by Regina Hart
The fans roared their relief.
Fifteen seconds and counting.
The Cavaliers’ Parker caught the rebound as the ball bounced from the basket rim. He tried to set up for another attempt. The Monarchs swarmed him. Parker lost the ball. Vincent came up with it. The tension in the arena was dense. Vincent threw the ball to the Monarch closest to their basket, the rookie Jamal Ward.
Five seconds.
Jamal sprinted up the court, dribbling the ball. Antawn Jamison hustled after him. Andrea wanted to close her eyes. Jamison stretched his right hand forward and tipped the ball from under Jamal’s palm. The ball rolled to Warrick’s feet. The game clock drained to two seconds. Andrea willed the Monarchs’ point guard to take the shot. He’d been passing the ball most of the night. There wasn’t time for that now.
Take the shot!
Warrick spun from Jamison. He lined up behind the three-point line. He centered his body, leaped into the air, and released the ball an instant before the end-game buzzer sounded. The shot would still count if it went through the basket. Silence crashed into the arena. The air was sucked out of the space. Andrea’s eyes followed the ball’s trajectory up, up, over, over. And through the net. Three points, Monarchs 106, Cavaliers 105.
Monarchs win!
Andrea wanted to jump from her seat and throw her arms in the air. But she couldn’t. No cheering in the press box—or the press row. With great concentration, she finished her news article.
“Well, who’d have thought it?” Sean stood from the table and stuffed his laptop into his carrier. “The Monarchs survived getting swept out of the play-offs. Their Cinderella season continues.”
Jenna sounded shocked as well. “Forget Cinderella. The Monarchs owe this win to Rick Evans. DeMarcus Guinn should have made that starting lineup change four games ago.”
Frederick grunted. “They won tonight, but they won’t win the series. No team has ever come back to win a seven-game play-off series after losing the first three games.”
Andrea was well aware of the odds. But tonight, anything was possible. She tossed Frederick, the human basketball encyclopedia, a cheeky smile. “Don’t count out the Monarchs.”
She shrugged her laptop case onto her shoulder. Andrea hurried down from the press section through the underground passage toward the postgame press conference. She caught snippets of conversations as she wove through the crush of stunned and exhilarated fans.
“Evans was epic.”
“I’m glad I didn’t leave at the half.”
“The Monarchs are back, baby! I can feel it!”
“Andrea! Andrea Benson!”
The sound of her name being hailed with urgency stopped Andrea’s forward momentum. She spun to find a game referee closing in on her. Or rather a former referee. “Mario, exciting game tonight.”
With his hand on her elbow, the retired official guided Andrea out of the pedestrian traffic. “That was a good article you wrote on the Insider.”
The strange tension she sensed in the older man puzzled Andrea. “Is something wrong, Mario?”
“You do a lot of investigative reporting.” His dark gaze was intent on hers. His Spanish accent made the English words longer. “First the article on Gerry Bimm and now this article on the blogger.”
“Mario, what’s on your mind?” Her concern grew as the former referee glanced around them. Why was he behaving so strangely?
“My nephew is in trouble.” Mario grabbed her gaze.
“Otto? What kind of trouble?”
Mario’s expression briefly softened. “He’s very excited to have been chosen to referee the play-offs. Otto has always worked hard. He’s smart, and he’s a good boy.”
Hearing Mario refer to his thirty-something-year-old nephew as a boy almost brought Andrea’s smile back. “If he’s anything like you, he’s the best. What kind of trouble is he in?”
Mario escorted her farther from the thinning crowd. Andrea glanced at her wristwatch. She didn’t have much time to get to the postgame press conference.
He finally came to a stop. “My nephew’s being blackmailed to throw play-off games.”
Andrea’s muscles froze in shock. Her legs stopped moving, bringing Mario up short. “By whom?”
Mario hesitated. He glanced around again, then came closer to Andrea. “Gerald Bimm.”
17
Andrea’s mind went blank before spinning into overdrive. “Gerry’s blackmailing your nephew? With what?”
Shame thickened his Spanish accent. “He went to Otto and said he wanted to make sure the Monarchs didn’t advance in the playoffs.”
Incredible. Mario had no reason to lie, but Andrea couldn’t believe this could be true. “The Monarchs have been losing on their own. I’ve watched the games. No one can say Otto or the other refs have made bad calls.”
“Gerry wanted insurance. He wanted Otto to throw the games if it looked like the Monarchs would win the series. Otto said no. Our family has too much honor to get involved with this. But Gerry said if the Monarchs win the series, he’ll say Otto took bribes.”
Andrea was sick with disgust. Once again, Gerald was making someone else do his dirty work and take the fall, leaving him able to walk away from the mess with complete deniability.
“When the Monarchs won tonight, Otto panicked.” She made it a statement. Mario nodded. “Contact the commissioner’s office. Tell them—”
Mario was shaking his head as soon as Andrea mentioned the league. “No, Otto doesn’t want to go to the commissioner. He’s afraid David Stern will believe Gerry instead of him. It’s the word of an owner over a referee. Who would you believe?”
In this instance, she would definitely believe Mario’s nephew over Gerald. No question about it. But that was her. David Stern and the league might view things differently. “I understand Otto’s concern.”
“I came to you because I thought you could investigate the situation quietly, like the first time you reported on Gerry and today, with the Insider story.”
Andrea squirmed under Mario’s regard. He looked at her as though she were some sort of superhero. It was a surreal experience. For years, people didn’t want to talk to her because they were afraid of what she would do with their information. Now a former NBA official was coming to her for help. She didn’t have superpowers. Still, could she find a solution to his problem? She had to try, for the Monarchs’ sake.
She put a hand on his upper arm. “I’ll work on this. It may take a while, though.”
Mario’s eyes widened. His voice was strained. “Game five of the series is Tuesday in Cleveland. What if the Monarchs win again?”
She hoped they did. But two days didn’t give her much time to pull together a plan. She’d have to work fast. Andrea squeezed Mario’s arm. “I’m not going to let Gerry cause problems for your nephew. I promise.”
Mario looked marginally less anxious as she turned to leave. She couldn’t blame him. Andrea wasn’t certain of her course of action, but she knew she’d figure something out—with Troy and Jaclyn’s help.
“Gerry’s doing what?”
Troy winced as Jaclyn’s incredulous words climbed several octaves. Andrea sat in the black guest chair beside him in Jaclyn’s arena office. It was Monday morning. The team would be flying back to Cleveland tonight for game five of the series.
Troy rested his forearms on his thighs. “He’s blackmailing Mario Nunez’s nephew, Otto, to convince him to throw games to make sure the Monarchs don’t advance in the playoffs.”
Jaclyn’s wide-eyed gaze swung from Andrea back to Troy. “When did Gerry first speak with Otto about his plan?”
“Around the same time the playoffs started.” Troy glanced at Andrea for confirmation. She nodded. Troy returned his attention to his boss.
Jaclyn leaned into her black executive chair. She crossed her legs. “At the risk of sounding disloyal to my man and my team, the Monarchs have shown they can lose on their own. Gerry doesn’t need to go to the lengths of b
ribing a ref for that outcome.”
Andrea spread her hands. “Gerry’s not taking their losses for granted. Frankly, Jackie, last night’s win proves you should never count out your man or your team.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across Jaclyn’s lips. “Why would Mario go to a reporter rather than the league?”
Troy drummed the fingers of his right hand on the arm of the cushioned chair. He couldn’t understand Mario’s motives, either.
Andrea shrugged one slender shoulder beneath her tan blazer and light blue blouse. “Otto doesn’t want to risk an NBA investigation. Something like that can follow him his whole career.”
Jaclyn nodded slowly. “I understand.”
There was a subtle tone in Jaclyn’s response that made Troy glance between the two women. Were they thinking of Andrea’s past?
He stood, propelled by impatience to pace his boss’s office. “I knew Gerry wasn’t done antagonizing the team. I was looking in the wrong place.” He put his hands on his hips. “If Mario is right and Gerry is trying to force Otto to throw the games, Gerry will be banned from the NBA for life.”
“Probably.” Andrea’s soft caution drew his attention. “But if we don’t have indisputable proof of Mario’s claims, Gerry will sue us for libel. He’ll try to take away everything we value.”
Like the Monarchs, Troy thought. He wouldn’t put that past Gerald.
Jaclyn held up both palms. “Let me think. We don’t have proof because Gerry spoke to Otto. He didn’t put anything in writing.”
Troy circled the room. “That’s right.”
Jaclyn lowered her arms. “And no one overheard the conversation. It’s Otto’s word against Gerry’s.”
Troy paused. “This has Gerry Bimm, Puppet Master, written all over it. We know it’s him.”
Andrea looked at Troy with concern. “Knowing it to be true and proving it are two different things.”
His impatience was growing. Troy kneaded the muscles at the back of his neck. “He hides behind other people, newspaper reporters, fake drug dealers, and now referees. He’s too much of a coward to do his dirty work himself.”
Andrea stood and walked to him. She put her hand on his arm and held his gaze. “All of what you’re saying is true, Troy. We’re not arguing that. But what happened the last time you went after Gerry without proof?”
Troy’s muscles relaxed. He glanced at Jaclyn, who watched them with open interest. He returned his attention to Andrea. “He fired me.”
“This time, we need a plan—a well-thought-out plan.” Andrea gave him a pointed look.
Jaclyn stood. “Righteous indignation isn’t a plan.”
Troy broke eye contact with Andrea. “I understand.”
Jaclyn continued. “No one wants Gerry out of the franchise more than I do. Working with him isn’t my idea of a dream job. Nor do I like doing my job and your job while watching my back.”
Troy sighed. “All right. What’s the plan?”
Jaclyn’s curious eyes touched on Andrea again before answering Troy. “It won’t be easy. Gerry’s right to be cautious. If he’s caught, he could go to jail.”
Andrea hugged her elbows. “We have to be careful. If Gerry knows we’re on to him, he might blame everything on Otto.”
Troy frowned. “Then what are we going to do?”
Jaclyn tapped her pen on the surface of her desk. “We’ll have to catch Gerry in the act.”
Troy shook his head. “That would be next to impossible. He’s too cautious.”
Jaclyn’s smile was slow. “No, it’s not. We’re going to set up a sting.”
He straightened in his chair. “I like the idea. How do we pull it off?”
Jaclyn crossed her arms. “I’ll work out the details.”
Troy nodded. “Should we have someone from the commissioner’s office there?”
Andrea shook her head. “No. If Gerry doesn’t offer Otto a bribe or try to blackmail him, we’ll have wasted the commissioner’s time. It will seem as though we’re trying to cause trouble for Gerry rather than trying to protect the league and the franchise from more scandal.”
Jaclyn touched the Monarchs lapel pin fastened to her bright green blouse. “We’ll also make ourselves look stupid or paranoid—or both. But I wish we could have an independent party there to verify our story.”
Andrea turned to Jaclyn. “I’d like to cover the sting for Sports.”
Jaclyn inclined her head. “Of course. I appreciate your bringing this problem to my attention. Once again, you’ve given us advance warning of a potentially damaging situation.”
Troy took Andrea’s hand, entwining her fingers with his own. “Yes, thanks again.” He smiled as her cheeks flushed from his gratitude.
Andrea looked to Jaclyn. “Telling you about this rumor is giving me a better story. Besides, I’m helping Mario Nunez, who was a friend when I didn’t have many.”
Troy pulled his attention from Andrea to Jaclyn. “What can I do to help?”
Jaclyn drew her hand through her hair. “Right now, nothing. I’ll update you as things progress.”
Troy stood. “Then we’ll get going.”
Andrea collected her purse as she rose. “Thanks for letting us interrupt your morning.”
Jaclyn escorted them to her office door. “No, thank you for telling us what Mario told you. The Monarchs name will be associated with this scandal. There’s no way around that if Gerry’s trying to blackmail Otto. But at least this way we can minimize the damage.”
Andrea said good-bye to Jaclyn, then waited while Troy took a few minutes to ask Jaclyn for an update on the team’s “The Monarchs Return” campaign. His expression hardened as Jaclyn explained Gerald had put the project on hold.
When they reached his silver Lexus parked in the arena’s lot, Troy held the passenger door open for Andrea. She thanked him, then watched as he settled his long, lean body behind the steering wheel.
Troy turned the ignition and the engine started with a purr. Andrea sighed with envy. Why didn’t her car’s engine start like that? With more than twenty years and almost two hundred thousand miles on it, she was happy when her car started at all.
Troy checked his car mirrors before merging into traffic. The silence in the luxury vehicle was thick but comfortable as he drove them from the Empire Arena to her apartment building in the Williamsburg area. Andrea mentally developed story angles and leads for this update on Gerald’s activities. She imagined Troy was planning how to spin this event to minimize the long-term fallout for the Monarchs.
His voice startled her. “It’s probably going to take a while for Jackie to arrange the sting.”
Andrea studied his profile. His eyes were glued to the traffic. A frown knitted his brow. Was he regretting their decision to let Jaclyn take the lead on their response? “It’s better to take our time with this problem. There’s a lot at stake, for the franchise, for Otto, and for Gerry.”
He navigated the Lexus around a double-parked car. “I realize that. But I want to be there whenever she’s able to pull it off.”
Relief eased her muscles. “That’s a good idea.”
His shrug was self-deprecating. “I’m finally learning the value of having a plan.”
“You’re exerting impulse control. Impressive.”
“With some things.” He stopped at a red light before giving her a sexy wink.
Andrea chuckled. “It looks like we’re both making progress. I’ve sent out some resumes.”
“That’s great. It’s about time.”
Her laughter faded to a smile. “You sound like Faith.” She turned to look through the passenger window. “There’s nothing like pending unemployment to light a fire under your job search.”
Troy eased the car into the intersection once the traffic light turned green. “Look, I know things are hard everywhere now. But don’t say yes to your first job offer, unless it’s for a really good company. You’re a good reporter. Don’t settle.”
Andrea
stared at him, wide-eyed and speechless. A knot grew in her throat. It was difficult to swallow, difficult to breathe. “Thank you for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.” Troy studied the street. Illegally parked cars and jaywalking pedestrians further snarled the traffic flow.
“It means a lot coming from you. You used to call me the enemy.”
His grin was unrepentant. “If you weren’t a good reporter, I wouldn’t have considered you the enemy. You wouldn’t have been a threat to the team.”
Andrea laughed. “That’s a backhanded compliment. I don’t know whether to thank you or take your number out of my cell phone.”
Troy’s laughter joined hers. “We’re always going to be on different sides of the issues. Take this situation with Gerry. I’d rather the Monarchs were kept out of the story. But, if anyone’s going to cover it, I’m glad it’s you. At least that way, I know the Monarchs will get a fair shake.”
“Thank you.” Andrea sobered, still drinking in his words. They were definitely better for her confidence than the alcohol she’d been addicted to.
“But I do have a question for you.”
A glance out the windshield showed they were blocks from her apartment building. Andrea’s gaze dipped to his white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. “What’s that?”
“Am I one of your redemption projects?” Troy slowed as he crossed onto her street and began searching for a space to park.
Her eyes lowered again to his hands. Did the answer matter to him that much? Andrea opened her heart. “It started that way. I understood what you were going through since I’d gone through it myself.”
Troy directed his car into an open space a few yards down the block from her apartment. “I don’t want to be someone’s special project, Andy.”
“You stopped being my special project once I got to know you.”
He put the car in park and turned to face her. “What does that mean?”
Her heart was racing. “You’re a different person away from your executive image. You’re not the arrogant, jerk executive who tries to tell me how to do my job. You’re actually a nice guy.”
