Pretty Little Puppet: Enemies to Lovers Dark College Sports Romance (Elite Royal University Book 1) Read online

  L.J. Woods

  A DARK COLLEGE SPORTS ROMANCE

  Copyright © 2021 by L.J. Woods

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by: Cosmic Letterz

  Contents

  Stalk Me

  1. Rayne

  2. Rayne

  3. Christian

  4. Christian

  5. Christian

  6. Rayne

  7. Christian

  8. Rayne

  9. Rayne

  10. Christian

  11. Christian

  12. Rayne

  Ten Years Ago

  13. Rayne

  14. Rayne

  15. Christian

  16. Rayne

  17. Christian

  18. Rayne

  19. Christian

  20. Rayne

  21. Christian

  22. Rayne

  23. Rayne

  24. Christian

  25. Christian

  26. Rayne

  27. Rayne

  28. Rayne

  29. Christian

  30. Rayne

  31. Rayne

  32. Christian

  33. Rayne

  34. Rayne

  Bonus Scene

  What’s Next?

  More Deliciously Dark Tales from Eden Gardens

  Also by L.J. Woods

  Pretty Little Playlist

  Sneak Peek

  About The Author

  Stalk Me

  Reader’s Group

  Facebook

  Instagram

  “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any.”

  — Alice Walker

  One

  Rayne

  I’m not dying tonight.

  A glance over my shoulder confirms what I expect.

  Someone's following me.

  A tall figure. Hoodie over his head. It’s hard to see his face under the dark, moonlit sky, but I already know who sent him.

  His dusty shoes speed up with mine, thudding along the weathered wood. “Hey, sweetheart!” he calls, his voice low. Demanding. Like he’s entitled to my response.

  “You are power. Not prey.”

  Those words reassure me. Mom’s. But visiting Blaze this late by the docks was a bad idea. Always is.

  My grip tightens around the cold handle in the pocket of my leather trench coat. It’s my only protection. I know he’s packing. Most guys around here are.

  “Hold on!”

  My leather thigh-high boots thud down the long pier. No heels mean I’m always prepared to run. The laces on these babies are as tight as my stomach when I skip from one plank of floating wood to another, the lake rocking below me.

  “What’s the matter?” he calls. “I just wanna talk!”

  Unlikely.

  “You are power,” I mutter to myself, heart thudding in my chest. “Not prey.” My boots round the corner of a boarded-up shack, my finger tapping my phone’s screen before I pull it to my ear. “Come on, August,” I whisper, the line of streetlights at the end of the pier in view.

  “Hey! Slow down!”

  My bangs tickle my eyebrows, chilly air brushing my knees under fishnet stockings. It tells me summer’s coming to an end. So will my life if I don’t get out of dodge.

  “This is Crow. Fuck bitches. Get money. Drop a line.”

  It's no surprise August doesn’t pick up. It’s almost midnight on a Friday so he’s likely next to a pair of tits and a case of beer.

  “Stop!"

  A battered Mustang sits in the parking lot ahead. Smoke billows out of the window, thumping bass and laughter coming with it.

  “I said wait a minute!”

  My phone buzzes in my hand. Dad. He’ll do. But before I can answer, I’m propelled forward. I can't stop myself before the wooden boardwalk meets my face.

  A burn erupts on my cheek, my body flat on the pier before I’m flipped over like a ragdoll. My inability to eat a full meal will be my goddamn demise. I’ll need to pack on more pounds if I’m gonna hold my own.

  “Playing hard to get are ya?”

  My eyes narrow, the shadowy figure becoming a clear picture. “Jack.” His name spits out my mouth as I wriggle underneath him. Ace named him that. Short for ‘Jack of All Trades.’ “Get the hell off me.”

  A hand comes to my mouth before he pushes my head into the wood. The weight of his body keeps me pinned. Lifting my knees, I go for his nuts. It doesn’t land. A smirk appears on his long, rugged face before he pushes a finger down my throat.

  When I gag, he chuckles, “Should’ve known Crow’s sister is a fighter.” He pushes his fingers further, bitterness on my tongue as I kick and squirm. This guy’s carrying weight. Too much for me to push him off. He reaches in his pocket before replacing his fingers with the barrel of a Ruger. GP-100. Show off. “You got the gag reflex of a whore. Should’ve answered when I called you, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna have some fun with that mouth before I deliver my message.”

  My arms stay pinned to the side with his large, long legs but that’s enough for me to reach for the handle in my pocket. My grip tightens as I stare into his eyes, soulless and dark. And when he reaches down to unzip his pants like the sick fuck he is, I push my brother’s knife into his thigh, and twist.

  “Cunt!” The gun falls to the side of my face when I stab him again. With one hand free, I throw the Ruger to the side before a splash tells me it’s landed in the lake.

  Now it’s my turn to smirk before I push on his face. His fist comes from my left before I swing the knife.

  The blade slices into his cheek.

  “Fucking bitch!” His hand comes to his face, a large gash opening up. “You’re gonna regret that.”

  With Jack in shock, I finally get the fucker off me, pushing him to the side. Keeping my knife on him, I push to my feet. “No, I think you’re gonna regret that.”

  He moves towards the edge of the boardwalk, backing up with his jaw clenched. It fuels me, my smirk growing to a grin, heartbeat booming. I wouldn't wish this kind of life on anyone, but the adrenaline makes me feel alive. And when you feel like you're dead for most of your life, this feels fucking amazing.

  Power feels amazing.

  “You know better than to fuck with The Spades, sweetheart,” Jack says. Glancing over his shoulder, he notices the edge of the pier behind him. “Just give us what you owe, and we won’t make your life hell.”

  They already have. It already is. But this will make it better.

  Tapping at my chest, there’s a hard lump on the right. It confirms I still have the large wad of cash held in place by my bra strap.

  Blood streams down Jack's pale jaw when I meet him at the edge of the pier. Tilting my head to the side, I eye him up. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to cut off a dick.” The rose gold of the blade catches the moonlight when I gesture to his crotch. “Looks like I have a volunteer.”

  “This was a warning, Rayne,” he says. And with that, he crawls off the wood with a splash.

  He doesn't surface and when I peer into the lake, he's gone.

  Motherfucking coward.

  “Hey!”

  My head snaps toward the sound, my long black hair whipping in
the windy night. It’s one of the guys from the parking lot. The one with the shaggy hair, his head hanging out the window. “You alright?”

  Wiping Jack’s blood on my hoodie, I move towards the car.

  “Woah,” he says. My boots slow as the music lowers, helping to hear the shake in his voice, his eyes on the knife. “We don’t want any trouble, Ray.”

  “You won’t get any if you give me a ride.” The guys in the backseat sit up when they hear me. If they’re as stoned as they look, this should be easy.

  The driver pushes his buddy out of the passenger seat. “Anything you say, Ray. Get in."

  “Get out.” Flicking the blade closed, I tilt my head to the side. “I’m driving.”

  “Who the fuck was that?”

  August fires his question the minute the Mustang peels off.

  My older brother stands at the door of our trailer in star-spangled boxers. His arms crossed, muscles and tats on display, he looks like an angry Captain America. Like him, I’m inked all over, but my eighteen tats have nothing on his seventy-four.

  I hit him with a question of my own. “Does it matter?”

  Before he can answer, a slender woman appears behind him, wrapping her long arms around his muscular torso. She looks familiar but with her lips on my brother's cheeks, I can’t quite make her out. That is until those big brown eyes lock with mine, her curly black hair a mess on her head.

  “Doctor Greene,” I greet, trying hard not to cringe.

  Her mocha complexion hides any blushing but the glance down at her shoeless pedicure says it all. She’s young, no older than forty but still way too old for August. Way too … my doctor.

  “Rayne,” she straightens up, owning her decision to sleep with my idiot brother. “See you in a few months?”

  “After sleeping with August you might need a doctor before I do,” I mutter.

  It's hard not to grimace when my brother slaps her ass in her red mini skirt. She waves, winking with fake lashes before she makes her way down the few wobbly steps.

  Moving to the door, I glance over my shoulder. “Not sure I want a pap smear while Doctor Greene dishes about your dick.” My brother doesn’t move, blocking my path, arms still crossed as he scowls at me. “The fuck August? Move.”

  “Crow,” he corrects, still not letting me through. He can be the big scary Crow to his squad but he doesn’t scare me. Not when I remember how he looks when he’s crying from a bee sting. “Who was that, Ray? I don’t know those guys.”

  He's so fucking paranoid.

  “One, unless you grow wings and flap the fuck to Narnia, I’m not calling you Crow.” My light brown eyes meet his deep, dark greys before I gesture to the blood on my clothes. “Two, I needed a ride after Jack caught me on the pier.”

  His brows lower at the mention of the enemy, our ZIP code tatted above the left. “The fuck were you doin’ at the docks?”

  “You said Dad got another eviction notice.” Pulling the wad of cash from my bra, I wave the stack in his face. “And I’m not staying in another cracked-out motel.”

  “Told you I’d take care of it,” he sighs, reaching for the cash. “Where’d you get it?”

  “All in a night’s work.” I pull it back, avoiding the question. “I called you for help but you’re too busy fucking our family doctor.” His eyes widen before he shakes his head a little from side to side. As if he’s denying it. Unbelievable. “Doctor Greene just walked out of our home with her bra in her hand. Unless she was teaching you how to check for a lump—”

  “Shut up, Ray,” he growls, teeth clenched.

  “August.” My dad’s voice stiffens us both and when I turn around, he’s standing behind me with those stern brown eyes narrowed at my brother. “Are you insane?”

  Yes.

  “I was giving her a tattoo.” My brother shrugs, finally stepping aside with his lame excuse.

  Dad follows us into our small, distressed home, his hand on my back. “Mixing business and pleasure is a bad idea.” That’s a fact I already know. “If you’re seeing our doctor. Stop. I swear you'll disgrace this entire family, August.”

  Ouch.

  I don’t mention the booze already on Dad’s breath as he double locks the door. A deadbolt and a bar for good measure but we know all it takes is a good kick for that thing to come off. “You cannot set a good example for your little sister if you don’t make good decisions,” Dad says. “Do better. Am I making myself clear?”

  August setting a good example? That ship sailed well into the Arctic by now.

  Shrugging off my coat, I'm trying to hide the blood on my leg as I hold it in front of me on my way to the kitchen. The shitty lighting highlights the tatted sleeve on my left arm. La Catrina kissing the Grim Reaper. Reaching into the almost empty cupboard, I grab the lonely box of cereal. Kernel Flakes for dinner it is. Again.

  “I’m not the one you needa worry ‘bout, Pops.” My brother laughs, towering over the fridge while he grabs a beer. He winks my way, one that makes every girl in town drop their panties. One that makes every guy shake in their boots. For me, it’s annoying. “Why don’t you ask Rayne where she was?”

  Most people know my brother is a fucking dick and in case I forget, he always reminds me.

  Dad sighs as I grab a bowl, August handing him a beer as he walks over to the stained floral sofa in the living room. “You said you had work.” His tone is low and demanding. Firm. Strong. Just like he’s built and it’s easy to see where August gets it from. We call it his ‘military voice’ he calls it ‘Caribbean style child-rearing.’

  “I did.” Avoiding eye contact, I stuff my mouth with a handful of flakes. It’s not a lie, it’s just not where he thinks “work” is. Holding the jacket against my chest, I grab the almost empty can of evaporated milk in the fridge. A little water and you can stretch this stuff forever.

  “Don't bullshit, Ray," August calls, cracking his beer. He slams his old work boots on the metal coffee table. "You don’t make that kinda money at Sweaty Sue’s."

  BANG!

  My dad's fist slamming on the flimsy green counter makes me jump. “Are you insane? You're not working at Sue's. Get another job, Rayne.”

  Reaching into my jacket, I slap the wad of cash next to his can. “Kinda hard to go through another job change when we’re about to get evicted.”

  Dad sighs, looking over at August who clearly can’t keep his fucking mouth shut. It’s amazing he’s got this far in his occupation of choice and I don’t mean tattooing.

  August shrugs and Dad pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s not his fault we're a disappointment. This is the reality of living in Shady Shores.

  Turning around, I head to my room. It’s small but it’s mostly mine since August spends all his time at the garage. His base.

  “Sit down,” Dad says before I’ve cleared the room.

  My shoulders drop. The sound of my dad dragging one of those wobbly chairs from the kitchen table blends with the sirens wailing outside. A few gunshots sound off in the distance.

  My brother and I don’t move quick enough before Dad demands, “Now.” It’s not a yell, it’s not even a raised voice. It’s Emery Rose. Rigid. Cold.

  “This place is no good for you guys.” My dad places a manila envelope on the table as we settle into our seats. Dad sits at the head, dusty antique lamp above us. The spot to my left is empty and five years later, there's still a pang in my gut when I see it. “I am doing my best Rayne, but you’re right. I shouldn’t rely on your jobs to cover the bills. And August, the guys you run around with will have you in jail. You know it. I know it.”

  “They’re my employees,” August gestures to his tattoos like we're all stupid but Dad ignores it.

  He slides a paper out of the envelope. “Elite Royal University” at the head.

  “I got a coaching position in Eden Gardens at the new university." He thumbs the pages, his gaze on the table. "After the big fire, they think this school will bring in new residents to the area, a
nd it's a good opportunity. I’ve already thought it through and today proves it. It’s better than here.”

  I swallow hard on the glob of cereal in my throat, fists clenched on either side of my bowl.

  He’s not serious, is he?

  “No way,” my brother protests, and I’m with him. “We can’t leave here. I got work to do.”

  “August is right.” As much as I hate to admit it. “We can’t go back there.” Not after what they did. Not after all this. My stomach twists at the thought of it.

  “August, a fresh start will be good for you.” Dad looks at me, twisting his wedding ring on his finger, those brown eyes still filled with pain. “You too, Ray. That’s why I enrolled you, it comes with the position, along with the paycheck.”

  My teeth clench. “You what?” August bursts out in laughter and I’m quick to flip him the finger. “Why?” He knows the plan and this isn’t it.

  "Don't question me. I'm the parent. Not you. Writing isn’t a job, it’s a hobby." He slams his fist on the table to push his point. To push his agenda. "This school has some of the best professors in the country. I can't afford an education for you like this otherwise and with all you’ve done,” he pauses, gesturing to my tattoos. “No wonder you work at Sue’s.” Real nice. “Rayne, take this opportunity and grab it by the horns, you hear me? Do not let me down again.” He’s staring at me like I’m his only hope and looking between the two of them, that’s likely the case.