Team Meeting

“How did you get keys to your ride, and we can’t even get into our places until the investigation is finished?” AJ grumbles.

“When you buy a new ride every season, your salesman answers your call and personally delivers a new set.” I hear one of the rookies huff. “I get that makes me sound like a tool, but?—”

“Damn right it does,” AJ mumbles.

“I accept that. Now you accept that you sound like a little whiney bitch baby.” I glance in the rearview and am met by his glare. “Boy, don’t make me pull this thing over.”

Nour and even Bennett chuckle.

“You didn’t see Blaze tuck tail and cry fire as an excuse when Coach chewed his ass. He knows there’s an investigation and that we need to keep this all between the family until that’s concluded.” I flip on my blinker.

“You know how much sympathy ass I could be getting right now?” AJ asks with total sincerity. “Even anal wouldn’t be a big ask for a guy who just lost his home.”

“You think a chick, who you just met, who wasn’t already getting railed in the ass, is going to be like, ‘Gasp, your place caught fire. Let me bend over and spread my cheeks so you can shove your dick in my untouched hole?’”

What. The. Fuck?

No one says a word for a good five seconds before we all bust the fuck up.

This may not be particularly funny, but when it comes out of the mouth of a kid who hardly says a damn thing—Blaze Bennett Jr.’s mouth—it’s fucking hilarious. Like, side-splitting hilarity.

AJ chuckles. “Fuck off all of you.”

When I hit my blinker and slow down again, I glance back as AJ looks up, eyes wide, mouth agape.

“You gonna be a good boy now?” I ask.

“Yes, Daddy,” he cries out. “Oh God, yes!”

Again, we all find ourselves laughing. It has to be partially because none of us got back to sleep after the fire. But all four of us napped like champs in the player’s lounge after the team meal, but it’s not the same.

In my side mirror, I notice the exact vehicle has been tailing me since we left the parking lot, and my suspicions are confirmed.

Marks is on us, and that fire was no accident.

* * *

After picking up enough Taco Bell to feed an entire team, I take a little detour, bullshitting the rookies that I’m giving them a tour of Trenton’s hottest spots and doing it at a speed that’s not entirely legal. But my true mission is accomplished—I lost Marks.

We meet facing each other at the mouth of CeCe’s driveway, where I wave him in, and he flips me off.

The boys climb out of the vehicle.

“Meet you inside in a minute.”

I watch as Marks walks up the stairs and assume he’s opening the door for them.

I lean down and reach under my seat. I pull out my little black box, punch in the combination, open it, punch the combo into the following box, open that, and pull out my Glock.

A tap at the window has me looking up at Marks.

I open the door, step out, check the safety, and shove my gun into my waistband.

“What the hell kind of Fabergé bullshit was that?”

“Safety is no accident, Marks,” I say, walking to the back of my ride, popping the hatch, and then grabbing my bag. I close it and turn to look at him.

“How the fuck are you gonna get to that when you really need it?”

“That’s a great fucking question. I have one for you. How would someone protect themselves if they didn’t know there was someone intent on doing them harm?” I scratch my head for effect.

He crosses his arms, not saying shit.

“Where the fuck is Gwendolyn? Rome?”

“Heading this way,” he states.

“Guessing I’m not losing my mind thinking the redhead?—”

“Shut the fuck up,” he whisper-hisses as his eyes dart around.

Gritting my teeth, I whisper real low, “At least when Fred knew when he was toting around in the fucking Mystery Machine that there was bad shit going on. But no, I got Scooby pissed he can’t get a post-game Scooby Snack, so I gotta run him to Taco Bell to distract him. I got Shaggy next to him, fucking zoned out, but I’m not guessing he’s high, so he’s more than likely trying to figure out when the fuck Mystery Incorporated left the set of their show and ended up in The Twilight Zone. Velma Dinkley, you ask? Velma’s a thinker. Doesn’t normally say shit, but now gives lessons on who and who doesn’t want a little fart hole bang-bang. That’s a cry for help from that one. Daphne’s MIA, and so is”—I pause and roll my fucking eyes so hard it hurts—“CeCe. And you, motherfucker, can’t drive for shit, so spill it or stay off my ass.”

He runs a hand over his face. “Scooby AJ?”

I nod.

“Shaggy, the one walking Elle out here, Nour?”

“It doesn’t take a fucking detective to figure that out, Marks.” I throw a hand in the air and give him the finger as I walk toward the house.

When I step in, all four of them have eyes glued to their phones, which I assume Marks had the investigators pull out of their places.

“Where are you going?” AJ calls as I walk past them and head for the stairs.

“To take a dump,” I lie.

My ass is heading upstairs to claim Gwendolyn’s room.

When I come down, the informed are walking in. Rome is carrying his pup, Gwendolyn is behind him, and Marks is behind them.

“Nour and I cooked.” AJ chuckles, holding up the two giant Taco Bell bags.

“You’re the best, AJ.” Rome nods.

AJ looks at me and says, “Dad’s home, so you don’t have to play the role anymore.”

“I made a fine father, but I’ll gladly step back.” I hold my hands up and do just that.

“Let’s eat.” Marks opens a cupboard and pulls out a stack of paper plates.

Rome grabs the food, and Gwen grabs a stack of napkins, shoving it in my chest. I take them, and we hit the dining room.

As fate has been doing, the only seat she has to sit in is beside me. And, with no fuss at all, she sits then turns, basically giving me her back.

Rome starts pulling out tacos, burritos, the whole works, tossing them to whoever squawks first.

Once we’re all settled, Gwen, with her chicken quesadilla, me with my crunch wrap supreme, everyone else with … I don’t fucking care, just happy she got what I thought she’d want, AJ’s the first person to speak.

“So, CeCe is …?”

“Working late,” Rome answers, a mouthful of taco.

He continues, “And Gwen was wearing a red wig because?”

“She’s into roleplay,” I answer and get an elbow to the rib. “Oh shit, my bad. It was cosplay, right? You were fucking obsessed with that Nancy Drew character.”

“I never knew Nancy Drew was a cosplay character.” Nour picks up his phone, more than likely to prove me wrong. Probably could. I have no fucking clue.

“Fuck, she was the biggest cosplay character in Walton, Texas.” Again, total bullshit.

She stomps on my foot under the table, and I grind my teeth together.

“Could hardly get her to take it off.” I wag my brows. “Until she went full blown Lara Croft.”

“She was actually my favorite until the costume went missing from my school locker.” She throws her thumb over her shoulder toward me. “His Finsta was fire.”

“If any of you ever need to learn the art of tucking, don’t hesitate to ask. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. We all need a hobby.” I pick up my wrap and take a bite.

Blaze shakes his head and looks at Marks. “Could you clue us in?”

He nods and leans forward. “His Lara was good, not fire. Harley Quinn, now that was fire.”

AJ shoves a taco into his mouth and scoops up his phone. “Screen name. I need to see this shit for real.”

“A lady never tells.” I give him a wink.

“I’d like to know why the Jersey State Police are investigating the fire.” Bennett crosses his arms. “But I may be even more curious about who the hell you two are.” He points at Marks and Gwendolyn. “Are you going to clue us in on what is actually going on?”

“Bennett …” Rome nods. “It’s a lot, yeah?”

“Do not placate me. I can easily call up a car and leave.”

“Would much rather you stick around,” Gwen says firmly.

He looks at me. “You care to clue me in?”

“Bennett, you and I probably share the same assumptions. Gonna guess since those two are security and landed here in Trenton, someone needs protection.”

“Like, from the mob?” AJ asks.

“Let’s hope not for their sake. Mob can’t hold a candle to the Walton cartel.” I link my fingers behind my neck and lean back.

“You know members of the Walton cartel?” he asks.

Lifting my chin, I spew more bullshit, “My old man’s a member.”

“Thought your dad was a gym teacher,” Nour states.

I lean forward, elbows on the table, look him dead in the eye, narrow mine in warning, and tell him, “So does everyone else.”

She elbows me again. “Okay, look, Danny and Chloe are friends. They asked us to come and watch after CeCe because a man who did some bad shit was paroled from a California state prison. We have absolutely no proof he’s in New Jersey. The parole board and his parole officer are clearly on the take because all we get is he’s done his time. The police will not do a damn thing unless a crime is committed.”

“How do you know? Have you asked them?”

“Bennett”—Marks shakes his head—“we were the police. We chose to leave the force and the political bullshit behind so we could prevent, protect, and serve. We know what they can and can’t do, and we know what we’ll give of ourselves to do the job they just can’t do anymore. No crime was committed here. We don’t have proof in any way that he is here. But now we have a fire. If it is arson, we have something to take to NJPD, and they’ll contact Cali law enforcement, and they’ll go after parole and get answers. Until then, we’d really like you all under this roof. It’s secure here. You have two trained law enforcement agents and Fred.”

Fucker,I think.

“You’re good. Covered. If it was?— ”

“Who’s Fred?” AJ asks as Bennett states, “We’re not your clients.”

Gwen locks eyes with Bennett. “If this is him, then your connection to our client is known. And he went after you to get to them. Let us see this through. And if you feel the need to leave, I’m telling you to keep your mouths shut because if you leak this and it gets to him, and we lose him, you’re not my client or connected; you’re my fucking mission.”

“Easy, tiger.” I shake my head.

“Look,” Rome pipes in. “Yesterday, someone tried to hit me with a fucking car. Last night, my property was lit up with my fucking team”—he pokes himself in the chest—“my fucking team asleep inside. We’re lucky that Elle woke us up, or we’d all be cooked.”

“Someone tried to hit you?” Blaze asks.

“Pop my name into IG. Some asshole got the aftermath on video and posted it.” He scrubs his hands over his head. “None of us asked for this shit, but this bastard doesn’t get caught, the girl I’m head-up-my-ass about is going to be looking over her shoulder for life. So, you promise me to chill here for a couple of days, let them do their thing, and I’m gonna show you the same fucking loyalty if you ever face some shit like this.”

AJ and Nour are checking out IG, Bennett’s having a stare-off with Rome, and I’m back at Walton, sitting around the table, hiding a hard-on.

Pissed Gwendolyn York … so fucking sexy.

Bennett finally breaks the silence. “What about the stadium? Forty-six thousand people pack those stands. Is he capable of?—”

“The stadium is safe,” Gwendolyn interrupts. “The fans are safe. The team”—she pauses—“is safe.”

He nods then shakes his head. “Then how did you miss the row of houses next door?”

Fuck, Bennett. Come on, kid.

“There’s two of them, Bennett. Known them both a long time. Played ball with Marks. Played?—”

She elbows me again, harder this time, and I decide to keep it PG.

“If they knew that was even possible?—”

“CeCe was with me at my place last night,” Rome cuts me off. “They had eyes on her. If this is arson, it was planned and executed when none of us were around.”

“Before you are all back in, a system will be in place,” Marks assures them.

“Okay.” Bennett pushes back in his chair and stands.

“Highlights?” I ask.

“Let’s do this.” Nour stands next.

“Dude.” AJ stands and shakes his head. “You better hope the coach doesn’t see that. He sees how fast you can run when motivated, he’s gonna motivate the hell out of you.”

Not to self: I gotta check out social media more often.

* * *

It’s one in the morning when the boys start nodding off.

“Room situation. AJ and Nour good with the double?” Gwendolyn stands. “Gonna guess Rome wants CeCe’s room. So, Blaze can take Cora’s?”

Blaze nods.

I stretch as I stand up. “You and me then, huh?”

She rolls her eyes at me and looks at Marks. “Tell him to go ahead and head up.”

“Why? Did you put a dead rat in the bed or something?”

“She wouldn’t disrespect CeCe’s home like that.” Marks leans back and links his fingers behind his head.

“The other living room set up for me?” she asks Marks.

“It’s set up enough for me. You take Danny and Chloe’s room. I’m good in there.”

As I’m walking away, I hear Gwendolyn whisper, “Did you give him a freaking gun?”

“Absolutely not. It came with the Mystery Machine.”

“You need sleep more than I do—you’re not making a damn bit of sense. Plus, I need to check in with EchoFury and Wren.”

“We’re good, York. We?—”

“I can’t turn it off until it’s dealt with.”

“Just need four hours,” he insists, and I hear him coming this way.

I sneak up a few more stairs and stop when I hear her ask, “Wait—who’s Fred?”

“Gonna have to ask Lara.” He chuckles.

She calls to him, “Are they actual people I need to concern myself with, or are you that sleep-deprived?”

“Goodnight, York.”

* * *

Unable to even pretend I’m going to sleep, I wait until the boys are tucked in before I get up and tiptoe down the stairs.

When I walk into the living room, Gwendolyn’s face is buried in a pillow, shoulders shaking, and she has no idea that I’m in the room as she kicks her little socked feet on the cushions. I take full advantage of that and head to the other end of the sectional, gently sit down, raise my feet up on the chaise, scoot back, lean into the couch, and link my fingers behind my back.

“I can’t send it now,” she whispers while laughing. “It might interrupt the system, but yep, Mystery Inc.”

She sits back, lifting her face from the pillow, wiping tears away, and then she sees me.

“Mind handing me the remote?” I ask.

“What the hell are you doing up?”

“Mom? Is that you?” I joke, and she snarls. “Oh, right, no one’s here for you to ask to tell me to fuck off.”

“Go to bed.” She glares.

I shake my head. “I lay up there any longer, smelling you all over the place, I may fuck a hole in your mattress. Now, what kind of guest would that make me?”

She turns her head and hisses, “No, it’s not funny. He’s an asshole.”

I sit up, lean toward the imaginary friend she’s talking to, and extend my hand. “Name’s Leland Locke. Don’t listen to her; I’m a great guy.” I pretend to shake hands with the figment of Gwendolyn York’s imagination. “Nice firm grip. You have a name?”

“Stop laughing. He’s not even a little funny.”

I extend both hands and pretend to lift Gwendolyn’s new friend up. “She doesn’t mean it, little buddy. She’s got a lot going on.” I scoot back and lean into the couch, placing it on my lap. “Just sit here with me. We’ll watch some more highlights and check out how the Oriels are doing. We play them after we sweep the Brewers.” I lean in and pretend to listen and chuckle. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but yeah, we may just get a ring this season.”

“I’m not telling him shit,” she snaps, again looking at absolutely nothing.

“Oh shit, you left a man behind. We can’t do that, little buddy.” I extend my hand out in the direction she’s glaring. “Come on over. There’s room on this end.”

She throws something in my direction, and I duck. It just misses the side of my head.

“Fuck, you both good?”

“I’m not talking to myself!” she whispers, still managing to make it sound like she’s yelling at me. “AirPods, you asshole.”

I fight back a laugh and decide to just go with it.

“Well then,” I huff. “Who the hell are these two on my lap?”

She pops up off the couch, drops a tablet, and stomps but silently in front of me. Then she bends down to grab an AirPod and shoves it in her ear while walking into the kitchen.

“Sugar bear, you wanna grab me a beer while you’re in there?”

“Fuck you,” she growls.

“My bad. Make that three; they’re thirsty, too.”