Page 63 of Playing for the Dark

Nash

Okay, okay! How are we getting the birth control out of Ellie’s arm?

Scary Mafia Man

Now that I know how big of a goddamn breeding kink your ass has, she should be pregnant in no time. And I have it handled. You all head over when you get finished at practice.

#1 Wide Receiver

Yes, Boss.

Nash

See you at home, sweet cheeks! *kissing face emoji

I’m laughing to myself, still in the parking garage. That’ll piss both of themoff equally.

We’re all warming up for practice. We have a home game this Sunday then a bye week next. Zamir’s avoiding me like the plague; he won’t even glance my way. I won’t stand for that! I decide right then to jog over to him—this still counts as warming up, right?

My chest is right against his arm, and I’m whispering, “I was balls deep in your ass last night, and you can’t even look at me now?” I lean in, taking a deep whiff of him. He’s already sweating from hitting weights before our practice; his smell is something I wish I could bottle up. Specifically, his muskier, sweaty practice scent. The citrus scent of his cologne still peeks through.

The muscles that line the square of his jaw are working overtime when he grits out, “Not right now, Nash. We’ll talk when we get back to Marcello’s.”

“Fine,” I pout and stomp back to where I was beside our quarterback coach. I can feel Coach’s gaze on me, but I’m too busy staring a hole into the side of Z’s head.

We run through footwork drills—shit I could do in my sleep. We run through some snaps; Barrett and I are in the zone, not needing too much work. Then it’s time to start running routes with the wide receivers… and Zamir looks like he would rather rip his own nails off than be doing this.

Coach yells out, “Zamir! Cut the shit!” Causing me to chuckle, which earns me a death glare from Coach. I throw my hands up in surrender, sure as hell not wanting to get on Maverick Whitlock’s bad side.

We line up on the ten-yard line. I’m calling out my cadence, causing Barrett to snap the ball, and I catch it perfectly, laces lining up flawlessly against my fingers. This is where I get to let loose with the dots of the leather against the pads of my fingers, the laces lining up, and the mental capacity it takes to remember offensive plays.

I scan to my left, center, and then to my right, where I know Z is sprinting up the sideline, already thirty yards down the field. I drop back into my fake pocket, wait a few seconds, then launch it to the opposing team’s thirty-yard line.

It lands like a swaddled baby into Zamir’s hands. Even when we’re arguing, we’re so goddamn connected on the field. Coach starts a slow clap from behind me. “Maybe y’all just need to keep arguing if that’s the plays you’re going to be connecting.”

He lets out a wolf whistle, grabbing everyone’s attention, and yells, “Dismissed!”

Chapter 49

Zamir

Nash is right behind me, pulling into our parking garage. Honestly, I don’t know how he kept up with me in his fucking yee-haw truck while I was weaving in and out of traffic like an idiot on my bike… but he sure as hell did. The pent-up anger in me needed an escape, and usually, riding is where it’s released… I park right by the elevators, throw my kickstand down, and climb off my bike as quickly as possible. The doors to the elevator close when he’s like ten yards away, yelling for me to hold the doors.I don’t.

I walk into Marcello’s apartment, yelling to him, “Boss! I’m here.” I don’t want to get shot for walking into his place unannounced. I flop down on the couch and wait for the plotting and scheming to begin. I didn’t know how I fell about fucking with Ellie’s birth control, but it definitely makes sense that a baby by what theworld thought would be Marcello’s would give her the protection she needs. Honestly, after seeing her in all her glory shooting and torturing, I don’t think she is a damsel in distress. She can handle her own.

If Marcello were to just marry her, we wouldn’t be able to be seen together in public… and I sure as fuck don’t want that. That would insinuate to the old fucks in the mafia world that anyone can swoop in and steal his girl.

I want to show that woman off possessively—more possessively than I have ever wanted to with any other person. Even sharing her with two other guys, if people see us out together and she’s pregnant, they’re not going to assume it’s Marcello’s… I really don’t think these two have thought this through all the way, probably just wanting to bring their breeding fantasies to life.

1 Nash comes stomping in, and it takes everything in me not to shove him against the wall and show him that this isn’t a goddamn experiment to me… but I don’t. Sulking is what I decide to do instead.

Marcello comes out of his office, glances at us, and moves straight to his small bar, grabbing a bottle of scotch and pouring us all glasses without even asking. Normally, drinking during the season is a no-no for me, but I really couldn’t care lessright now. I’m about to head out to his balcony and spark this blunt up that’s in my pocket.

“I need to know what the fuck is going on with you.” Nash is standing over me all wound up, and I just want to scream at him for not putting two and two together last night… and all of today.

Marcello shoves Nash’s glass into his hand, commanding him, “Here, take a goddamn breath and drink before you start mouthing off and Z knocks your pretty teeth down your throat.” Nash rolls his eyes but does what he’s told.

I give Marcello a nod of appreciation, and Nash flops down beside me on the couch. Marcello’s been able to pick up on the shit between us. You learn to pick up on little shit and body language when you’re in this life long enough. Especially growing up with fathers like we both had. He hands me my glass, and I tap mine against his. “Here’s to Ellie being safe.” I give them a wink and down my glass.

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