CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

The morning of the game, the replacements were in the locker room early, dressed and hidden behind their helmets just in case anyone questioned who they were. The coach calmly explained that several of the defensive players had come down with a horrible virus and wouldn’t be able to play. To avoid forfeit, he’d brought in extras.

“No offense, Coach, but do they even know how to play?” asked someone.

“You wanna test me, boy?” asked Tailor. The man shook his head and took a seat.

“Where are the other coaches?” asked another man.

“Oh, they were all affected as well. I’d like you to meet the temporary coaches for this game. Nine, Gaspar, Ian, and Ghost.”

“Ghost? Nine? What kind of names are those?” said Billy Buttrell.

“I don’t know, what kind of name is Butt-rell?” The others smirked, and he blushed, nodding at the big old man. He didn’t look like someone he wanted to screw around with.

“Alright, get out on the field and start running drills,” said Coach. When the players were gone, he looked at his new coaches. “I sure as hell hope this works.”

“What the fuck is going on with my team?” came the shrill voice.

“My team,” said Coach, “is full of replacements because this shitty fucking facility has made my guys sick.”

“No. No, that can’t happen. Not today,” she said in a panic.

“What’s the matter, Glenda? Afraid the defense won’t know what to do?” asked Gaspar. She turned to stare at the strange man and looked back at the coach.

“What are you doing? What is this?”

“This is me taking control of this team and protecting my players. This is me making sure that the whole world knows what kind of woman you are. This is me finally feeling like the man that I know I am.”

She was seething. Literally, steam was coming from the top of her head. Her hands were balled in fists, and she was more than a little pissed off.

“It won’t matter,” she smirked. “None of it will matter!”

“Why? Because you think you own the referees?” asked Nine. Her face blanched, and she looked from one face to another. “Don’t worry, Glenda. We’re going to do the Fire proud.”

As she stalked away, the coach stared at the four men, shaking his head.

“Y’all got some balls, that’s for damn sure. That woman would put a bullet in your head if she thought it would help her.”

“Well, she just might have to do that,” said Ian. “Let’s go. We have a game to win. Sort of.”

Every man knew enough about football to know the basic warm-up drills that needed to happen. For all his guilt, Kurt took control as captain of the team and was doing a damn fine job. When the referees walked out on the field, Gaspar nudged the coach.

“This is where it gets fun,” he smiled. Whiskey, Antoine, Bull, Miller, and Luc were wearing the black and white uniforms of the referees. Along the sidelines, acting as sideline judges, were Vince, Dex, Clay, and Mac.

“Who are they? You know what,” he said, raising his hands, “I don’t think I want to know. You didn’t hurt the refs, did you?”

“They’ll live,” smirked Ian.

“What about the stuff that Glen said she had in her house? You guys said that he told you there was a ton of evidence out there. She’ll burn it all before we can get to her.”

“No, she won’t,” said Nine. “I need you to trust me. She will not get away with any of this.”

“Did you kill him?” asked Sly, looking over at Baptiste and Rafe.

“Why does everyone ask us that? No, we didn’t kill him. He’s just going to have a helluva headache when he wakes up,” said Rafe. “Let’s go. Did you block the signals on the alarm?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?” smirked Sly. Baptiste and Rafe frowned at him. “Yes. It’s blocked. Pick the damn lock. The cameras are down as well, plus the sensors are inactivated.”

The system of locks and alarms on Glenda’s home was impressive but not impenetrable. It seemed an awfully large home for one woman, but they were assured she had no men in her life, no children, no women, and no staff. She preferred a non-witnesses sort of lifestyle.

“Office is over here,” said Baptiste. “Got two safes.”

“Let me work my magic,” said Sly. It took him longer than usual, but within twenty minutes, both safes were open, and the stacks of materials inside were so damning Glenda would never see the light of day.

“Let’s go. We need to get this to the stadium.”