Page 1 of The Linebacker

Chapter

One

“Who wants to go for two?”

The Mountain Lions owner who had recruited Amil Halsted stood in the middle of the locker room at the team’s training facility and shouted this question.

No, they hadn’t just scored the tying touchdown and were throwing caution to the wind in an attempt to win with seconds left until the end of the game.

It was two weeks before the beginning of the season, and Amil had just been traded.

To the Mountain Lions, in case that part wasn’t clear.

No one said anything. The current roster all looked at each other like they had no idea what the owner was talking about. Amil guessed he didn’t often make locker room appearances. Plus, there’d been no preamble to give away his intent.

The trade itself had been hush-hush, the front office probably hoping for the shock factor once it went public.

“Two Super Bowls, back-to-back,” the guy clarified, not at all nonplussed that his joke had not landed well.

“Hell yeah,” somebody shouted.

“Fuck yeah,” someone else added.

“Let’s go!” The enthusiasm was growing, the guys slapping each other on their backs and glaring each other down like they were working themselves up for their next game.

“Well, here’s how we’re going to do it,” the owner shouted over the melee. He did a goofy little dance—kind of reminded Amil of a leprechaun—and then flourished, drawing everyone’s attention.

To Amil.

“Welcome your newest teammate!”

Amil grimaced.

Yeah, he was proud of his position and proud of his accomplishments, but a lone linebacker was not going to win them a second consecutive Super Bowl.

And saying it like that was not the best way to instill team comradery.

Shit, Jalen Packerton, their best receiver, already hated him. Not entirely unjustified, either.

After accepting the trade deal, Amil had studied the Mountain Lions. Game tape, yes, but more importantly, the interviews, the sports blogs, the write-ups in the local papers.

All of it led him to one conclusion: this team functioned like a family. And a family protected their own.

Which meant they probably weren’t exactly thrilled to have him in their locker room. With his own locker. His own jersey. His own number.

His own agenda.

The owner—Amil wasn’t even sure of his name—patted him on the shoulder and backed away toward the door. “Well, I’ll let you all get to it. Let’s win that Super Bowl again this year, boys!”

The locker room was silent after the guy left.

Coach pushed away from where he’d been lounging against the wall near the offices. Instead of attempting to counteract the damage undoubtedly done by that little intro speech, he said, “Be on the practice field in five. And expect to sweat. Like he said, we have another Super Bowl to win.”

He slipped into his office.

Somebody bumped into Amil’s shoulder from behind. Jalen stormed straight into the coach’s office without so much as glancing in Amil’s direction.

Two seasons ago, when the Mountain Lions had played—and beat—the 49ers in San Francisco, Amil hooked up with Jalen’s girlfriend. He didn’t know at the time that she was his girlfriend.