Player (A Secret Baby Sports Romance)(218)

Well hello, freedom.

I tip back another swig of the the tequila before I stand, leaning against my balcony railing and staring down at the girl. She's young, and sexy as sin in a way that reminds me that I’ve been in jail for almost nine fucking months. The Warden's wife was a mediocre distraction, but this girl has my full damn attention.

She slinks into a lounge chair, smiling up at a one of the pool boys who brings her a drink on a tray. I make a note to go grease the kid’s palm later and figure out what she's drinking. She takes her hat off, her long blonde hair flowing around her as she sinks back into the chair and arches her back, pushing her tits up against the thin white fabric of her bikini top. I can already start to feel my cock stir in my shorts watching her like this. Yeah, I need to get down there right now and work some of that famous Latin charm.

I snag one more sip from my bottle, feeling the pleasant burn of the tequila slide down my throat. I grab the gun that the second guard on the boat dropped when he went over and slip it into the waist of my shorts. Part of me knows I should just leave the damn thing in the room, but I guess it’s just the soldier in me that grabs it. I mean, not only am I technically an escaped con, but I’ve also managed to walk into Aruba through the side entrance; the kind that doesn’t have a customs agent checking your papers, or lack thereof.

No sense in not playing it safe, I figure.

I push my long hair back from my face in the mirrored interior of the elevator; I really need a trim, but I’m starting to like the shaggy look I guess. The doors open, and I strut my way through the lobby to the pool, feeling the liquid confidence of the tequila coursing through me as I glance around for the blonde.

Oh yeah, there she is. Fuck, she looks even better from down here. I grin as I start to make my way around the pool, already musing over all the wickedly sinful things I’d love to do with this girl. But I barely make it five steps before something pings at my brain, and I stop cold.

There are thing being a soldier does to you. Well for one, my social graces are absolute shit. But more importantly, you see things before you'd normally see them. Most people wouldn't see the two black SUVs screech to a halt next to the hotel. Most people wouldn't see the five guys in black suits pour out of them, or maybe even find it strange that anyone in this fucking beach-side paradise would be wearing black suits at all.

But the, I’m not most people. Years of fighting in that piece of shit desert with the Spanish Legion, and then chasing the coin through the mercenary circuits of Africa have taught me one thing: that annoying voice in your head? Yeah, you should listen to that asshole as often as you can.

My first thought is that they're here for me, and as my pulse roars in my ears, I'm already turning to run. It isn't the first time, and it sure as hell won’t be the last. But when I glance back, I realize that they don't even see me, and in half a second, the puzzle comes together. They're moving like a slow-motion black wave towards the pool area, and every single one of their sunglass-covered eyes is right on her.

They’re after the blonde.

Time freezes for a second as I step back into the shadows, my eyes darting between the girl and the men she’s clearly not even aware of who are quickly making their way right for her with weapons drawn. She's still reading her book, her legs curled up underneath her, a small smile on her face as she grins at something in the pages. She reaches up and brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes, tucking it behind her ears and just looking so fuckin perfect and innocent.

Walk away, you fucking idiot.

I grit my teeth, trying to shove that voice in my head away. I’ve done some truly horrible shit in this life. I've hurt, I've stolen, I've blackmailed and cheated; I've killed. I'm a bad, bad man.

But I'm not a monster; as much as I want to be one in that moment.

I know I should walk the hell away right then. I don’t know what the hell this cutie did to piss these guys off, but it’s not my fight; that much I know. I’m a Goddamn fugitive, I’m here illegally, and I’ve got three stolen credit cards and an unlicensed gun on me. Now is not the fucking time to play hero for the first time in my life.

But my gun is out of the waist of my shorts and in my hand before I even know it. God, or fate, or karma didn't give me this freedom for me to sit back and let the world happen like this. This is my shot to do something different, right? I mean that’s the whole point of being “saved”; so you can do good, right?

Yeah, growing up Catholic fucks with your head sometimes. Or maybe I’ve seen too many movies.

In any case, the world slows to a crawl as I look up again to see the men have hit the fence by the pool. One of them is throwing his shoulder against the gate, and its as they start to pour through, she finally looks up.