Playing for Keeps (Feeling the Heat Book 6)

by Alison Packard

  Mistake? The people she’d known in Barstow hadn’t called it a mistake. They’d called it murder.

  3

  Monday morning found Rick standing near the pitching mound located near the seats just beyond third base. Unlike many ballparks in the league, the bullpen at Blaze Field wasn’t sectioned off from the field, and on game days it gave the fans an up-close view of the pitchers warming up before the game or before being called into a game to relieve another pitcher.

  The Blaze organization had always been a leader in community involvement, and today he and several of his team members were participating in one of the handful of open houses the Blaze offered to local elementary schools during the off-season. Much like the field trips that Rick went on in school, the children were transported to Blaze Field by bus from their school and were given a personal tour of the ballpark. The tour included a hearty breakfast in the team’s cafeteria, pictures with the players and with the team’s new official mascot, Fireball Fred, and a trip to the merchandise shop where they could select a free Blaze T-shirt of their choice. The highlight of the tour was a visit onto the playing field where the kids could run the bases, take batting practice, explore the dugout, and interact with the players.

  Each player participating had been assigned a group of ten to twelve students and Rick’s group was now on the field excitedly chasing each other around the bases. Their uninhibited laughter reminded him of his carefree youth in Lockhart when nothing was more important than Friday night football games, playing little league, and watching the Astros on TV with his parents and older brother.

  He zipped up his Blaze jacket to ward off the chill from the brine-scented breeze blowing in from the bay. It was mid-November, the holidays were approaching and he’d be expected to make an appearance in Lockhart. Going home shouldn’t have filled him with apprehension, but it did. It wasn’t memories of Jill that were the cause of his trepidation, it was her parents. Grady and Merilee hadn’t been able to move past their grief—which was understandable—he’d been right there suffering along with them for a good long time. It wasn’t until he’d made the decision to quit drinking and reclaim his career that he realized they hadn’t even begun the moving on process. On his visits to their ranch their only topic of conversation was Jill, and it soon became apparent that Grady and Merilee were still deeply mired in their sorrow.

  That was why when the opportunity to lease a loft in Trey’s building presented itself, he’d taken it. His parents had been surprised, but when he explained that he thought it was best to put some distance between him and Jill’s parents, they’d understood. They’d been worried sick when he’d started drinking heavily and were more than supportive of his recovery, and although they had adored Jill, they didn’t want him to grieve forever.

  At first he’d felt guilty, selfish even. But it had been the right decision. Although he would always love Jill, he was trying to look to the future instead of constantly dwelling on the past and everything he’d lost. He hoped someday Grady and Merilee would find some measure of peace. They were good people and deserved nothing less.

  Rick watched as one student practiced sliding into home plate. Several others made exaggerated hand motions as they pretended to be umpires and yelled either safe or out before dissolving into laughter. They were definitely getting a kick out of playing on the same field as their favorite team. Well, almost all of them. He turned his attention to a stretch of grass just past first base where a boy was lying on his back staring at the sky. The kid didn’t appear to be injured or sick, but Rick headed in his direction anyway.

  “You okay?” he asked, halting beside the prone youngster.

  “Yep.” The boy didn’t spare him a glance. “I’m studying the clouds. Didya’ know that clouds are made of billions of drops of water that are so small they float?”

  Rick tipped his head back. Light gray clouds had blanketed the sky since early morning and showed no signs of dissipating. “I’ve never given it much thought.”

  “I have. Lots of people think clouds are all the same, but they’re not.”

  “Really? How are they different?”

  “Well, there are three kinds of cloud groups. Cirrus, alto, and stratus.” He ticked off each one with his fingers.

  “What group are those clouds in?” Rick pointed to the sky.

  “Stratus.”

  “Where’d you learn that?”

  “I like to watch the Weather Channel. And I found a website on my mom’s iPad that has all kinds of neat weather stuff on it. It’s for kids.”

  “Do you want to be a weather reporter when you grow up?”

  “No. There’s a department in the government that studies the weather and climate. I want to work there.”

  “That’s impressive.” The youngster had been on the fringes of his group all morning and hadn’t spoken much. “What’s your name?”

  “Daniel Vaughn. But everyone calls me Danny.” Danny pushed himself up then dusted off the back of his jeans with his palms. “I’m named after my grandfather. He died before I was born.”

  “How old are you?”

  Danny puffed out his chest proudly. “I’ll be nine in August.”

  “Do you like baseball?”

  “Umm…” The boy lowered his gaze and kicked at the grass with the toe of his sneakers. “Well…”

  Rick suppressed a smile. “It’s okay if you don’t. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Danny looked up at Rick and tilted his head to the side. Curiosity gleamed in the depths of his hazel eyes. “Did you always want to play baseball?”

  “Yes. I studied baseball the way you study the sky. Because it interested me.”

  “So you don’t think I’m weird?” Danny asked after a short pause.

  “No way. I think you’re smart. Can I tell you a secret?” Rick grinned conspiratorially and the boy’s eyes grew round as he nodded. “I didn’t know there were three groups of clouds.”

  “Then you probably don’t know that each cloud group has a bunch of cloud types in it.” Danny’s scrunched his face and lifted a hand to scratch his temple. “I haven’t memorized them all yet, but I’m working on it.”

  Rick chuckled. “I have no doubt you’ll be working at that government agency someday. And they’ll be lucky to have you.” He reached out and ruffled Danny’s dark blond hair. “Come on, let’s join the others.”

  “Can we play catch? I always thought if I had a dad we’d play catch. I think I’d like it.”

  The hopeful gleam in Danny’s eyes tugged at Rick’s heart. As did the fact he was fatherless. Rick couldn’t imagine growing up without a father. His dad had taught him so much; he doubted he’d be the man he was today without Walt Taylor’s influence.

  “I think that can be arranged,” he said, then chuckled when in his excitement, Danny yelled ‘Yes!’ and double pumped his fist.

  An hour after the kids boarded their school bus and left the ballpark, Rick sat at a table with Trey at Kamu’s. Across the street from Blaze Field, Kamu’s was a sports tavern owned by a long time Blaze fan and had become the official hangout for the team. Aside from the food, the best thing about the place was that the Blaze fans were respectful of the players’ privacy and didn’t ask for autographs or selfies. Word had gotten out long ago that the owner didn’t put up with customers hassling the team. Anyone that violated his rule was politely yet firmly asked to leave.

  “Are you heading to Texas for the holidays?” Trey asked.

  “That’s the plan. What about you?”

  “I’ll be in Philly for Thanksgiving and Christmas.” Trey grimaced. “Not looking forward to freezing my nuts off, I can tell you that much.” He reached for his beer and took a pull. “Did you get your invitations to the Logan-Johnson holiday parties?”

  Rick nodded. “I’m not sure I’ll be here for the New Year’s bash, but I’ll put in an appearance at the one before Christmas. It’s only for clients and staff, right?”

  “Yeah.”
Trey set his bottle on the table. “Zach and Nico want to hit Stylus again on Friday.”

  “No Bristow this time?”

  “I fucking hope not.” A dark scowl descended on Trey’s face. “That guy seriously irritates me.” Rick didn’t bother replying since Trey was well aware of his stance on Dallas Bristow. “Are you interested in joining us?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Rick picked up his burger and took a bite. The guys had already dragged him to the club twice. A third visit to Stylus would have been an automatic no. He’d never been the nightclub type and while that hadn’t changed, he wanted to make sure Amy’s boss hadn’t had second thoughts about not firing her. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since Friday night. No. It wasn’t that at all.

  Amy stared at the stack of file folders on her desk and tried not to think of the ten drawers in the records room that still needed scanning. Two months after she’d been hired in the clerical pool at Logan-Johnson, she had been assigned to the legal department. Her supervisor, Carrie Johnson, who was married to Nick Johnson, one of the partners at L-J, had asked for her personally after Amy had assisted Carrie and her staff on a special project. Now Amy had her own desk and knew exactly what she’d be doing every day when she came to work. After years of unpredictability, she found that comforting.

  In addition to the usual assorted clerical tasks, she had been charged with scanning older documents to free up space in the records room. It was a tedious undertaking but at least she felt productive. And as a bonus, Carrie was a pleasure to work for. A seasoned paralegal, Carrie reported to L-J’s senior attorney and managed the support staff in the legal division. Amy imagined supervising people had to be stressful, but Carrie was always upbeat and cheerful. Her office was filled with pictures of Nick and their daughter, Sara. Amy had even found herself humming along to the endless ‘80s music that drifted out of Carrie’s office on a daily basis.

  Pulling one of the file folders from the stack, she opened it and began removing the staples from the documents. The mindless work gave her brain freedom to roam. This morning Danny hadn’t seemed too excited about his class field trip to Blaze Field. Like her, he wasn’t much of a baseball fan, but he did enjoy watching the flashy wrestlers on television. Everything about it looked fake to her, but Danny loved it.

  Danny had blossomed since they’d left Barstow. With no one bullying him, he’d been able to make a few friends in his new school and his teacher was pleased with his academic progress. If Amy ever had second thoughts about putting the high desert city in her rearview mirror, she didn’t have them now.

  “Hey,” Jade greeted her as she strolled into the legal department through the open double doors. As always, Jade was impeccably dressed. She loved fashion and was the queen of finding beautiful name-brand pieces at rock-bottom prices. One of her favorite things to do was scour consignment shops all over the city looking for deals. Today she wore a black pencil skirt paired with a tangerine crop jacket over a white tank. The color of the jacket was a stunning contrast with her dark hair and eyes. “I’m heading down to the lobby to get a latte. Do you want anything?”

  “No. But I haven’t taken my afternoon break yet. I’ll join you and hit the candy store. I promised Danny I’d bring him some of those black licorice pinwheels he likes.”

  Five minutes later while Jade waited in line at Starbucks, Amy stared longingly at the double-dipped malt balls in a glass container inside the candy store next door. Years ago her father would treat her to her favorite candy once a month. Her mother, who was always on one diet or another, had never joined them on their jaunt and would grudgingly accept the special piece of candy that Amy and her father would pick out for her on each visit.

  Ignoring the decadent lure of the malt balls, she moved to the row of licorice jars near the window and began filling a small paper bag with the pinwheels. As she replaced the small scoop in the jar she glanced up and stifled a gasp. Rick Taylor was standing on the other side of the glass. He turned toward the window and Amy quickly darted toward the cash register. As she paid for the candy, she covertly peeked over her shoulder and he was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, not sure why she’d panicked. It wasn’t like he’d recognize her from Stylus. Without the wig, heavy makeup, and skin-tight clothing, she looked completely different. And instead of her contacts, today she’d worn her glasses.

  When she left the store she found Jade standing outside of Starbucks with an annoyed expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” Amy asked.

  “Evidently Trey decided to get coffee before his meeting with Adam. He was ahead of me in line and insisted on paying for my latte.”

  Hmm. Perhaps Rick also had a meeting upstairs and that’s why she’d seen him in the lobby. “Why is that a bad thing?” she asked Jade.

  “Because I don’t want anything from him.”

  “It’s a latte. It’s not like he bought you a car.”

  “He rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Are you sure that’s all it is?”

  Jade tilted her head, her brow arching. “What do you mean?”

  “When we were kids you never let anyone you didn’t like get to you like this. Why Trey?”

  “I told you. He insulted me the first time we met.” Jade’s olive complexion flushed. “He was really crude. And…”

  “And what? I know there’s more to it than that.”

  “And last New Year’s Eve I had to bid on him at the Blaze bachelor auction. Trey didn’t want to honor his commitment so he and Adam hatched a plot to plant me in the group of the women bidding so he wouldn’t have to go on the date with some stranger. They said to bid as high as I had to.”

  “With your own money?”

  “No. Trey supplied the funds.” Jade took a tentative sip from her cup, then continued. “I wasn’t surprised at Trey stooping that low, but Adam? I thought he had more integrity.”

  Adam Logan was Logan-Johnson’s other founding partner. Amy hadn’t interacted with him that much, but he’d always been pleasant when they’d passed each other in the hallway. “Aren’t sports agents supposed to do whatever they can to help their clients?”

  “It was wrong,” Jade exclaimed hotly.

  “Did the charity still get the money?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you have to go on a date with him?”

  “Adam made us go so that the sponsor would get the publicity. It was excruciating.”

  “Maybe he had a good reason for not wanting women he didn’t know bidding on him. Did you ask him, or Adam?”

  “That’s not the point.” A small frown pulled at Jade’s dark brows. “Don’t you see that?”

  “No. What exactly is the point?

  “All right.” Jade gave her an exasperated look. “I’ll concede he was dealt a raw hand when Ava McCandless falsely accused him of attempted rape. But he’s still a cocky, arrogant jock who thinks he can snap his fingers and his minions will do his bidding.”

  “Minions?” Amy smothered a smile. “He has minions?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “If you mean Adam, doesn’t he get paid a lot of money to make Trey happy? Isn’t that how the whole professional athlete sports agent thing works?”

  Betrayal flickered in Jade’s eyes. “So now you’re on Trey’s side.”

  “Hold on.” Amy raised a hand. “I’m not on anyone’s side. It’s just that he seemed nice when he and Rick helped me out at the club on Friday night. Maybe he’s changed since you first met him.”

  Jade pursed her lips and shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  Judging by the stubborn set of her friend’s jaw, Amy decided it was time to drop the subject of Trey Gentry. But it sure was interesting that Trey evoked such intense emotion in the normally even-tempered Jade.

  At four-thirty, Amy gathered the files she hadn’t yet scanned and headed for the records room to secure them for the evening. As she passed one of the conference rooms, she caught a glimpse of Jade th
rough the slats in the vertical blinds. She was seated next to Trey Gentry and both her and Trey’s attention was focused on the man at the head of the conference table, Adam Logan. Adam didn’t look happy. Stone-faced was more like it. Amy paused, but when Adam looked in her direction, she double-timed it down the hallway, turned the corner, and slammed into something so hard that the impact sent her flying backward. Legal files scattered around her as she hit the carpeted floor. Dazed, she lay sprawled on the floor like a prizefighter knocked for a loop in the first round.

  “Are you okay?”

  Oh no. She recognized that voice.

  Amy opened her eyes. Why was everything so blurry? Oh, right. Her glasses. Where the hell were they? She reached out with her hand, searching for them and found…nothing.

  “They’re right here.” Rick Taylor crouched beside her and placed her glasses into her palm. Quickly, she put them on and his handsome face came into focus. “They need a mirror on the corner. I didn’t see you coming.”

  “I was in a hurry.” Amy pushed herself into a sitting position. “It was my fault. I’m sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. Accidents happen.” Rick gave her a wry smile and reached for her hand. “Let me help you up.” He stood and steadied her as she gingerly got to her feet. Avoiding his gaze, she adjusted the hem of her sweater, grateful she’d worn a pair of pants instead of a skirt. “How do you feel? Any pain?”

  “Only the sting of embarrassment.” She surveyed the files and their contents strewn about the carpet. “Clean-up on aisle nine,” she said with a smile, then stooped and started collecting the papers.

  “Let me help you,” Rick said and moved to gather several files that had landed near the door of the men’s room. “Did you enjoy the licorice?”

  Amy jerked her head up and met his amused gaze. “Pardon?”

  “I saw you in the candy store earlier.”

  “Oh? You did?” She feigned surprise. “That was for my son.” She straightened and adjusted her arms so he could set the folders he’d collected on top of hers. “He loves black licorice. Personally, I think it’s nasty.”