Chapter 1

JULY

“It’s good to be King.” King Ulupoka, one of the best nose tackles in the NFL, spread his arms wide as he made the declaration, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

Sam Taylor looked over at his best friend in amusement. “King of what?” he asked. “Fishing?” They were walking down one of the crowded, closed-off streets at The Wharf in Orange Beach, Alabama. King had dragged Sam to the Blue Marlin Grand Championship of the Gulf. King was nuts for sport fishing.

“I think I like fishing more than football. At least today I do,” King said with a laugh, his voice rich and deep and full. People looked over and Sam could see them smiling, some even moving closer. King’s laugh was like that. It was what had drawn Sam to him. He liked King’s Samoan accent. What he liked most was, if he concentrated on that accent, and on King’s laughter, then the crowds didn’t bother him so much. He hadn’t liked crowds since he’d come back from Afghanistan. They made him nervous. Which made his decision to pursue his dream of an NFL career seem really stupid in hindsight.

Sam and King played for the Birmingham Rebels, the redheaded stepchild of the NFL. King was one of the league’s best defensive linemen, and he looked like it. He was one of the most jacked players in the NFL, with muscles on his muscles, a mountain of a guy, covered in traditional Samoan tattoos. Sam almost grinned. On the outside, King looked big and mean. Inside, he was a just a big, old teddy bear.

“Just wait, Sammy,” King said, leaning closer so Sam could hear him. Sometimes Sam thought King could read his mind. “The weigh-in is the greatest show in sport fishing. It’s a spectacle. Live streaming online, jumbotrons, light shows, concerts. I love it!” He laughed again and a group of young women standing off to the side giggled and waved at them, flirting with King. King was big, but he had that exotic thing going for him, with his light-brown skin and wild hair, like that guy from Game of Thrones. His eyes were so brown they were like dark chocolate, and he had eyelashes like a girl’s, thick and dark and curly. The other guys on the team teased him about it. His nose was wide and flat and flared on the end, like a lion’s.

King blew the girls a kiss and they squealed with delight. The girls wore tiny shorts and tank tops, and had toned stomachs and long, glossy hair. Sam couldn’t have cared less. He had no desire to get involved with some giggling little girl. That kind of thing left him cold these days. He’d had too much shit go down for that.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he belatedly agreed with King. Absentmindedly, he rubbed the photo in the pocket of his shorts with the tips of his fingers. He’d discovered it was easier to agree with King on most things. Then he did whatever he wanted, which usually turned out to be whatever King wanted anyway.

“I know a guy,” King said with a wink. “He can introduce us to Miss Billfish.”

“Who the hell is Miss Billfish?”

“The beauty pageant winner,” King said, shoving him. Sam nearly fell over.

“Uh, no thanks,” Sam said, shuddering. “Not interested.”

“You better get interested,” King scolded. “We came here to get you laid. That was the deal.”

“Not my deal,” Sam protested. “I came here because you have a jones for marlin fishing and wouldn’t leave me alone about it.”

King sighed with a long face. “I miss Samoa, man. I miss fishing for marlin off Apia, just past the reef.” He turned to Sam. “You’ve got to come. You’ll love it.”

“Why didn’t you go back this summer?” Sam asked, even though he knew why. Because of him.

“Ah,” King said dismissively. “No time, brah. Too much going on.” Sam let the lie go. “Besides, we have a good time, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Sam said. He caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows as they passed. “How the hell did I let you talk me into this haircut?” he said, changing the subject. He ran his hand along the side of his head with horizontal lines shaved on it.

“You look great,” King said, slapping him on the back. Sam stumbled. “Like that singer who used to play football for Alabama. The one my little sister Talia likes so much. Very edgy.”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sam muttered. “Do I seem like an edgy kind of guy to you?”

“Sure,” King said. “You’re always on edge.”

“I don’t think they mean the same thing,” Sam said, rubbing the shaved spot. He didn’t like it. It itched, like when his burns and stitches had healed. The scars on his back were itching in sympathy.

“On you, they the same thing,” King said with a half grin and a nod. “Trust me.”

Sam sighed. Whenever King said “Trust me,” Sam was in for a rough time. It usually meant King was going to try to make him rejoin the land of the living. King didn’t get it. The life Sam had now was pretty damn good, considering where he’d been a few years ago. Sam figured this was about as good as he was going to get.

King tried to hide his impatience with Sam. He knew that Sam responded much better when you were patient with him. King badly wanted this weekend to work out. It hurt to see his best friend standing on the sidelines watching life go by, instead of standing by King’s side living life to the fullest. To King, each day was an adventure, and he wanted to share that with Sam. As soon as he’d seen Sam that first day of minicamp, King had taken him under his wing. He’d never seen someone so in need of a friend. King had been inexplicably drawn to the stern-looking, quiet veteran. Maybe it was true that opposites attract.

Sam was just trudging through life, like he still had a pack on his back and a rifle in his hand, weighed down by the past and worry over his future. He was living the dream, playing in the NFL, but you sure couldn’t tell from his attitude. King wanted to change that, wanted to bring some peace and fun into his life. For some reason, Sam’s happiness had become very important to King. If Sam would just loosen up, it might help his game, and then he wouldn’t have to worry so much. But Sam was making it damn hard to help him. This whole thing with women, for instance.

“Don’t try to set me up,” Sam said, as if he could read King’s mind. It was eerie, the way they did that.

“I think you’re stupid to refuse to sleep with anyone because you’re worried you might lose your shit. I’ve never seen you lose it. I think it’s just an excuse.”

“I told you I used to have nightmares and flashbacks when I first got out of the hospital,” Sam said tightly. He didn’t like to talk about stuff like that and King hated that he was forcing the issue. But he’d let Sam off the hook for a year now. It was time to be more proactive. Maybe the problem was that he hadn’t pushed Sam out of his comfort zone. “It’s best not to risk it,” Sam said in a voice that indicated the conversation, as far as he was concerned, was over.

“Personally, I think some poon is worth the risk,” King told him sincerely, ignoring the warning in Sam’s voice. “A soft, warm woman soothes a man’s soul.”

“I’m pretty sure if any of these ladies heard you say that, they’d brand ‘Sexist Pig’ on your forehead,” Sam observed mildly. “And I think it’s going to take more than a fantastic fuck to make me normal again.”

“I think you underestimate the power of a fantastic fuck.” King sighed with pleasure, remembering some of his best encounters. “And I am not a sexist pig. I respect women. My mother made sure of it. Respecting women and enjoying a good fuck are not mutually exclusive.”

“You could talk your way out of a firing squad,” Sam told him. “You must, I don’t know, hypnotize people with your voice or something so they do what you want. That’s the only way I would have agreed to your crazy plan.”

“It’s not crazy,” King insisted. “You’re worried about hurting a woman if you sleep with her. So I’ll stay with you to make sure nothing happens. It’s not like we’re Cass and Beau, fucking the same woman. I’m just going to be there, like a chair or something. You won’t even notice me.”

Sam looked King up and down, his expression dubious. “You’d have to be a hell of a lot smaller to be invisible.” He shook his head. “This is a bad idea.”

“You agreed. You’d have sex if I stayed near in case you went crazy. You promised.”

“Okay, first of all, your obsession with me having sex is getting kind of creepy. Second, I only agreed because I knew it was never going to happen. Where do you think we’re going to find a girl who’d agree to do that?”