Taming Beckett
Book One in The PlaymakersSeries
by G.K. Brady
This book is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’simagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales,or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2019 by G.K. Brady. All rights reserved,including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by anymeans.
Edited by Jenny Quinlan, Historical Editorial
Cover design by Jenny Quinlan, Historical Editorial
ISBN 978-1-7332763-0-6
ISBN: 978-1-7332763-1-3
ISBN: 978-1-7332763-2-0
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
1. Critical Mistakes
2. What I Want
3. Free Fallin’
4. Welcome To Your Life
5. Can’t Find My Way Home
6. Cool Change
7. Do You Know Me
8. Something I Need
9. Don’t Let Me Be LonelyTonight
10. Where Did Our Love Go
11. I Can Help
12. In The Air Tonight
13. Hey Nineteen
14. Rolling In The Deep
15. My Best Friend
16. Something Just Like This
17. Danger Zone
18. Dance with Me
19. Thin Ice
20. Tempted
21. Tighter, Tighter
22. (I Just) Died In yourArms
23. Up All Night
24. Snow (Hey Oh)
25. Sooner or Later
26. Ahead of Myself
27. Super Massive Black Hole
28. It Was Always You
29. I Miss You
30. Hard Habit To Break
31. Hanging By A Moment
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Coming Soon
About the Author
For Tim, Kyle, Matt, and Ryan,the best fan base a girl ever had
CHAPTER 1
Critical Mistakes
January
Beckett woke with a head ringing like a metal goal postthat’d just been struck by a screaming slap shot. His tongue was glued to theroof of his mouth. Where the hell was he? He lifted his head and scanned themurky shadows around him. His eyes caught on a dim, fuzzy light. Had hesuffered a concussion? Had that damn Coyotes defenseman gotten him with alights-out upper cut? No, this place was warm, and it smelled way better thanthe locker room.
He layon his back in a bed. No covers. No pillow. No clothes.
Vaguelyaware of another body, he fixed his eyes on that one spot of yellow suspendedin gray gauze. When his vision sharpened, the hazy light revealed itself to bea table lamp with a yellow shade covered in pink polka dots. Miniature pinkpom-poms fringed the bottom of the lampshade, and a small stuffed bear clungprecariously to its top. A koala? His eyesight wasn’t that clear yet.
Gingerly,he rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows, running stiff fingers overhis stubbled jaw. He glanced to his side. Long, dark hair. A large butterflyfloated across her bare shoulder. A different tattoo—was it a ladybug?—poppedinto his dusky brain, along with a different part of her anatomy.
Musthave been one hell of a night. His queasy stomach agreed.
Heslithered to the bottom of the mattress and sat up, his feet landing on a coldfloor. He shook his head, trying to scatter the cobwebs, and regretted itinstantly. Where the hell were his clothes?
Standing,he staggered to a white dresser covered by a slab of glass that held a Visacard, a hundred-dollar bill, and a few broken lines of white powder. Hiscredit card. His hundred-dollar bill. His coke. Well, he’dpaid for it. He picked up the credit card and scraped the cocaine into one thinline, rolled the bill, and snorted it clean off the glass. Pinching eachnostril in turn, he sniffed hard. A zing popped his eyes open. Now I’mawake. The few grains that hadn’t gone up his nose, he picked up on hisfinger and licked off. Not a speck left.
His dimgaze was pulled to a heap; he crouched on the floor and rummaged through it. Myshirt. My jeans. Not my bra. He held up the bra and inspected it, searchinghis mind’s eye for the woman it belonged to. Dropping it back on the floor, hepicked out the rest of his belongings from the tangle and padded to a door thatopened into a closet. The next door led to a hallway. Let’s see what’sbehind Door Number Three. That door led to what he was after—the bathroom.He folded his large frame into the tiny space, rearranging himself to close thedoor. He flipped on the light and was momentarily blinded by harsh fluorescencebouncing off cold white tile. The pounding in his head ratcheted up.
Heshaded his eyes and sang under his breath. “Blinded by the light, wrecked uplike a douche in the something, something night.”
Heglimpsed himself in the mirror and flinched. Fuck, he looked like shit! Likethe light, the reflection was harsh, though in an entirely different way. Hetugged the pouches under his eyes. Blue swimming in red stared back at him. Alot of red. He blinked a few times and brushed white powder from one nostril.Surfer-blond hair, courtesy of what-was-her-name in Chicago who bleached it afew nights back, stuck out in tufts like a rooster’s tail. Shit if he still wasn’tused to it, but it had made her oh-so-happy, and she had made him oh-so-happy.He yanked his fingers through it, but it sprang back up with mattress-coiltenacity. He stuffed his face in a miniature sink, running cold water over hishead, into his mouth. He brought his head up. No towels. Who the fuck has notowels in their bathroom? Even he had towels in his bathrooms—allseven of them. But not that girl out there—what the hell was her name anyway? Tracy?Stacy? Candy? Carrie? He smoothed his hair. Where had those creases on hisface come from?
Contortinghimself, he pulled on boxers, jeans, T-shirt, and button-down. Something stuckout of his collar, and he pulled out a black lace thong, promptly dropping itto the floor.
Hehuffed as he looked himself over in the mirror. Nothing had improved. He fishedfour ibuprofen from his front pocket and threw them back with a cupped handfulof water. One helluva night.
Back inthe girly bedroom, he stashed the credit card and the hundred and glanced overhis shoulder at the brunette. What the hell’s her name? Man, she wasout.
With aself-satisfied smirk, he left the room in search of the rest of his stuff. Hewas so bad with names. And how had he hooked up with her? He was bad with thosedetails too.
Hishunt took him to a futon, where he found his discarded shoes and socks.Memories came streaking back in flashes, like the crazy strobes from that dancefloor where he’d shaken his tail trying to get some tail. No, wait. That wasChicago. Or was it Detroit? What city was he
