As he waited for my answer, he retrieved a glass from his hidden bar and poured himself a drink of amber liquid. I stood and fastened my suit jacket, making my way to the door.
“Are we clear, son, on the matters discussed?” Wade asked.
“We are, sir. Crystal clear. And don’t ever call me ‘son’ again. That honor is for my father, and my father only. Are we clear?”
My hands were in my pockets with my fists balled up in fury.
“Crystal,” he replied with a satisfied look in his eyes.
Wade won this round with me easily showing him my hand. I couldn’t make that mistake again with Wade or Marino, not with the threat looming over my family.
As for my father…so much for surprising my family with a long overdue visit. I needed him more than ever. I only hoped he could help me. Hurting Nicolette and Simon was the last thing I wanted to do, and going after her uncle would do just that.
Getting in to see my father was no easy task without alerting his staff of my presence. I could have just called him, but I wasn’t ready for anyone else knowing I was in town, especially my mother or Simon.
The only thing my father has changed through the years I’ve been away is the location of his office, which is now in downtown Los Angeles. Without traffic, I could be there in about twenty-five minutes. I hadn’t had time to rent a car yet, so I had a taxi drive me over.
Gee, dad! It doesn’t get any more grandiose than the Aon Center
, I said to myself as I took in the huge skyscraper before me.
Since two of my brothers shared my face, keeping my anonymity was difficult at times. The only distinguishing factor that separated us was our hair. Andrew had a beard, and Cameron wore his hair very short. He had taken a fall a few years ago and needed stitches. Once his wound was healed, he never grew his hair out, preferring the shorter look. I miss those guys so much, but I’ve also kept them at a safe distance. And although I’m not playing football anymore, I’ve managed to remain in athletic ready shape and still look exactly like them.
My NFL career ended going into my second season playing for the Denver Broncos, my team from my home state. I was in my glory. How many players can say they get to be part of their dream team, play in their first Super Bowl, and actually win leaving with a ring? Not too many, but I can.
This was my moment, a dream of mine and my twin brothers, who were also playing in the NFL. Our father couldn’t have been more proud of us. This was the dream we chased since beginning college at Northwestern University. We had a lot of things going for ourselves. One: we were triplets, and you don’t see that too often. Two: we were huge and could take out many opponents with a strong block or hit. Three: we loved the game.
Having been scouted in our senior year of high school back in Boulder, Colorado, my father knew we would make it. We all showed promise and the drive to someday make it all the way to the NFL.
For me, my dream ended with a career ending injury that would cost me more than football, but my eyesight. I had taken some tough hits throughout my college playing days and the first year in my professional career, but true to form, I was stronger in mind and could take the body hits.
Then came the game changer…the one hit that changed my life.
The force behind the attack was fierce, coming out of nowhere, and he was unforgiving. I had just made the game winning touchdown, and before I could even celebrate my victory, I was hit, and hit hard. My body skipped across the end zone as easily as a stone skipping across a pond. My head snapped back and hit the ground at full speed, and then there was just darkness.
Whispering voices were all around me. I heard the beeping sound of machines and the door opening and closing. Someone was holding my hand, and then I felt her tears. I knew it had to be my mother; no time for a girlfriend back then since my life was all about football.
Marina Paulson begged me to open my eyes, and when I finally managed to do so, I was surrounded by darkness. I had never been so scared in all of my life. I gripped my mother’s hand to the point of pain. She shrieked, and I instinctively let go. My father was by my side and telling me to calm down, saying that I would be alright. But how could I be alright if I couldn’t see?
A neurologist had been flown in from Johns Hopkins. He was said to be the best in his field. Dr. Samuel Briggs was flashing a light into my eyes, and I began to slowly see it as he examined me. He told me that what I was experiencing was just temporary on account of the blunt force trauma I took to my head. Concussions were part of the package of playing, and most of the time I dealt with it and nothing ever happened…until now.
Over the span of twelve long hours, my vision slowly returned. I had to stay for a few days for observation while more scans were being performed on me. The day Dr. Briggs entered the room with my films was when I knew my NFL career was over. His expression said it all, and if it wasn’t him, I saw it on my father and my two brothers, Andrew and Cameron, who left their teams to be with me after my accident. My coach and agent were also there and wearing the same sullen look. Whatever happened to wearing a poker face? Their expressions were all the same, and for a brief second, I wished I was still in the dark.
“Come on now, what is this
,
a funeral?” I said to lighten the mood, but my joke fell on deaf ears.
“It’s good that you are in lighter spirits, Jacob. It will help with what I have to tell you.” Dr. Briggs said. “I’m so sorry, Jacob, but the scans show what I expected. You suffered another hematoma surrounding the occipital nerve. The swelling has gone down, and you have no bleeds, which is a positive sign, but you do have scar tissue from previous injuries, which is not so good.”
“But I’m okay now, right? I see just fine, and my head is fine. When can I be released? I’m playing in New York this weekend,” I asked with hope in my voice. It was all I had to hang onto.
Their faces had fallen again, especially my father’s. Dr. Briggs placed the scan on the light to show me what he was trying to explain.
“You see this right here, Jacob? This is where your now healed hematoma presented, and here and here are patches of healed scar tissue. Your brain simply cannot take another hit like the one you just went through. I’m sorry, son, but your days of playing professional football
—
or any other physical sport
—
are over. Another harsh trauma like this and you will surely go blind.”
The room was silent after that. Dr. Briggs again gave me his apologies, shook my father’s and coach’s hands and made his way out of the room. My brothers were looking at me with dumb as fuck expressions. I wanted to scream at them, but they took the hint and left with my sobbing mother.
My father stayed, and it was back to business. He was not only my father, but my lawyer as well. I still had two years on my multi-million dollar contract. I would be paid out on that contract, millions of dollars to be banked.
I had just received the worst news of my life, and there was my agent in the room still working deals for me. I would still have my endorsements, and although I wasn’t playing, I could still be part of the game. I could coach, broadcast, the choice was mine.
But I respectively declined it all and declared that I was done. The hit I took ended my football career, but I still had options, and with a Super Bowl ring on my finger, I already got the brass ring
—
no pun intended.
I felt it was time to move on. I went through the stages of grief when it came to my football career, but I fortunately still had my sight and plenty of money and I wasn’t even twenty-five yet. I had my charity work through the United Way, and I also ran a football camp for kids who couldn’t afford to go on their own. I’ll never forget the high I felt when I was playing the game, but I also knew I was given a miracle from God himself. I still had my sight, and I wasn’t going to take anything for granted.
One thing that was tougher than walking away from a successful football career was finding and having someone so perfect for so short a time, only to have her taken away just as quick. I grieved for so long for Minela. Hell, I’m still grieving! I lived in my own private hell, and I never wanted my hurt to touch my family, so I stayed away and concentrated on my work.
That same work has brought me here today. That same work has the potential of hurting the people I loved and vowed to protect. It was all too calculated, though. Wade and Marino’s plan felt off from the very beginning. This was why I needed my father. He had contacts all over the world, and I knew there was more to this Marino guy than meets the eye.
I walked in through the vast lobby where a team of security personnel awaited me. I presented my official FBI wallet and was granted a visitor’s badge. One of the guards recognized me immediately from my playing days. I wasn’t that guy anymore and almost resented anything to do with my old life, but I indulged the guard for about a minute.
“No, I don’t wear my Super Bowl ring. Who knows—maybe if New England or New York win next year’s big game, then perhaps you can view one on the hand of either one my brothers.”
“I hope so, man. I have followed the famous Paulson trio for years now. This game misses you,” the guard said as he smiled through his pleasantries.
“Again, thank you, but I do need to get upstairs. If you please, can you keep my arrival here private? I really can’t afford to be stopped again.”
“Of course, sir. Sorry to have taken so much of your time. Like I said, I’m a fan.”
I shook his hand and said, “You didn’t. I just need to visit with my father.”
He escorted me to the bay of elevators, and I took it directly up to my father’s fortieth floor office. I was greeted by a floor manager, who led me to my father’s office. His assistant, Claudia, was waiting for me.
“Do my eyes deceive me, or is the great Jacob Paulson actually standing before me?”
She winked, and then I took his longtime right hand gal into my arms.
“Oh, you bear of a man! The famous Paulson welcome. Put me down! I usually have to fight off your brothers with a stick, but now you too?”
“You look wonderful, Claudia. How have you been?”
“I’m good, love. Really good. How are you? It’s been a long time. I guess the last time I saw you was at…oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, Jacob.”
“My fiancée’s funeral? Was that what you were going to say? It’s okay, my friend, don’t be sorry. That was a long time ago, and it only proves how long I’ve been away.”
“Your father misses you. He’s going to freak when he sees you. I’m sorry, Jacob, but he’s out right now at a meeting but should return within the next half hour,” Claudia said as she looked down to her watch.
“That’s fine. Would it be alright if I waited for him in his office? And please don’t tell anyone including my father that I’m here. I prefer to surprise him.”
“Okay, just please don’t give him a heart attack. He’s a great boss, and we love him.”
“I love him too, and I promise I’ll go easy on the old man.”
“Don’t let your mother hear you say that, son.”
“My lips are sealed.”
I gave her one more hug and made my way into dad’s office. For an office being located in one of the most prestigious buildings in California, it had a sense of home to it. It was modestly decorated with years of awards, family pictures, and I even noticed a painting by my late Aunt Grace. Pangs of guilt pounded in my heart, as I continued to take in my dad’s lifetime of memories and achievements. He was a man of honor, a respected and natural born leader with unmeasurable amount of integrity. He had many humanitarian awards in his name, as he dedicated his life to public service. I’m sure I was making him sound like an anointed saint, but that was how he raised us.
When it came to his sons, he wanted us to obtain a different type of glory…football. To have his triplet sons all make it to the NFL was any father’s dream come true. I thought my father would be disappointed in my choice not to remain in the game after my injury, but he never was. He supported my decision and all that followed. I was a grown man, and I was the only one responsible for my happiness.
Living this life as a rogue FBI agent was not in my plan, but it was what kept me going for all of these years. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. Sure, it was different from how I felt when I was playing football, but the rush nonetheless was the same. When a target was in sight, I set my aim and fired. There was nothing more satisfying than when I opened and closed a case successfully.
I only wished that were true for Minela. We never found her killer or the reason behind it. There’s a proverbial saying: “Vengeance is more satisfying when exacted in cold blood.” There was a time when I wanted just that, but it nearly destroyed me.
And now, after all of this time, this guy Marino attacks all of my vulnerabilities with the mere mention of her name. Wade said that I passed his test, but I failed Marino’s miserably. I don’t show that side to anyone, especially colleagues and superiors. What the hell was I thinking going after Marino the way I did? It was reckless and very careless on my part.
I didn’t lose myself in booze, drugs, or any other recreational vice to ease my pain. I just went numb and remained this empty vessel for too many years to count…until I met Zoey. She awakened my senses, all of them. A part of me wanted to find her, tie her to my bed, and show her how much she excited me. To love on her. To own her sexy body, and to make her scream my name and tell me that she was mine, and mine alone.
Why this girl?
Why now?
Professionally speaking, I was on top. As for my personal life…I thought I was doing a great job living under the radar, not giving too much away. Tenley unsuccessfully tried to get me to open up about my life when we were in New York, but I evaded her questions. I had that down to a science by now. And now I was in this fucking city with these corrupt agents that wanted me to be a pawn in their chess game to take down Jack.