Man Law

by Adrienne Giordano

Please stay away.

  “No, it’s okay,” Vic said, entering the kitchen. “Whoa.” He halted when he spotted her. She must look a mess, her face usually red and puffy after a crying jag.

  She saw Vic’s Adam’s apple working. Poor guy. He wasn’t used to this.

  Crap. She gripped the edge of the sink, grappled with him seeing her in such a state.

  “You okay?” he asked, the plate still in hand.

  Gina picked up the dish towel, started working on the pot she’d just washed. “I’m fine. Go finish eating. I’ll be done in a sec.”

  Please go away. Please. Don’t make me explain this.

  He waited a minute. Opened the microwave door and closed it. The chime of buttons being pressed filled the room. She could feel his eyes on her. The tactician working on his battle plan.

  “Are you going to talk to me?”

  She laughed. This was a switch. “Nope.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yep.”

  “Later, then?”

  Oh boy, she could love this man. He knew she needed space to sort out her emotions, and he’d give it to her.

  “You bet,” she said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Man Law: Always be prepared.

  “Jake’s swing sucks,” Tiny said, his Louisiana drawl stretching the last word for emphasis.

  “You think?” Vic asked when Jake took strike one.

  Vic cracked open a peanut shell, popped the peanut in his mouth and threw the shell in the upturned baseball cap in his lap. The evening air cooled and, with the cloud cover, made the heat bearable, but his long legs were stiff from being crammed between the damned bleacher seats. The barrel of the trusty Sig hidden under his T-shirt dug into his thigh.

  He surveyed the area. Monk stood by the fence near first base and Billy patrolled the parking lot. Large oak trees dotted the outer edges of the ball field and Vic found himself wishing they weren’t there. These large open parks were a bitch on protection details. Too many places for bad guys to hide.

  Gina, on his left, propped her elbow on her knee and her chin in hand. Tiny, on his right, helped himself to the bag of peanuts. Lily sat in front of them reading a book and, with puckered lips, turned to Tiny.

  “What?” he asked.

  After spending so much time with her, Tiny recognized the Lily-thinking-too-much look.

  “Is Tiny your real name?”

  Gina snorted. “Of course not, honey,”

  Vic spun toward her, his mouth agape. She made an oops face and whispered, “Is it?”

  He waited a second, thinking he could torture her, but decided against it. “I’m busting your chops.”

  “My real name is Justin,” Tiny told Lily.

  She smiled a huge front-tooth-missing grin. “I like Justin. I’ll call you that from now on. Is that okay?”

  Tiny shrugged. “Sure.”

  “I haven’t heard anyone but your mama and daddy call you Justin in years,” he commented.

  Tiny leaned over. “You should have been at my place a few nights ago. You would have heard it over and over and over again.”

  “You’re a dog.”

  Gina’s big brown eyes zeroed in on them. “Whatever you’re saying, knock it off.”

  How the hell had she heard that? He’d barely heard it. “How do you do that?”

  She elbowed him. “It’s a gift you get when you become a parent. You were also whispering and that’s always a clue. Oh, shoot. Jake struck out. Again.” She slapped her hand on her thigh. “He hasn’t had a hit all season.”

  “Gina, what is up with that swing?” Tiny asked.

  “Talk to Michael. He taught him.”

  “That explains it,” Vic shot. Jake threw his bat to the ground in frustration and Vic shook his head. This boy was destroying him. Nothing hurt more than being no good at something you enjoy.

  “Did you talk to the coach?” he asked.

  She glowered at him. “Of course. He’s trying to correct him, but Michael keeps saying to do it his way, and I don’t want to hurt my brother’s feelings. I think the coach is afraid of Michael.”

  “Afraid of Mike?” What kind of bullshit was that? “What the hell for?”

  Gina held her hands palms up. “See this coach. All five foot six of him? Compare him to my brother and you’ll get it. Michael can be scary if you don’t know him. Well, he can be scary if you do know him.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m stuck.”

  “I’m done. I may suck at homework, but I’ll nail this assignment.” Vic rose from the bleachers and handed her the baseball cap filled with peanut shells. He brushed the crumbs from his jeans and stepped next to Lily. “Coming through, sweet pea.”

  “Where are you going?” Gina asked.

  “To show him how to swing a bat. I seem to be the only one who doesn’t care what Mike thinks.”

  He strode past the group of parents sitting in folding chairs and spotted a gorgeous blonde giving him the eye. They sure didn’t make moms the way they used to. He smiled at her but made no prolonged eye contact and kept walking. Where were you a few weeks ago, sister?

  “Hey,” he said to a pouting Jake, who had dirt all over his formerly white baseball pants from a diving catch at shortstop. The kid always gave a hundred percent.

  “Hi,” Jake said, watching Vic grab a bat and a ball.

  “Come over here. I want to show you something.”

  He followed him to an open spot behind third base. Vic handed him the bat. “Get into your batting stance.”

  Jake shrugged and struck up that piss-poor stance. Vic adjusted the bat.

  “Spread your legs to shoulder width. Good. Shift your weight to the balls of your feet. Your feet should always be parallel with the plate. Got it?”

  Jake nodded.

  “Now, bend slightly at the waist and don’t lock your knees. Just relax. Don’t hunch your shoulders. Keep them level.” He tapped Jake’s right elbow. “What’s happening with this elbow? Get it back and look where the bat is.” Vic held the bat in place. “This is where the bat should be.”

  “But Uncle Mike said to do it the other way.”

  Vic should have rolled his eyes and said “Screw Uncle Mike” but, in an effort to not dis his buddy, said, “I know, and it’s not working for you. Try this way and see what you think.”

  Jake nodded and Vic stepped back. “Okay. Now swing.”

  His right shoulder dipped, but otherwise he was level. “Not bad, but you dropped your shoulder. Get back into the stance.”

  Vic stayed with him, watching his practice swings until the inning ended and the coach called Jake to the field.

  “You’ll probably be up again next inning.” Vic slapped Jake on the shoulder. “Just relax and do it like I showed you.”

  Hopefully, Jake would have some success, because he wouldn’t be able to stand watching him strike out time after time. Maybe he’d run him to the batting cages for some extra practice.

  He spotted Gina heading toward him and his shoulders tensed. Was he going to get yelled at again? Hadn’t he ignored the blonde?

  They met up behind the dugout and, hidden from spectators, she grabbed him by the shirt. “I’m so turned on right now, I could do you right here.”

  Holy shit. She pressed that great body of hers against him and planted a solid kiss on his lips. All his blood shot to his crotch, and he started counting backward from a hundred to get his mind focused on anything but his hard-on. Nope. Not working. At least he wore baggy jeans and a long T-shirt to hide it.

  He pulled backed an inch. “Not that I’m complaining, but what brought this on?”

  “Watching you with Jake. And earlier, with Lily and the Daddy-Daughter Olympics thing. You have no idea what it means to me.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “In that case, are there any other kid-related activities I might be able to assist with?”

  She laughed. The sound bounced around in his head and made him smile. He slung an arm around her shoul
ders, and they started toward the bleachers. Then his phone buzzed.

  Billy.

  “What’s up?”

  “Your guy in the beat-up Chevy is out here.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  This guy had a set of brass ones. Or maybe he was just fucking stupid, but Vic doubted it.

  “Toward the back of the lot,” Billy said. “He hid behind a minivan that just pulled out.”

  “Meet me by the bleachers.”

  Vic shoved his phone back into the belt clip. Time to have a little chat with this prick.

  “Everything okay?” Gina asked.

  Like he’d even admit this. “Yep. Billy needs a bathroom break. No worries. Go back to the game and I’ll see you in a few.”

  “Unbelievable.” Vic said, guiding Billy away from the bleachers. “He has to know I know his car.”

  “Yeah. What do you want to do?”

  He scratched the back of his head. What did he want to do? He wanted to talk to this schmuck for sure, but there were people everywhere. Not to mention Gina and Lily sitting right there. He should let it go. Keep the peace.

  Fuck that. “Let’s go talk to him.”

  “Oh, yeah, right, we’re just gonna march up to him.”

  “No. If he sees us, he’ll take off. We’ll ambush him. You go around the passenger side. I’ll take the driver’s side.”

  Billy looked skeptical. “The simplicity of your plan is a little fucked up. He could blow us both to hell.”

  The thought had some merit, but Conlin had done a shitty job of tailing Vic.

  “Nah,” Vic said. “If he wanted to cause trouble, he would have strapped a bomb to himself and walked onto the ball field. Conlin could be dispensable, though. Maybe he’s Sirhan’s cannon fodder du jour. Either way, he’s trying to rattle me by being a pain in the ass.”

  “And I have to say, it appears to be working.”

  “Yeah, and I’m done. Let’s do this before Gina starts getting antsy. I told her you needed a bathroom break. Tiny said he’d distract her.”

  They moved toward the parking lot.

  “Company,” Billy said.

  Vic spotted a Chicago P.D. cruiser drive in and park next to the ball field. Now, this might get interesting. Sneaking up on Conlin would draw too much attention from the cop sitting a hundred yards away.

  “Scrap the ambush,” Vic said. “We’re gonna walk right up to him.”

  “Okay.” Billy sounded skeptical.

  “Yes, the plan is seriously fucked up, but with a P.D. cruiser sitting in the lot, chances are Conlin won’t do anything crazy.”

  Sirhan must not have given an order to complete this reign of terror, or he’d have made a more organized threat by now.

  The sheikh still wanted to play.

  The two of them crossed the parking lot like a couple of old buddies out for a stroll. Vic zeroed in on his target. Conlin spotted them, sat up in the seat and fired the engine. A familiar buzz streamed through Vic’s body and his mouth watered. A preliminary action high.

  “Gerard,” he said cheerfully. “How you doing, buddy?”

  He stepped up to the open driver’s side window, took a quick survey of the backseat and casually leaned a hip against the door. Conlin looked up for a second but kept his hands at his sides.

  This was the guy Sirhan sent? This guy had strawberry-blond hair and freckles all over his face. A memory slammed into Vic’s brain and he ground his teeth together.

  Son of a bitch.

  Conlin was Howdy Doody, the fucker that had emailed him the video of Gina singing. Pissant.

  “Put your hands on the wheel, asshole,” Vic said. “Or do you prefer Howdy Doody? How very original, Gerard.”

  Billy stood on the other side of Vic, arms loose at his sides and ready in case he had to reach for a weapon. Conlin stayed focused on the P.D. cruiser and placed his hands on the steering wheel. Good boy.

  “You’re pissing me off,” Vic said, “and I don’t want to have to kill you. Tell your boss I’m losing faith in his ability to get shit done. He calls me and tells me he wants my ass in a sling and here I am, but no Sirhan.” Tsk-tsk. “I’m losing patience, Gerard. Bodies start piling up when I lose patience, and I hate that.”

  Conlin shifted in his seat and sweat dribbled down his face.

  “Go home, Gerard. Call your boss. Tell him I’m looking for him.”

  Vic and Billy stepped back, waving affectionately as he pulled out.

  “What was all that bullshit?” Billy asked.

  Vic shrugged. “Sirhan’s got an ego. I need to draw him out, and he can’t resist a direct challenge. I just need him to fuck up. Plus, I talked to Lynx on the way over here and they picked up Conlin’s garbage.”

  Billy’s face brightened with interest. “They find anything?”

  “A bunch of money bands and some baggies with drug residue. They’re going to keep an eye on Conlin for a while. Probably get a warrant for the house.”

  “Sirhan is going to be pissed when all that cash in the floor gets confiscated.” Billy slapped him on the back.

  Yeah, Vic thought, staring off toward the bleachers where Gina fiddled with Lily’s hair. An annoying shard of panic pricked the back of his neck and he scratched at it.

  Did he just fuck up by antagonizing Sirhan into coming after Gina and the kids instead of him?

  Gina set the checks Michael needed to sign on his chair. He’d never miss them there. His office, with its slick chrome desk and impeccable black leather chairs, was so buttoned up he’d spot a piece of dust out of place.

  Where did he go? She checked her watch. He asked her to stay late and now he disappeared? On a Wednesday night? She still had to manage dinner for the kids before taking Jake to practice and Lily to dance. She didn’t have time to wait. Maybe he went to Vic’s office.

  She walked toward Vic’s office.

  “Hey,” she said.

  He punched the button to disconnect from voicemail and sat back. “Hey to you.”

  His beautiful green eyes sparked and a little piece of her fell apart because she was simply crazy about him. It didn’t help that he looked so darned good with his shaggy blond hair and rolled-up sleeves. And the damned goatee. He did messy-handsome better than any GQ model.

  “Are you taking me home or is Michael?”

  “I’d planned on it.”

  She nodded. “Okay. I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

  “Wait.”

  He reached into his desk for a bag and dumped the contents onto his desk. A bunch of cell phones landed with a banging thud.

  “I got you and the kids new cell phones,” he said. “They’re GPS enabled.”

  “GPS phones?”

  “Just in case.”

  Her skin stung as if tiny rocks pelted her. “In case they’re kidnapped?”

  And wasn’t this a lovely end to the day? A greater reminder that the man she’d fallen for had put her family in danger. Gina, you are so crabby tonight.

  Deep breath.

  “It’s only a precaution,” he said. “Probably a good idea with a teenager anyway.”

  She ran her hands over her face, gently massaging her forehead. Too much emotional chaos. Too much. “Okay. I’ll give them to the kids tonight, but I won’t tell them about the GPS thing. I don’t want them freaking out. What else?”

  “This.”

  He held up one of those decorative shoe clips Lily liked. A strawberry. He’d taken the time to buy her daughter a gift she’d go crazy for. Part of the worry melted away. “She’ll love it. Thank you.”

  “I didn’t think she’d remember to carry the cell phone all the time so I had one of the techno geeks rig the clip as a backup. Gizmo has been experimenting with this tracking chip and it seems to work, but it’s not foolproof.”

  So much for thinking he cared enough to buy her daughter a silly gift. Gina stared at him, tried to brush off the negative energy and reminded herself he cared enough to make sure they would a
lways know where her children were.

  He held up the clip. “The chip is inside the strawberry, so we’ll always be able to locate her.”

  Why suddenly did they need GPS tracking? “Has something happened that you feel this is necessary?”

  “It’s a precaution.”

  “And there’s nothing I should know?”

  His body remained still, his eyes unwavering. “If I thought there was, I’d tell you.”

  Somehow, she didn’t believe him.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Man Law: Never blame a woman’s hormones.

  Roxann handed Gina a platter of antipasto to take out to the patio. A balmy Friday night and Gina and the kids rode to the lake house with Tiny to meet Michael and Roxann for the annual Fourth of July bash on Saturday.

  Saturday’s weather forecast sounded iffy, and Michael was outside supervising a tent installation over the patio. The younger kids enjoyed a pre-dinner swim and Matthew, as usual, was sacked out on his favorite chair with his iPod.

  Gina brought the tray outside, placed it on the table and went back for plates.

  “Where did you say Vic was?” Roxann asked, turning from the fridge. She wore a red T-shirt, a pair of gray running shorts and her hair piled in a Pebbles Flintstone ponytail. Her face, free of makeup, glowed under the bright kitchen lights, leaving Gina with a twinge of envy at Roxann’s natural beauty.

  “He said he had a client meeting.” Gina took care to keep her tone even.

  Roxann set her hands on the breakfast bar and leaned in. “I’m guessing you don’t think he’s at a client meeting?”

  Gathering up the plates and utensils, Gina shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. I guessed it the minute you walked in here.”

  Nothing got past her. This was why she ran a huge newspaper.

  While Gina separated the forks and knives, Roxann came around the breakfast bar and slid onto the stool next to her. She dropped the forks. “I mean, who has a client meeting on the Friday night of a holiday weekend?”

  “Vic does. Do you honestly think he pays attention to whether it’s a holiday weekend or not? He’s not that structured. If he has an opening, he fills it.”