Free In the Red Zone by Crista McHugh

you, didn’t he? The asshole in the club?”
    She turned to him, ready to ask how he knew, but the murderous expression on his face silenced her.
    “I only wish I beat him harder than I did.” Frank’s hands gripped the steering wheel in white-knuckled rage. “Men like him don’t deserve any mercy.”
    “Frank—” Her voice caught, and she turned back to the window. “It’s in the past.”
    “Maybe, but it obviously still bothers you.”
    “It’s my problem, not yours.”
    “Bullshit.” He punched the accelerator of his Maserati, and it took off with enough force to push her back against her seat. His anger waned as the speedometer rose, and he added, “You know I would never do that to you, right?”
    Did she? The man who made a living out of tackling grown men to the ground? The man who’d broken her ex’s jaw with a series of well-placed punches?
    And yet, for all his history of violence, he’d been nothing but calm and considerate to her. If she ignored the scene at the club and what she’d seen on the TV every Sunday during football season, she’d almost believe he didn’t have a mean bone in his body.
    When she didn’t answer right away, a whispered curse flew from his lips, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. “Never mind.”
    “Like I said, it’s not you. It’s me.” She shivered in spite of the warm evening. “Some things are just harder to forget than others, and when you touched me there…”
    Now it was her turn to mutter a curse under her breath. She hated revealing her vulnerability to him. She wanted to present the self-assured, confident, indestructible side of herself to Frank, not the weak, flawed version she’d become when she’d dated Malcolm. “Please, let’s just change the subject, okay?”
    “Fine.” The terse manner in which he said the word, though, showed he was anything but fine with ending the conversation that way, along with the way his car wove in and out of traffic as though the Downtown Connector was a NASCAR speedway. “Let’s talk about the fundraiser. I saw there was going to be a silent auction of some sports memorabilia.”
    Finally, something she could talk to him about that didn’t make her horny or scared. “We have a few things of my dad’s.”
    “I’ll gladly donate a couple of things, too, but I was wondering if you’re willing to open it up to sports other than football.”
    “What do you mean?”
    The car slowed back down to the flow of traffic, and his grip loosened on the steering wheel. “Well, football’s not the only sport where kids can get hurt.”
    “We focus primarily on football, but we can supply gear to all youth sports programs.”
    “Exactly, so why don’t I ask around and see if I can get some other local athletes involved in the fundraiser. Dougie, for example.”
    Her heart stuttered for a few beats. “You mean you could get Doug Boutry to donate something to the auction?”
    “Of course I can.” He gave her a charming grin. “You’ll find I can be pretty convincing. And it wouldn’t be limited to just Doug. I can ask my teammates to provide a few things, maybe even get the team’s owners to provide a couple of seats in the suite for a game. Just tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it.”
    She wiped her damp palms on her jeans as she considered his offer. “You’d be willing to do that for me?”
    “Anything to stay on your good side.” He took the Midtown exit near her office. “I’m just surprised you didn’t think of it before.”
    A dozen excuses sat poised on the tip of her tongue, but it was the most honest one that came out. “I have a hard time asking people for help.”
    “And yet, you asked me,” he said softly.
    “Yeah, but I had some leverage over you.”
    “I would’ve done it even if you hadn’t bailed me out.”
    She chuckled, and the last of the cold dread fled her soul, leaving behind an odd sensation she couldn’t quite pinpoint. There was a sincerity to Frank’s