“Then why do you think my brother is there?” I pushed.
“Because all our sources are saying he is,” he cleared his throat. “And until we’re proven otherwise, that’s where we’re going to keep our eyes trained.”
I sensed the subject was closed.
I also sensed that if I pushed it, he not only wasn’t going to answer, he would also likely get a little ticked off.
And I didn’t want to piss the guy off.
Regardless of my thoughts about myself, I knew I wasn’t trained, nor skilled, enough to be here on my own. I may be in good shape. I may know a lot of things…but none of those things would keep me alive in this place.
Sure, I’d give it a good run, but this was a foreign country. This place was completely and utterly new to me, and I was at the mercy of these men.
“You know, I was really looking forward to watching you play ball tonight,” Park said for the first time. “I wanted to see how you played against the girl’s brother.”
A smile turned up the corner of my mouth.
“I’d have blown his ass out of the water, and kissed his sister while he watched,” I grinned and turned to stare at the man. “How do you know about her?”
“Everyone knows about her,” Crassus pointed out. “The whole freakin’ world watches y’all. Sees y’all. Loves y’all.”
That made my heart happy, despite knowing that the world knew about me. I hated being in the public spotlight.
“ESPN has this new ‘Sway and Parts’ watch that they air during the newscast before the sports recap for the day,” Tucker added in.
I shook my head.
“That’s crazy,” I mumbled. “How did I not know that?”
Probably because I was too busy fucking my woman to watch a report on Sports Center about us.
“They asked Sway’s brother his opinion on y’all dating, and he said that he had no problem with the hook up. That you seemed like a good guy, and that you were her favorite player since you showed up in the majors. He said that it was only a matter of time,” Tucker continued.
That was news to me. Not that Sway had a weird sort of obsession with me, but that her brother approved.
“We’re here,” Park said as he pulled up in front of an old apartment building that looked to be about eight hundred years old.
But it was nicer than all of the other buildings surrounding it, so I guessed that was something.
“Home sweet home,” Tucker grunted as he pushed through the door to what I guessed was the apartment the men were using as their headquarters for the mission.
A very small apartment that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in weeks.
See, I wasn’t the cleanest of people, but at least I knew how to throw away a fucking empty beer bottle.
These men, though, seemed to be decorating the room with their empties.
“Don’t look so disgusted,” Tucker grinned. “You’ll get used to it, rich boy.”
I laughed.
“This has nothing to do with my being rich, as you put it, and everything to do with the fact that there’s Cheetos dust all over the couch and the arm rest where you’re sitting.” I pointed to the offending materials.
“Hmm, would you look at that,” Tucker said as he took a seat in the cheese dust. “Game’s on.”
My eyes flew to the TV.
“How do you get this?” I asked.
He pointed to a large antenna that was on the balcony, and I hummed in understanding.
“State of the art stuff, thanks to your god-daddy,” Tim grunted as he walked to the fridge that was only about ten paces behind the couch, cracked the door and came back out with a beer in his fist.
“That’s nice of him, I guess,” I murmured, taking a seat in a recliner that looked like something most people would be throwing out. “He’s like that, though.” I looked around. “So, what do we do now?”
Tucker picked up a remote and hit the red button, and another TV came on next to the game. One that was showing about twenty different camera angles on a gated house. “Now we wait.”
***
It took one week, three days, and eight hours of constantly watching the TV, parading myself around in town, and expressing my general annoyance at the situation before something finally happened.
I’d missed seven games, six of which my team had lost, and I was beyond irritated.
A, because I was missing the games and I hated that we were losing them. And B, because the catcher who’d taken my place while I was ‘injured’ was now trying to take Sway as well.
I’d watched her, time after time, go out on the field when the stupid little fucker acted like he was hurt.
I was now contemplating his death.
I also realized that this kid was a little asshole who needed to be put in his place, that’s for damn sure.
He was cocky. He was a shitty batter, and he was going to be getting his ass kicked the moment I got back.
I wanted to go home. The rage inside my chest each time I saw Sway get flirted with by that little cock sucker was enough to cause me heart palpitations.
I wanted my brother home.
I wanted to take a hot goddamned shower that lasted longer than thirty seconds.
I wanted a fucking cheeseburger.
And most of all, I wanted Sway.
The good thing was that later that night, everything in our entire fucking plan seemed to work out perfectly…mostly.
Chapter 21
I vow to still grab your butt even when you’re old and wrinkly.
-Hancock’s wedding vows
Sway
“Why would I want to throw the first pitch?” I asked in confusion. “That’s a big thing. I’m a nobody.”
“Just do it,” Uncle Siggy passed me the ball. “This is the last game in the series against your brother’s team. They want you to throw the ball because they like seeing stupid shit like that. Plus, wouldn’t it be something if we won against your brother’s team, and you had the first pitch?”
I sighed, took the ball from my uncle and started walking toward the mound.
Though the entire scene of throwing the first pitch wouldn’t be perfect if I didn’t trip going up the steps of the dugout. Oh, and halfway across the field.
My eyes went to home plate where the catcher for our team and the umpire were having a discussion. With both of them already wearing their masks, they had their faces pushed together so they could hear what the other was saying over the noise of the crowd.
“What in the hell?” I muttered, waving at my brother who was standing at the top of the steps watching me.
My brother rose his chin in acknowledgement, and I had the ridiculous thought that I should go over there and mess up the paint underneath his eyes with wet, sloppy kisses.
He’d probably kill me after he was finished dying of embarrassment.
But, since the two men were still deep in discussion, I passed the mound and continued straight toward my brother, who was now watching me with apprehension in his eyes.
“What are you doing?” He asked warily.
I grinned and walked into his arms, which he opened for me once he realized what I was after.
“Love you.” He told me.
I grinned, stepped back, then grabbed hold of his head, brought his face down to mine, and pressed my face against his so hard that I knew there was no way the paint hadn’t spread.
“You’re such a shit!” He laughed, pushing me away.
I wiped my face on the black polo shirt, hoping that I got most of the paint off, and gave him a small wave as I jogged back toward the pitcher’s mound.
I looked at my uncle, who watched it all, and waved.
He shook his head and gestured toward the catcher who was now waiting on me.
I arrived at the mound and kicked the chalk bag out of the way before taking my place on the top of the small hill.
; I eyed the distance from the plate to where I was standing.
Please don’t embarrass yourself. Just throw it hard, right to the catcher. He’ll catch it.
Speaking of the catcher, the one behind the plate wasn’t the backup who’d been playing since Hancock had left three weeks ago.
No, this one was much bigger.
Much.
But he wasn’t Hancock.
Hancock had been tall and stocky.
This guy was tall, but he wasn’t nearly as bulked up as Hancock had been.
And what the hell was the deal with the long sleeves in the middle of summer? He wasn’t wearing those because he thought they looked good, right?
Where had he come from? Surely if they’d gotten another catcher, they would’ve told me…right?
The catcher waved his hand at me to ‘hurry on up,’ and I sighed.
Taking one step, I launched the ball at the catcher, and it went right to his glove. He didn’t even have to move for it at all. No steps to the side. No ball rolling to his glove.
Hell, no. That just wasn’t how I rolled.
It went directly to his glove, straight through the air. A perfect damn strike!
As the happiness poured through me that I was able to get it to him without it falling ten feet in front of him like I’d seen some of the other ladies who’d thrown the first pitch do this year, I clapped my hands together and started walking forward.
It was customary to take the ball with you, and that’d been what I was going to do.
When I got to him, he handed me the ball, but stayed in his crouched position.
Once I took it from his hands, the catcher stood, and I waved at him, intending to head to the dugout.
I just couldn’t find the same enthusiasm for the game now that Hancock wasn’t there.
I’d tried, of course, but without him to watch, the game wasn’t nearly as fun.
I’d been watching him since he’d been acquired by the Lumberjacks.
Literally the game did nothing for me anymore.
“Hey!”
I stopped and turned, watching as the catcher started to remove his mask.
“What?” I snapped, somewhat harshly.
Then my breath froze in my chest as those familiar locks of hair came into view.
And the beard.
Oh. My. God. I know that beard!
“Hancock!”
Hancock caught me, and then promptly lost his footing as we both fell back to the dirt.
It’d only been two weeks.
But it felt like two years.
Literally, I was stupid. I shouldn’t be crying right now.
But I’d been so worried about him, and I hadn’t heard from him in so long that my worries and doubts started to take over.
The crowd around us went wild when Hancock’s mouth touched mine, and I smiled as I pulled back.
“This is very inappropriate,” I murmured happily.
“I had to get my kiss before the game,” he teased me. “And you never came back to your office or these extreme measures wouldn’t have been necessary.”
My face broke out into a grin.
“That’s ridiculous. I’ve been in my office all afternoon!” I informed him haughtily.
He laughed.
“I know.”
“How do you know?” I pushed off of him.
He didn’t take the hand I offered him. Instead, he stood up, and then wrapped his arms low around my ass, lifting me up off my feet as he swung me around and then carried me off the field.
“I was taking care of a few matters,” he grunted, setting me down in the mouth of the dugout.
“And what might those matters be?” I asked as he started to back away.
Players started to file out of the dugout around me even though I was standing in the middle of the stairs, but I kept my eyes focused on Hancock.
“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about right now.”
Shaking my head in bemusement, I headed down the steps, knocking shoulders with my uncle as I went, and took my normal seat.
I did happen to notice that Croft—the backup catcher—was at the very end of the dugout with his face turned toward the field.
His eyes were on Hancock, watching every move he made.
And I noticed a bruise forming under his right eye.
What the hell had happened to him?
I couldn’t find it in me to care at that point, though.
Hancock had made me so extremely happy that I couldn’t freakin’ contain it.
I was literally bouncing in my seat as I watched the boys get ready to play ball.
So fucking happy.
Chapter 22
Maybe serial killers are just regular killers on a low carb diet.
-Chinese Fortune
Sway
The moment Hancock’s foot hit home plate, I was on my feet.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “Go, Hancock! Woo hoo!”
I might, or might not have, been very excited.
So excited, in fact, that I was literally wiggling enthusiastically for Hancock to make his way toward me.
But he was waylaid by his teammates who caught him up around the hips and lifted him straight off his feet.
The moment he was up in the air, someone moved him so he was parallel to the ground, and the entire team was tossing him around like he was a fuckin’ child.
Though, I could see their exhilaration.
The team had lost all of their games over the last two weeks that they’d been back from the All-Star break except for one.
And the minute Hancock shows back up, they not only win, but they knocked five home runs out of the park. One was even a grandslam.
Two of which were hits by Hancock himself.
The team, from what I could tell, didn’t appear to be mad at him.
All except Croft, that was.
Croft was pissed that as soon as he started playing, the team started losing, which he made a point of complaining to me about each time they lost, and he had to come to me for an ice bath—for sore muscles that I damn well knew weren’t all that sore.
I’d passed him off to Sinclair, and I’d seen their heads bobbing back and forth as they spoke softly to each other.
I knew there was something going on between them, just like there was right now. The two of them were huddled together, talking quietly to each other instead of Croft participating in the team celebration that was happening on the field.
Not that I could blame him. I would’ve been upset too if the star player came back and immediately put me out of the job.
So yes, I could sympathize, but I didn’t get the reason for his hostility in the first place.
And having Sinclair in the mix was downright troubling.
“Sway?” Siggy called.
I turned to find him staring at me in confusion.
“What?” I asked.
“Games over. You ready to go?” he asked.
I turned to look, and was surprised to find that no one was on the field anymore except for Hancock, who was talking to reporters.
“Yes,” I nodded my head. “What…”
I stopped when I noticed my brother come up behind the reporter who was interviewing Hancock, a blond male in his forties, and make the thrusting hip gesture as he brought his fingers—in the shape of a V—to his lips and flicked his tongue out.
Hancock’s head tilted, and he tried for all he was worth to continue with the interview, but it didn’t take long before he burst out laughing.
Which Siggy and I did as well.
“That boy can get anyone to laugh,” Siggy chuckled. “You going over there?”
I nodded.
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “I think Mom and Dad are in the stands over on the visitors’ side. I might go talk to them while I wait for the interview that I know is about to happen between my brother and Ha
ncock. Are you going to dinner with us?”
“Negative,” Siggy denied. “I’m tired, and your brother gives me a headache.”
I snorted.
“Teller gives everyone a headache,” I pointed out. “That doesn’t stop us from going out to dinner with him, though.”
“Yeah, well I’ve been battling a headache for two weeks now. I’m hoping it’ll stop tonight,” he grumbled, picking up his bag and heading for the locker room.
I didn’t stop him.
I knew he was on edge.
Everyone was.
Hancock leaving—warranted or not—had thrown everyone.
It’d take some time for everything to go back to the way it was.
Shaking my head clear of thoughts about how it felt to have Hancock gone, I took the steps to the field and crossed it, making my way over to my parents, who were still seated and watching my brother and Hancock, who were just to the right of where they were sitting.
Giving them a wide berth so I wouldn’t interrupt them on national television, I moved to the padded wall that was separating the stands from the field and clasped my dad’s hand.
“Hey, Daddy,” I called. “How are you doing?”
Dad’s eyes filled with love as he stared at me.
“I’m doing good, baby. But I’m not sure whether I should be happy that my team won or sad that your brother lost,” he laughed.
I giggled.
That was true.
I didn’t know what to say or do either.
On one hand, I was sad that my brother lost, but on the other, I was excited that my team won.
It was a lose-lose situation.
“Did you figure out where you wanted to go eat?” Dad asked.
I shook my head. “I was thinking that sushi place, but I’m not sure if everyone likes it like I do.”
“I like sushi!” Hancock called, interrupting his interview to tell us that little tidbit.
“But I don’t like sushi from that one place. So, avoid that please!” Teller followed up.
Shaking my head, I returned my eyes back to my mom.
“We’re gonna have to nix sushi,” I informed them.
“I noticed,” Mom smiled. “There’s that new place, Across the Border.”
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