“No.”
“Then you might want to consult counsel. The agreement Mr. Chambers signed is binding and legal. Now, I’d like to get back to the game. Nice meeting you,” he offered politely, then settled back into his seat.
Reese could tell Garrett hadn’t cared for Tay’s rebuff any more than he himself had cared for the verbal swipe he’d taken at Jessi. When the fuming Garrett met his eyes, Reese’s face remained impassive, but his thoughts were not.
Big Bo hadn’t liked the swipe either, because he knew Garrett wasn’t half the man Lady Blake was. Insulting her in front of the commissioner hadn’t accomplished anything except show Garrett to be the arrogant bastard that he was. They were supposed to be meeting later on tonight, and he hoped Garrett had enough sense not to mention it.
Garrett met Wenzel’s eyes and nodded. “How are you, Mr. Wenzel?”
“Fine, Garrett.”
Garrett then turned cold eyes on Kyle Miller, who by his impatient stance was ready for him to leave. “You all enjoy the rest of the game, and my apologies for the interruption.” As he climbed the stairs to depart, he shot JT a nasty smile that nobody missed. She snarled silently in response.
Later that evening, Michael “Ham” Birmingham set a large Ziploc bag filled with coke on the table and tapped a spoon’s worth onto a small flat glass for the buyer to try. The brown-skinned woman wearing a red Cleopatra wig took her time with the test and taste of the glistening white powder. When she seemed satisfied, she looked at Ham and asked, “Did you bring it all?”
“Did you bring all the money?” he countered.
She beckoned one of the tall men flanking her and he set a black briefcase on the table in front of her. She opened it, then slowly spun it around so Ham could see the pile of fresh green bills stacked neatly inside.
Ham glanced over at Big Bo, who gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval. Beside him stood a silent Bobby Garrett and two members of Ham’s crew. Everybody in the room was armed.
The exchange was made, and when the transaction was finalized, both parties left the shabby, pay-by-the-hour motel room and disappeared into the night.
“So, when are you flying out?” JT asked Reese as they lay sated in her bed. They’d celebrated the end of their days’-long separation with a blistering bout of lovemaking that they were just now recovering from.
“Early,” he told her. It was now midnight. “Seven-fifteen early.” He loved the feel of her long lean body pressed against his and brought her closer. He kissed the top of her very mussed hair. “Bryce called me. He found the virus maker.”
“Really?”
Reese proceeded to tell her about the underbellies and trolls and the kid in Seattle. When he was done, she said, “All that grief for a lousy four hundred bucks?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I don’t know if I like knowing I was a cheap hit.”
He grinned. “If we find out Garrett’s behind this, do you want his head on a platter or a pike?”
“A pike so I can plant it on the Golden Gate. It’ll serve as a reminder to misogynists everywhere.”
“I admired your restraint today.”
“I wanted to shoot him. That smug smile he gave me at the end didn’t help.” She looked up. “Would you really chop off his head?”
“With the rustiest blade I can find.”
Smiling, she cuddled back against him, enjoying being held close enough to hear his heartbeat.
Reese thought back over the day. “I didn’t know you knew Bo Wenzel well enough for him to call you girlfriend.”
She chuckled. “Met him when the league started. We’ve had some arguments over contracts, but he’s mostly okay. Wouldn’t turn my back on him, though.”
“Why not?”
“He’s like a gator. Either likes you or eats you. Seems to like me, though, especially after I won his yacht two years ago playing Madden.”
“What?” he said, surprised.
“He bet it and lost it. I told him I didn’t want it, but he insisted. Said I’d won it fair and square.”
“Do you still have it?”
She shook her head. “Sold it the next day and sent the proceeds to the East Oakland Youth Development Center, a nonprofit run by a friend of mine. Got a real good price too.”
“You’re amazing.”
“That’s me.”
He slid a magical finger over one of her nipples, which bloomed to attention almost immediately. “You’re amazing in other ways too.”
He bent and took the nipple into his mouth, and she shimmered like the tea lights lit around the room,” You’re not so bad yourself,” she husked out.
And for the next few hours they dazzled each other with amazing things. Only after they were both too amazed to move did they whisper good night and drift off to sleep.
The following morning it was still dark when she drove him to the airport. The commissioner had flown back to New York after Sunday’s game, so Reese was heading back to L.A. alone. He had no idea how long he might be there, but unless Mendes and his detectives turned up something new, there’d be no mandated reason for him to remain in California once he was done interviewing Bo Wenzel. It was his hope that something would surface so he could stay until the threats against JT were laid to rest.
“You take care of yourself,” he told her softly, leaning over from the passenger seat, then kissing her good-bye. He ran a parting caress down her cheek. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave her.
“You too,” she said, not knowing why she always missed him when she’d never missed any other man before.
The whistle from the airport police blew shrilly, so a few seconds later he was out of the car and entering the terminal, and she was driving away.
Reese walked into Bo Wenzel’s office on Tuesday morning and found the big man waiting for him. “Come on in, Mr. Anthony.”
Reese took a seat. The large brown and gold space was far different from his son’s office next door. The wealth of antlered heads showcased on the walls and the stretched and cured animal skins draped over the furniture made the place feel like a hunter’s den. “Interesting office,” he said, looking around at the variety of horned trophies.
“Shot everything in here myself. You see Ursus out by the doors?”
Reese nodded. He’d passed the big mascot coming in.
“Three hundred and sixty pounds of raging bear. Took it down with a bow.”
“That’s something,” Reese admitted. Had to have taken a lot of guts to face a bear of that size with nothing more than a bow. The feat told Reese a great deal about the man.
Wenzel took a seat behind a large wooden desk. “So, how can I help you, Mr. Anthony?”
“Just trying to pull together my report to the commissioner on the Pennington murder.”
“Gus was a good man. Hope you catch the bastards that did it.”
“You know any reason why anyone else might have been in the office that night?”
“Nope. Place should’ve been empty but for Gus and his people. Like I told the police, I was in San Diego that night looking over some property.”
Reese looked at his notes. “Ah, I see that in the detective’s notes, but funny thing. I called every realtor in San Diego and not one of them remembers you.”
Wenzel stilled.
Reese waited.
Wenzel gave him a guilty smile. “Did I say San Diego? I meant Santa Barbara.”
“Ah.” Reese scribbled on his pad. “Can I have the realtor’s name?” He looked up.
“Sure. Have to dig it out of my car. Leave your number with my secretary and I’ll have her call you.”
Reese nodded. “Will do. Well, that should do it for me, Mr. Wenzel. Thanks for taking the time to see me.” He stood. “If you remember anything else that might help, give Captain Mendes a call.”
“Suppose you’re heading back to New York now that you’re done here.”
Reese shrugged. “Not sure. Are you g
oing to be in town if I have any more questions?”
“I’m flying out with the team on Friday for the Dallas game. Be back on Monday.”
“Good to know. “Reese stuck out his hand. “Good luck to your team.”
They shook. Reese noted the tightness in the man’s grip and in his smile.
“Thanks,” Wenzel said.
As Reese drove away, he had to admit that Wenzel had handled being busted well. An inexperienced investigator might have missed the quick flash of alarm in Wenzel’s blue eyes when he told him about the realtors, but working the streets with junkies, hookers, and thieves had given Reese all the experience he needed. Wenzel had been scared.
In reality, he hadn’t made any calls at all, he’d simply been after a reaction, and got one that put Big Bo Wenzel on the radar. He’d be willing to bet the man hadn’t been in either San Diego or Santa Barbara. Did he know more about the death of Gus Pennington than he was saying? Maybe. It was still too early to tell, but one lie always led to another, so he phoned Mendes to see if they could widen the trail.
Big Bo was furious when Anthony left his office, so much so that he slammed his fist down on his desk with so much force it rattled the heads on the walls. “Dammit!”
His son Matt strolled in. He knew about the meeting with Anthony. The anger on his father’s face told him the interview hadn’t gone well. “Problems?”
Bo looked back at him like he wanted to tear him in half. “You were right. Anthony is going to be a problem.”
“What happened?”
Bo told him the story, and when he was done, Matt couldn’t enjoy the moment because he was in this mess up to his eyebrows too. “So he caught you in a lie. Great. Thought I was supposed to be the stupid one here.”
“Shut up. I’ll give him the number of a realtor I know who’ll say anything I tell her to say.”
“You think that’s going to satisfy him?”
Bo didn’t know. He hated acknowledging that even to himself, but he was going to play the game as if he still had the ball. There was too much at stake to do anything else. In hindsight, he should have challenged Anthony’s accusation and told him to call the realtors again, but with no name to offer to corroborate his alibi, that strategy would have blown up in his face as well. “At this point I can’t worry about Anthony. Ham has the deal set up in Dallas for Sunday night.”
Matt didn’t believe his father was still going to plow ahead. “No. We need to get out of this before we get in so deep that we can’t.”
“You just get the team ready to fly to Dallas. I’ll handle the rest.”
Matt’s lips thinned, but he did as he was told.
JT thought about Reese on and off all week. It came to her that she had no idea what he was doing on behalf of Commissioner McNair, but she decided it was probably best that she not know, since her involvement with him might well be a conflict of interest.
The telephone calls they shared every night, although wonderful, weren’t doing it for her. She wanted him close enough to touch, close enough to look into his eyes. As she lay in bed alone that night, she wondered if she was in love. She could say honestly that having never been in love, she knew nothing about the symptoms other than the ones she’d seen in movies or heard in the lyrics of songs, and she wasn’t sure she could trust those. What she knew for sure was that she looked forward to being with Reese no matter how short the time because, not once had he told her who she should be, how to act, or treat her as if she couldn’t handle her own affairs. He approved of the world she’d carved out for herself and wasn’t forever offering suggestions on how her stuff needed to be changed. Women liked men for various reasons, and she like being left alone. If she needed advice, she’d ask. Reese seemed to sense that in her and didn’t appear threatened by it. She was a tall, independent woman from Texas and always would be, but Lordy, she missed him.
At work on Thursday morning, her first call of the day came from Marva Wingate. She and her son Marvin had worked out a truce, and Marva was once again in his life; not in the role of business manager or agent, but as his mother. “I’m chairing the MAMA ball this year. How many tables do you want? There’ll be ten to a table.”
MAMA stood for Mothers and Mentors of Athletes. “Let’s see…” JT did a mental head count. “Put me down for two.”
“Okay. Make sure you bring that new man of yours.”
“What new man?”
“Reese Anthony?”
JT went still. “How do you know about Reese?”
“Our sons, who else? Talk about women not being able to keep a secret. The ladies and I have been talking about it all over the country.”
“All over the country?”
“Yes, and we all think it’s about time you settled down. Just say the word and we’ll start prepping the shower.”
“Shower! Marva, hold up.”
“Gotta go. If you need another table, give me a call.” And she hung up.
JT had her forehead pressed down on her desk when Carole walked in. “What’s wrong?”
“Marva Wingate wants to give me a shower.”
Carole seemed to ponder that for a moment. “You and Marva Wingate in a shower. That’s kinda kinky. Who knew she was a freak underneath those pearls?”
“Not that kind of shower! She’s talking a wedding shower, baby shower.”
“You’re pregnant?”
JT stared at Carole as if she’d never seen her before. “Of course not! What is wrong with you? I feel like I’m talking to—what’s that woman’s name?—Gracie Allen.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ve been wondering myself. Brad and I did the horizontal tango last night and I think he blanked my brains out.”
“Blanked your brains out?” For as long as JT had known Carole, no curse words had ever crossed her lips.
“Yes, blanked my brains out. I haven’t been right since I got up this morning. Took me twenty minutes to find my keys, drove off in the wrong direction when I left the house, tried to go into the exit lane at the parking structure instead of the entrance.”
JT was laughing. “That must have been some loving he put on you.”
Carole fought back a smile. “Quit laughing or I’ll make you drink the coffee I made this morning without the filter.”
“You’re a mess.”
“Tell me about it. But I’m surprised you aren’t doing the same dumb stuff, considering who you’ve been tangoing with.”
“I’m a lawyer and I know how to plead the Fifth.”
Carole’s voice turned serious. “You really like him, don’t you?”
JT nodded. “Yeah.”
“I think you’ll be good together.”
“We’ll see. You know me. I meet these men, they look good at first then turn into lunatics, so I’m taking it day by day.”
“This one’s gold.”
“I’m starting to think that myself, but like I said, we’ll see.”
Carole nodded her approval, then said, “Now, I’m trying to remember why I came in here. Oh, yes. The mail.” She hurried back to her desk to retrieve it.
JT chuckled. Carole returned and handed over the small stack of envelopes and overnight mailers. “There’s a box out front too. Might be more computer equipment.”
“Go ahead and open it. If the contents don’t look like something we can handle, call Misha.”
“Okay.”
JT settled down with her mail. Letter opener in hand, she slit open a mailer holding the completed Owens contract and heard a man’s voice in the outer office shout, “Die, bitch!” Puzzled, she stood, and just as she did, an explosion filled her ears. Before she could react, time seemed to go into slow motion and she watched in disbelief as the door and wall splintered and the debris come barreling her way. Horror grabbed her when she realized she was airborne. Pain and the sound of her own screams were the last thing she remembered.
When she came to, she was outside on a stretcher. Sirens were blaring. Red lights pulsat
ed from police cars and fire trucks. The smell of smoke was thick. For a moment she didn’t understand. Why were firemen racing around dragging hoses, and why was there a bunch of people standing behind lines of police? What were they all gawking at? What was burning? Then everything came back. Carole! Panicked, she struggled to sit up. Pain flashed through her ribs, but she didn’t care. She had to find Carole!
The face of a woman in an EMS shirt loomed near. “Lie back, please, Ms. Blake.”
“Where’s Carole?”
“She’s on her way to the hospital.”
“Is she okay?”
“Lie back, Ms. Blake. She’s in good hands.”
The medic tried to place a bandage on the huge gash in JT’s forehead, but she slapped it away. “Answer me, dammit! Is she okay?”
“She’s alive. That’s all we know for sure.”
JT laid back and prayed the woman was telling the truth. She needed to talk to the police. She knew she had something to tell them but was drifting in and out of consciousness and couldn’t remember what it was.
“I’m going to give you something for the pain. Probably put you to sleep.”
“No!”
But the woman had already injected her, and a few moments later JT was being hoisted into the back of an ambulance and then was on her way to the hospital.
Reese’s phone rang. He was in the middle of a meeting with Mendes. He glanced down at the caller ID. Seeing D’Angelo Nelson’s name puzzled him, so he excused himself and took the call outside.
“Reese?”
“Yeah?”
“JT’s been hurt, she’s in the hospital. Jason is on his way to pick you up.”
Reese forced himself not to panic. “What happened?”
“Police say a mail bomb.”
Reese’s eyes widened and his heart began to pound. A thousand questions clamored to be asked all at once, but he kept it together. “Where do I meet Jason?”
“Airport. He’s flying down in his plane. Should be there within the hour.” D’Angelo gave him instructions where to go.
Reese went back into the room and quickly retold the story to Mendes and his detectives. After promising to keep them in the loop, he ran to his rental car. Driving to the airport, he did the only thing he could. He prayed.