“Where in hell did you get that?”
She held up her hands to show him they were empty. “Get what?”
“That jacket,” he snarled.
Confused, Tonya peered down at herself. Was the jacket too small? Was it torn? Stained? It seemed fine to her and exactly like all the others she’d noticed. “I’ve seen a million of them. What’s wrong with it?”
“Wrong?” He took a step toward her, then, thankfully, stopped. He looked as if he’d explode at any moment. He shook his head and turned to Ramon. “Tell her.”
“Tonya,” Ramon said quietly. “Red is the Sabers’ color. If you wear a jacket like that, it means...” His cheeks turned as crimson as the jacket. “Well, it says...”
“It means you’re either a member of the Sabers or you’re sleeping with one,” Ladonna said.
“Oh.” Tonya squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh, Lord. I thought it was a fad or the high school color or something.” Horrified, she tugged at the zipper; it caught halfway down. Feeling like an idiot, she jerked it ineffectually.
“Here, let me,” Ladonna said, and worked the zipper down the rest of the way.
Tonya pulled off the jacket. “Trash can,” she muttered, and dumped it in. “I’ll, uh, check with you next time before I go shopping,” she said, forcing a smile. Trying for a reasonably dignified exit, she strode out of the kitchen. She didn’t need coffee to warm her anymore. Her cheeks were flaming, and she felt hot all over.
In the hall she leaned against the wall and shut her eyes again. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered.
From the kitchen, the sound of Kirk’s disgusted voice carried easily. “Of all the stupid things to do.” Well, at least she and Kirk agreed on something.
“Come on, amigo,” Ramon said. “She made a natural mistake. Everyone wears those jackets. How could she know?”
“My point exactly. She doesn’t know.”
“She’ll learn,” Ramon replied. “And the last thing we need is conflict here. We have enough of that in the neighborhood.”
“Yeah, right. But I don’t want her to—”
Unable to listen to any more, Tonya scurried down the hall to the safety of her office. Once inside, she shut the door, sank onto her chair and dropped her head in her hands. Why did she always make a mess of things? She had a chronic case of foot-in-mouth disease. She started with such good intentions, then somewhere along the way, she made a mistake and botched up everything. The voice of her seventh-grade teacher echoed in her mind. “You’re so impulsive, Tonya. You never think things through.”
She wished she’d waited to hear Kirk finish what he’d started to say. “I don’t want her to—” To what? Stay here? That was obvious.
What would her grandfather say about the jacket incident? If she told him—which she didn’t intend to—he’d probably laugh. She could hear him now, his trademark belly laugh rumbling through the room. “Hell with it,” he’d say. “Get on with your work.”
But Clint Brewster had a lot more confidence in himself than Tonya had in herself. He also apparently had a lot more confidence in her than she did. He’d sent her here, hadn’t he? Damn, she wished he hadn’t. Selling clothes, such an easy, mindless job, sounded better and better. If only she hadn’t quit. Then her grandfather would have left her alone.
“But,” she muttered, sitting up straight, “you did quit your job and he did send you here, and, damn it, this time you’re going to stick it out.” In some way she sensed but didn’t yet understand, “this time” was too important for her to walk out.
She opened her briefcase and pulled out her daily planner. Today she was to meet with Ramon. Thank goodness she’d already had her meeting with Kirk. She didn’t think she could handle another confrontation with him this morning. She was glad Ramon was the center administrator, not Kirk. Ramon was a peacemaker.
Kirk, on the other hand, would just barrel over people and situations like a tank. He was more like her, Tonya thought Bigger and more intimidating but possessed of the same tunnel vision. He, too, aimed straight for his goal without checking out alternative pathways or noticing the pitfalls along the way.
Shaking off thoughts of Kirk, Tonya searched for the list of questions she wanted to ask Ramon. She’d spent a long time on them and felt they were good ones. Most concerned the use of existing funds. She read them over again, then smoothed her hair and put on fresh lipstick. Pink, not red.
When she opened her door, she felt a moment of nerves. She glanced both ways down the hall, then sighed with relief. As long as she didn’t run into Kirk and have to endure his hostile gaze, she’d be fine. And if she did—Well, one thing for certain. She wouldn’t apologize. She’d made a mistake, she’d rectified it by getting rid of the jacket, and she wouldn’t give Kirk the pleasure of seeing her grovel.
Luck remained with her. Ramon was alone when she went to his office. The door was open, and he glanced up and smiled as Tonya paused on the threshold. “Hi, come in.”
She took a chair and laid the paper with her list of questions in front of her on the desk. The first question was—
“About this morning,” Ramon said.
Here we go. Was he going to tell her to leave? Not likely. He couldn’t unless he returned the grant, and she was certain he didn’t intend to do that. Her first impulse was to mumble an apology. Don’t, she ordered herself, and managed to thwart her natural instinct.
“I apologize...” he began.
Apologize? Ramon was apologizing?
“For Kirk,” he said.
“Never mind. I’ll speak for myself.”
Tonya swung around and saw Kirk lounging in the doorway. Why did he always have to sneak up behind her? Her stomach dropped.
Ramon gave Kirk a pointed look as he sat down next to Tonya. The look wasn’t lost on her. Ramon had probably invited Kirk to this meeting so they could all share their grievances. Fine. All she had to do was keep quiet. As long as she used her brain instead of her mouth, she could maintain the advantage.
She glanced at Kirk, but could read nothing in his dark eyes. She waited.
“I sounded angry this morning,” he began.
“Sounded?” Tonya snorted. “You were angry.”
He shook his head. “I was worried.”
That hadn’t crossed her mind. She stared at Kirk. “About what?”
“The center, for one thing. You may not realize it, but colors are a big thing around here. You wear the wrong color, even the wrong shade, you’re begging for trouble. The Sabers are red. Los Hermanos are blue. I told you they’re in a turf war. For someone here to wear Saber colors could escalate it, bring it right to our doorstep.”
So that was why Ladonna, Corelle and the others wore neutral browns and grays. Not from a lack of fashion sense—for survival.
“This is real life,” he added, “not ‘West Side Story.’ These guys don’t sing and dance. They shoot.”
His ominous tone made Tonya shiver. She cleared her throat “You said ‘for one thing.’ What else are you worried about?”
“You.”
Worried about her? This was the second time he’d said that. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. Her mouth opened but nothing came out.
“In that jacket, you were a walking target. If one of the Hermanos had seen you, he wouldn’t have thought twice about blowing your head off.”
She shuddered again. Automatically, she hugged herself.
“There are a couple of other gangs around here, too,” Kirk said, rising and looming over her. “Learn their colors. Don’t put yourself—or the center—in this situation again. This is neutral territory. We need to keep it that way.”
He started for the door, then paused. “This morning was a close call. Don’t give us another.” With that, he left Tonya and Ramon to their meeting.
THE FOLLOWING DAY Kirk sat sprawled in his chair as the staff meeting got under way. He glanced thoughtfully at Tonya. God, she was something. He’d almost exploded when he’d seen he
r wearing that Saber red jacket yesterday morning. He couldn’t bear thinking about it. She’d thought he was angry at her. What she didn’t realize was that he’d been terrified, thinking what could have happened to her. A picture had flashed in his mind—Tonya lying in a heap in front of the center, her chest pierced by a bullet, blood pouring out. Just as well she couldn’t read his thoughts, had no idea how much time he spent worrying about her. Their relationship was already getting complicated enough. Let her think he was just angry, since he was that, too.
Ramon, the voice of reason as usual, was right. Tonya didn’t know about gang wars. But, damn it, if she was going to park herself here, she should have made it her business to find out. They were lucky nothing had happened.
He toyed with the silver buckle at his waist. The incident was over. Why was it still bugging him? Easy answer, Butler. Everything about the lady bugs you. Disgusted with himself, he scowled. Tonya glanced at him, then quickly looked away. Probably thought he was still mad. He was, but at himself.
“Okay, compadres, we have a lot to go over today.” Ramon began the meeting. “Let’s start with Rick Henderson. Anyone know if he’s surfaced?”
The others shook their heads. “Janene may, but she’s not talking,” Kirk said.
“Scared?”
“Either that or she’s keeping quiet because of a misplaced sense of loyalty.” Frustrated, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Rick could be anywhere, and he could turn up again any time.”
Tonya stared at him, her eyes wide. “Aren’t the police still looking for him?”
“Sure,” Kirk said, “but whether they’ll find him is anybody’s guess. His cohorts aren’t talking. Hell, they’re probably hiding him. And face it, the cops have got other things to do. Rick Henderson’s whereabouts aren’t at the top of their priority list So—” he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a growl “—keep that in mind and don’t go wandering around the neighborhood.”
Tonya swallowed and nodded. But would she really listen, Kirk wondered. He’d told her not to come out here in the first place, and she hadn’t paid attention to his advice. Headstrong woman. He’d like to take her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He’d like to...
To pull her into his arms and finish what he’d started the other night. He pictured her naked in his bed, her eyes languorous, dark with desire, that long hair spread over the pillow, curling over her shoulder, covering one breast. He saw himself leaning over her, lifting the silken lock, baring a rosy nipple to his gaze, to his eager mouth—
“Know anything, Kirk?” Ramon’s voice intruded on his fantasy.
“What?” They were all staring at him. Disgusted with himself, Kirk realized he’d missed the conversation. Way to go, Butler. Why did he waste his time dreaming about Tonya Brewster? She was wrong for him. They were from different worlds, realms so far apart they could never meet. He ordered himself to erase those erotic images from his mind, to kill the desire that curled in his gut. He glared at Tonya, redirecting his anger at himself to her.
“Would that cousin of Rick’s, the kid you’ve been working with, know anything about where Rick might be?” Ramon repeated.
“Toby Carson? I doubt it,” Kirk answered, getting back to business. “He’s still on the fringes of the gang. Damn, I wish I had more time to spend with him, or that the cops around here would find the time to participate in the volunteer program.”
“I guess your meeting last week with Captain Morales wasn’t a rousing success,” Ramon said.
“Total bust,” Kirk said, scowling. “He agreed with the concept, nodded his head in all the right places and said he’d mention it to his officers. But the cops in this neighborhood are already involved in so many programs, they can’t promise anything. No commitments on a regular basis, anyway.
Ramon nodded glumly. “Bottom line—we can expect zero response.”
“Right.”
“Damn!” Ladonna’s voice shook with anger. “If they’d give us a couple of hours a week, we could work miracles in this neighborhood. It’d pay off in the long run. Less juvenile crime and—”
“Would seven be enough?” Tonya asked suddenly.
Kirk blinked at the interruption. What was she talking about?
Ramon looked confused, too. “Seven...what?” he asked.
“Police officers,” Tonya said. “I’ve rounded up seven guys who are interested in volunteering, and—”
“Girl, are you sayin’ you’ve got seven real live cops—those guys in the uniforms with the badges—who are actually willing to donate some free time here?” Ladonna said.
Tonya nodded. “Is that okay? Is seven too many?”
“Too many?” Ramon laughed. “You just increased our volunteer program three-and-a-half times.” He shook his head, obviously disbelieving. “When did this come about?”
“I’ve heard you mention the program and, well, I talked to some people yesterday.”
Yesterday! Kirk stared at her dumbfounded. He’d been trying for six months to get this program off the ground, and she’d done it yesterday? How? Dumb question. A woman like Tonya Brewster probably picked up the phone and dialed the chief of police direct. “You must have connections,” he told her, a cynical smile curling his lips.
She grinned at him and nodded. “I do. I’ll talk to Rusty tomorrow.”
Jealousy, as sharp as a knife, stabbed Kirk. “Who’s Rusty?” he growled.
Ramon’s head jerked around at the tone of Kirk’s voice.
Tonya chuckled. “Rusty’s the cop in my neighborhood.”
The knife blade turned. “You’re on a first-name basis with him?” He ignored Ladonna’s startled frown, the flash of warning in Ramon’s eyes, and stared at Tonya. “How so?” he asked.
“Tickets,” Tonya said, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Speeding gets you acquainted with a lot of police. I’m on a first-name basis with most of them.”
Tickets. Kirk couldn’t help grinning back at her. Tonya Brewster was one surprise after another.
ENCOURAGED BY KIRK’S SMILE, Tonya decided she’d talk to him when the staff meeting ended, but when she jumped up, he was already striding out of the room. She hurried after him, but his long legs had already carried him a good distance down the hall and she would have had to sprint to catch up.
With a shrug, she turned around and headed for her office. She had to conclude that Kirk was deliberately avoiding her. Ever since the afternoon when he’d pulled her into his arms for that searing kiss, he’d gone out of his way to keep from crossing her path. Why? she wondered as she sat behind her desk. Had her kiss disappointed him? No, he’d been as aroused as she. His heart had thudded as wildly as hers; she’d felt it. But maybe he’d had second thoughts.
Tonya propped her chin in her hands. She hated being in the dark, and Kirk Butler seemed a master at leaving her with unanswered questions. In the space of a week, the infernal man had managed to stir up every possible feeling from enmity to desire. Mostly desire. A heaping dose of desire.
And what was she going to do about that?
Sounds from outside distracted her, and she looked out the window. A group of youngsters, Toby Carson among them, trooped past, heading for the basketball court. Was there a game this afternoon? The morning had been rainy, but the sky had cleared, so if a game was scheduled, it could go on as planned.
Tonya opened her drawer and checked the weekly printout she’d picked up in Ramon’s office yesterday. Basketball game, four-thirty. She’d promised Germain, the youngster she’d met last week, that she’d watch him play sometime. Why not now?
Besides, Kirk coached the basketball team. Maybe if she went to the game, she’d have a chance to talk to him afterward, find out where they stood. She got up and reached for the jacket—the dull gray jacket—she’d worn this morning. If nothing else, while she watched the game, she’d watch Kirk, too...and enjoy the view.
The view was fabulous, she decided a few minutes later as she perched
on the bench and trained her eyes on the man in front of her. He stood talking with a broad-shouldered African American man. Tonya guessed that must be James Watson, the middle school coach who helped out here. He, too, was a well-built man, but Kirk had him beat, hands down.
“Hey, you’re back.”
Tonya tore her gaze from Kirk’s well-crafted buns and smiled up at Germain Parker. The teenager, wearing a basketball uniform—a neutral brown-and-white one, she noticed—radiated energy like a live wire. He gave her a broad grin and a high five. “Get ready,” he boasted, dancing on his toes. “We gonna beat those suckers like you never seen, and I’m gonna be the star.”
If his enthusiasm was any indication, Tonya believed him. “I’ll cheer for you,” she told him.
A shrill whistle got Tonya’s attention. She turned toward the court and her gaze met Kirk’s. His eyes flashed with surprise, dismay. Pleased, Tonya wiggled her fingers in a half wave.
He nodded briefly and turned away, but not before she read the flash of emotion in his eyes. As he strode onto the court, Tonya couldn’t suppress a smug smile. He hadn’t expected her to be here. And her presence made him uncomfortable. Good.
The whistle sounded again, and Tonya watched Germain swagger onto the court. He glanced over at her and grinned, then focused on the tip-off. His team got possession, and Germain took over, dribbling down the court, dodging one opponent, swerving around another. He passed the ball to Toby and eluded a guard as he raced toward the basket. The ball came back to Germain, he aimed and sent it through the hoop with a satisfying swoosh. Two-zero. Tonya jumped up and cheered.
Despite her enjoyment of Germain’s performance, Tonya was distracted by Kirk. His voice as he shouted encouragement to his team, his movements, his very presence commanded her attention. He was like a powerful magnet, drawing her eyes, her thoughts. At times the game vanished from her awareness and she was conscious only of him.
Then a shout would bring her back, and she’d focus on Germain again. He put on a stunning display of athleticism—dribbling, passing, rebounding and outscoring both opponents and teammates. A sheen of sweat dampened his face, his chest heaved with harsh breaths, but his smile never faded. The kid was in heaven. Today he was a star, and he played to the crowd.
Trouble With Tonya Page 8