For a moment he thought she was going to continue the question-and-answer period. He hoped not. If he was right, and the gang that attacked Kyle were members of the football team, it would be best for everyone if he handled the issue quietly and with little outside help. Of course, Gage was going to know immediately who’d been involved, if the condition of Kyle’s hands were any indication.
“I’ll leave it to your judgment then,” Libby finally said. “As long as it doesn’t happen again.”
There it was. That little bit of defiance she always had when championing an underdog. It was one of the things he’d always loved about her.
He reached out and tucked a wayward strand of her hair behind her ear. “Libby—”
She caught his hand in hers, the street lamp showing the shadow in her eyes. “Deke. I want to be with you, but the phone call about Kyle saved us. We still have some things to discuss before we can be together.”
His heart clenched. “I told you everything about Bill’s death and my part in it.”
“I know. It’s just…” She looked away and he could see the unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
“What is it, Libby?” He cupped her chin and turned her face back to his. “You can tell me anything.”
She stared into his eyes and swallowed. “Not tonight. It’s getting late. Could you maybe come by tomorrow evening?”
He was torn between wanting to insist they have whatever talk she wanted now and relieved that she was giving him time to come to grips with this rekindling of the spark between them. And of course the thought of a spark made him remember that he had to speak at the town hall meeting the next night. “It would be late. I have to appear at the town hall meeting tomorrow night and talk about fire safety.”
“I’ll be there, too. Could we talk afterwards?” She licked her lips and he found himself thinking more about tasting her again than the meeting, or fires.
He slid his hand along her jaw to the back of her neck. The distance closing between them until her mouth was just a hairsbreadth away from his. “I’d like that very much.”
Then he had her in his arms once more. Her soft lips parting beneath his sent heat coursing through his veins like fire coursing through a building. The coolness of her skin beneath his hands and the pressure of her breasts against his chest fueled his need further. The soft little moan that escaped her thrilled him.
We have some things to discuss.
The solemn sound of her voice as she’d spoken those words burst through his growing lust. She’d asked him to wait and he would, even if the effort nearly killed him.
Slowly he eased back on the kiss, releasing her mouth and bracing his forehead against hers. “Damn, baby, you still make me forget everything.”
Her hand came to rest on his face, her fingers touching the burn scars on his neck. “You still make me want things I shouldn’t.”
Sitting back behind the steering wheel once more, he closed his eyes and inhaled her scent. “You’d best get inside or I can’t promise I’ll wait until tomorrow night to continue this.”
He heard the car door open and close before he looked her way again. He watched her all the way to her door and still didn’t move, until he saw the living room light come on—same as he had when they dated. Once he was sure she was safe inside her home, he pulled out and headed home.
If he was right, tomorrow was going to be a very interesting day and heads were going to roll.
* * * * *
She was with him again.
With a growl he threw the cigarette onto dirt and ground it out under his heel. Exhaling the last of the smoke from his lungs, he pulled another butt from the pack, lit it and inhaled. God, he loved the rush that came with the smoke as it whirled around him and then filled his lungs. Damn, just like he’d loved the smoke of the fire the other night. And the flames. The way they’d moved, almost as if it were an erotic dance the fire was doing just for him.
Closing his eyes, he could see the blue of the flames, the same color as her eyes.
She belonged to him. No one but he deserved such perfection. No one.
Apparently the bastard hadn’t heeded his warning. He’d have to send another one. A little closer to home this time.
He took another long drag on the cigarette.
And this time she’d see how he’d do anything to have her. That he had all the power. That he was the master and only he could command the beautiful creature that was the fire. That he could get it to do his bidding.
Even kill for him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“You’re sure about this?” Gage asked from across the desk the two of them shared in the coach’s office at the high school the next morning.
It was just after the crack of dawn and they sat drinking coffee Deke had picked up at the café on his way over to the school. He hadn’t slept well. The dream awakened him again and then he’d lay there, thinking about the evening before with Libby. He’d confessed his part in Bill’s death and it hadn’t destroyed her.
Instead she’d forgiven him. That was the part of her he’d forgotten about. Her ability to look bullshit in the eye and call it for what it was. He’d also felt there was something more she wanted to talk about. Probably his recovery. He hadn’t quite confessed his cowardice in keeping her from seeing his pain.
Maybe something good would come out of it. Hell, her response to his description about Bill’s death had not only surprised him, but freed him of some of his guilt. Some, because the dream was still there. Something about it kept drawing him back to the place where he saw the man dragging the boy into the dark.
“Where’d you go?” Gage’s words pulled him back to the problem at hand.
“Sorry. Had a bad night last night, trouble waking up today.” He took another swallow of coffee, hoping his friend wouldn’t question him more. “And yes, I’ll be interested to see what those four look like this morning.”
“You’re sure it was all four of them?”
He shrugged. “You’ve seen them, not just on the field, but around town. Thick as ticks on a hound dog.”
Gage huffed out a sigh. “Just what I need. Not only do I have to discipline them as their coach, as sheriff I’ll have to arrest them for assault. And since Brett Howard’s dad is the county DA, that’s going to open a whole can of bad shit my direction.”
He didn’t envy his friend the job of not only arresting the DA’s son and his friends, but having to bench four of their best players before the season even started. “I could be wrong.”
“Kyle didn’t tell you who attacked him?”
“Nope.”
Gage filled his mug again. “If he’s not going to name his attackers there’s little chance he’ll want to press charges.”
“Libby says the three other guys at Colbert House aren’t up to this kind of blitz attack. Besides, it smacks of a gang mentality. That’s what’s got me thinking it’s our guys.”
“You think it was some sort of initiation ritual our guys put him through?”
“Could be,” a voice said from the door. They both looked over to see Doc Clint standing in the doorway.
“What’re you doing here?” Deke asked.
“And what do you mean by could be?” Gage asked.
“I’m here,” he said, walking in and pulling a chair over to the desk, “because Harriett woke me up at the butt-crack of dawn to handle a problem.”
Gage nearly spewed his coffee over the desk. “Harriett had a problem she needed help with?” He and Deke couldn’t have been more surprised if Clint had told him the Titanic had surfaced in the Mohican River outside town.
“Yep. Seems your new defensive end was trying to leave my clinic this morning, even if he had to climb out a window.”
“He what?” Deke sat straighter in his chair. “You didn’t let him, did you?”
“Caught up with him halfway down the block.” Clint picked up an empty mug and held it out for Gage to fill with coffee. He took a long
drink, sighed with pleasure, then fixed his gaze on Deke. “Kid said he had to be at practice on time or you’d make him do extra laps afterwards. Seems you’ve made an impression on him. I get the idea he doesn’t want to disappoint you, as well as to show his attackers he’s tough inside as well as out.”
“Well, he can’t play if you don’t clear him medically.”
“That’s what I told him.” Clint shrugged as he drank more coffee. “Only thing that got him into my truck and back to the clinic.”
“Good. He can sit on the sidelines until he’s healed enough to play.” Deke set his own mug on the desk and leaned back in his chair, lifting both front legs off the floor like he did as a kid. Obviously, there was no question that the kid couldn’t practice after the beating he took last night.
Gage nodded his agreement.
“I cleared him medically.”
Both front chair legs slammed down hard as Deke came forward to stare at the Doc. “Are you kidding me? Why would you do that?”
Clint held up a hand. “Because other than some bruises, lacerations and dinged up knuckles, there’s no real injury to keep him off the field. Hell, he’s no more banged up than some of your guys after a game.”
“What about his broken nose?” Deke asked.
“Checked his O2 sats. He’s oxygenating just fine.” Clint gave a shrug and shake of his head. “Kid said it didn’t hurt.”
“I thought you were watching him for internal injuries.” For some reason, the kid coming to practice had him feeling both pride in the kid’s guts and determination, and the need to protect him from any real harm.
“That’s what I told him last night to keep him at the clinic overnight. Safest place I could think of at the time. Like I said, he can play if he’s bent on proving to his teammates he’s not easily intimidated.”
Deke and Clint stared at each other a moment, then both looked to Gage. As both head coach and sheriff, how they proceeded was ultimately up to him. He seemed to consider the situation a few moments.
“Way I see it, if the kid doesn’t want to name his attackers, I can’t legally press charges. If he wants to return to practice and Clint’s already cleared him medically, I have no real reason to sideline him. So, let’s let him play and see how the others react to him.”
Deke knew Gage was right, but the need to protect the kid was eating at him. “Okay, but as his defensive coach, he shows one sign of not being up to it and I’m benching his ass.”
“Fair enough,” Gage said as he stood, the others following suit. A slow grin spread over the Gunslinger’s face. “Besides, might be interesting to see how our four wannabe thugs react when their victim shows up ready to play ball.”
* * * * *
Kyle sat on the bench in the early morning light, trying not to shiver and remember how warm and comfortable he’d been in that bed under that quilt over at the clinic.
Maybe he should’ve stayed there for the day. The doc said he could.
No. He knew how to handle these guys. You let them know they beat you down and you were their punk for the rest of the time you were in town. No matter what, he was going to be out on that field letting them know each time he took the ball away that they hadn’t hurt him last night.
While he waited for the coaches and the other members of the team to arrive he took inventory of his body.
Every muscled ached, along with all his injuries. He hadn’t pissed blood at any time during the night, so he knew the kick to his side hadn’t damaged his kidney. That knowledge had come to him at the ripe old age of ten in the first group home the state had tried him in. This morning the doc told him that his ribs weren’t broken, but he already knew that. He’d kept his elbows in tight like he’d learned when he was twelve. His nose felt like it was three times bigger than usual, but other than being clogged with dried blood, it hurt way less since the doc reset it. And damn hadn’t that hurt? His vision was clear, despite the punch the lazy wide receiver had dealt his left eye. Guy could take lessons on punching from his old man—that is, if the bastard was still breathing.
Everything else was a cut or bruise, and he knew from experience they’d heal with time. He was just going to hurt until they did.
That’s what he tried to tell that nurse—Harriett…that was her name. The look she’d given him when she found him sitting in the chair tying up his laces had almost gotten him back in the bed, it wasn’t mean. More like disbelief that he wasn’t doing what she’d told him. Apparently no one in town had ever defied the old lady. He’d been getting around doctors and nurses for years. One nurse with an attitude wasn’t keeping him in bed if he didn’t want to be. She’d huffed and puffed at him all the way out the door like some irate dragon.
He smiled at the image, then winced as his cut lip pulled with the effort. The taste of fresh blood seeped across his tongue.
Dammit.
He held his hand over it to stop the bleeding before the doc and the coaches came out. He’d gotten past the nurse, convinced the doc he was okay to play, but he had a suspicion Coach Reynolds wasn’t going to cut him any slack. One wince, one sign that he wasn’t one hundred percent, his ass would be sitting on this bench all week.
Yeah, he hurt like hell, but it was going to be worth the effort to show those four that it would take more than an ambush in the alley to get him to quit.
The door to the coaches’ office opened and out walked Coach Justice, the doc and finally, Coach Reynolds. The trio made a beeline straight for him and he stood, forcing his body to be as straight as possible.
“Gordon,” Coach Justice said, stopping in front of him, “Doc Clint says you’re medically sound to practice.”
“Yes, sir,” he said, moving his busted lower lip as little as possible.
“And Coach Reynolds says you refuse to name your attackers. Still feel the same way this morning?”
“Too dark to really see them, Coach.” He forced himself to stare straight at the big man while telling that lie. Even though both coaches had treated him fairly so far, he’d had mistrust of the law drilled into him. Hard to unlearn that lesson. Besides, who would take his word, the word of a virtual stranger, over the words of the home-grown football heroes?
Coach Justice exchanged a look with Coach Reynolds. Deke nodded and Kyle knew they weren’t going to push the issue.
As they’d been talking the rest of the team streamed onto the field in small groups. As each group got a look at him, they’d whisper, some staring openly at him. He’d laugh at their shock if it wouldn’t hurt him so bad.
Finally the last group of four approached the circle around the coaches and bench.
Kyle looked each one of them in the eye. Two—the quarterback and wide receiver—sported black eyes to match his. Good. He’d hoped he’d landed a few good punches before they dropped him to the ground. The redhead who played running back but had good enough hands to catch passes held his side like he’d been kicked there, which he had. The last one, his defensive teammate Mike Cohn, had a busted lip to match his own.
The first three looked surprised to see him standing there, then dodged their eyes sideways.
Yeah. Bitches. It’ll take more than you guys to beat me down.
Cohn looked him right in the eye then nodded.
Well, okay. At least one of them wasn’t hatin’ on him anymore.
“…since some of you need some extra outlet for the natural aggression football gives you, we’re running laps after practice,” Coach Justice was saying. “Now get started on your warmups.”
As the team started to spread out on the field, Coach Reynolds held up his hand. “Howard, Tanner, Gordon, Reilly and Cohn to me for a meeting first.”
Schooling his features to show no emotion, Kyle didn’t wait for the others and stepped over to the coach.
Once the rest of the team was out of earshot, Deke motioned for the five of them to take a knee in front of him. He didn’t say anything at first, just looked each one of them over with a
look that said he was pissed-off enough to take someone’s head off.
“Gordon refuses to name who attacked him, so I’m going to assume y’all ran into the rogue group of strangers who apparently wants to destroy this team. And I’m assuming it was some unknown strangers, because if I or Coach Reynolds learn that any member of this team is beating the shit out of another member of the team, we’ll be forced to suspend said players for the entire year.”
That snapped four heads up to stare at Deke. Kyle had never taken his eyes off him.
“The Gunslinger and I know that scholarships are on the line for you seniors. So, from now on, you five are going to be sure nothing, and I mean nothing, happens to another member of this team, down to the water boys and trainers until the end of the season. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir!” they said in unison.
“Good. Get your asses out on that field and show me you deserve to stay here.”
Kyle grabbed his helmet and shoved it on his head, jogging just behind the others, glad the coach had included him in the lecture and not made him the reason for it. The guy had street smarts.
Once they were near the others, Cohn slowed down as if waiting for him.
Great. A side threat. There always was one with bullies.
“Sorry about last night,” the linebacker said.
“Yeah. Right,” he muttered, not stopping as the kid fell into a jog beside him.
“No, really, dude. Besides, you held your own.” He pointed to his lip and gave a half laugh, then winced.
Kyle took a spot in line. “Might want to avoid laughing for a few days. Takes that long for it to heal up.”
“I get that.”
“No more talking, ladies, unless you want five extra laps added on,” Coach Justice said.
Not risking being the reason for more exercise, Kyle dropped down and started stretching with the rest of the team. Cohn had offered an olive branch. Maybe he should take it.
Close To The Fire Page 20