Sacked (The New York Nighthawks 1)

She was right. Announcing my pregnancy wasn’t enough for Prentice. He glared at each and every one of the paparazzi. Planting his fists on his hips, he added, “And for your information, not that you deserve answers after the bullshit you’ve pulled, my fiancée is pregnant because I trapped her. That’s right, folks. You got it backward. I was never going to let Naomi go. I’ve been a quarterback for a long time, as you all know. I’ve taken a fuck ton of hits. Not a single one of them compare to how my gorgeous fiancée knocked me off my feet. She sacked me good, guys. And I’m never gonna recover. Don’t even want to try.”

With that, he swiveled on his heel and started to march back up the driveway. When his gaze hit me, a wide grin split his handsome face. If I’d had any doubt that he wasn’t happy about my pregnancy, the past few minutes would have wiped them away. He was as thrilled as I was to get a jump start on the big family we both wanted.

13

Prentice

Tucker reached out two nights later. It was after one in the morning, and Naomi was asleep on my chest, so I almost didn’t answer my phone. But I glanced at the screen and recognized the number.

Picking up, I whispered, “Just a second,” then I carefully shifted Naomi and slipped out from under her. Grabbing a pair of sweats from my dresser, I pulled them on and hurried down to my office.

“Sorry,” I apologized when I put the phone to my ear again. “Naomi was asleep. She’s pregnant, so I really didn’t want to wake her.”

“I understand,” Tucker replied, sounding genuine. “I’m sorry to call so late, but I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.”

“Absolutely,” I agreed. “You found out who it was?”

“His name is Mark Otis. He’s—”

“I know who he is,” I growled. Apparently, I’d underestimated how bitter he was over losing his job.

“I thought you might. You’d don’t seem like the type to have faceless employees. Another reason I called right away. Oh, and he’s also the source behind the rumors that Naomi trapped you by getting pregnant.”

Rage was burning in my chest, and I barely contained the urge to toss something across the room. “Thank you, Tucker. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. I emailed you all of his contact information and the proof of his guilt. Let me know if you need anything in the future. You have my contact info.”

I thanked him again, and we ended our call. My next one was to a few of my teammates, including Nixon. I explained the situation, and they agreed to be at my house in fifteen minutes.

I met them in my garage, and we all piled into my largest SUV. “Thanks for having my back,” I said as I drove down my driveway.

“Always,” replied Hale emphatically. The wide receiver had been in a similar situation with the paparazzi not too long ago.

We arrived at our destination shortly, and my eyes took in the neighborhood with surprise. It was very middle-class suburban. Well-kept homes and lawns, all very normal. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but I reminded myself that some of the most charming people in history had been ruthless serial killers.

I rang the bell consistently until the door was finally jerked open. “What the hell…?”

Mark’s words died out as he clocked the group of big, angry football players on his porch.

“Let’s talk,” I growled, marching into the house, leaving him no choice but to jump out of the way or be trampled.

“You must have a death wish,” Nixon murmured as he brushed past Mark, elbowing him in the gut. “Fucking with a Nighthawk, means fucking with us all.”

I stopped in the center of the open living room and faced the sniveling weasel with my arms crossed and my feet braced apart. My boys gathered behind me.

“Explain,” I snarled.

Mark huffed. “Seriously? You fired me to get pussy”—I nearly flattened him for that comment, but Kellan—an offensive lineman—held me back for the moment—“then told her I was a stalker. What did you expect? I am what you made me. Karma, huh?”

“Are you actually trying to tell me I’m to blame for your actions?” I was stunned and so fucking pissed I was seeing red. “Are you insane or just really fucking stupid?”

Mark scoffed, but he quickly shut up, and his face paled when I took a menacing step forward.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to come clean about your actions to the press and issue an apology for your bad judgment. And then I better not see your face ever again.”

Mark’s mouth dropped open, and he gasped like an offended toddler. “That will ruin me!”

“Like you tried to ruin my sister?” Nixon snapped.

“If you think I care about what this does to your career and reputation, you’re more delusional than I thought,” I growled. “You’re lucky you’re not going to be breathing through a tube for the rest of your pathetic life.”