CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 Read online

  CHANGING THE PLAYER

  Charleston Pirates #1

  JACOB CHANCE

  Copyright © 2021 Jacob Chance

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. While reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to people either living or deceased, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are only used for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used.

  Cover design by PopKitty Designs

  Edited and Proofread by Ink Machine Editing

  This book contains mature content.

  Winning isn’t everything… It’s the only thing

  Vince Lombardi

  Contents

  Prologue

  1. Flynn

  2. Nadia

  3. Flynn

  4. Nadia

  5. Flynn

  6. Nadia

  7. Flynn

  8. Nadia

  9. Flynn

  10. Nadia

  11. Flynn

  12. Nadia

  13. Flynn

  14. Nadia

  15. Flynn

  16. Nadia

  17. Flynn

  18. Nadia

  19. Flynn

  20. Flynn

  21. Nadia

  22. Flynn

  23. Nadia

  24. Flynn

  25. Flynn

  26. Flynn

  Epilogue

  Penalty

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Flynn

  My eyes jump to the giant scoreboard as we huddle up for a final time. The clock’s almost run out and we have no more timeouts remaining. This is our last chance. If we don’t score on this drive, we’re finished.

  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want any regrets. I’m not ready for our season to be over,” Darren, our quarterback, grits out between labored breaths. “We’ve busted our balls day in and day out all season and we’re one play away from making it to the big game. Let’s go claim our victory.” He lowers his voice, letting us know what the next play will be. Breaking from the huddle, we line up.

  Dragging in a long, slow breath, I draw oxygen into my tight lungs. The other team’s defense has been playing aggressively and we’re exhausted. Every inch of my body is sore, but I dig deep, summoning a final burst of energy.

  Darren catches the snap, and I spring from the balls of my feet, bursting forward and gaining momentum while at the same time shaking off a defender. Once I’m free, I break into a full-blown run, racing down the field for the pass Darren throws. The spiraling football hurtles toward me and I reach up to catch the well thrown pass. Barely hitting my fingertips, the ball is knocked free before I can contain it. Reaching out, I make a last desperate attempt to recover the pigskin before it hits the ground. But it’s no use—all my effort is in vain. The realization hits me with a juddering force as I crash into the ground.

  And just as quick as the snap of two fingers, our season is over.

  1

  Flynn

  NINE MONTHS LATER

  “Another round for my friends,” I tell the cocktail waitress in the VIP area of the club.

  “Sure thing.” She looks me over appreciatively and smiles.

  She’s attractive enough to tempt me, but I already have my hands full—literally—with a sexy blonde and an equally sexy brunette. With my arms wrapped around them, they each occupy a seat on one of my thighs. And judging by their smiles, neither of them seem to mind sharing my attention, which bodes well for me. This night just keeps improving. First, we won our game, and now, I’ve hit the hook-up jackpot with the two hottest women here.

  The waitress reappears, setting drinks down on the small tables in front of the long, armless couch.

  “Thank you,” I say. “When you get a chance, I’d like another round.”

  “Flynn, go easy, brother,” Darren cautions.

  “Don’t worry, I’m fine. I couldn’t feel better. We kicked the Storm’s asses, and now I’m just celebrating with my teammates.”

  “Don’t forget us,” blondie says with a giggle.

  “As if I could.” I wink. My new brunette friend hands me my drink before passing the rest out to our group, keeping one for herself. I down the whiskey in three large gulps, barely tasting it until the final swallow.

  “Flynn,” Darren calls my name, giving me a concerned glance.

  “Dude, stop acting like an old man. Can’t you let loose a little and live?”

  “You can have a good time without getting shitfaced,” he reasons, but I’m not in the mood to listen to anything he has to say. No matter how logical it might be. It doesn’t make a difference that he’s my best friend and has been since college. None of that carries any weight when I’m feeling restless and don’t know why.

  Whenever I get this way, my reckless side comes out. Similar to a genie in a lamp, once it’s released, there’s no simple way to put it away. I wish there was a magical phrase I could say to snap myself out of my self-destructive mode.

  You know that voice in the back of your head telling you not to do something? Well, I don’t have one, at least not one that functions properly. Mine eggs me on, daring me to do my worst. I don’t need a crazy friend to make bets with me; my subconscious takes care of that on its own.

  Darren and other friends have told me many times that I don’t know when to stop. That I can’t set limits for myself. That I’m my own worst enemy and I sabotage myself. And maybe that’s all true.

  But at least I have a good time while I’m fucking everything up. I give one hundred percent no matter what I do. Good or bad. That should count for something.

  As the night goes on, I lose track of how much I’ve had to drink. My new friends have become exceedingly affectionate with me, and each other, and I know it’s time to get out of here. Too inebriated to drive and eager to see what the rest of the night has in store, I lead them to the hotel next door.

  I hand over my credit card without a second thought, and before I know it, we’re stepping inside the elevator. One of the girls drops to her knees, undoing my pants while the other one kisses me. I don’t know who’s who at this point and I don’t care. The slide of the doors closing and the hum of the elevator moving barely register as a hot mouth wraps around my cock.

  Fuck yeah.

  * * *

  Groaning, and not from pleasure, I force my eyelids to open. A sharp slice of agony hits right between my eyes, radiating upward and outward. It feels as though my head is being chewed up by Godzilla.

  A handful of slow blinks later, I’m able to keep my eyes open. I take in the rumpled bed and my two companions. My lips quirk with a satisfied grin. My hangover isn’t the only thing here that sucks.

  As much as I’d like to have another go with these two adventurous ladies, it’s later than I expected. I need to get home and call in to a local talk radio show I’m scheduled to be on.

  Slippi
ng from the bed, I get dressed as quietly as possible. The last thing I need is to wake them up. If I do, I’ll miss my call for sure. I’m not worried about saying goodbye to either of them. I don’t plan to see them ever again, and I made that clear at the club. Never let it be said that I’m not up front about my intentions when it comes to the fairer sex.

  Closing the door behind me, I hang the do not disturb sign on the handle. The elevator ride to the lobby is a lot less memorable than last night’s. I stop at the front desk to check out and turn in the room key before I head next door. Thank fuck my truck is still safely parked in the lot. This beauty was my first purchase when I signed with the Pirates. For that reason alone, I’ll never sell her, but she happens to be badass too. Driving her is a dream, and there isn’t a single time when I’m behind the wheel that I don’t feel grateful.

  The drive to my house takes about fifteen minutes, and the first thing I do once I’m inside is to take a shower. The hot water and steam help to clear the fog from my head. By the time I’m back downstairs having a cup of coffee, I feel ninety percent better.

  The call with the talk radio sports show goes well and takes less time than I anticipated. Now it’s time to get some food in my stomach.

  My doorbell rings, interrupting my search for something to eat. I’m not expecting company, and aside from Darren, I don’t usually have uninvited guests showing up. Opening the door, I find my little sister, Kendra, standing on my front stoop.

  “Hey, what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Flynn,” she snarks, pushing by me.

  “Come on in,” I jest and shut the door. “It’s not that I don’t like looking at your adorable face, but what are you doing here?”

  She kicks her heels off, leaving them in the middle of the floor, before dropping her keys on the small entryway table. “I need coffee before I do anything else.” She stalks toward the kitchen with me following.

  “What a coincidence. I was just mid-cup, myself.”

  Kendra grabs an oversized mug from the cabinet and fills it with rich, dark coffee. Neither of us uses cream. We don’t like to mess with perfection.

  “God, that’s good,” she says with a pleased sigh. “Your coffee always tastes better than mine. What do you do differently than me?”

  “If I tell you, then you won’t need to stop by unexpectedly anymore.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that. As your publicist, you give me plenty of reasons besides coffee.”

  “I’m guessing your being here has something to do with last night,” I say.

  “You guessed right. What the hell were you thinking, Flynn?” She gives me the stink eye over the mug.

  I’m not even sure what she’s upset about. From what I remember of last night, I behaved well. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Really?” Her lip curls with repugnance. “You had two women in your lap most of the night.”

  I grin. “I know. It was a great time.”

  “Flynn, we’ve had this conversation too many times already. Why do you do this to me?”

  “Do what to you?”

  “Stress me out,” she yells.

  “I don’t see how I stressed you out.”

  “Maybe it has something to do with you and the two women you were with being plastered all over the television and internet today.”

  “That’s awesome.” I smile.

  Kendra shakes her head and fire shoots from her eyes. Okay, I imagined that part, but if she had super powers, I’d be a pile of ash right now. “That’s not how most people look at it, Flynn. You think it’s awesome because you took those women to a hotel and did God knows what with them. But TMC got footage of you at the desk getting a room, and for the cherry on top, there’s video of one on the women on her knees while the other one is kissing you.”

  “I was there. I don’t need you to recap it.”

  “Hey, asshole. I didn’t need to see footage of it either. But I did, because my brother is selfish and stupid and doesn’t care if his actions reflect badly on others.”

  “No one’s going to hold my sex life against you, Kendra. Don’t be so narcissistic. Everything isn’t about you.”

  “Narcissistic?” She half gasps, half laughs the word out. “You don’t know the meaning of that word. If you did, you’d know that’s the last thing I am. While you’re busy only thinking of yourself, I’m busy doing damage control.”

  “Damage control for what? Since when is a single guy getting his rocks off a crime?”

  “Since you had to do it on camera and with two women. Why can’t you have sex with one person at a time like most people?” she asks.

  “Why should I be like most people? Why does anyone care what I do in my free time?”

  “Flynn, you know the answer to that as well as I do. You’re a famous football player. Everything you do is a reflection on your team. Remember them? You need to start keeping them in mind or you won’t have a job much longer.”

  I ruffle Kendra’s hair. “Calm down. Mr. Benson loves me. The team would be lost without me,” I boast.

  “Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you. There have been too many incidences of improper conduct from you this season.”

  “Like what?” I fire back.

  “There have been innumerable women.” She ticks off, raising a finger on her hand. “Public displays of drunkenness.” There’s another finger. “Some would say disorderly conduct. I mean, you did almost get into a fight.” Finger number three raises.

  “Hey, wait a minute. A little shoving doesn’t constitute calling it disorderly conduct.”

  “When you knock over a table full of drinks, it does.” Her expression is smug.

  “Whatever.” I shake my head. I’m still not willing to admit defeat. I’m not tapping out, especially when it’s my little sister trying to prove me wrong.

  “I can continue if you’d like,” she says in an innocent tone.

  I pour myself another cup of coffee. Turning around, I lean back against the edge of the counter. My shrug is nonchalant. “Sure. I’ve got time.”

  Kendra takes advantage of my feigned willingness and launches into a ten-minute diatribe of all my indiscretions. By the end of her ranting I feel somewhat like an ass, but probably not as much as I should. I’m more annoyed than anything.

  So I like to have fun and I have a problem with limits. What guy doesn’t get wild and crazy sometimes?

  “I feel like I’m being persecuted for being like pretty much every other average Joe.” I lose my ability to stay silent any longer.

  “You’re not an average guy, Flynn. You’re a freaking football superstar, and you need to act like one off the field too.”

  “Why should I change my behavior? No one has ever been harmed because of me or my actions. Why should I be penalized for living my life the way I want to? I’m not breaking any laws. I’m not breaking any league rules.”

  “Flynn, you can’t perpetually push your luck and then complain when it finally gets you in trouble.”

  “I’m not in trouble.”

  “Not yet. I’m sure you’ll be hearing from Nadia any time now,” she says, mentioning my agent. Like that should scare me.

  “Look, you do whatever it is you need to do as my publicist. Put your special spin on this and make it go away. That’s what I pay you the big bucks for.”

  “Pfft. With the bullshit I’ve had to deal with this season, you better give me a raise soon.”

  “You should be thanking me for all the other players you’ve gotten as clients because of me,” I tell her.

  “No, I got them as clients because of my work. They’ve seen what I’ve had to do to keep your career alive, and now they think I’m a freaking miracle worker.”

  “Touché, little sister. I’m not saying you’re not good at your job.”

  “No, you implied I didn’t get the clients I have on my own merit, and I resent that. I’ve busted my ass starting my busi
ness, and I do a kickass job. While I appreciate that you hired me when I had no experience, you had no choice since your previous publicist dropped you. How ironic is it that the reason she gave was that you were too much work? And not only did I take over her duties, but I stepped in when your personal assistant quit too. I’m doing two jobs for the price of one, and you’re more work than any of my other clients.”

  Now I feel bad, and the foot I put in my mouth tastes like shit.

  “I’m sorry. I know how amazing you are at your job—jobs. I’m the first one to brag about you. I didn’t mean to make you feel unappreciated. I guess that’s one of the drawbacks of working for me.”

  “One of the many drawbacks.” She smiles glumly.

  “I hate to cut this short, but I need to eat something and hit the gym.”

  “How about eggs and pancakes?” she asks.

  “And bacon?”

  “I’ll cook if you clean up,” she says.

  “You’re on.”

  2

  Nadia

  “Nadia. Mr. Benson is ready to see you,” the receptionist announces, rising to her feet.

  I hold up my hand. “There’s no need to show me the way. I’ve been here more times than I can count.”

  “Very well.” She nods.

  I walk briskly down the hall, eager to find out why Mr. Benson summoned me here. I have a pretty good idea, but I’m hoping I’m wrong. Pausing at the entrance to the conference room, I rap my knuckles on the open door.