The Dragon's Revenge

by Courtney Henke

  "Have you disgraced someone?" asked Amanda happily, unashamedly reading over his shoulder.

  "No." His mouth tightened. Adrenaline surged through him as he thought about Charly's challenge. It was ironic, he thought, that he had been searching for a way to banish her ghostly presence from his life, and she had given him the perfect opportunity. He would battle her on her own field, by her rules, if necessary, and this time he would win. He would expose her faults, prove to himself that she would only aggravate not enhance his life. In doing so, he would help Rucker High School and rid himself of her memory.

  It was time for a full-scale assault.

  "What does this mean, dear?"

  "I think." he said, "that the gauntlet has been thrown down. Mother." He smiled grimly and punched the intercom. "Miss Pickles, clear my calendar for the next two weeks."

  The next day. J.D. stood against the same corner of the school where he'd first "run into" Charly, casually dressed In tan slacks and a short-sleeved shirt. Practice was in full swing, but he hardly noticed the burly team members. Just being this close to her again stirred something inside of him that he refused to give a name. This wasn't a pleasure visit. This was business, he told himself.

  Her chestnut hair lifted in the breeze as she flitted from one knot of players to another, shouting encouragement- and criticism with equal regularity. She was wearing a yellow T-shirt, which sported the Slogan give me football or give me death! and he couldn't help but smile when he read it.

  She turned and saw him before he could wipe the smile away. Her blue eyes widened in shock as she walked over to him. "What are you doing here?"

  He raised one brow. "Didn't you issue an invitation?"

  He had the distinct pleasure of seeing her nonplussed. "That's not what I meant," she murmured, then turned back to the team.

  "What exactly did you mean?"

  "Hey!" she shouted, stepping forward. "This isn't a contest!"

  J.D. followed her gaze to the two players named Hogan and Esteban, who stood nose to nose. At her call they parted, but their tense postures spoke volumes. Trouble was brewing there, and his protective instincts went into overdrive. He drew closer to her.

  Charly forced her concentration to the team. She knew J.D. was just behind her; she could almost feel the warmth of his body through her shirt. Worse yet, she felt comforted, as if a favorite security blanket enveloped her.

  She frowned and walked forward. She had never depended on another for protection. She couldn't. If the team even suspected any weakness in her, they'd never listen to a word she said. His timing couldn't have been worse! Oh, why did she send him those stupid balloons!

  "So what did you mean?" he repeated.

  "I only meant for you to do some more of your famous paperwork."

  "I might." He stepped toward her.

  "Stay there. Well talk about this after practice, okay?" Relieved when he made no other move, she shouted encouragement to the teens on the field. But after another ten minutes she knew it was time to quit. Tempers were beginning to run high, and she heeded her own inner warning system.

  "Esteban! Shoot one over here!" As the football flew across the field to her left, she sidestepped but missed it. Damn, she thought. "Hogan! You!" His pass wobbled and wavered in the air and finally landed on the roof. Hogan was blocking material, not quarterback. And she could see by his mutinous expression that he knew it. "Okay, everybody in!"

  When they gathered around her, she grinned at them, ignoring J.D. as much as possible. "Not bad, not bad. Tai, more leg on those receptions. We want to catch them, not chase them." A chuckle rumbled through the ranks. "Hogan, let's see what you can do with the blocking dummies tomorrow, okay? Knock the stuffing out of them!" His eyes narrowed on her, but she stared him down, her smile never wavering. When his gaze fell, she turned to another, then another, until the team laughed along with her, almost but not quite breaking the tension. She'd have her hands full this season.

  Last but not least, she turned to Esteban. "All right. Mendez, coming along, coming along. You've got the arm. We just need to work on aim."

  "Yeah, that's what Melissa says." Hogan said with a sneer.

  Esteban lunged for Hogan. her proverbial troublemaker. It all happened so fast, so close on the heels of her good-natured comments, Charly was unprepared.

  Before she could do more than yell, "Hey!" J.D. made a dive for the combatants, separating them easily with more strength than she'd have credited him with. But she could hardly appreciate his prompt action. With an angry cry she waded into the group of teenagers and hauled him away. "Back off!" she yelled at him.

  Surprise flickered across his face, then betrayal, then his expression went blank. Her heart twisted in her chest, but she resisted the urge to apologize. Spinning to the antagonists, she shoved them. "Both of you, cut it out!"

  "I’ll get you for that," Esteban spat out at Hogan, straining against her.

  "Choose the place," Hogan replied.

  "No!" Charly pushed. "Listen to me! This is my team, my turf. When you walk onto this field, your so-called code of honor is left in the street! Do you hear me? The wars are over!"

  They glared at each other, then at her, and nodded. But she could feel the promise of retribution crackle between them, and she knew they wouldn't listen to her, not unless she did something drastic. Anger they had enough of at home. Her natural humor was the only weapon they seemed unable to counteract.

  She let them go and crossed her arms over her chest. "There will be no revenge," she said with a lopsided smile. "Or I will personally take my own, is that clear?"

  Neither moved, but she had their attention. They knew her reputation. "Furthermore, if you can't control yourselves, you’ll both be off the team. Got it?"

  As they swaggered to opposite sides of the pack, some of the team watched Charly with sudden, complete indifference. Mutiny was brewing. She hadn't won yet.

  Seeing their looks, Charly forced a laugh. "Show's over for the day! All right you meatballs! Run it off, all of you! Five laps, then we're out of here! Hustle!"

  Groans met her command, and few moved. She went cold, feeling her fragile hold begin to slip away, but she refused to budge an inch. "Okay, you win. Ten laps." Half of them began to shuffle away, Esteban at their head.

  She impaled Hogan and the other half of the group with an icy stare, her grin frozen on her face. "Anyone for fifteen?"

  After a tense hesitation they moved off, and she sighed inwardly. Another crisis averted, but no thanks to J.D.'s misdirected help.

  Charly watched them until they were out of earshot, then turned to him, livid. "Nobody undermines my authority," she told him fiercely. "Nobody!"

  His brow raised. "They were going to kill each other. I could see that a mile away."

  "You never even gave me a chance to do my job!"

  "I wasn't trying—"

  "What are you doing here?" Her cheeks flushed with her struggle to contain her fury. "You don't belong here, J.D.!"

  "Maybe I don't," he whispered, glancing out to the field.

  Her chest tightened, because of the memories her confrontation evoked, or his soft words, she didn't know. The man infuriated her!

  She glared at him. "Those two are the heads of what used to be the biggest gangs in town. I will not have everything start all over again!" To her horror her voice broke. She cleared her throat, fighting it, holding on to her anger. "It's taken me four years to earn their respect. Four years of hard work, and I will not let some well-intentioned"—she waved at him and groped for words—"whatever you are ruining it! Do you understand?"

  "Perfectly." The word was clipped.

  "Good." She whirled from him and searched the ground for the football, refusing to allow her emotions rein, especially in full view of the team. A strand of her hair plastered itself to her mouth and she spat it out, clearing her eyes to look near the building. The football lay where it had fallen after Esteban's pass. She kicked it, deriving pleasure b
y pretending it was a certain person's dark head.

  That out of her system, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Her flare of temper never lasted long, and she doubted the incident would do any permanent damage. There would be no fight, not with her threat hanging over their heads. Hogan was in the minority. She should cut him, but she understood his rebellion and would rather find a way to reach him.

  Simple, she thought with a twist of her full lips. Just work past sixteen years of parental neglect and fix him like an old, forgotten toy, right?

  "I wasn't trying to undermine your authority, Charly."

  His soft words intruded into her thoughts. Her mouth relaxed. She just didn't know what to do with J.D. "Whatever you say," she muttered.

  Silence stretched between them, broken only by the thunder of the team's steps as they jogged by on another lap. Charly glanced up long enough to ascertain that they were running companionably, then looked at her feet.

  J.D. watched her, his emotions in a tangle. One minute she was cool and distant, the next sarcastic and acid-tongued, the next a hot-tempered spitfire. He didn't know which one confounded him more. The woman had more layers than an onion. "I can't remember the last time I was chewed out so thoroughly," he said. "You're quite intimidating."

  "Right. And you're the Pope."

  Her words seemed to tumble from her mouth, and he felt a rush of exhilaration that her sense of humor had returned. He didn't want her angry at him, he wanted her to like him!

  Hold on, he thought. This wasn't the way things were supposed to happen! He was supposed to keep her off balance, to find the breaks in her guard. Instead he'd found one in his own. No one had ever gotten under his skin the way she had. No one. And he'd had the best of them try.

  "You're not wearing a suit," she said.

  "No, I'm not wearing a suit."

  Her incredible blue eyes twinkled impishly. "I had this horrible feeling you wore a tie everywhere," she confided.

  "Of course not. I take it off in the shower."

  "Good. Silk shrinks, doesn't it? I'd hate to see you strangle yourself."

  "I think you'd love to see me strangled."

  "Not at all! I've never held a grudge in my life."

  "I'm glad." And he was, he realized. Then he shook himself, remembering his true reason for coming back. "Because I'd like to work with you instead of against you while I do my research." But he wanted to do more than simply follow her around here! To study her for an assault he needed to see her In her own environment. The thought appealed to him more

  "More research? You should loosen up, J.D. All work and no play makes you a dull boy."

  That's it, Charly told herself. Keep it light. If he knew the intensity of her inner battle, she'd lose herself. If he knew how his presence made the sun shine a little brighter, the air feel sweeter, he'd laugh himself silly. And so should she for even thinking such idiotic things. She had to keep this on the surface level for her own sanity. She couldn't let anyone so deeply into her life that she couldn't get by on her own. She wouldn't do what her mother had done.

  "So," she said with forced casualness. "what do you need from me? Statistics? Background? My thoughts on the degenerating educational system?"

  "Yes, Charly, but I want something more than that too.”

  Something in his voice, some undercurrent of smug triumph, made her eye him warily. "You want the cafeteria menus for the next year?"

  He chuckled, his green eyes warming with an emotion that lit up her hopes like a matchstick. "Uh-uh. You said it yourself. It's time I got out of my ivory tower."

  Her mouth went dry. "What are you talking about?"

  "I mean"—he took a deep breath—"that I'm all yours for the next two weeks."

  Four

  "You can't be," Charly said promptly. "My brother is coming to town next week."

  "I don't mind."

  She chuckled. "All right, I’ll bite. What's the punch line?"

  He sighed, his expression sober. "I'm not joking. I've decided to make good on my lofty words and see if I can straighten out some of your programs."

  Her laughter died. She gaped at him. "You can't be serious!"

  "I'm never anything but." he said dryly. "You said so yourself."

  "I did, didn't I?" She mentally cursed her impulsiveness. She should never have sent those balloons. It had obviously pricked some latent guilt complex. But if there was the slightest chance that she could help the school, she would take it. "Just follow me around?" she asked. "See how the system works?"

  For a moment he looked uncomfortable, but the feeling was gone so quickly, she thought she'd imagined it. "That's part of it. of course. But I want to get to know you better too."

  Her heartbeat went into overdrive. "What do you mean?"

  "If I'm going to find a solution, I have to understand exactly what you need. I have to crawl into someone's skin and be able to think in terms of the problem."

  The thought of him and her skin together sent a shiver up her spine. But she was hardly the logical candidate! "David—"

  He waved away her implication. "He's too set on his own way. And I can't exactly move in with a student. No one should know about this. I need someone who has day-to-day contact with the people, someone who has a vested interest in success." He shrugged. "You were the obvious choice since you'd issued the challenge."

  He had a point, she realized. She had issued the challenge. But the thought of spending two weeks with him turned her knees to rubber. "What is this going to entail?"

  He tensed, his gaze wandering over the far horizon. "Why don't we start with something easy? I thought your sense of fun was warped. You didn't, remember?"

  "You want me to show you how to have fun?"

  "Sure. Why not?"

  Charly stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then she erupted into laughter. She had expected a lot of things, but this certainly wasn't one of them. "You're kidding!"

  "I'm not," he said with great dignity. "I just want to experience the simple things in life. Is that a crime?"

  She tried to picture him doing any one of the "simple things" that she did to blow off steam, and it tickled her so much, she burst into another round of giggles. He kept his face totally emotionless, but his shoulders were thrust back and his chin raised. He looked like a man who had just committed himself to a firing squad. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into," she said, still chuckling. "I don't think caviar and champagne are quite on my menu."

  His brow furrowed. "Don't do me any favors, Charly. I want you to treat me just like anybody else."

  He was really serious about this! Why would he want to be just one of the guys? Despite his supposed reasons, this whole thing struck her as out of character for him. But she could hardly turn him down now.

  Her eyes narrowed as their kiss replayed itself in her mind. Did his interest run deeper than just in the school? Did he think something would happen between them?

  He wanted the simple things, huh? Well, she'd give it to him. all right. She'd give it to him but good.

  "Do you know what a draw play is, Mr. Smith?" she asked with a wicked grin.

  "No."

  She poked out a hand. Then you've got yourself a deal."

  J.D. had ample time to wonder if insanity was in his genes. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now. following behind Charly's battered yellow Mustang, he had had hours in which to berate himself. Fun. for heaven's sake. What had possessed him? And what in the heck had she meant by a draw play?

  All he'd wanted to do was to find a way to set her at ease, to make her relax in his presence. And he knew she had some rather harsh preconceived notions about him. If he could show her that he wasn't so very different from her, she would trust him more, drop her guard.

  Then again, maybe he was rationalizing. Maybe the true reason for his action was that he wanted to see that they weren't so different. Maybe he subconsciously wanted to find common ground.

 
His mind skittered away from that, and he focused on the bumper ahead of him as she slammed on her brakes at a stoplight. The woman drove like a maniac! She'd cleaned up the practice field quickly, too. without a word except to follow her. And he had. Into the worst part of town.

  The houses around Rucker were ramshackle, but this neighborhood beat them hands down. The tiny structures looked as if the first strong wind could blow them away. If they had been painted once, the relentless sun had bleached them to a dull shade of gray. A mangy dog looked up from a pile of trash In which it had been rooting, and it lifted a lip in a halfhearted snarl at his car before going back to its task. J.D. saw no children, no autos anywhere, but a broken Big Wheel on the sidewalk indicated that someone lived there. Objectivity was hard to maintain in the face of such stark poverty. It was no wonder she was so defensive.

  Charly pulled up to the curb fronting a shack. The porch sagged alarmingly, and it seemed as if it was the sturdiest part of the building. A sofa that was now no more than a pile of fabric and springs resided on its sloping floor. J.D. eyed it in dismay. This is where she lived? he thought.

  "It's not much, but it's home." she called cheerfully as she exited her car.

  Bracing himself. J.D. stepped out of his Mercedes, absently noticing that the street made Rucker's practice field look as smooth as glass. But he refused to voice his thoughts. She had her pride too. "It's"—he groped for an adjective—"cozy."

  She roared with laughter. "You're a great liar, J.D."

  He cleared his throat. "So," he said briskly, offering her his arm, "may I escort you in?"

  "Oh, indubitably," she replied. Her hand settled into the crook of his elbow, and they walked slowly toward the house. "I know you'll like it. Nothing pretentious, you understand. Just the simple things."

  J.D. stiffened. "Of course."

  "Is it everything you expected?"

  The excessive Innocence in her voice made J.D.'s suspicion blossom. He smelled a rat and cursed himself for not seeing it before. She was kindred spirits with Amanda, he remembered.

  It was time to give her some of her own medicine. "Oh. no," he said airily. "I expected something much bigger." He looked at her, then at the house, then back at her. He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "It suits you, though."