“A dog,” George announced again. “Do you really think the boys are going to pay attention to baseball practice if there’s a puppy around?”
Wes turned to George. “If they don’t want to run laps, they will.” The boys all knew that Wes was a tough Little League coach, and they respected his rules. Seeing George’s serious expression, he said, “Relax. The kids will be fine. They love playing baseball. They can play with Monty after practice.” Wes handed him a bucket of balls.
George’s expression remained stern. “I have news.”
Wes’s grin died and he looked around. Normally five or six kids were already at the field and rushed up to help unload. He didn’t see anyone. Monty came loping up with the tennis ball in his mouth. Looking back to George, Wes said, “Yeah? What news?”
George dropped his chin and looked over the rim of his glasses. His eyes were dark pools of trouble. “Bart Gaines was murdered in prison last year.”
Wes gripped a bat, holding onto something familiar. Bart Gaines was the catalyst that had sent Wes’s life straight to hell. And Wes was the reason Bart had been in prison.
He looked down at the bat in his hand. For years, Wes had been a top sports agent at Apex Sports Agency in Los Angeles. He had represented major league baseball players, many of them high-dollar stars. Bart had been a sports fitness trainer, and Wes had sent many of his clients to him. Wes had discovered that Bart was doping players with anabolic steroids after one of Wes’s baseball players died. Pulling himself back to the present, Wes leaned down and picked up the ball that Monty was dancing and barking around. He threw the ball and said, “Who killed him?”
“Mob.”
“Fuck.” Adrenalin rushed his body and buzzed his nerves. To get some relief, he hefted the bat into a batter’s grip and swung. Again and again as his mind sorted through the information. Finally, he dropped the bat to one hand. “How would the mob get into my store? Why kill Cullen? Are the mob and Cullen’s murder even connected?” All these questions had been beating at him for days. That was why he’d hired Holly, to find out. But somehow it hadn’t seemed really possible. Until now.
George said, “I can’t find any connection between Cullen Vail and the mob.” He shook his head. “It’s not adding up. I don’t think it’s the mob. The only reason they went after you in the beginning was to keep you from testifying against Bart.”
“Because Bart and Apex had the stronger connections to the mob. And once law enforcement tugged that thread, it all came tumbling down.” Wes hadn’t been the real threat to the mob—hell, he hadn’t even known the mob was connected to Apex until after he’d contacted the DEA about his suspicions that the trainer was giving the players steroids. Wes stared blankly at the equipment in the back of his car. “So Bart squealed?”
George bent over, picked up the ball Monty brought back, and tossed it. “Yep. All kinds of indictments for the gambling and doping. You know Apex was destroyed.”
He nodded, feeling another stab of guilt. He hadn’t been there to guide his clients, help them find another agent. He felt like he had abandoned them. But he had been more afraid the mob would kill him or his sister in revenge once he testified. He said, “Then who is behind the murder of Cullen? Holly was leaning toward either a pissed off lover, or someone from his past that he swindled. He had a record.”
George was watching Monty as the puppy tried to skid to a stop by the ball, but ended up tumbling over his big paws. “It wasn’t a crime of passion, not with that professional double shot, one to the head and one to the chest. Someone had some training.”
“But Cullen is only connected to me through the book club.” He agreed with Holly in that respect, since Cullen was a book club member, and the murder was committed in the meeting room.
Two cars pulled up, distracting him from his train of thought. He was surprised to see Holly’s white Maxima. She was supposed to meet him at his house at six. How had she found him? Dumb question, she was a private investigator.
The other car belonged to Nora Jacobson. Four boys spilled out, rushed up to say hello and grab equipment to set up practice. Wes glanced at his watch. Five minutes after four, and only four boys had arrived so far?
Monty came running back with the ball in his mouth.
“Coach, you have a dog? Cool! Can he come with us while we set up?” Nora’s son Ryan asked.
Wes nodded.
George turned and herded the boys and dog out to the field.
“Hi, Wes.” Nora walked up wearing a pair of jeans and a beige T-shirt.
She looked like Sally Field from the movie Norma Rae. But unlike the woman from the movie, Nora tended to be quiet and slightly timid. She owned a bakery and he could personally vouch for her cakes. “Hi, Nora. It looks like we’re going to be late getting started today.” He glanced around, catching sight of Ryan and the other three boys arranging the equipment. Monty thought it was a cool game and raced around them with the tennis ball hanging out of his mouth.
Nora followed his gaze, then she pushed a loose strand of hair back into her ponytail. “Uh, I don’t think any more boys are coming today.”
Wes noticed that Holly had gotten out of her car and walked up behind Nora. She stayed quiet. Absorbing Nora’s statement, he waited until she finally met his gaze. “Why is that?”
She played with her hair, then locked her hands together in front of her. “Some of the parents have heard rumors. You know, the murder. They, uh, they just…”
A cold feeling iced his gut. “What rumors?”
“Love triangle,” she mumbled, looking at his right shoulder.
“What?” What love triangle?
Nora stepped back. “I tried to tell them…I mean, I don’t believe it. Most of the parents have been calling me all day since they know I’m the team mom and that I go to your book club. They’re hearing rumors that you and Cullen fought over a married woman and you killed him. I know it’s a lie! I told the parents, and the police when they came to my bakery today, that it’s a lie!”
Getting himself under control, he said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. I just don’t know what that means, Nora. I haven’t even dated in months.” His gaze slid up to Holly.
She stared at him with a hard, impassive expression. He couldn’t read her and a chill loneliness rolled through him. What was she doing here? Had she followed him? Maybe she didn’t believe him after all?
He looked back at Nora. “Who is spreading these rumors?”
She flushed and tugged at her shirt while staring at the hem. “Don’t know. It’s just going around. Everyone is edgy.”
Holly stepped up beside Nora. “Hi, Nora. I’m Holly. Remember me from the book club?”
Nora turned to her, looking a little surprised. “Yes, sure.”
Holly smiled. “I’m a private investigator working on this case. I’d like to ask you some questions.”
The flush drained, leaving her skin white and strained against her dark hair. She looked around and shuffled back a bit. “Oh no, I can’t, that is, I don’t have time. I told the police everything. I have to go back to work.” She glanced at him. “I’ll pick Ryan up at—”
Her words were drowned out by the screech of tires as an oversized Hummer roared into the parking lot and swung to a stop at an angle. The motor kept running as a large man jumped out. He stormed up to Nora and leaned into her threateningly. “What do you think you’re doing bringing Josh here? I don’t want my son around this adulterous, murdering son of a bitch!”
“Hey.” Wes stepped between them, literally pushing Nora to the side, closer to Holly. “You have a problem with me, talk to me. Don’t yell at Nora. She was just doing you a favor like she does every week by giving Josh a ride.” His temper shot up into the high scoring zone.
“Get out of my face, Brockman.”
Wes didn’t know Josh’s dad’s name, although he recognized him from some games the man occasionally showed up for. “You want to take Josh home, then do it. But don’t
upset the other boys or cause trouble.”
His face got red. “You leave. You’re not coaching these kids. We’ve heard all about your sleazy little games.” He grabbed Wes’s shirt. “And if I find out you’ve messed with my wife—”
Wes felt his temper crack, but struggled to hold on because he figured the boys could see them. “Get your hands off of me.”
The man snarled, “Tell me! Did you mess with my wife?” He shoved Wes back against the Range Rover.
Wes bounced off the rear of the car and came back ready. He measured the guy at about six feet and two hundred fifty pounds of furious testosterone.
The guy took a step, drawing back his right fist.
Wes went in low and shoved his fist into the guy’s gut.
“Ooof.” He doubled over.
Wes’s ears rang with pumping rage. He wanted to slam the prick into the ground and make him eat dirt.
Then he remembered the kids.
Trying to control his temper, Wes stepped back and gave the man room. “Leave.” He could barely get the word out. Sucking in air to counter the effects of the adrenaline coursing through him, he added, “Don’t make this worse. Take Josh and leave.”
The other man straightened up. “Cops are gonna fry your balls anyway.” He stormed to the field.
Wes turned around and saw that George had moved the kids behind the dugout to throw the ball for Monty, preventing them from seeing the scene. At least one thing went right.
Nora said, “I better take the other boys home.”
Wes looked at her. “Nora, do you know anything about this? What was Cullen doing that got him killed?”
She shook her head, sidestepping toward the field. “No. Nothing.”
Holly started to follow her. “You dated him, Nora. What are you hiding?”
“I can’t help you. I don’t know anything!”
Holly didn’t let up. She walked closer. “Where did you tell the police you were after the meeting Tuesday night?”
Nora stopped scooting away to turn and face Holly. “Helene, Maggie, and I went to dinner, then they came to my house and we watched The Notebook. It was after midnight when Helene and Maggie left. I told the police all this. Now I have to go.” She turned her back on Holly and jogged across the field.
Wes stared after her. Nora was a single mom who worked hard, and she was team mom for their baseball team. She tended to be quiet and he could understand why she was spooked. Especially since Josh’s dad just got in her face.
But it still felt like he was losing another friend.
“Hey, coach, you gonna reschedule?” Ryan asked as he stuffed some of the gear back into Wes’s car, while holding Monty under one arm.
Wes took note of Josh’s dad hustling him into the Hummer. Josh was a nice kid, a good outfielder. Too bad his dad was an asshole. Looking back at Ryan, Wes took the equipment and set it in the back of his car, then slung his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “Sure, Ryan. I’ll call your mom and we’ll figure it out. In the meantime, you keep working on your swing.” Ryan was raw, but he had some real muscle in his swing. He could be a powerhouse slugger one day.
The boy looked up at Wes with his mom’s big brown eyes. “Yeah, I will. Coach, I’m sorry about that guy in your bookstore.”
“Us, too.” The other two boys stored the rest of the gear.
Wes and the boys all loved baseball, and that had formed a bond between them. When he was on the field with the boys, he felt more at home than he had anywhere else in a long time. All he could say was, “Thanks, guys.”
Ryan held out Monty, who dropped his ball in an effort to lick the boy’s face. Laughing, Ryan pushed Monty’s face away and said, “Rad dog. Wish we could have one.”
Wes took Monty. “You can play with Monty anytime.” Then he watched the three boys get in the car with Nora and leave. None of this made any sense. Why would someone spread rumors about him and a married woman? Was it Tanya they were talking about? It had to be.
Holly moved up to him. She wore the same clothes she had earlier today, but something about her had changed. Closed off. Suspicious? Angry? He knew she’d come out swinging, so he started with, “I haven’t been involved with a married woman and I never fought with Cullen over any woman.” He was damned tired of people not believing in him. His wife hadn’t believed in him, not when he’d decided to do the right thing. Nor had his sister.
She took a deep breath. “I came here to tell you I quit.”
It felt like he took a fast pitch to his chest. He set Monty in the back of the Range Rover with his ball. Then he stared Holly down. “So you’re a quitter?”
Her expression didn’t change. “Depends.”
He felt George walk up behind him, but he was focused on Holly. What was she after? More money? It wouldn’t be the first time some woman figured out he was rich and decided she should get a cut. “On?”
“The truth. Who are you? Why is it that Wes Brockman didn’t come into existence until three years ago? I didn’t find any evidence of Wes Brockman passing the bar exam in California.” She looked around the empty field. “And why would you keep the fact that you coach a Little League team a secret? Who the hell are you?”
A vicelike tension gripped his lungs and guts. How much did she know? Obviously she’d done some research. Was she truly pissed off? Or was she using this to force him to pay her more money? “What do you mean?” He felt George stiffen behind him.
Holly narrowed her gaze. “I should just walk away. You are really pissing me off, but I’m going to give you some free advice before I wash my hands of you. You don’t want to trust me, fine. I don’t give a shit. But you’d better get your ass down to the police station and tell the truth to Rodgers.” She stopped talking, her chest heaving with anger or some other high emotion.
George shifted next to him and said calmly, “Holly, what does Wes owe you for the work you’ve done? We’ll pay you now and you can forget all about Wes.”
“Shut up,” Wes snapped. No way in hell was he going to let George pay her off. They had an agreement and she was damn well going to fulfill her end of it. He needed her. She had the inside with the cops so he could know what their investigation turned up. “She’s not quitting, she’s negotiating.”
Holly cut her gaze to him. “Have a good life, Brockman, or whoever you are.” She turned to leave.
It was so easy to slide back into his old skin and play hardball. “Hillbay, if you walk away now, I won’t pay you anything. Not a penny.”
She stopped walking.
He felt a wave of smug relief, and something else, some vague disappointment that annoyed him. What had he expected? Ethics to outweigh money? Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited. She didn’t make him wait long.
Holly walked up to him, tilted her face up, and speared him with her silver blue gaze. Her voice cracked like ice. “Come again?”
He stared right back at her. “You told me yourself that you follow the money. I have the money. And I’m not going to pay you any more than double your standard fee, plus expenses, which we agreed on.”
Color flooded her face, making her skin glow and her eyes shimmer with fury. “You really think I’m negotiating here?”
He didn’t say a word. Just let the silence stretch out. She was good, but Wes had negotiated with the best and beat them.
Finally, Holly said, “Here’s my final offer, book boy. Take your money and shove it up your ass.”
Wes stayed at the baseball field and gave his arm a workout throwing the ball for Monty. The puppy loved the game, trotting after the ball, then racing back to drop it in front of him.
He couldn’t believe Holly had walked. Just like that.
The ache in his shoulder warned him he was pushing too much, but Wes threw the ball hard. Monty scampered after it, his gold ears flapping as he barked his happiness at chasing the ball.
A slow burn replaced the ache. He was going to have to ice the damn shoulder. The baseball field
was quiet, except for his heavy breathing and Monty trotting back with the ball. He dropped it at Wes’s feet with his sides heaving.
Wes picked up the ball and headed for the dugout where he’d left a couple bottles of water.
Monty barked and ran around his legs, trying to convince him to throw the ball.
“Give an old man a break, Monty.” He couldn’t help but laugh at the puppy. He had to be thirsty and exhausted but he still wanted to play.
That was how Wes had been about baseball. He’d loved the game, lived for it. It had all been taken away in a nightmare of bullets and blood.
And cops who got there too late.
Wes took a deep breath and forced the memories back. They wouldn’t help him now. He had needed Holly, needed her inside connection to the police investigation while he and George dealt with the possibility that the mob had murdered Cullen and was after him.
But she had bailed.
Maybe she did have ethics after all. But that didn’t make him feel better. She’d never really given him a chance.
Monty followed him into the dugout. Wes grabbed a bottle of water, took the batter’s helmet he’d gotten out of the baseball gear, turned it upside down, and filled the bowl with water. Then he crouched down and held it out for the dog.
Monty stuck his gold muzzle in and drank, wagging his tail and wiggling his whole body.
“Are you in witness protection?”
Startled, Wes dropped the helmet and shot up to his feet.
Holly stood in the entrance to the dugout. Chunks of her dark blond hair had escaped her clip to frame her face. Her mouth was serious, her eyes cop-blank. She leaned her bare shoulder against the fence. Casual, and yet he could feel her intensity.
Monty picked up the ball and ran to Holly. He dropped it at her feet and barked. When she didn’t move, he nosed the ball toward her and snorted.
She ignored the dog. “Are you?”
A feeling he barely recognized damn near cut off his breath—hope. He hadn’t realized how hopeless, how unfeeling, his life had been for three years. Until the moment Holly had walked into his book club and rocked his life. She had shaken up his world and made him realize he’d just been existing, not living.
The Sex On Beach Book Club Page 9
