She slapped her notebook down on his desk and glared at him. “Yes, I’m surprised. I don’t know your background.” As she spoke, her temper flared higher. “I’d have been just as surprised if you’d said you grew up on Park Avenue.” She shoved back her chair and stood. “I’ll talk to you some other time.”
“Wait.”
Halfway to the door, she paused. He rose and came around his desk. His fingers closed over her arm. “That was a cheap shot I owe you an apology.”
Tonya swallowed. “Accepted.”
“Let me take you to lunch.”
Uncertain, she raised her eyes to his. “I...I brought a sandwich.”
“Leave it for tomorrow.” His fingers still circled her arm, but his hold had softened to a gentle touch. He smiled, that stunningly wicked smile that set Tonya’s pulse to pounding. “There’s a little hole-in-the-wall a couple of blocks from here that serves the best tamales you ever ate.”
“I love tamales.”
“Let’s go.” As they walked down the hall, Kirk said, “You’ll have to drive.”
“You don’t have a car?”
“Not with me. We just passed my transportation.”
She stopped and looked back. “That motorcycle?”
He nodded and watched in surprise as she stopped and circled the black Harley parked in the hallway, then reached out to run her fingers over the handlebars. “It looks...sinister.”
“It is.”
“Why can’t we take it?” she asked.
“You don’t want to ride a motorcycle.”
“Sure I do.” She grinned at him. “I have a taste for danget.”
So did he, evidently, since he’d asked her to lunch. “Okay, I have a spare helmet in my office.” He strode down the hall and returned a few minutes later. “It’ll be too big for you.”
“I’ll manage.” She tucked it under her arm and opened the door for him.
He guided the motorcycle across the yard, got on and waited for her to take her seat behind him. “Hold on.” Her arms went around his waist and he took off.
As they careened around the corner, Kirk reflected that the danger to him didn’t come from riding a motorcycle; what was risky was riding it with Tonya. Their proximity brought her scent to his nostrils. Her breasts pressed against his back. She was far too close. And he wanted her closer.
He pulled up before Mi Casita and wondered why he’d invited Tonya here. It wasn’t one of those crowded, noisy Tex-Mex eateries that were so popular with the yuppies. She’d probably never been to a joint like this, he thought as he pushed open the door and the smell of chili surrounded them. This place was small and dark with a few booths and tables. Cracked vinyl covered the chairs and a small counter with a mirror behind it was adorned with neon signs advertising Mexican beers. A cooler in one corner held soft drinks. An old-fashioned radio behind the counter blasted out music from a Spanish station. The majority of customers were Hispanics, their conversations in their native tongue.
He steered Tonya to an empty booth and handed her a menu, a single typewritten sheet encased in plastic. “The place is clean,” he mumbled in apology.
“I’m sure it is, and it smells wonderful. I’ll have the tamales,” she said, turning to the waitress, who had appeared at the table, “and iced tea.”
Relieved at her easy acceptance of the restaurant, Kirk asked for a double order of tamales and a cola.
Within minutes, the hot, fragrant tamales were on the table. Tonya unwrapped the corn husk that enclosed the meat and tasted. “Mmm, you were right These are the best” She took another bite and smiled. “Sam would love this place. Are they open on Saturday?”
Who was Sam? he wondered. Her lover, probably. A wave of jealousy burned in his gut He should have realized she’d be involved with someone. “Yeah, they’re open,” he said through his teeth.
Tonya started on her second tamale. “I’ll have to bring her then.”
“Who?”
“Sam. She’s my cousin.”
“She?” Relief swept through him when Tonya nodded.
“Her name’s Samantha. She’s a private detective, if you can believe it, in business with her husband. They met working on a case for my grandfather.”
“Interesting.”
Tonya chattered on, bouncing from one topic to another—her family, a trip she’d taken, the kitten she’d adopted—and he listened, captivated. For a few moments, he forgot that they were from two different worlds, that she held the future of the OK Center in her hands, and he simply enjoyed the company of a beautiful, vivacious woman.
Reluctantly, he glanced at his watch. “I have a meeting with the captain of the local police substation in half an hour. We’d better go.”
Tonya nodded. “This was wonderful. Thank you.”
The sparkle in her eyes was thanks enough, Kirk thought as he paid the check and opened the door for her.
When they reached the Harley, he glanced across the street, then quickly turned back. “Damn!”
“What’s wrong?” Tonya asked.
“Those kids over there, loitering by that building—no, don’t turn around—they’re members of the Sabers.”
“A gang?” Tonya whispered, looking over at the group.
“Yeah, one of the toughest. They’re involved in a turf war with Los Hermanos, a Hispanic gang. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were planning a hit right now.” He motioned to the cycle. “Let’s go.”
Back at the OK Center, Tonya got off the bike and paused a moment. “Are you going to tell the police about those gang members?”
“I’ll mention it when I’m at the station, for as much good as it’ll do,” he answered. “They’re not my main concern, though. Did you see the kid with them?”
“The tall, skinny one? Looked like he was eleven or twelve? Yes,” she said.
“That’s Toby Carson. He’s got so much going for him, but he’s starting to hang around with the wrong crowd. If we don’t make some serious headway with him in the next few months, the Sabers will have him. They’ve already got him skipping school and running errands for them. Damn, there has to be a way to reach him.” His muscles tensed with the habitual feeling of futility.
Tonya must have sensed his frustration because she put her hand on his arm as if to soothe him. For a moment, he let himself absorb the unfamiliar sensation of being cared for. But he resisted it and issued a stern warning to himself: Don’t get soft, Butler. He couldn’t afford to start leaning on someone, especially someone who’d be out of here before long.
As he started to push off on the motorcycle, she asked, “What’s your meeting with the police about?”
Kirk shrugged. “Another useless attempt to get the cops involved in our programs.”
“Mmm. See you later.”
As he drove away, he noticed that she stood staring into space, her brows furrowed as if she was deep in thought. He wondered what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Had he said something wrong at lunch? The mention of gangs? His inability to get police participation? For a moment, he wondered how firm the Brewsters’ commitment to this project was. And he realized how much power Tonya Brewster held over him.
TONYA SAT ON THE BENCH outside the fence and drew her jacket around her as she watched the kids assembled for basketball practice. The wind had picked up and the sky had clouded over. She could smell rain in the air.
On the other side of the fence eight youngsters stood in a little knot, engaging in what Tonya supposed was street talk, because it was incomprehensible to her. She was surprised to see that one of the youngsters was Toby Carson, the boy she and Kirk had seen earlier with members of the Sabers gang.
“Yo, Mr. Butler,” Toby called, and Kirk came onto the court.
All Tonya could think was, My God. Dressed in gym shorts and a tank top, he was a woman’s fantasy come alive. Broad shoulders, a glimpse of dark, curly chest hair, muscular thighs. Tonya felt herself melt despite the chill in the air. This center di
dn’t need a grant from a foundation; they could make millions with a Kirk Butler calendar.
She noticed he wore an elastic bandage on his left leg and that the leg was scarred around the knee. She wondered if he’d been in a motorcycle accident
Her eyes stayed riveted on him as practice got under way. He obviously knew what he was doing, pointing out weaknesses but also telling the kids how to correct them, and even a less-than-enthusiastic basketball fan like Tonya could see how good he was with the boys. He didn’t allow for any nonsense on the court, but he encouraged each player with a phrase or a thumbs-up. The boys ate it up.
She was aware that Kirk spent extra time with Toby Carson, demonstrating a tricky move, praising the boy when he accomplished it
Practice had been going on for about half an hour when another kid, a youngster of about twelve or thirteen, dashed across the grounds and onto the court. “Coach, I’m here,” he panted.
Play stopped, the boys freezing like statues in a sports tableau. Slowly, Kirk turned and eyed the young man. “You’re thirty minutes late.” His voice was as chilly as the wind that now whipped his dark hair.
The youngster hung his head. “I...I know. Time...time jus’ got away from me.”
“You know the rules. Practice starts at four. Sit out the rest of the day.”
Tonya had to strain to hear the boy’s response. “Maybe I’ll jus’ go along home.”
Kirk gave him a level look. “Up to you. You want to stay on the team, you sit and watch. You want off the team, then leave.”
The boy shuffled over and sat on the bench outside the court Kirk divided the players into two teams of four and began a practice game. The latecomer watched. Tonya watched him.
He had the build of a basketball player, tall and lanky with arms and legs that appeared too long for the rest of him. His skin was the color of light chocolate, and his short cropped hair shone midnight black. He sat still, head hanging, but after a few minutes he began to follow the game, muttering directives to the players, pantomiming their movements. Unaware of Tonya, he coached and played a one-man basketball game on the sidelines.
Tonya was entranced. Little by little, she scooted along the bench until she sat beside him. “You really like basketball, huh?” she said.
Startled, the boy turned to stare at her. “Where’d you come from?”
She chuckled. “I’ve been sitting here since practice started.”
“I didn’t see you.”
“I know.” Impulsively, she asked, “Why were you late?”
The smile disappeared and a glum expression took its place. “I dunno. I’m always late. I got to lookin’ in a store window on the way home and then I remembered I forgot my practice shoes and I had to go back and the side door at school was locked so I had to go around and I remembered I had to talk to the math teacher and...”
Tonya smiled as he shrugged and turned back to the game. She felt a kindred spirit. “What’s your name?”
“Huh? Oh, Germain Parker.” Tonya introduced herself, and the boy suddenly turned and frowned at her. “Whatcha doin’ here?” he asked. “You a caseworker or something? You one o’ those juvenile probation officers?”
Tonya shook her head. “I’m just working here for a while.”
He seemed to relax and turned back to the game. But only for a short time. “Watch this,” he said to Tonya, and jumped up to execute a graceful leap and an imaginary hook shot. He grinned ather as his feet touched the ground. “I seen a ballet on TV once. Basketball’s just like that, isn’t it?”
Impressed by the comparison, Tonya nodded.
Apparently pleased by her acknowledgment, he demonstrated an imaginary dribble. “Great, huh?”
“I’d like to see you do it with a real ball.”
He snickered, continuing his rhythmic demonstration. “You come out next game, an’ you will...if I keep my grades up.”
“Are you having trouble in school?” she asked.
“Nah. School’s easy. But I los’ my paper I was s’posed to turn in and if I don’t find it, pow!” He demonstrated a punch to the midsection.
“Parker!” Kirk’s voice cut into the conversation. “Are you watching this practice or not?”
“I’m watching,” the boy grumbled. “I’m watching.”
By the time the game ended, the sun was setting. Tonya and Germain watched Kirk lead the losing team in a cheer for the winners. “Practice day after tomorrow,” Kirk said.
As the rest of the boys drifted away, Toby Carson hung back. “Coach, that move you showed me—it’s Hakeem’s, isn’t it?”
Kirk nodded and dropped a hand on Toby’s shoulder.
“Sure is.”
“If I work at it,” the boy said earnestly, “I can make it mine, too.”
“Come by tomorrow afternoon. We’ll practice it again.”
“Tomorrow’s not a practice day.”
“No problem.”
The youngster’s eyes lit up. “Thanks, Coach,” he said, and bounded off.
Tossing the basketball from hand to hand, Kirk ambled over to the bench. “Show up late one more time, Germain, and you’re off the team, understand?” In contrast to his tone with Toby, Kirk’s voice was icy.
“Yeah, yeah,” Germain muttered. Head down, he shuffled away. “How many Hakeem Olajuwons are there, anyway?” Tonya heard him say.
“You were pretty rough on him, weren’t you?” she ventured as she and Kirk headed back inside.
“And you distracted him when he should have been watching practice.”
Tonya bristled at the tone of his voice. Kirk the Curt, she thought. She tossed her head. “He didn’t need me for that. If I hadn’t been there, he’d have distracted himself.”
“You an expert on that?” Kirk opened the door, then let it slam behind them. The hallway was dim, quiet. “How much do you know about kids, Ms. Brewster?” He put his hand on the wall and blocked her path.
“Not much, I admit, but—”
“You’re here to oversee, not to interfere.”
Furious now, Tonya gritted her teeth. She wished she had Sam’s regal presence, but since she didn’t, she’d make do with temper. “Let me pass.” With both hands, she shoved against his chest. She might as well have tried to budge a steel beam. “You heard me,” she demanded. “Let me by.”
He moved his hand but not to allow her passage. Instead, it dropped to her shoulder. “Not just yet,” he murmured, and bent his head.
Startled, Tonya moved to jerk away, but his mouth touched hers and she was trapped. Caught in a passion so hot and sweet she could hardly bear it Effortlessly, his lips took possession of hers. Boldly, his tongue invaded her mouth.
She should stop this, but she couldn’t. In an instant she was pressed against him, heart to heart, her hands fisted in his hair, her mouth taking even as it gave.
The kiss stole her breath, emptied her mind. She’d go anywhere with him, do anything. She tried to tell him but couldn’t find her voice, could only cling to him. In the silent hallway, she could only listen to the sound of her heart beating painfully, and his thudding against her.
“Tonya,” he whispered against her mouth. “Tonya, I—”
A scream shattered the stillness and cut off whatever he was about to say.
4
KIRK TURNED AND DASHED down the hall. Without hesitation, Tonya raced after him. He halted outside of the classroom where childbirth classes were held. Tonya skidded into him and he grabbed her shoulders. “Get back,” he growled.
“But—”
“You heard me. Stay out of the way.”
Another scream, long and terrified, sounded from the other side of the door. He didn’t have to tell her again. Tonya shrank against the wall and held her breath as Kirk eased the door open. She didn’t think she wanted to see what was happening inside the room, but she couldn’t help looking.
“Rick Henderson,” Kirk muttered, “and Janene North.”
In the middle of the
room stood a shaggy-haired youth, one arm thrown across the chest of a blond, pregnant girl, the other holding a gleaming knife to her throat. He was ugly. Blue eyes darting wildly around the room, teeth clenched, mouth twisted in a mock grin. A ragged scar distorted one pale cheek and made him look even more menacing. “Get outa here,” he snarled as Kirk took a step into the room, “or I’ll cut her.” He edged the blade closer to the terrified girl’s throat
“No,” she whispered. “No.”
The police! She had to call them, Tonya thought The closest phone was in her office. She swung around, but a voice stopped her cold.
“Hey, you out there. Don’t you go nowhere. Don’t you get no ideas about callin’ the cops, not unless you wanna see Janene here sliced up in little pieces.”
Tonya nodded. “Okay.” She stood still, pressed against the wall, needing its solidity to keep her upright. She’d never encountered violence before, never expected to. Cold sweat poured down her back. Her heart pounded so loudly she was certain the young hood could hear it.
“Come on, Rick.” Kirk moved toward the boy and held out a hand. “Give me the knife. If you hurt her, you’ll end up back in detention.” His voice was low and calm.
Tonya let out a breath. Would Rick listen?
“Think I give a shit?” the youth sneered. “I’m gonna give her what she deserves.” He gave the girl a shake. “You tell him,” he growled at her. “Tell him to get outa the way.”
“Please, Mr. Butler,” the girl choked. “You heard what he said.”
Tonya felt sick. What was she doing here? This was the stuff of TV cop shows, not her life. She should get out of here, sneak away when Rick wasn’t looking, scurry back home where she belonged and never come back. But she couldn’t move. Her eyes were riveted on the scene before her—on the waxen face of the young girl, on her staring blue eyes, the pupils dilated with shock. One sleeve of the girl’s oversized T-shirt was torn. She had thrown one arm protectively over her protruding belly; the other flailed uselessly in the air.
Farther back in the room, Tonya saw a dozen other young faces, all of them terrified. Ladonna and a staff member named Corelle hunched in a corn, their arms sheltering several of the younger girls while they stared futilely at the couple before them.
Trouble With Tonya Page 5