by Lois Richer
Her lips were full, enticing. Was she wearing lipstick—and why hadn’t it come off with her lunch? Realizing the path his thoughts were taking, Brendan fought to regain his focus. “Colleen never does as anyone asks. If she thinks there’s a story in it, she doesn’t give up.”
“Good for her.” Chloe stepped around him again, made an entry on a piece of paper and gave a hiss of frustration when she found him in the way again. Her hands clamped onto her narrow hips. “Look, I’ve got things to do and you are hampering my work. There’s really nothing more I can tell you about the mayor, so please let me do my job.”
It was evident she was telling the truth. There were no clues here. Reassured that security was back in place, all that was left was to check with the local cops about other access points and make sure no one else could use the stairs to get to the mayor.
“Thank you for your help. Here’s my card. If you think of anything, call. I’ll leave you in peace now.” Brendan walked to the elevator, paused, then turned back. “Maybe I’ll see you at soccer practice, Mrs. Tanner,” he said. “We don’t have many games left before the season ends.”
“Maybe you will,” she agreed, her attention on the monitor. When a buzzer sounded she hurried away to answer its summons.
On the ride down to the main entrance, Brendan’s thoughts were definitely not on his job, not until he rounded the corner of the parking lot and spotted the deputy mayor lurking in the shadows. At least it looked like Owen Frost. About to ask if he wanted a ride somewhere, Brendan froze when a black car eased toward Owen, who bent over to speak to the person inside. He took something from an outstretched hand then the black car rolled away.
Brendan pressed against a bunch of bushes, hoping they would shield him from the car’s headlights. When he looked around again he saw Owen now sitting in his own car, so he edged closer for a better look. The deputy mayor appeared to be counting bills—twenties.
Immediately the little nerve in Brendan’s neck began its rat-tatting, double time. Since when did the deputy mayor need to skulk in the dark, hide in the shadows? Something was going on and it involved money.
A bribe? A payoff? Or maybe a debt paid off?
Questions bubbled up. Was the deputy mayor involved in the shooting of Mayor Maxwell Vance? But why? The mayor’s job hardly paid enough to make attempted murder worthwhile.
Clearly something was out of place. Brendan intended to find out what.
“He was supposed to kill the mayor.” The man they called El Jefe or The Chief tilted forward, insinuation in every word. “Were those not my orders?”
“Y-yes, sir.” The peon gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing. The other man remained silent, eyes narrowed.
“Then I suggest you see to it, before I find someone more…effective.”
“We can do it, Chief.” He looked at his partner. “We’ll go right away.”
“No. Not tonight. Too many people around, asking questions. Wait a while. Choose the opportunity. Patience is a virtue, you know.” He curled his lips in a smile, but he felt no mirth. “Get it done. Or else.”
They disappeared like phantoms of the night. Almost exactly as planned. One mistake easily rectified then they would move on. He pulled out his cell phone.
“Hola, Miguel! Sí, it is I. Como esta?” He listened, nodded. “Sí, the shop is ready to open. But my merchandise is not all here. Ah. Bueno.” He hung up, then glanced around. The location was ideal, the stage set. If all went well, business would be up and running full steam in a matter of days.
“And no one can stop me,” he gloated. “No one.”
“Okay, guys. Here’s what we’re going to do.” Brendan felt ten feet tall as the youthful faces stared up at him, brimming with expectation. This ragtag bunch of soccer novices was doing well. If only they could win this game, build up their confidence. He whispered a prayer for help as he reminded the players about a new move he’d demonstrated at the last practice. He led a cheer before they tumbled onto the field.
She wasn’t here today. He’d checked the bleachers several times but hadn’t been able to spot a particular shade of red hair that would have identified Chloe Tanner. He should have known better than to look. Madison had already told him she’d come to practice with a friend.
“Come on, Springers!”
A parent’s yell of support drew his attention back to his team and the game. He grinned, hollered his own encouragement. Sure enough, his timid team was trying what he’d asked, coaxing the ball down the field in a mix of stabs and thrusts that had the other team baffled.
“Kick it,” he whispered as they approached the opposing net. “Kick it!”
As if she’d heard, one small foot came out, smashed into the ball and sent it flying straight toward the net. A howl of excitement burst out of the crowd and Brendan held his breath then let it whoosh out in disappointment. The goalie had easily stopped the shot and now kicked it toward his team’s strongest player.
“We’re dead now,” Buddy mourned sotto voce.
But the Springers weren’t quite ready to concede. One of the smallest players, Ashley, slipped the ball off the foot of the other player and shot toward the net with all her might, legs churning like windmills. At the last possible moment, with the goalie who was twice her size looming, she drop-passed the ball to teammate Emily Cornell, who promptly rocketed it into the net.
“Did you see that?”
Brendan felt a thwack against his back and fought to catch his breath. Coach Buddy Jeffers might think he was worn out, but it was evident from the thumping on Brendan’s left shoulder that Buddy’s strength had only been in hiatus and was now back full force.
The players rushed toward them, faces beaming with delight.
“You are an awesome team!” Brendan cheered, slapping each one on the back. “Now we’ve only got a few minutes left in the game and we need one more goal. Can you do it?”
Unanimous agreement. He cut short his pep talk and asked them to try the attack they’d worked out at the last practice.
“You faked them out pretty good on that last pass. So think about that and play your hardest. Go, Springers!”
They surged onto the field and took possession of the ball almost immediately. One minute twenty seconds left and they lost it. Brendan could have cried but he clenched his fists and willed them on. Madison Tanner yelled something at the girl across from her. A moment later the two of them took off down the field, Madison clearing the way. She accepted a pass, then before her opponent could attack, whisked the ball across to Emily. A second later it was in the net.
Brendan laughed out loud and quickly stepped out of Buddy’s way as the coach did his jiggy dance. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Less than a minute remained on the clock. The other team could easily tie the game. He called a time out.
“We need one more goal, don’t we?” Madison’s heart-shaped face shone with perspiration. “Otherwise they can tie it and they’ll get into the finals because they have more points than us. Right, Coach Jeffers?”
Buddy’s face sobered. “You’re right, Madison.”
“So we need another goal.” Brendan glanced at the weary group. “I’m thinking our number eight play might just work. Want to give it a try?”
The majority looked dubious, and why not? Number eight was hard to execute. But they had enough time for only one chance.
“They’re pretty big, Coach. We look like midgets next to them.”
“That’s why we need to try it, Emily. They make good targets.” The other kids chuckled at his joke. “Listen, you have really shown what a good team you are. If you want to try something else, we’ll do it. What do you think?”
Nobody said a word.
“All I know is, we worked hard to get here and I’m not giving up yet. Not when we could get into the finals.” Madison stood with her tiny feet planted on the grass, daring the other players. “Are you?”
“Not me.” Ashley grinned. So did the rest.
They repeated it over, one by one, until all were cheering. The whistle went and the team poured out onto the field, ready to give it their all. At the last moment the other coach pulled a smaller player and sent in his biggest offensive player. Madison was no match. Brendan whispered a prayer for her safety. Her heart was big, but her body was small, fragile.
The first twenty seconds the other team commanded the game, moving closer and closer to the Springers’ net.
“I shouldn’t have pushed them so hard,” he murmured to Buddy. “They’re too young and they’re against a much better team.”
“Think so?” Buddy pointed. “Look at that.”
Madison darted around her opponent and kicked the ball as hard as she could. No one was expecting it but her teammates immediately recognized the formation and moved into the pattern they’d practiced. Twenty seconds later the ball was in the net.
And Madison was on the ground. Unmoving.
Brendan raced out to the tiny form, his heart beating so fast he could hardly breathe. He squatted beside her, calling her name.
“Madison? Madison, are you all right?”
“Let me see.” Someone pushed against him, forcing him to move. Chloe Tanner knelt at her daughter’s side, felt her pulse then checked under her eyelids, that gorgeous sprawl of auburn hair cascading over one shoulder and onto the young girl. Able hands slipped over the small bones, checking for injuries. “Come on, baby. It’s Mom. You can’t lie here if you want to win the game, you know.” Not a tremor belied that steady, compelling voice.
“Is she—” Just in time Brendan caught the shake of Chloe’s head and cut off his words. The team had gathered around and were staring down at the white-faced girl who still hadn’t moved.
“Come on, honey. If you’re going to win, we have to finish the game.”
Madison’s eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times before a funny smile flickered across her lips. “Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, yourself. Are you all right? Any dizziness?”
“No. I’m okay. It hurts a little. Here.” She pointed to her shoulder.
“It should hurt.” Emily pointed at the offender from the opposite team. “She jabbed her with an elbow. Deliberately. I saw it. Then she laughed when Madison fell down.”
Brendan glanced up at the referee, raised one eyebrow.
“I didn’t see it. Can’t call what I didn’t see.”
“Come on, sweetie. Sit up and take deep breaths. You’re okay. You just got the wind knocked out of you.” After a moment Chloe gently eased her daughter to her feet, eyes alert for any sign of difficulty. “Is that better?”
“Yes.” Madison was standing now. “Is the game over?”
“Five seconds left,” Buddy told them.
“Then let’s finish it,” Madison said to the other players. She turned to take her place on the field but Brendan laid a hand on her arm to stop her.
“The others can finish wiping them up, Madison. You’ve done your part. You sit down and rest.”
“Yes, sir.” She high-fived the rest of the group then moved to the sidelines. Chloe turned toward the bleachers.
“Aren’t you going to stay with her?” Brendan asked.
She gave him a look that would have curdled milk.
“Have her mother sit beside her, in front of everyone, embarrassing her? Are you kidding, Mr. Montgomery?” And with a toss of that lustrous hair she was gone, jogging across the field, her trim figure perfectly displayed in shabby blue jeans and a pale blue boiled wool jacket.
“You sick, Bren?” Buddy nudged him with his elbow.
“No. Why?”
“You sure got a funny look on your face.”
Brendan returned to his place on the sidelines, sent out another player and waited for the whistle to blow. They’d won the game. He couldn’t suppress a grin as his team cheered and congratulated each other, then lined up to shake hands with the opposing team. But he kept his eye on Madison, especially when her attacker came toward her.
He needn’t have worried. Madison thrust out her hand as she looked the other girl straight in the eye. “I forgive you,” she said clearly.
Brendan could have cheered. Of all the lessons he’d hoped to impart to this team, this was by far the most important. Last in line, the coach of the opposing team grabbed his hand and congratulated him.
“Just want you to know that I’ll be doing some discipline,” he told them. “We play hard but we don’t play dirty.”
“Thanks.” Brendan watched them leave, saw his own team laughing and giggling as they and Buddy gathered up their equipment. Across the field Chloe waited beside a tall, lanky boy who stood about an inch taller than her.
“Come on, Madison, let’s go see your mom. I’ll bet you’re beginning to feel a little sore, aren’t you?”
“A little,” she admitted, wincing as she moved one shoulder, her blond ponytail slapping against her cheek as she wiggled into her jacket.
“You were a good sport in your behavior toward them. That took a lot of courage.”
“Thanks.” She grinned at him then hugged her mother. “We won!”
“You sure did, honey. Congratulations.” Chloe glanced up at Brendan, her face giving nothing away. “You’re a good coach.”
“You have a daughter who excels at soccer. Besides, I came into this late. Coach Jeffers is the one who deserves the credit.” He glanced at the lean boy who hadn’t yet offered his congratulations. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Brendan Montgomery.” He thrust out a hand.
“Kyle Tanner.”
“Ah, Madison’s brother, I presume.” He squinted. “Not a soccer fan?”
“I don’t mind watching Madison, but it’s not my game.” Kyle looked him up and down. “I suppose you were a jock when you were in school?”
Brendan caught the look of irritation that fluttered across Chloe’s face but he simply laughed at the boy’s sour comment.
“Hardly a jock. But I played soccer a lot. It kept me off the baseball and football teams.”
“You didn’t like those sports?” Kyle seemed puzzled.
“I didn’t like having to live up to my big brother’s image.” Brendan made a face as he ticked the praises off on one hand. “Best quarterback, best pitcher, best hockey forward, best everything.”
“You won a soccer trophy, though,” Madison put in, grinning at him. “Coach Jeffers told us about it.”
“Yeah, my one claim to fame.” Brendan glanced at the backpack Kyle carried. “What are your preferences?”
“I like reading and I have a pet snake named Ziggy.”
Snake? “Oh.” Brendan looked at the ground hoping the kid couldn’t see his shudder of revulsion.
“Sometimes he writes poems,” Madison blurted out. “They’re way cool.”
“I bet they are. I have a favorite book of poems at home that my dad gave me last Christmas. They say things better than I can.” Brendan found Chloe eyeing him with a stern glare, as if she thought he was lying. “Well, I guess I’d better get going. And you get a shower, young lady. A hot one. Might help ease the pain.” He watched as Kyle, looking bored, wandered ahead.
“Yeah. Hot sounds good.” Madison moved her shoulder and winced. Suddenly her face brightened. “Hey, Mom, can Coach Montgomery have dinner with us tonight?”
“I have to work tonight, Maddy. Anyway, it’s just a casserole. I’m sure Mr. Montgomery isn’t all that fond of turkey noodle melt.”
“Are you kidding? I love turkey any way I can get it.” Brendan licked his lips. “I’m not very good at cooking turkey though my mother tried her best to teach me the basics.”
“Oh.” Chloe blinked. “Okay. Well, we’d better get going before it burns.”
The beautiful Mrs. Tanner was an expert at hiding her emotions, which made Brendan wonder about Mr. Tanner. At the moment her face was impassive, which made him question whether Chloe was mad he’d invited himself, or resigned to hosting Madison’s last-minute guests. One thing
she wasn’t was overly thrilled. Well, why would she be?
“I’ll follow you there, shall I? Hey, Kyle!” He waited until the boy meandered back. “Want to ride with me?”
“Sure. Whatever.” Kyle shrugged.
Arrangements made, Brendan walked back across the field with the quiet young man at his side trying to think of something to say. Usually he was good with kids, but there was something angry hiding just under the surface with this one and he didn’t want to set him off, even though he wanted to help him.
“This is yours?” Kyle gaped as he took in the black SUV. “I’ve never ridden in one like it before.” He began listing the vehicle specs. “It must handle pretty well. What made you choose it?”
“My mom.” Brendan chuckled at the kid’s open-mouthed stare. “She knows everything there is to know about automobiles. I just took her advice.”
“She must give better advice than mine, then,” Kyle muttered as he climbed inside and fastened his seat belt. “All she ever says is ‘someday’.”
“I’m sure your mother does the very best she can for you, Kyle. I don’t imagine it’s easy for her to do her job, take care of you and fit all the other things she has to into her life. Sometimes we forget that moms are people, too.” He didn’t want to alienate the kid, but he wasn’t going to sit there and let him disrespect his beautiful mother.
“My mother doesn’t understand.” The words brimmed with pain.
“Did you talk to her about what you’re feeling?” Brendan glanced sideways, saw the reddish-brown head shake. “Well then, how could she possibly understand what’s going on inside your head?”
“She’s the one who left.”
Left what, or was it who—her husband? Brendan chewed on his thoughts before offering a comment. “Maybe she didn’t have any other choice.” He pulled up alongside a large contemporary colonial.
Chloe’s minivan in the driveway completed the mental picture he’d drawn whenever he’d thought of her. Nice neighborhood, nice house—definitely not new, but something about this home screamed comfortable. Maybe it was the handmade willow chairs on the front porch.