Billionaire's Inheritance Bride(13)

After Claudio's first game for the Giants, his father, Maxwell, had said  to him: "I wish my father and his father were here to see how you've  restored our family name. Remember son: above all else wear the name  Vega with pride, because family is more important than anything else in  life. I'm so proud of you."

Claudio had carried those words in his heart across two years of playing  for the NFL. Yet there was a price to his success, and with the focus  and worship of his feats, it was only a matter of time before someone  realized he was a mutant. There had been whispers among fans and the  other players that Claudio had an unfair advantage, yet no one had been  able to prove it.



Claudio was the first case of a high profile person with mutant  abilities, and it was getting hard to hide that fact, especially  considering the records he was breaking across the league.

***

The hotel room was small, seedy, and cheap. Not the type of place that  some of the NFL's team owners and backers would normally meet; but this  was no normal meeting. It was a plot. Wilfred Samuels was the  ringleader. A stout, balding man in his 50s, he sat at a small table,  the sweat from the summer heat dripping from his double chin. Several  other men in suits sat or stood in the room, waiting with anticipation  for Wilfred's suggestion.

"We need him out of the picture. I'm convinced Claudio Vega is a mutant," Wilfred said.



Staring out of the window before turning around to face the other men,  Cederick Hanlon, tall, gaunt, and an owner of a prestigious team spoke  quietly: "There's no legal precedent which states we have the right to  kick him out of the game for being born with certain …  Talents."

A few of the other men nodded and groaned in agreement before Cederick  continued: "And we'll have all manner of civil rights groups campaigning  against us for being prejudiced if we try to segregate Claudio and his  kind. No, we're going to have to do something more drastic I'm afraid."

"All I know is that the bookies are losing a fortune. No one can bet  against the Giants because they rarely lose, it's killing the game and  making some of our contacts in organized crime nervous," replied  Wilfred.



"Exactly. Gentlemen, I think we are all in agreement then that we're  going to have to do something about Claudio Vega. Something that will  remove him from the game. If it pleases everyone I think I have a plan … "

The room was silent, waiting. When Cederick finally revealed his plan, everyone, Wilfred included, was quite, quite pleased.

***

Suzanne Curtis had bad luck. Ask anyone who knew her, they'd tell you  just as much, and right now was about the worst run of luck she'd ever  had. Her dad was a drunk, or rather, had been a drunk. He'd died in a  house fire of his own accidental making when Suzanne was just six years  old. With her mother also gone, she was left to move from foster home to  foster home. The cards were stacked against her from the very  beginning.



It was quite an achievement then that she'd managed to retain a warm  heart despite how cold and bitter the world had been to her so far. At  just 19 years old she'd seen and done a lot, not all of it healthy, but  she was the type of person who always looked out for those around her.  If she was walking down a street and saw a homeless man or woman in a  bad way, she'd offer up her last dollar, even if it meant she wouldn't  eat that night.

That was just who she was. Perhaps her father had been kind, or her  mother, but it was anyone's guess how someone so hard done by could  retain a positive outlook. Yet Suzanne had that. She was selfless, and  if there was any selfishness in her, it was only for one thing - how she  dreamed of being loved, of being held, of being comforted and told that  everything was going to be okay …



She tried to tell herself that as she walked down First Avenue. Everything is going to be okay, Suzanne. You just wait and see.

Without a dime in her pocket and not eating anything for two days, she  had to give in. Prostitution was now her only recourse. Things were  getting desperate, and in a city that didn't look down on the homeless  too kindly, it was only a matter of time before someone took advantage. A  pimp by the name of Max had seen her walking around the streets. He  said he'd get her money, food and a place to crash after she bagged her  first client. All she had to do was walk around until she was  approached, do the deed and then hand the cash to Max.         

     



 

She felt sick even thinking about it, but what else could she do?  Society had failed her and the only thing she felt she had left of any  value was her body. Now the world wanted that too.

"Want to make some money?" the voice had said from a darkened doorway.

Suzanne would have normally walked on by, but not on that day, not with  the hunger that felt like it was eating a hole in her stomach. Today  she'd take any ray of hope as long as it led to food and shelter. She  stopped and looked at the doorway. A man in a well-pressed suit was  standing there, his hair slicked back and his eyes covered by  sunglasses.

"I said, do you want to make some money, kid?"

"Sure … " the words just came out of her mouth. She wasn't sure. "What is it and how much?"



With a cute smile, tanned skin and blond hair most women would kill for,  it wasn't the first time she'd been propositioned; but this was her  moment of weakness.



"It's nothing bad, just a little bit of fun. If you can handle it," the man said.

"Yeah … . Okay".

"There's an alley around the back from here. You game?" The man grinned,  and while his eyes were obscured, his voice sounded gentle. "In fact,  it's a little wet out here and I'd hate for you to catch a cold, Honey.  Listen … . I'm staying in a hotel room around the corner … "

"No," Suzanne said. "If it happens anywhere, it happens here."

"As you wish." The man started walking alongside Suzanne to the rear of the building.



Suddenly a car screeched to halt next to them. Before she knew what was  happening, Suzanne felt a cloth over her mouth. It was dowsed in some  sort of chemical. What, she didn't know. Then, the lights started to go  out and she was bundled into the back of the car.

She tried to scream, but as she inhaled what was on the cloth, she  quickly lost consciousness and wouldn't wake for another three hours. In  that time, her world would take a strange turn for both the better and  worse.

***

Claudio was in his kitchen, making a sandwich for lunch. Just as he was getting ready to sit down and enjoy it, the phone rang.

"Claudio Vega?" The voice had said.

"Yes?" Claudio responded.



"Listen carefully. We know that you are a mutant. It gives you an unfair advantage against the other footballers."

Claudio was frozen to the spot with shock.

The voice continued: "If you do not meet us at the Anvil Hotel in the  West side of the city by 5PM, we will go to the newspapers with  photographic evidence."

"What … " Claudio didn't know what to say.

"We can make this all go away with a little financial persuasion. Meet  us at the hotel and we will discuss the arrangements. Ask for the room  booked under Vega at the desk, room 237. Come alone, any sight of anyone  else and we're done"

The black mailer hung up, and Claudio was terrified. They were onto him.  Finally after all this time, someone in the game knew he was a mutant.  Sure, he could move faster than most, but when wearing his football  jersey and pants, there was no way someone could tell his legs were  changing underneath. Someone had found out and obtained pictures  somehow, at least, that's what they claimed. Regardless, he couldn't let  his secret out, not yet. He was proud to be a mutant, but there was too  much to risk by revealing it. He was pretty sure plenty would say he  was cheating, but all he wanted was to enjoy his career and make his  family proud. He could not risk what he had going for himself and had to  take this meeting.

***

He sensed something was wrong when he entered the hotel. It was  difficult for Claudio to go anywhere without being recognized, but the  hotel staff, and in particular a scrawny guy in his 40s behind the  reception desk, seemed to be actively trying not to recognize him. At  least that was the impression they gave. Almost as if they were acting,  knowing who he was but pretending not to.

The instructions had been clear - collect a key to room 237 from the  desk, then head up alone to the room. If Claudio brought anyone with  him, then there would be trouble, and if Claudio wanted this to all go  away then he'd better follow the instructions to the letter. That was  true, the blackmailers seemed to know: Claudio wanted more than anything  for this to go away. He'd brought great pride to his family, and that  was more important than anything else.         

     



 

Claudio just didn't know how his father would respond to the news,  whether he'd think Claudio a freak, or whether he would be bitterly  disappointed that Claudio had made so many touchdowns with the  advantages his condition gave him; some sort of Darwinian cheat.