Read Online Baller: An Interracial MMA Stepbrother Romance by Simone Scarlet MMA - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Simone Scarlet MMA
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what the fuck am I doing back here?”
Kristen didn’t have an answer for that.
“I’m one of the best fighters in the league. If it wasn’t for that stupid brawl in the hotel, I’d be one fight away from the fucking championship by now. Instead I’m here, suspended, reading about other fighters trying to muscle me out of my own fucking league.”
Then, with a growl, Baller jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door of Chili’s .
“And that car out there? It’s practically all I fucking own, Kristen. When I got suspended, the sponsorship money stopped rolling in, I lost all the purse money I was going to collect.” He waved the hundred dollar bill that Jules had casually thrown at him. “The honest truth? I have less than this in my bank account right now.”
Kristen blinked.
“But… But you were making tons of money.”
“Yeah,” Hannibal snorted bitterly, “and I was spending it, too. I was living in a fucking hotel suite, Kristen. I was blowing five figures every night at the club. Shit, I pulled in seven hundred grand last year and that was barely enough to cover what I was spending.”
And then the big man leaned in close, until Kristen could smell the margarita on his breath.
“And that’s the fucking problem, Kristen,” he admitted drunkenly. “That’s why I’m so fucking pissed at Jules. Because I see his stupid, arrogant ass and it’s like looking in a fucking mirror .”
Kristen was absolutely floored.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“Aww, shit,” Hannibal shook his head. “I looked the part, Krissie. I had the suits and the girls and the big shiny car. But peel that away and Jules and I are no different. He’s sitting in his ghetto-ass apartment thinking he’s about to ride a gravy-train to riches – but I’d already bought a ticket when it got fucking de-railed.”
He rubbed his big hand drunkenly over his face.
“He’s making all the same stupid-ass mistakes I did, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“W-well, maybe you need to go and talk to him.”
Hannibal snorted raucously.
“Oh, yeah. You saw how that went. Shit, it wasn’t too long ago I was exactly where he is right now, mentally at least.”
He sighed.
“I know Jules won’t listen to a damn word I say. All he wants to hear is that guy Red, telling him how he’s gonna be a champ, and shoving hundred dollar bills into his hands.”
And then Hannibal reached over and squeezed Kristen’s small hand with his thick fingers.
“And that’s what scares me, Krissie. ‘Cos I might have got myself involved in a lot of screwed up stuff over in Vegas, but never anything like that fighting league. It’s some kind of scam, or con… And I’m worried when it all blows up, Jules is gonna get into some real trouble.”
Kristen reached over and rubbed her stepbrother’s arm.
“Well, maybe that’s why fate brought you home. Maybe this is your chance to make things right – by helping him.”
Hannibal snorted.
“How can I help Jules, Krissie? I can’t even help myself.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kristen
By kicking-out time, Hannibal was staggering.
Anxious to avoid a scene in front of her friends and co-workers, Kristen led her towering stepbrother out into the parking lot, and towards the gleaming gunmetal Bentley.
It was like dragging a staggering gorilla across the parking lot.
“Shit, Hannibal,” Kristen looked up at her handsome stepbrother. “Are you okay to drive?”
Hannibal hiccupped, and fumbled with his keys.
“D-damn,” he burped. “Those margaritas are stronger than they look.”
The truth be told, Kristen had always suspected Dan watered them down – but they’d seemed to have done the trick on Hannibal.
Perhaps it was because he rarely drank, or maybe it was because the fitter and more athletic you are, the faster alcohol hits you. In either case, the result was the same – Hannibal was too plastered to drive.
“Give the keys to me,” Krissie was still sober.
Kristen didn’t have an answer for that.
“I’m one of the best fighters in the league. If it wasn’t for that stupid brawl in the hotel, I’d be one fight away from the fucking championship by now. Instead I’m here, suspended, reading about other fighters trying to muscle me out of my own fucking league.”
Then, with a growl, Baller jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the door of Chili’s .
“And that car out there? It’s practically all I fucking own, Kristen. When I got suspended, the sponsorship money stopped rolling in, I lost all the purse money I was going to collect.” He waved the hundred dollar bill that Jules had casually thrown at him. “The honest truth? I have less than this in my bank account right now.”
Kristen blinked.
“But… But you were making tons of money.”
“Yeah,” Hannibal snorted bitterly, “and I was spending it, too. I was living in a fucking hotel suite, Kristen. I was blowing five figures every night at the club. Shit, I pulled in seven hundred grand last year and that was barely enough to cover what I was spending.”
And then the big man leaned in close, until Kristen could smell the margarita on his breath.
“And that’s the fucking problem, Kristen,” he admitted drunkenly. “That’s why I’m so fucking pissed at Jules. Because I see his stupid, arrogant ass and it’s like looking in a fucking mirror .”
Kristen was absolutely floored.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“Aww, shit,” Hannibal shook his head. “I looked the part, Krissie. I had the suits and the girls and the big shiny car. But peel that away and Jules and I are no different. He’s sitting in his ghetto-ass apartment thinking he’s about to ride a gravy-train to riches – but I’d already bought a ticket when it got fucking de-railed.”
He rubbed his big hand drunkenly over his face.
“He’s making all the same stupid-ass mistakes I did, and it’s fucking killing me.”
“W-well, maybe you need to go and talk to him.”
Hannibal snorted raucously.
“Oh, yeah. You saw how that went. Shit, it wasn’t too long ago I was exactly where he is right now, mentally at least.”
He sighed.
“I know Jules won’t listen to a damn word I say. All he wants to hear is that guy Red, telling him how he’s gonna be a champ, and shoving hundred dollar bills into his hands.”
And then Hannibal reached over and squeezed Kristen’s small hand with his thick fingers.
“And that’s what scares me, Krissie. ‘Cos I might have got myself involved in a lot of screwed up stuff over in Vegas, but never anything like that fighting league. It’s some kind of scam, or con… And I’m worried when it all blows up, Jules is gonna get into some real trouble.”
Kristen reached over and rubbed her stepbrother’s arm.
“Well, maybe that’s why fate brought you home. Maybe this is your chance to make things right – by helping him.”
Hannibal snorted.
“How can I help Jules, Krissie? I can’t even help myself.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kristen
By kicking-out time, Hannibal was staggering.
Anxious to avoid a scene in front of her friends and co-workers, Kristen led her towering stepbrother out into the parking lot, and towards the gleaming gunmetal Bentley.
It was like dragging a staggering gorilla across the parking lot.
“Shit, Hannibal,” Kristen looked up at her handsome stepbrother. “Are you okay to drive?”
Hannibal hiccupped, and fumbled with his keys.
“D-damn,” he burped. “Those margaritas are stronger than they look.”
The truth be told, Kristen had always suspected Dan watered them down – but they’d seemed to have done the trick on Hannibal.
Perhaps it was because he rarely drank, or maybe it was because the fitter and more athletic you are, the faster alcohol hits you. In either case, the result was the same – Hannibal was too plastered to drive.
“Give the keys to me,” Krissie was still sober.
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