“Are there any theories on what the hijackers wanted?”
“Not to hold the load for ransom, as far as we can tell. We had no idea our ship was off course; we’d received transmissions as expected, but the location of the ship was falsified; whoever took the ship knew our operations fairly well.”
“Inside job?”
“It’s looking like that, but I have no idea who or why. My best bet is to disrupt trade to Maine, which would cause us trouble in the kingdom, since the royal family is supposed to be safeguarding the kingdom from things like this. New York really bailed us out this time—and yes, we confirmed it was just freak luck that New York had empty tankers in the area at the time. They register their ships with an international trade federation, too. But, you’re supposed to be recovering, so try not to worry about it. Dad asked for help investigating the situation.”
“He did? From who?”
“France, Turkey, and Iraq,” she replied. “Does the jersey fit okay? We’re going to match, except my shorts are a little shorter than yours. It’s supposed to be nice and hot today, so while Dad thought you might prefer jeans, I’m not going to make you broil at the game.”
“I appreciate that.” I laughed, looked down at the jersey, and plucked at the soft material. “I’m not going to look like an idiot or a convict with these stripes?”
“No, you’ll look like most of the stadium. You’ll fit right in. My jersey is just like yours. Well, mostly.”
I imagined it had to be slightly different to account for her chest, which would turn the jersey I wore into something rather scandalous on her.
I needed to think about something else before I got myself in trouble. “I’m pretty sure my soaking wet kitten just left paw prints everywhere. Shouldn’t I catch her and dry her off better?”
“She’s going to groom herself, and that’ll keep her busy for a while. She’s not going to hurt anything. My suite can handle a wet cat. She’ll be ready to go with us to the game. She’ll have a great time with Mr. Asshole.”
“I hope I don’t lose my kitten to Mr. Asshole.”
Melody laughed. “She loves you most, don’t worry. Are you going to do anything with your hair?”
I grabbed the baseball cap and shoved it over my damp head. “Do I need to do more with it than that?”
“Nope.”
“Then I’m good.”
“There’s breakfast for you in the sitting room. I’ll get changed and ready to go while you eat. I’ve already had breakfast.”
I took that as my cue to hurry out of her space, and I took care to dodge her laundry and avoid staring too hard at the scraps of cloth that barely classified as clothing. One day, when I no longer valued my life, I’d have to ask my mother what it meant when a woman let me use her bathroom while leaving lingerie everywhere. Trap? General exhaustion leading to forgetfulness? A hint?
Breakfast seemed like a safer option than trying to understand Princess Melody, Her Highness of Maine.
Chapter Twelve
Sparrow bounced around my feet, wrapped her leash around my legs, and attacked my laces with soft growls that did a good job of reducing me to a doting kitten father. Fortunately, we were still in the parking garage of the stadium, which limited the number of witnesses to my inability to do anything productive about my situation.
Melody had given me a phone so I could take pictures, and I used it with glee, incapable of caring there was evidence I’d completed my transformation into a doting kitten father.
“Jack, do you need help?” Melody asked, sliding out of the SUV after me. Mr. Asshole, with far more grace and dignity than Sparrow, followed her.
“I’ve never been more okay in my life,” I confessed, taking another picture of my kitten. “Can I stay here and watch her play?”
“No, Jack. We’re here for baseball.”
“But Sparrow’s playing right now.”
She laughed, took the leash out of my hand, and began unwinding my kitten from around my legs. Once she freed Sparrow, she picked up my kitten and shoved her into my arms. “Carry your baby until we get inside. One of the RPS agents will hold the leashes while we get concessions, meet the players, swing some bats around, and play ball before they prepare the stadium for the game. It’ll be fun! Have you ever played baseball?”
I shook my head. “Can’t say that I have.”
“Have you ever played catch?”
“Not really.”
Melody stared at me with wide eyes and her mouth open. “Never?”
“I’ve been bowling a few times.”
“A word of advice, Jack. Don’t play catch with a bowling ball.”
“I can’t even bowl with a bowling ball, so I don’t think I’d be brave enough to try to actually throw one. I played tennis because I had to in school. They made me pick a sport with a ball, so I picked the one with the racket. The only one I liked was track because I usually won.”
Melody made a point of looking at my legs. “I bet those legs were made for running. Possibly swimming, too.”
“Waveweavers are disqualified from competitive swimming. Apparently, we cheat.”
“What about airweavers?”
“There are rules about how often they surface for air. They also cheat, but not to the point of disqualification. There are competitions just for waveweavers, but I never bothered. I know I can swim. Why do I need to prove it to others?”
She shook her head, picked up Mr. Asshole, and strode across the parking garage. “You’re going to be a challenge.”
I followed her, careful to keep a firm hold on my kitten and her leash. “Is this a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Both. I’ll have to put a great deal of thought into how good of a thing you being a challenge is. I’ll also debate how bad of a thing it is being challenged over the best sport on Earth.”
Baseball was the best sport on Earth? I recognized a fanatic when I saw one, although I had no idea what to do with a fanatic. I regarded Kevin, who wore the same old black suit as always. The only evidence he was rooting for the home team was his choice of sneakers and socks, which stood out like sore thumbs. Kevin’s current partner, an agent I hadn’t seen before, likewise wore shoes and socks supporting the home team. “If I were to poll the kingdom, how many would be baseball fans?”
“The vast majority. We pretend the ones who don’t do so they feel loved and invited in our favorite sport.”
“And what happens when there isn’t baseball again?”
“Hockey.”
“Should I be concerned?”
“Only if you don’t like hockey.”
Kevin smirked, as did his partner.
“That’s the one with the puck, right?” I asked, well aware of what hockey was, how it was played, and most of the rules; Europeans enjoyed their hockey to a frightening degree despite usually losing to the Canadian, Russian, and Royal States teams. Maine even had a reputation of putting on a good showing.
Most search and rescuers would tune in to watch any game they could, and they didn’t care who was playing. I usually opted to monitor the weather, clean the station, or otherwise do something—anything—other than watch with them.
Melody whirled to face me, her eyes wide. “This isn’t a challenge. It’s a disaster.”
“It is?” I made a show of looking myself over. “I seem to have emerged from my lack of sports unscathed.”
“You are a challenge I will conquer,” she announced, turning and marching to the doors leading into the stadium. “Don’t let him escape, Kevin. Liam, help Kevin.”
The new agent arched a brow. “But we’re your agents, Your Highness. His agents will be arriving in a few hours.”
“I will surely perish if he escapes me now. He must be taught baseball and hockey are life.”
Kevin stepped closer and whispered, “If it is a sport, she loves it. She’ll forgive you for not liking sports, but she’ll inevitably drag you to games hoping you’ll change your mind. However, I thin
k it’s worth noting she does, rarely, have obsessive tendencies. You seem to have triggered these tendencies.”
“I don’t mind,” I replied, careful to keep my voice quiet, too. “If it makes her happy, I can tolerate attending a game every now and then.”
“If she had the choice, she would attend every game ever played without hesitation.”
Unless I made my escape, I expected I was doomed.
Oh, well. There were worse fates.
I learned one important lesson about Melody: when presented with a baseball bat and a chance to swing it, she became a vicious woman on a mission to prove she could stand equal to any man—even professional baseball players. Dressed in her jersey and shorts, a hard helmet crammed over her hair, she faced off against the pitcher while I watched in a state of amazement and horror.
To make certain I wasn’t smacked with a stray ball, I stood off to the side with Melody’s agents while Sparrow and Mr. Asshole lounged at my feet, content to sunbathe.
I knew just enough about baseball to understand the pitcher could throw that hard little ball at over a hundred miles per hour if he wanted to. The pitcher, who Melody declared was Danny and greeted with a squeal and a hug, readied himself at the mound.
Part of me wanted to watch every moment, convinced the princess would be smacked in the head with a fastball, but some questions had to be asked. Turning to Kevin, I whispered, “Isn’t this dangerous?”
“Danny’s from an elite family, one of the best pitchers in the league, and has known Melody since she was little. They’re friends. He’s been tossing balls for her since she was old enough to hold a bat. He’s three years older than her, and one of the few who would take her love of baseball seriously.”
I recognized a battle I couldn’t win. “If I stick around, I’m going to have to learn how to throw a ball, aren’t I?”
Both of Melody’s agents blinked and stared at me.
Liam recovered first and coughed, probably to cover a laugh. “She’ll appreciate that, and she’ll even forgive your inability to pitch properly.”
“What is pitching properly?”
Both agents pointed at Danny, who wound up and threw the ball. With a resounding crack, Melody sent the ball flying right back at her friend, who spat a curse and caught it before it could smack him in the face.
I made a mental note never to make fun of baseball players ever again.
Melody huffed, tapped her bat to her shoulder, and glared at Danny. “That’s so rude.”
“Catching a ball so it doesn’t hit me in the face is not rude,” the pitcher replied with a chuckle. “Your friend looks slightly terrified.”
“He doesn’t like sports. I’m working on converting him to the religions of baseball and hockey.”
Danny regarded me with an arched brow. “He doesn’t look like the baseball type. He looks like a lightweight bodybuilder. Also, I wasn’t aware you were into bodybuilders.”
Me? A bodybuilder? I matched his expression. “Search and rescue diver, actually.”
The pitcher laughed. “All right. A swimmer who can probably lift me over your head. That’s fair. Melody, introduce us.”
“He’s Jack, and he’s the bloke who bailed France out when the tanker went down.”
“That’s the waveweaver powerhouse?” Danny once again looked me over. “Damn. It’s rare I’m outclassed. Ever pitch before?”
I shook my head.
“The closest he’s come to playing ball is bowling, Danny. I need you to lead him to the light.” Melody shifted her weight from foot to foot, bouncing her bat on her shoulder again. “After you pitch a few more balls for me. I need to hit something.”
“Things are going that good, huh?”
“Less talk, more play!”
Danny laughed, shook his head, and obeyed the princess, who seemed to enjoy aiming for the pitcher whenever possible. While he did manage to toss a few strikes her way, Melody hit the majority of the balls, much to my astonishment.
“Is he holding back a lot? If not, why isn’t she playing with the pros?”
“They don’t let women play in the league, that’s why,” Kevin replied. “Is she good enough to play? I’ve seen her hit a ball right out of the stadium before. If she gets tired of trying to knock Danny’s head off, she might go for a home run. Baseball’s her passion. She has a ball thrower at every castle in Maine, and she spends a lot of time unwinding and practicing her batting skills. He’s not holding back. He’s warming up with her at bat.”
“All right, Melody,” Danny called. “If you’re done trying to kill me, how about you pop some shots to the outfield so the boys don’t die of boredom?”
The boys, also known as the rest of the baseball team, seemed perfectly content to lounge around on the grass. They did, at the pitcher’s question, get to their feet.
“I feel like I’ve stepped into some alternate universe,” I confessed.
“If you think that’s weird, wait until you watch her aim. Now Danny is going to slow his pitches down, and he’s going to practice throwing accurately. If he does his job, she’ll be able to pick her mark and give everyone balls to catch.”
“Are you serious?”
“Very. Watch,” Kevin invited, and he nodded to the first baseman. “That’s Santiago Mendez. He’s one of the best batters in the league, and he plays a mean first base, too. He sometimes plays catcher if he can talk the coach into it. He’s a few years younger than Her Highness. They don’t get along, mainly because he’s one of those players who doesn’t think women have any business playing with men of their calibre. She’s going to try to take his head off, and he knows it.”
I sensed a trend. “When doesn’t she aim for the head?”
“When she’s really mad, she goes for the gut or groin. I recommend against making her mad.”
What had I gotten myself into? Before I could ask if the professional players would survive the outing, Danny pitched.
Rather than aim for the first baseman, Melody decided the ball didn’t belong in the stadium. She targeted Mendez with a smile and said, “Oops. I missed. Shall we try that again?”
“There’s a lesson here about scorned women, isn’t there?” I whispered to the princess’s agents.
“Yes, there is,” the pair replied.
Melody did her best to take out Mendez, but the first baseman escaped unscathed. She’d made him dive a few times, which seemed to be victory enough for her. Much to my relief, they forgot about me completely until it was time for the players to get some batting practice in before the other team took the field for their warmup.
Melody blushed when she realized I hadn’t played at all. “Damn it. I got carried away again.”
“Sparrow and Mr. Asshole enjoyed lounging in the sun and watching you have fun,” I replied as she strolled over, still in possession of her bat, although someone had claimed her helmet, which left her hair a frizzly mess. Danny also joined us, another pitcher taking the mound for some practice. “I have the feeling I’ll have plenty of chances to learn how to throw a ball. I think I need to get one of those gloves first, anyway.”
“A bat, too. I’ll take you shopping in Montana. It’ll be a good chance for you to see other parts of the Royal States. I’ll even forgive Montana’s baseball team for existing this once.”
Danny rolled his eyes. “If there weren’t other teams, we’d have no one to play against, and that would make for a boring game, Melody. We talked about this before. A good rivalry has equally matched teams. It makes everything that much more entertaining. You should be happy Oregon’s team is weaker than usual this year.”
“I wouldn’t call myself happy about that. They lost two good players to stupidity.”
“Stupidity?” I asked.
“He got drunk and thought it was a good idea to drive the Pacific Coastal Highway. He drove his car off a three hundred foot tall cliff. Stupidity,” Melody grumbled. “The purest form of stupidity. He killed another teammate, too.”
<
br /> I’d rescued my fair share of drunk idiots, and it still amazed me how people continued to drink despite the number of deaths associated with stupid decisions made while under the influence. At a loss of what to say, I replied, “I’m sorry.”
“We all are. He was twenty-four, and he had his entire life ahead of him. His friend was only twenty-six, too.” Melody heaved a sigh. “As I said, it’s stupidity. I want to beat them in a good game, not because two of their best players died from drinking and driving.”
To change the subject, I put myself in the line of fire again. “Do I need anything else other than a glove and bat?”
“A helmet, although there’s usually extras kicking around. We’ll get you some shoes and clothes, too. You can play in just about anything, but we tend to get pretty dirty during a serious game.” Melody pointed at the glass-enclosed seating overhead, which loomed over the field behind where the catcher played. “That’s where we’ll be. We get a bird’s eye view of the game, and it’s a private suite. I wanted to be right behind the catcher today, but Dad gave those tickets to a visiting friend a while ago. We’ll be sharing the suite with others. In Montana, we’ll have seats closer to the field.”
“You’ll survive,” Kevin assured the princess. “The cats will be happier up there, too. You also won’t disturb everyone while teaching Jack how the game is played. You also won’t have to guard your concessions every second in fear of losing it to an overenthusiastic fan. Or, more importantly, Jack won’t have to worry about losing his concessions to a certain overenthusiastic fan.”
“I’m not that bad,” Melody complained, wrinkling her nose at her RPS agent. “Really. I’m not.”
“I brought ear plugs for your guest in case you forget yourself and start screaming at the players as usual. Also, the security is better in the box. Until we are certain your security is acceptable here, you won’t be seated near the field.”
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