of. Me. Zamir.” I have his arm trapped by his sides with my legs, and he’s squirming like a fucking worm.
Being a trained killer, take downs have become second nature to me. It’s another reason Agron was not happy about my decision to play ball and not be his perfectly groomed son. But I refused to let him rule my life. He already had too much control over me, and if I’m being honest, he still does, sadly. Vito is still the head of the family and hopefully will be for a while. I do not want them calling on me to come back to Chicago. Being away for this long, I don’t even know how I would react if I had to jump back into the dangers of the mafia life. I couldn’t anyway with my contract, which is another four years, thank fuck. Alex’s call bounces around my head. I need to call and check back in.
I lean my whole upper body against his back, my lips touching his ear. “I like it when they fight, Nash.” I rub my pulsing cock on his lower back, letting him know what he’s doing to me, and then I’m up, casually walking back to the locker rooms to get changed.
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