Home > Owners Club (Texas Tornados, #4)

Owners Club (Texas Tornados, #4)
Author: Britney Bell


Chapter 1



“Grant, you got one on!” the fishing guide, Martin, yells.

“Right!” I run over to my rod that’s in the pole holder on the back of my yacht.

He gives me little instruction since he knows I’ve been doing this all of my life. “Set it and bring it in.” With a grunt and a heave back, I set the hook into whatever I have on the other end of my line and reel in the long line. It must be huge because my rod is bent over almost in half, and the fight on the other end is making me break out in a sweat. I’m not an unfit guy. As the owner of the Texas Tornados, I have to keep up with my fitness for appearances, as well as it’s a great way to relieve the mass amounts of stress that cross my desk each day during the season.

Football is my life, but in the offseason, fishing is my love. People think I’m strange. Well, just my best friend, as he gives me shit all the time about moving to my yacht for the few months a year that I have off. He can just kiss my ass because I don’t care to be going to the popular parties and be in the limelight like he does. That to me is just a waste of time and trouble waiting to happen.

Yeah, he bitches like a girl, but he still loves to fish also. My best friend, Bryce, joined me this week for some Amberjack fishing. These fish are giants, and it takes a fishing guide, who specializes in catching these for his livelihood, to anchor us down in the right spot and hook us into the ones we want to fight to bring onto the boat.

I spend the summers cruising up and down the coasts and hire guides to help me fish the species that are hot in the area. The Florida Keys is my current home away from home.

This fish is currently kicking my ass and giving me one hell of a fight. My arms and legs are burning; I’m doing everything I can to get it in the boat. All I can do is let it run on the line and then pull it back until the fish tires out. “Come on, you bastard! I want some fish tacos for dinner.”

Bryce can sense that my strength is wavering. “You need some help there, bro? Need a real man to step in and handle that little fish for you?”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up.” My words are strained as I stress my arm muscles to reel in the line.

“Stay with it. I see it coming in,” the guide encourages. “He’s almost here. When you have him closer, swing the line over in my direction, and I’ll put a net under him to pull him in.”

“There he is! Come on!” Bryce is pointing out to the open blue sea. More grunts leave my lungs, and I reel harder and faster, the adrenaline coursing through my limbs. With every pull against the fish, I say a silent prayer that I don’t lose it. The line could break, or the hook could come off, then the fish would get away, and all this work would be for nothing. That’s all part of the game and one of the reasons I love it. It’s a gamble without consequence. If I lose this one, there’s a million more fish in the sea. That’s what Pops used to tell me about girls also, but after two long-term relationships failed miserably, I would rather stick to the actual fish in the sea. They sure don’t cause the drama the same way women do.

“Here we go. Martin, you got the net ready?” I see the sleek silver back of the fish and then his head. He’s only a few feet away. “Come on, don’t fail me now,” I coach the Amberjack to work with me to his death.

“Yeah, I’ve got you. Lead him this way.” Martin is set and ready.

“That’s a good size one.” Bryce is there, ready to help in any way he can. “Dinner is going to be good tonight.”

“Here you go, Martin.” The net slides under the fish, and he snags him up. “Yeah, baby!”

“That’s a beauty, bro. I’m jealous.”

“Don’t cry, loser. You will get yours tomorrow.” Martin is here with us for another day, and then when we take him in, we’ll dock up and reload supplies. Bryce and I plan on staying close to the shoreline in the Florida Keys for the rest of his time visiting.

The Amberjack is a nice size. It will feed us three and the rest of my crew that consists of my captain and his wife who is the cook and housekeeper. They are a sweet, retired couple that don’t mind living on the boat for a few months at a time.

The evening closes out with Bryce and I leaning back in the deck chairs with our feet propped up and cold beers in hand. “Sorry to hear about the season ending so soon,” he tries to comfort me from the shitty loss the Texas Tornados had.

“Just say how it truly was. One butt-fuck season. Nothing went right for us. I don’t have to tell you that. I know you kept up with us from that pretty little office your pansy-ass sits in every day.”

“Call it what you want. I don’t give a damn. You know the truth. That job gets me more money and more pussy than I could ever be able to handle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yet you are sitting here with me, on a boat, in the middle of the ocean, sipping a Bud Light.”

“Oh, man, I love you too. I can’t leave my buddy on this big yacht all by his lonesome self. I had to check in on your wellbeing.”

“Cheers to lifelong friends. I’m glad you’re here, bro.”



Chapter 2



“Betty, I’m headed out. I just got an emergency call to fly out to a boat.”

“That’s weird. Are you sure this is legit and not some crazy person that’s going to kidnap you and hold you for ransom?”

“Be serious, that’s ridiculous.” I pause from gathering my medical bag and purse to look up at her.

“Is it, though?” Her head quirks to the side with duck lips and a finger taps her chin like she is in deep thought.

“It was the publicist for the Texas Tornados that called. So, no, I don’t think I will be held for ransom.” Her posture straightens in her desk chair, and she bounces in her seat while clapping her hands. “Can I go? I’m sure you will meet someone famous.”

“See that.” I point to her and circle my wrist to show her that I’m pointing to all that energy she is portraying. “That is probably why the publicist would only talk to me, and even then, she still would not give me any names.” She was insistent on flying me out to a boat to take care of the patient. Apparently, it’s some high-profile clients who are super secretive and wanted to make sure that whatever had happened stayed out of the press.

I have no idea what I am walking into, but she said she was certain that it was manageable with a simple doctor’s visit. That’s good, at least the guy is not losing massive amounts of blood. With my specialties as an andrologist, I know that this patient has suffered an injury in his nether region. What area exactly? That is to be determined.

I kept telling the lady on the phone that it’s not a good idea for me to go in blind like this. I need the right equipment to handle the situation. She didn’t care in the slightest. It’s almost like calling me to help the poor guy out was a bother to her and wanted me off the phone as fast as she could, so she could move on to more important things. Good thing she’s not in the medical field and has to be caring and sympathetic towards people.

As soon as I pull up to the hanger I was given directions to, the pilot waves me over to the chopper then greets me and verifies that I am who he is supposed to give a lift. Within just a few short minutes we are up in the air and flying over the blue ocean. It’s terrifying! All I can see in any direction out of the small windows are waves of water rippling over and over again.

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