Shark's Edge

by Angel Payne, Victoria Blue

  Pia’s face changed as thoughts of her daughter being accosted by the man took over.

  “That’s what I thought,” I muttered half under my breath, but I knew Pia heard me.

  We watched the game in silence for a while, and then Pia tugged on my arm again.

  “Isn’t that the woman who does the catering at your office?” she asked, pointing midway across the park.

  Sure enough, Abbigail Gibson and her business partner, Rio, were hanging a banner on the concessions building advertising something called the Intrepid Entrepreneurs.

  The sports park buzzed like a beehive on the weekends with families. Middle- and upper-class folks from nearby neighborhoods attended birthday parties and youth sporting events or were just out enjoying the beautiful Southern California weather.

  It was a smart fundraising opportunity for a nonprofit group, and it looked like that was precisely what my sassy little caterer was up to. She and I needed to have a serious heart-to-heart about the food-poisoning incident. Hopefully I could get to her before the police did.

  “This couldn’t have worked out better. I need to have a talk with that woman, and seeing her here saves Elijah from having to track down her address. That is what the man gets paid for, but it saves me from having to go to her home . . . Christ”—I closed my eyes in mock horror—“probably in the valley or somewhere equally unpleasant.”

  Equally horrifying was the salary a private investigator made in this city. Especially if his talents weren’t being put to good use. The least he could do was track down Abbigail’s home address if I needed him to.

  “Oh, stop being such a snob, Bas. There are plenty of lovely people who live in the valley. But maybe you should wait until after the game so you don’t miss anything.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I’ll just go get a bottle of water or something and tell her to hang around afterward so we can talk.” There was no way I wanted her leaving the park without talking to me, but I’d feel terrible if Vela made an epic save and I missed it. “I’ll even wait until halftime to do that.”

  “You’re the best uncle on the planet, Bas.”

  “Yes. Yes, I am.” Just as I said those words, my little niece dived across the net and caught a low-flying ball before it made it into the goal. She seemed to surprise even herself when she rolled onto her back, still clutching the black-and-white ball to her stomach. Her other little Blue Jay mates rushed the goal to congratulate her on an excellent save.

  “Great work, Keeper!” I hollered through cupped hands. “Yeah, Vela! Nice!”

  She grinned widely up to Pia and me in the stands, and we both waved to her frantically. So proud of that little girl. Proud as if she were my own.

  Stars danced in my periphery from all the yelling and the afternoon heat. I quickly sank back down and planted my butt on the bleachers.

  “Shit.” I wiped my forehead with the hem of my T-shirt.

  “What’s up, brother? You look like paste. And it’s not a good look on you, if I’m being honest.”

  “Still not one hundred percent, that’s all. The heat is getting to me a little bit.”

  Pia dug into her mini cooler and handed me a juice box. I eyed her wearily but knew it would make me feel better.

  Because my sister was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes when she was three years old, we both knew all the nutritional tricks to raise and lower blood sugar and the quickest way to accomplish the goal.

  Vela’s team came in off the field for halftime, and Pia went down to the sideline to help pass out snacks and drinks. I took advantage of the break from the game to head over to the concessions stand to have a chat with Little Red Riding Hood. Seeing her outside of my office did even stranger things to my libido than seeing her at work. Couldn’t exactly explain why that was, but this woman was making me feel like a teenager trying to work up the courage to ask his crush out on a date.

  Jangled nerves. Sweaty palms. Dry mouth.

  Seriously?

  I shifted from side to side in my running shoes, fidgeting with my shirt and checking my watch. Christ, if Grant saw me right now, I’d never hear the end of it.

  Rio caught sight of me first. She made some snide comment, and Abbigail’s head shot up, abruptly stopping her conversation with another parent midsentence. The woman she was speaking to turned around to see what, or who, had captured Abbi’s attention so completely.

  “Aren’t you—” The woman snapped her fingers twice in a steady beat, as if that would conjure my name.

  I offered my hand to her. “Sebastian Shark. A pleasure to meet you.” I gave her a practiced I’ll-have-your-knickers-in-my-pocket-later grin while I shook her hand, and just like that, she turned into a bumbling schoolgirl.

  The woman reached up to surreptitiously fix her hair that was carelessly tucked under a Disneyland ball cap.

  “Are you an easy-going Jungle Cruise kind of girl or more of a Space Mountain speed demon?” I asked, nodding up to her cap, still grinning. The first lesson in lady killing—women loved talking about themselves. Actually, to be fair, that rule spanned both sexes.

  “Probably depends on the day.” She paused, and a sly smile moved across her glossy pink lips. “Or the company.” She gave me a flirtatious bat of her eyelashes.

  Abbigail coughed loudly, and the woman turned boiled-lobster red.

  “You okay there, Little Red? Need the Heimlich Maneuver?”

  “No,” she answered. “You just stay on that side of the counter, thank you very much.” She gestured dramatically up and over the service counter to the ground where I stood.

  Once the other woman walked away and Abbi’s partner was busy with another customer, I stepped closer to the counter.

  “We need to talk.”

  “Isn’t that what we’re doing right now?” She shifted her eyes back and forth.

  “I’m serious. There’s been a situation with the food you brought to my office on Friday. I got very sick and had to go to the emergency room that night. It was most unpleasant.”

  “So I’ve heard.” The tone was frosty and remote.

  “Shit,” I muttered.

  “So I’ve heard.” A little chuckle followed the comment.

  I cradled my face in my palms. How embarrassing. “I’m glad you find it humorous. I can assure you it was anything but.” I glared at her, but she wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Neither was the visit from the police officers I received yesterday morning. I can’t believe you told them I poisoned you. Do you have any idea what something like this could do to my business?”

  “I didn’t tell them you poisoned me, Abbigail.”

  “So are you saying the authorities just randomly guessed you had a tummy ache Friday night? And then just came by my house to see if I fed you that day? What a series of lucky coincidences. I mean, I’ve heard the police around here are a bunch of bumbling fools, so imagine the amount of luck they had to have guessed all that.”

  “Are you finished?”

  “Oh, you can bet on it.”

  I stared at her for several long beats, waiting just long enough to make her uncomfortable with the silence.

  Across the field, the official blew the whistle to commence the second half of the Blue Jays’ game.

  Goddammit.

  “I need to get back to my niece’s soccer game.” I thumbed over my shoulder toward the field. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

  “It appears to be just that, Mr. Shark. And if you need me to formally withdraw my bid for the contract at the Edge, I’ll understand. Do you need that in writing? I can email something over when I get home today.”

  “I said this conversation isn’t over, Ms. Gibson. That means it isn’t over.” The last few words of the comment were delivered through gritted teeth. She was pissing me off, and my fuse was already short because I wasn’t feeling well. “I’ll talk to you after the game.” I quickly turned and walked away before she could sass back with another remark.

&nb
sp; I sent a text to Elijah on my way back to the bleachers, asking him to find her home address anyway. In the event she decided to leave before we had a chance to finish our conversation, I wasn’t above showing up at her door to say what I needed to say. Abbigail needed to hear that I didn’t initiate getting the authorities involved with the food-poisoning situation.

  There was no logical explanation why I cared that she knew the truth. But the longer I sat and watched the soccer game, the more amped up I became. I kept sneaking glances over to the snack bar where she worked, and as often as I did, I’d find her staring back. She’d quickly avert her eyes but always a few seconds too late.

  When I finally held her gaze, imprinting my dark and lustful thoughts onto her body from across an acre of sports park greenbelt, my cock throbbed to life in my thin shorts. I narrowed my eyes, willing her to feel my breath on her skin, imagine my fingers on her flesh like they had been the other day in my office. I wanted her to sense my dirty intentions, even though there was physical distance between us.

  She fluttered a hand to her throat but remained locked in my stare. I could see the rise and fall of her chest beneath the filmy tank top she wore. Her pale skin was already pink from the sun and heat, but a darker flush spread like a storm making landfall.

  She broke eye contact and dropped down to busy herself with some task below the counter. I instantly dreamed up several things she could do at that level if I were standing there beside her. If she were on her knees in front of me, looking up at me with those wild green eyes, begging to suck me off, maybe?

  All right, Little Red. Just this once. And only because you’ve been taunting me with this perfect, sinful mouth. These plush, pillowy lips.

  Of course she’d argue. She always argued. But I’d stop her by shoving my cock past her tongue until she gagged. Now you better make it worth it. And you better take all of me. I’d make her gag again until tears sprung from her eyes and ran down her cheeks.

  God, the tears. Why am I so turned on by her tears?

  Pia shot to her feet, cheering enthusiastically. “That’s my girl! Nice save, honey!”

  Without thinking, I did the same thing—and then just as quickly sat down, frantically looking for something to cover my lap.

  Jesus Christ. Shit. Shit!

  I looked around wildly, hoping like hell no one saw the ridiculous woody I was sporting when I stood up. The shorts I wore left nothing to the imagination, and for Christ’s sake, I was at a little girls’ soccer game. I’d be arrested if I didn’t get myself under control.

  “Wow, that was an amazing save,” my sister said as she sat down beside me. “Not that you’ve seen anything for the past ten minutes.”

  “What are you talking about?” I acted offended, but she was totally right. I didn’t even know what the score was.

  “I haven’t seen you so preoccupied with a female since you were a teenager.” Pia kept her eyes on the field while she spoke, probably because she knew if she gave me the full hot seat treatment I’d turn feral.

  “I’m not preoccupied.”

  “Cut the shit, Bas. It’s me. Don’t insult me, or our history, by lying to me.”

  I couldn’t even meet her expectant stare. She was right, and I had nothing to add in the way of defense. I couldn’t explain the draw I had to that girl in the snack shack. I couldn’t explain why even though I’d already told the police that I personally didn’t suspect her of a crime, I hadn’t ordered them to stand down completely on the case. And why the thought of being the one who made her squirm while fearing the fate of her guilt or innocence made my body light up with unadulterated excitement. And I certainly couldn’t explain why I wanted nothing more than to have her moaning my name while she shattered with the wildest orgasm of her life while speared on my dick.

  “You’re right, I’m an asshole, Pia. I’m sorry. And that’s the second time I’ve had to apologize to you today. Maybe I should’ve stayed home.”

  She put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed me closer to her. “Your secret’s safe with me, brother. Everyone will still think you’re the big bad wolf in town. No worries. But now, that’s the final whistle, and here comes our Blue Jay.”

  As she said it, the referee blew three long toots on her whistle, ending the game. The kids came off the field, high-fiving each other and the coach after a big win over their opponent. I kept my eye on Naya’s dad to see how he handled his child after the game.

  “Daddy, we won!” She looked up to him, smiling along with her teammates.

  “Well, you really need to work on your passing more at home. It’s sloppy. You made some crucial mistakes in the first half.” He didn’t even look at her while he issued the criticism.

  My hands curled into fists. She was eight years old, for Christ’s sake. I could feel her pain inside my own heart.

  “And your team needs a better coach. I have no idea where they get these screw-ups.”

  “Hey, buddy, why don’t you ease up, man? It’s a kids’ league. They’re out here for fun.”

  “Maybe your kid is, but mine is looking for a scholarship after high school.”

  “She’s eight.” My brows hiked up toward my hairline in disbelief. “That’s ten years away.” I chuckled at his ridiculous answer.

  “Show’s what you know. Scouts start looking as early as ten.” His authoritative tone made him seem even more ludicrous. Did people really think this way?

  “How many adults make a career out of professional sports, do you think? And is that really the lifestyle you want for your kid?” Maybe a different approach would get through to him.

  Now he was the one to laugh. “What? Should my kid idolize jackasses like you? Dipshits who have women killing themselves because they fell in love with them? It’s funny that you’re handing out career advice.” He shook his head and began to walk away.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Asshole.”

  He turned on his heel at the insult. “What did you just call me?” He stalked back to where I stood.

  “You heard me.” I squared my shoulders, preparing for a physical blow.

  Pia grabbed at my arm, but I moved from her reach.

  “Bas, come on. Just let him be.”

  “You’re a bully and a terrible example for your daughter.” I pointed my finger in his face. “If I hear you berate her or any of the girls on the team ever again, I’ll contact Child Protective Services. Mark my words. It’s a game. It’s supposed to be fun. Fun doesn’t end in tears, idiot. There are enough screwed-up adults running around this world. You don’t need to do your best to make another one.” I gave him one last head-to-toe scan, only moving my eyes. “Piece of shit.”

  At that point, I was the one to turn and walk away, leaving him standing there with his mouth hanging open. I suspect he wanted to say something but couldn’t organize his thoughts quickly enough to muster a comeback.

  “And a mental giant to boot,” I said to Pia as I took Vela’s outstretched hand.

  Most of the team’s parents had stopped to watch the altercation. As I walked away, a few started clapping in appreciation for what I’d said to the man. Apparently a lot of people felt the same way but no one ever had the balls to put the guy in his place. By the time I cleared the throng of people, everyone was applauding.

  Vela was jumping up and down beside me, having no clue what was actually going on but loving the commotion.

  “Why’s everyone clapping, Mama? Because we won?” she asked as she bounced along.

  “Yes, that, and because Naya’s daddy is going to try to be kinder to her. Won’t that be great?” My sister ran her fingers through Vela’s sweaty hair, brushing it back off her forehead.

  “That would be the best thing ever!” She released my hand to clasp both of hers in front of her chest. “It’s really sad when Naya cries. Her dad is so mean. I just stay far away from him.” She shook her head and transitioned right into the next subject seamlessly, as only children can do. �
�Can I get a snow cone? They have them at the snack bar.”

  I chimed in. “Snow cones for everyone. My treat!” Snow cones and a quick conversation with a certain redhead—how convenient.

  Pia eyed me over Vela’s head, knowing the game I had in mind.

  I shrugged unapologetically. “We have unfinished business.”

  “You’ve got it bad, brother.”

  “I have no such thing, thank you very much.”

  “We’ll see.” She walked with Vela to the line that formed at the snack bar’s window while I went off to the side of the building where the service door stood propped open.

  “Abbigail. Can I speak to you for a minute, please?” I asked, peering into the block building.

  “No, you can’t. I’m swamped,” she said without looking up.

  “You have a horde of volunteers standing around with nothing to do. It’ll just take a minute. Come.” I strode away from the door and around to the back of the building. There was glorious shade from a mature oak tree, and I took a minute to let the breeze waft over me and cool my skin.

  Another minute passed. She still hadn’t come around the building. I was thinking of at least three ways to extract her from the concession stand when she appeared with a cold bottle of water in each hand.

  “You looked like you could use this,” she said, offering me one of the bottles.

  “Thanks. I think you’re right.” I cracked the top open and drank half the bottle in one long pull. “I feel like my stomach turned inside out Friday night.”

  “Listen, Mr. Shark. I told the police all I knew. I really don’t think it could’ve been from my kitchen.”

  I closed the space between us because I couldn’t stand to be so far away from her when it was just the two of us there. A wooded area lined the park on the back side of the building, so no one had a reason to come back here. The parking lot and all the sports fields were in the opposite direction. It was doubtful we’d be interrupted.

  “Why are you here today? At this sports park, I mean? I’ve never seen you working in the snack bar before.”