HELPLESS
By DANIEL PALMER
KENSINGTON BOOKS
Copyright © 2012
Daniel Palmer
All right reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7582-4665-3
Chapter One
Shilo, New Hampshire, sometime in March
Love can make you do surprising things. Lindsey Wells flashed on
that thought as she unbuttoned her black sweater. Her racing
heart knew she was crossing a line she'd never crossed before. The
hairs of her arms stood on end, as though they, too, were anxious
about this unfamiliar but exciting experience.
Keep going, Lindsey
urged herself. She smiled and released yet another button from its
hole. There wasn't any little voice inside her head screaming "No" or
"Don't." So Lindsey continued—undeterred, unashamed, and never
in her fifteen years feeling more turned on.
Lindsey, known for her cheerfulness, enviable GPA, and deft tackling
skills on the soccer field, tilted her head to the right, pinning her
cell phone between her shoulder blade and ear. Through the phone's
compact receiver, Lindsey listened to Tanner Farnsworth's hard breathing.
Her body tingled with these strange feelings. She knew what she
was doing was a little bit crazy. On occasion, her mind would flash a
warning that something wasn't right with this. Even so, she ignored
those nagging worries because that was part of the fun. It was what
made her feel so exhilarated.
"Tell me what you're doing now," Tanner whispered in her ear.
His voice. God, his voice alone was amazing. Deep timbred, not
quite yet a man's, but not too far off, either. His voice resonated with
confidence, and he made her feel desirable, beautiful even. The last
time Lindsey had felt this beautiful, she was a nine-year-old girl, competing
in local beauty pageants. Those events ended quickly as her
body changed and her mother lost interest in shuttling her daughter
from one losing effort to another. Soccer was what gave Lindsey confidence
in her physical abilities, but it was Tanner who made her feel
confident about her looks.
Lindsey unhinged the front clasp of her bra, brushing her fingers
against the heart pendant of a gold necklace (or gold-plated, as Jill
Hawkins joked) that Tanner had given her. That necklace made her
somebody's girlfriend for the very first time.
Not just somebody,
though, Lindsey thought—Tanner Farnsworth, whose Taylor Lautner
good looks, amazing body, and really sweet nature inspired jealous
fits from her friends and teammates.
Normally, footballers and soccer players didn't mix at Shilo High
School. Soccer players were accurately typecast as the studious ones.
Football jocks ate their meals in C house like rowdy animals, while
soccer players enjoyed a cerebral lunch in the F house cafeteria. Soccer
players didn't take drugs, and most didn't even drink. Sandy Wellford,
who'd had her stomach pumped clean of Jägermeister before
getting booted off the team, inspired most players to abstain. The
going rumor (which really wasn't a rumor, because Tanner told her it
was true) had half the football team shooting steroids or popping
some sort of speed. But not Tanner. Her boyfriend
(God, her
boyfriend!) didn't do any of that stuff.
Lindsey's body pulsed with energy. She felt ready to explode from
the most scandalous act of her young life. Talking on the phone. Getting
undressed. Sharing the details with him. It felt so wrong. It felt
sexy. She felt powerful.
"Okay, my sweater is off," Lindsey cooed.
"Oh, you're killing me, Lin. Just killin' me."
She loved it when he called her Lin. It was just so sweet, the way
he said it.
"Well, you asked for it."
"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually do it. I wanna see."
"What? Come over?" Lindsey cringed, fearing she sounded more
panicked than she'd intended. Of course she wanted to see Tanner.
She wanted to see him more than anything. But Lindsey was still a
virgin, and Tanner wasn't. It had been a source of tension between
the two early on, until Tanner assured her it was no big deal. He
agreed to a compromise. Kissing. Touching. All fine. Now, add dirty
talk to the mix. But
the deed? No, it wasn't time for that yet. Maybe
after the prom. Prom was only a few weeks away. If he could hold on
until prom, then just maybe ...
"Look, Lin, I think I should go."
No! she wanted to scream.
Don't hang up. Not yet. Her mind
raced with all sorts of imagined reasons for his ending the call with
such abruptness. "He's going to dump me" topped her growing list
of fears. She felt the pain of her heartbreak as though it had actually
happened, and bit her lower lip to keep from saying too much.
"Why do you have to go?" Lindsey asked. Her voice had the force
of a whisper.
"I don't know. I'm kind of bored, and you're just getting me frustrated."
Another wave of panic swept through her.
Oh no, he said the "B"
word. "I don't want you to hang up." Lindsey put her sweater back
on but left the front open.
"Well, I thought this would be fun, but it's sort of lame. I mean, I
can't see you. What's the point?"
Lindsey again pinned the cell phone between her shoulder and
ear as she tied her straight brown hair back into its usual ponytail.
The heat of the moment had vanished, and she regretted what she'd
already done.
"Why do you have to see?"
"Because you're too sexy, that's why."
"My mom might come home."
That was a lie. Lindsey's mother had gone down the street to Ali's
house, probably commiserating, again with too much wine, about
their recent divorces. Mother would be home sometime after midnight,
and snoring in her lonely drunken stupor a few minutes after
that. And her dad had moved too far away to drop by unexpectedly.
"Like I said, it's no biggie. But I gotta run."
"I don't want you to go."
You're going to break up with me. I
know you are. Lindsey thought that but didn't voice it.
"Well, show me something to keep me sticking round."
"What do you mean?"
"You got a new phone for your birthday. I got one, too. Take a picture
and send it to me. Like I said, I wanna see."
Lindsey's face reddened. She didn't debate him, though. Instead,
while sitting centered on the green peace sign embroidered into her
duvet, with her legs dangling over the side of her twin bed, Lindsey
arched her back and took a picture of herself. Her bra was unhinged,
though her sweater concealed her breasts. Still, she let the sweater
hang open seductively. The top of her head got cut off in the picture,
but at least she managed a smile.
He's going to think I'm ugly. He'll
dump me before prom for sure now. Even so, she text messaged him
the picture.
Seconds were all it took for Tanner to get her digital snapshot,
open it, and respond.
"You're amazing. I can't believe how hot you look, Lin. Forget
Megan Fox. You've got the bod. I want more. I think I'm falling in
love."
For Tanner to offer up a comparison to Megan Fox, the latest Hollywood
"it" girl, gave Lindsey a fresh jolt of confidence. Not to mention,
he said the "L" word (way better than the "B" word), and she
could tell he meant it.
"You liked it?" Her voice still lacked certainty.
"More."
Lindsey knew what "more" really meant.
There's no way he'll
break up with me now, she thought.
Not when he sees this. The
sweater came off. One carefully placed arm across her chest to conceal
her breasts.
Sent.
Received.
"Nice. How about more?"
"I don't think so, Tanner."
"No worries. Look, I'll call you tomorrow, if I can."
If! He said "if."
"Hold on," Lindsey said.
She kept her arm on the bed in the next picture.
Nothing left to
the imagination this time, she thought after sending it.
"Nice," Tanner said.
Lindsey frowned. He sounded less enthused.
My chest is too flat,
she lamented. She knew that her best features were her legs, long
and toned, and her butt. She slipped out of her jeans. Next, off came
her underwear. She wanted there to be no doubt. Lindsey stood in
front of her full-length mirror. She turned her body sideways so Tanner
would be able to see enough, but not everything.
Click.
Sent.
"Wow! Wow. I mean, whoa. You're so freakin' hot. Dammit, Lin.
That's what I'm talking about. I'm totally in love with you. Do you
know that? I'm the luckiest guy. Give me more!"
"Tanner, I'm not sure—"
"Prom's coming up," Tanner said.
She understood perfectly well his implied threat. It could be next
week, or even prom day, that Tanner would suddenly decide not to
go. But she wasn't going to let that happen. Lindsey went back over
to her bed, lay down on it, and closed her eyes. With one hand she
caressed her body; with the other she held the camera so that Tanner
would see everything going on. Everything. Her breathing grew shallower.
Her heart beat faster. She fantasized about kissing Tanner in
the back of the limo. Pressing her body against his. She touched herself
as she thought of him.
She sent him more pictures but deleted the ones she didn't like.
"This is for you, Tanner. Just you."
"No doubt. Can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
Lindsey slid under the duvet, hiding her nakedness from herself.
"This has been the most amazing night of my life."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Those pictures. Promise me you'll never show them to anybody.
I'd die if you did. Promise me, Tanner."
"I promise, Lin. I promise."
Chapter Two
Shilo, New Hampshire, late August
"I've got ball!"
Jill Hawkins closed in to apply pressure on her opponent. It didn't
matter that Jill played striker for the Shilo Wildcats girls' varsity soccer
team. Being the player closest to the ball goal side made Jill her
team's first defender. Jill's teammates, each of whom wore the same
colored orange mesh practice jersey, sprinted into position to get
compact behind the ball. The girls moved as a team and kept their
opponent from pressing the ball forward.
Jill covered her gap at precisely the right time, and Lindsey Wells
couldn't play the angled ball she had wanted. Lindsey faked left, but
Jill wasn't fooled. Jill made a perfectly timed tackle and was dribbling
the ball downfield before Lindsey even knew what had happened.
"That's how you attack the ball!" Jill's father, the girls' varsity soccer
coach for the past ten years, shouted as he followed his daughter's
progress down the sidelines. "Well played, Jill! Well played!"
Jill Hawkins lifted her head and flashed her father a bright smile.
Tom stopped running and choked back his emotions. An outsider
wouldn't have noticed anything unusual in the exchange between father
and daughter. But Tom knew not to read too much into Jill's
beaming face. Despite the warmth of her expression, he suspected
their frigid relationship was no closer to thawing.
Battles.
Tom Hawkins understood from personal experience that soccer
was a game of battles. He had been an all-American soccer player for
the Shilo Wildcats boys' varsity soccer team. He also understood that
soccer was a lot like life. Both were just a series of battles, each constrained
by a time limit—a whistle to end one, and death the other.
At forty-three, despite a full head of dark hair, blue eyes that still
reminded people of a husky, the same waist size from high school,
and a muscular physique visible even through his Windbreaker, Tom
Hawkins had essentially arrived at the halftime of his life. He had
spent the last ten years teaching the girls to battle until the final whistle
blew. He would do the same. It was why Tom had fought so hard
to win back his daughter.
Tom blew his coach's whistle to signal it was time to practice set
pieces. In soccer, corner kicks often decided who got the championship
trophy. Coaches picked the drills, but it was the captains who
ran them. Team captains Chloe Adamson and Megan McAndrews got
the girls into action.
"Hey, orange, ball does not get past us!" Hawkins demanded of
the girls with the pinnies on.
"Up, out, and far!" somebody yelled.
The girl's kick came at Tom low to the ground and did not travel
nearly far enough.
"Nice try, Becky!" Lindsey Wells exclaimed.
"No, Lindsey," Tom scolded her. "It's not a nice try! That stunk,
and you know it."
Tom's expression darkened. The girls nearest to him looked at the
ground and kicked at the dirt with the toes of their cleats. They
understood perfectly well why their coach had snapped at Lindsey
the way he did. They had been taught to pound their teammates on
the pitch. Outwork every player on the field. There were rules against
Bobby Talk (talking about boys). Phrases like "Nice try" and "I'm
sorry" were treated with the same disdain as curse words.
Tom had coached both boys and girls at the high school level, so
he knew the inherent difference in their style of play. His first priority
as coach for the Shilo girls' squad was not to accept those differences,
but to change them. He began his coaching tenure by asking
the girls as a group, "Why are you here?" Not a single player volunteered
an answer. Tom prodded until at last one shaky hand rose and
a girl meekly replied, "Because I have good foot skills." Just as Tom
had expected, the other girls soon chimed in and offered supporting
evidence of their teammate's brave claim.
"No, you have great foot skills!" one said, before then offering several
examples.
Boys got their confidence from bravado. Girls seemed to get it
from their teammates. Good, because it showed a respect for the
team. Bad, because they tended to be less selfish players. They'd
look to pass before they'd look to shoot.
"Play like you're six years old again," Tom often instructed. "Remember?
My ball! Mine!"
Transforming his players into instinctive, selfish, smart winners
depended on his ability to enhance their individual resourcefulness,
while teaching them how to work effectively as a team. He applied
many of the techniques he'd learned from his time with the Naval
Special Warfare Command. Tom often quoted one of his favorite
SOCOM mottos: "Alone I am lethal. As a team I dominate."
Tom might have gone on to become a collegiate all-American soccer
player if not for the career day event organized by the faculty of
Shilo High School. At that event, a young Tom Hawkins had stopped
by a metal folding table manned by a navy recruiter. A small television
set on that table played a looped video depicting the physical
demands and mental fortitude required to become a Navy SEAL. Two
minutes into the three-minute production, Tom was hooked.
The recruiter never gave Tom the hard sell. He'd caught the excitement
exploding like fireworks in Tom's eyes. Tom enlisted in the
navy the day after he had his diploma in hand. College could wait, he
explained to his somewhat surprised parents, but the youthful endurance
and strength required to become a Navy SEAL could not.
Tom wasn't the only Shilo youth to forgo college for military service.
Roland Boyd, Tom's childhood best friend and fellow soccer
teammate, followed Tom's lead and enlisted on the very same day.
While Tom had surprised his parents by deciding to serve his country,
Boyd had enlisted to spite his father's wishes. But motivation
didn't matter for shit once you signed on the dotted line. Tom was
dead set on the navy, and Roland, who was somewhat prone to seasickness,
decided to enlist in the army, same as their other military-bound
classmate, Kelly Kavanagh.
Kelly and Tom had dated for most of their senior year in high
school. Tom's decision to enlist might have influenced Kelly's choice
as well, but not because she wanted to keep their relationship going.
Unlike Roland, Kelly didn't come from money and claimed she
needed the promised college financial assistance when she got out.
Tom hadn't spoken with Kelly since graduation and assumed she'd
followed her "go to college" plans. He certainly hadn't expected to
see Kelly again when he arrived at a military base in Germany for
training exercises with his SEAL platoon. He had no idea she'd re-upped
for another six years with the army. It was a chance encounter
for the two former sweethearts that altered both their lives profoundly
and forever.
Their reunion in Germany might have been the first time Tom
had laid eyes on Kelly since graduation, but his attraction to her had
never waned. Less than a year after rekindling their romance, Kelly
got her requested discharge, gave birth to a daughter, married the
baby girl's father, and changed her last name to Hawkins.
The marriage lasted only six years.
The divorce turned uglier than any battle Tom ever fought with a
gun.
Unable to get what she had wanted from Tom, Kelly took every
opportunity to poison the father-daughter relationship and drive a
permanent wedge between them. Kelly believed Tom would eventually
cave in to her demands—even if it took years to accomplish her
goal. From the age of six on, much of what Jill learned about her father
were the lies her mother told.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from HELPLESS
by DANIEL PALMER
Copyright © 2012 by Daniel Palmer.
Excerpted by permission of KENSINGTON BOOKS. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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